And that my friends is how I was manipulated into writing an email to Matthew Wakefield on behalf of his scheming little sister.
TO: Matthew Wakefield:
DATE: September 13, 2014 at 5:07:04 PM CST
FROM: Cecelia Carter
Subject: From Molly
To the World Biggest Asshole,
On behalf of your bratty, ungrateful sister, I wanted to let you know Molly needs you to pick her up this Sunday. Please don’t come to our apartment because I can’t stand the site of your ASS FACE. By the way, you owe me a bag of Trail Mix…
Alright, calm down, I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t have actually sent a note like that. Here’s what I really wrote:
TO: Matthew Wakefield
DATE: September 13, 2014 at 5:07:04 PM CST
FROM: Cecelia Carter
Subject: From Molly
Hi. Molly asked me to send this note because she left both her phone and laptop in Weston’s truck, and therefore has no way to contact anyone. She wanted me to let you know to pick her up Sunday at 2 PM.
- C
Sent from my Android Smartphone.
There.
I did my part.
Short and to the point.
Boom, done.
I can’t help thinking what a good friend and roommate I am, and I smile, satisfied with myself before hitting SEND.
I glance again at Matthew’s email address, studying the jumble of letters more closely and choke back a laugh when I realize what it says. “I am a scoring Machine.”
Sheesh, someone is full of himself…
I know the guy is a great athlete and has a huge following, but man - that email address is super lame. On second thought, he’s probably had that email since he was ten – because only a kid would purposely call himself a scoring machine.
Seriously. Soooo immature.
I sit back in my chair and stare blankly at my computer screen, thinking how strange it is that after all this time living with Molly, I’ve only just met her brother once. Sure, I’ve heard about him before in passing – not just from Molly herself, but from practically everyone else once they find out Molly Wakefield is my roommate.
Actually, he has been to our apartment a few times before, although we’ve never crossed paths (for whatever reason). Once to help her move in, and occasionally to pick her up for their occasional Sunday family dinners – that is, if he’s even in the state.
His last year as a Badger for the University of Wisconsin, he was drafted by the Anaheim Ducks – I know he has an apartment in California during the Ducks hockey season, and one halfway in between Madison and River Glen – the Wakefield’s’ home town.
So yeah – when people find out I live with Molly Wakefield, I get bombarded with questions about Matthew by default; have I met Matthew Wakefield before? What’s he like? How tall is he? Does he have all of his teeth? Do you go to his games? On and on and on it goes. Simply because I live with his little sister.
Kind of explains why he’s such a dick.
People love the guy.
TO: Cecelia Carter
DATE: September 13, 2014 at 7:09:12 PM CST
FROM: Matthew Wakefield
Subject: RE: From Molly
Dude, who is this?
MSW
Sent from my iPhone.
Oh my god, really?
What an ass.
Matthew knows damn well who I am - but I guess I shouldn’t expect a guy like him to make anything easy, or take me seriously. In his universe, I’m a nobody. Can’t he just be nice because I’m doing his little sister a favor?
Having sent the message for Molly like she asked me to, there is no need for me to reply and get chatty with the guy.
Really, should just ignore his quip and let it go.
On the other hand….
My fingers hover above the small keys on my smartphone and before I can stop them, they nimbly compose a new message.
Seriously. I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to.
Which I clearly do not. Not gonna lie.
TO: Matthew Wakefield
DATE: September 13, 2014 at 7:12:19 PM CST
FROM: Cecelia Carter
Subject: RE: RE: From Molly
Your sister’s roommate. - C
Sent from my Android Smartphone
TO: Cecelia Carter
DATE: September 13, 2014 at 7:23:16 PM CST
FROM: Matthew Wakefield
Subject: RE: RE: RE: From Molly
The angry one?
MSW
Sent from my iPhone.
Oh my god, he really is infuriating.
Insufferable.
I reach up and palm my cheek, first feeling one and then the other, like I’m checking for a temperature. My face is hot, slightly feverish.
And once again, as if on their own accord, my fingers deftly hit REPLY and frantically start typing.
I am so irritated that irritated doesn’t even begin to describe it.
Vexed. Furious. Peeved. Aggravated. Take your pick.
Not to mention, the fact that we’re emailing is annoyingly inconvenient. I can’t help but think this whole back and forth conversation we’ve embarked on would be so much easier if we were texting…
TO: Matthew Wakefield
DATE: September 13, 2014 at 8:09:23 PM CST
FROM: Cecelia Carter