it feels so good -- 'toph jenkins

[Toph Jenkins]

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You say you?ve never felt this way
At least not this early.
We decide to hold nothing back --
We?ll act how we want to act.
And so, eventually, we became really good actors.
Acting and reacting and acting and reacting
Under a honeymoon.

We know the sun is gonna rise,
We tell ourselves to act surprised,
We?re comforted in our denial
That dark love can be reconciled
Oh please, oh please . . . reconcile me
From all these bad actors,
All these bad endings.

Under a honeymoon;
We want what we?re not and we don?t want to stop
?cause it feels right --
or at least it?s feeling good,
. . . at least it feels good.

I always fall in love too soon,
Caught beneath the glow of a honeymoon


our newest fame and fortune -- Christopher "'Toph" Jenkins</center>

[Toph Jenkins]

<font face="verdana"><font size="2">Dear Annie,

How's Santa Cruz holding up without me? I'm sorry I missed your party last week -- I've just been so busy up here, trying to get things straightened out. I swear that I'll find some time soon to get down to Santa Cruz, and we can have our own private celebration in honor of your promotion. Maybe we can head up Rt. 1 and find an isolated beach somewhere, like we did on the Fourth of July. Do you remember where that spot was? I'm talking about the one where we spent the most time with Betsy and Caleb -- there were huge cliffs, but the ocean had eroded a semicircle of a beach at the bottom. All I remember is hiking down that ridiculously steep and windy path, and my total amazement at how perfect the spot was. Maybe you remember where it is, Annie. I was too drunk or high that night for me to figure out how to get back there.

That would be nice, right? Maybe even better than if I'd shown up at the party. I would have been drunk and not interacting with any of your friends, you'd have felt like you needed to spend all your time with me, and you wouldn't have had any fun at your own party. No, it was definitely best that I didn't come, Annie.

I really wish you'd been able to move with me. I know your job is going great and I know you just got promoted -- but it isn't like there are no libraries in San Francisco. And it's not such a far drive . . . there's no reason why you shouldn't come up here some weekend. We did it all the time when we lived on Laurel Street. That reminds me -- how's the new apartment working out for you? You didn't seem so sure about it after we'd finished unpacking everything, but maybe you've settled into it by now? I sure hope so. I'd hate to think that you were miserable, and that there was nothing I could do about it. I guess I'm just rambling now, so I'll end this letter. Oh, Annie. I really do love you. Please think about coming up to visit. I will make plans for a trip to Santa Cruz this weekend, if I can.

I miss you so much, Annette. Take care of yourself.

Love,
Toph</font>
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<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ August 29, 2005 01:26 AM: Message edited by: audio visuals ]</font>

[Toph Jenkins]

<font size="2"><font face="verdana">Three am.

Toph was sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Empty beer bottles were strewn about the room, and he still clutched a half-empty Sierra Nevada in his left hand. He wasn't quite drunk, but his skin tingled with enough of a buzz to meet his needs.

What a night.

Clubs had never been Toph's thing, but -- on a whim -- he'd ducked into one tonight on his way home. That's where he met her. Tall, slender, brunette -- like his darling girlfriend . . . but that was where the similarities ended. No, that girl was certainly nothing like Annette. But he couldn't get her out of his mind. Like a good boy, Toph resisted temptation and cut the evening short to head home alone. He hadn't refused entirely though; the digits scrawled on the back of his right hand were proof of that.

Oh, shit. Annie. He was supposed to call. Fumbling through his pockets in a half-haze, Toph managed to find his cell phone. Shit shit shit. Three missed calls from Annette. He quickly punched in her phone number as he polished off the rest of the Sierra.

Annie answered on the third ring; from the sound of her voice, he'd woken her up -- and she did not sound pleased about it.

"Hey baby, sorry I missed your ca-- oh really? Sorry, honey. I'm so, so sorry. . . . What? No, I'm not drunk. It's not that late, is it? . . . Already? Really? It didn't seem that late. . . . I did mean to call you earlier. No, I didn't forget. . . . Betsy said that? Well, that's just not true. You know I love you, Annie. . . . Come on, baby, don't say things like that. . . . You know I would never cheat on you. . . . Annette! How can you say that? Annie, darling, my love. Clearly you're upset right now, you're just not thinking clearly. . . . No, that was a long time ago. Don't worry about it. . . . Look, babe -- why don't we just talk about this in the morning? . . . Honey, please. . . . Okay. I won't. . . . Yes, I promise. Hey -- did you get my e-mail? Yeah, the one I sent this afternoon. So how does that sound, sweetie? You, me, maybe a picnic basket and a bottle of wine . . . No, I won't forget. Or cancel. Don't be ridiculous. I'll call you tomorrow, we'll make plans. How's next weekend sound? . . . Oh, really? Bummer. Sometime during the week then? Great. Yes, I'll call in the morning. I love you. . . . Oh, stop it. Really. I love you, hun. Okay. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye sweetie."

Toph sighed deeply, tossing the phone down onto the bed. Wonderful. Just wonderful.</font></font>