July 9th, 1995

## Tara

\*\*\*Posted July 10th, 1995

**9 July**Studying for finals is going fine...but I need to take a break. Besides, I can't stop thinking about the letter I received from Paris. It would be difficult to forget, as I've not moved it from my pillow since its arrival weeks ago. I've been in limbo about this whole issue, but now I feel I'm ready to write back to Sacha -- I am both entertained and plagued by the possibilities within my imagination...

You may be curious about what was written in his letter to me. I certainly was. Though I'm choosing not to share his entire letter with you (walking the line between too personal and open, if there is such a thing), I will share a few excerpts that Sacha wrote:

"It was exactly three years ago last March that you entered my world and left so quickly. It has taken me this long to write to you. I know your name is not Monique. I know everything...."

Jesus! My world? I was part of his world for what -- 10 hours? The French can be so dramatic. Didn't mean to interrupt, read on:

"About a year after your abrupt departure, the mystery began to unravel. At first, I didn't realize why I had upset you so. I went through a rather disgusting series of mental contortions. After you left, it occurred to me that you thought my mother was my lover..."

Boy, was he quick.

"....The truth was, at the time, I had no lover. When I first saw your angel face, I knew you were all I wanted."

And he was good.

"....Last year my mother fell ill. Perhaps you know this already. Well, like most relationships she has had with family, ours was hardly amicable. She had done some unforgivable things...but when you see your own mother bedridden, helpless....I began visiting her every day, and it was during this time she showed me some very old photo albums....."

Sacha explained it all. He explained what I had since figured out: My aunt was not a blood relative. She left my uncle, ran off to Europe and gave birth to another man's child. Marian was nothing more than a closed chapter in my family's past. Sacha was her son, but he was not my blood cousin. Even without committing incest, the situation was still strangely surreal.

"I have no idea if our meeting has had the profound effect on your life as it's had on mine. I think about you every time I pass the Shakespeare & Company, every time I walk through Les Halles. Nothing and no one can compare to the intense connection I felt when we were together. While I do not truly know you, something inside tells me we are kindred spirits. I know I'm being bold when I say this, but after three years, I still want to be with you more than anything in the world, Tara......."

For the curious, yes I was sobbing while reading this the first time. Sobbing and ambivalent.

Sacha closed the note with words of love and an address. I thought the best way to respond would be to send him a letter. Words come out so much easier on paper. Do you know what, though? I don't think I'll write him back.

I'd rather tell him how I feel face-to-face. In Paris.

Someone's knocking at my door -- it sounds like Jeff's "you're late on the rent knock", but it's only the ninth. God, I hope nobody told him about the tape recorder incident....

Until next time, Au revoir!

**July 9th, 1995**

## Carrie

\*\*\*Posted July 10th, 1995

**7/9/95****All's fair in love and war.**

Whoever said that was full of it.

Yes, I'd been cutting Lon a bit more slack, lord knows he needs it, but all was definitely not forgiven.

Britt and I worked late, so we decided to make it a quiet evening at home. She wanted to watch a movie, "Interview with a Vampire." It just came out on tape and she's been dying to see it. Despite my better judgement, and my better taste, I agreed to watch it. (No offense to Anne Rice -- I'm sure she's a wonderful writer with the talent of one and a half Danielle Steele's at least.)

Anyway, about fifteen minutes into this masterpiece of overpaid young male stars and large-breasted women being killed without the least bit of remorse, Lon came home. He saw us on the couch, sort of smiled and headed towards his room. That's when Britt surprised the heck out of me. She jumped up, threw him against the wall, bit his neck and sucked all the blood out 'til he dropped to the floor wheezing and gasping for life. Actually, she did something much worse... she invited him to join us.

Lon was actually pretty cool during most of the movie. We all got a little scared at one point and huddled together. Then about an hour into this four-day-long epic, Lon bore his fangs.

It was a scene on a stage in the Theater of the Vampires where a gang of vampires feasted on an innocent woman. Of course, they had to take off all her clothes and publicly humiliate her first. And, of course, she had the body of a super model (I love Hollywood). So this wonderful scene ends and Lon turns to me and says, "That gave me a woody. How 'bout you?"

Woody? Is he referring to the woodpecker, the genius comic director or as Beavis would say, "his little Captain." Can a woman get a woody? If so, how much does it cost? I think if I had one I might get a better paying job, a little more respect as a human being, and a lot more dates!

A woman is violently killed and that makes Lon horny? I was fuming. "Lon," I tried to say with as little disdain as I could keep from bursting through, "Where the heck do you--"

That's when Britt cut me off. "Alright, nuff's anuff." Britt grabbed me in one hand, Lon in the other and lead us to his room, where she proceeded to shut us in. "You're not coming out until you two have made up!"

"I'm sorry," Lon said right away. "Prove it," I snapped back. Then I sat down on the edge of the bed and waited. Lon just stood there for about five minutes, head hung in shame, not saying anything, not looking at me, not even moving.

"I thought we were friends again," he said quietly.

"Don't take me for granted," I said to him.

"I was just kiddin' you, Carrie. You know, laughing about old times."

"Just because, I'm not still furiously angry over what you did, doesn't mean I've forgiven you."

Then Lon sat down on the edge of the bed and the most amazing thing happened. No, he didn't start crying. It wasn't that amazing. He was totally honest with me.

"I know I sometimes say some pretty stupid stuff," he started. "Sometimes I just defend myself by saying, well, I'm a guy. But I know that's a cop out. I'm an insecure guy. I spend more time trying to prove I'm cool than I do just being myself. So much so, that this person who's trying to prove their value has taken over and become myself. I'm not saying I'm never gonna make a stupid comment like I did tonight or at the party again. What I am saying is that I'm sorry my stupid comments hurt you, and I am trying my hardest to catch myself before my loose tongue wags." Now I was the silent one. Either Lon had reached a major epiphany in his life or he's headed for an Oscar. There was only one thing for me to say to young blue eyes, "I forgive you."

We talked for a few hours. When you get right down to it, Lon really is a nice guy... a little self absorbed, but nice just the same. I ended up falling asleep in his bed. Britt crashed on the couch.

In the morning, Lon and I jumped on the couch and both gave Britt a giant hug. Then we finished watching the movie and afterward all went out for breakfast. I paid and I felt damn good about it.

One last note, Hank wants to talk to me tomorrow at the bookstore. We have an appointment! Sounds real official. Britt says "don't worry." Lon says, "Watch him."

**Lon... I know you're not listening, but thanks for restoring my faith in men. At least for the moment.**

July 9th, 1995
## External links

* Tara's entry
* Lon's entry
* Carrie's entry