an e-memoir chasity glass Copyright © 2012 by Chasity Glass www.chasityglass.com www.evenifiam.com All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Shilhon House 9236 SW 40th Avenue Portland, OR 97214 ISBN: 978-0-9856787-7-7 ISBN: 978-0-9856787-9-1 (e-book) ISBN: 978-0-9856787-2-2 (multimedia e-book) Excerpt from “Real Simple” by Pepe Deluxe, copyright 2003 Catskills Records Excerpt from “Flying High” by Jem, copyright 2004 ATO Records, LLC Excerpt from “It’s Okay To Think About Ending” by Earlimart, copyright 2004 Palm Pictures, LLC Excerpt from “I Melt with You” by Nouvelle Vague, copyright 2005 Luaka Bop, Inc. Excerpt from “Be Mine” by R.E.M., copyright 1996 R.E.M./Athens Ltd. Excerpt from “Crosses” by Jose Gonzalez, (C) 2006 Mute Corporation US. Excerpt from “Hold You In My Arms” by Ray LaMontagne , copyright (P) 2004 Stone Dwarf, LLC, under license to The RCA Music Group Excerpt from “Let Myself Fall” by Rosie Thomas, copyright 2003 Sub Pop Record Excerpt from “Moonstruck” written by John Patrick Shanley Excerpt from “The Family Stone” written by Thomas Bezucha Excerpt from Wisdom of a Broken Heart by Susan Piver copyright 2010 Susan Piver Cover and book design by Royal York Funston www.ryarts.com Printed in the United States of America First Edition, 2012 for Anthony, for my parents, for my in-laws, and for those who’ve pedaled alongside me on a bike ride… preface even if i am. is a true story. It is both a book and an e-memoir because it is told in more than words. Pictures, audio interviews, music and web links in the multimedia e-book permit a truer and more personal telling. Apple’s iPad supports this format today, and I highly recommend it for a complete experience. However, to share this story with a broader audience, it is also available as a printed book and standard e-book. In the interest of privacy, some names, e-mail addresses, and other personal details have been replaced or removed. Otherwise, all e-mails, blog posts, audio clips, and photographs are actual and unaltered. Over 12 million people are diagnosed with cancer each year. This is the story of one... and the girl who loved him. chapter one inspiration information People are really romantic about the beginning of things. I’m reasoning this as my friend babbles on about how, for the first time, she is “experiencing love, instead of trying to figure it all out.” She’s saying she doesn’t want to waste time on unnecessary boyfriends: “After all, I’m twen- ty-eight.” She has a head full of doubt and a heart full of promise. “It feels as though I’m always thinking of him,” she chirps, “and I just know somehow he’s out there thinking of me.” She then chatters on about fresh starts, clean slates and moving to Colorado for love. I am still aware, distantly, of those late-twenties senti- ments and world-of-possibility statements. I said them myself, about five years ago. I too thought that love — my own little bundle of doubt and promise — was neither A nor B. Love wasn’t a right or left turn. Love was a continuum. It was the path to knowing everything would be all right. Knowing that “somehow he was out there thinking of me,” 1 even if i am. and that I wasn’t facing life alone. It’s not that I believe in everlasting love anymore; I know better than to think in infinite terms now. Yet, if it weren’t for some native sense of romance I wouldn’t have done things like traveled to Aus- tralia on a whim or flown to Italy. I definitely wouldn’t have volunteered to eat ten chocolate cupcakes in five minutes, helping raise money for cancer awareness. If it weren’t for love I wouldn’t have the words “even if i am” tattooed on my arm. I wouldn’t have Anthony’s last name. “Oooh, good song…” My friend points to the ceiling as we listen to the music in the coffee shop we sit — “Hollow Talk” by Choir of Young Believers. “Chas?” Her starry eyes shift as she asks, “Did you feel the same when you met Anthony?” Her words rattle me. The chorus sings, “Everything goes back to the begin- ning.” … “My God, he’s hot.” That was the first thing I ever said about him.My God he’s hot, as if I was a fourteen year-old Valley Girl. “Yeah, but someone THAT attractive has to have some major personal issues, right?” Emily’s humor was always straight to the point. “I bet he’s a total asshole.” She and I were standing at the copy machine. We just kept staring. It was hard not to. He was stunning. Tall and 2 inspiration information slender, fashionably messy dark hair complemented with a little stubble on his face. He wore a fuzzy black sweater over a white collared shirt and jeans… Even with a small moth hole in the shoulder, sexy. No question. “I bet he sleeps with girls on first dates,” Emily sneered. “I bet he doesn’t even go on first dates, just functions with one-nighters.” Surely he heard Emily and I snickering because he turned toward us. His smile was the last thing I expected. “Oh, shit. Emily. QUICK! Copy something.” He looked down at his feet in embarrassment and re- turned to his conversation. He glanced back to see if we were still staring, sent another sexy half-smile in my direc- tion. “Okay, THAT smile is kind of hot.” “Yeah.” I blushed, too. “I’d sleep with him on a first date.” … I had just started working at Creative, the overtly trendy post-production house that now included a DVD depart- ment. My first assignment was to help drive some dramatic project revolving around Bette Davis and Joan Crawford. “OHMYGOD!” I could hear Emily screech while run- ning into my office, “You will NEVER guess who we have for an editor!” Oh hell. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Out of fifteen edi- tors…” 3 even if i am. Emily was an excellent coordinator. Her dry wit comple- mented my sarcasm. Even as she updated me on the particu- lars of the project, she felt comparable to a cold beer on a hot day and a good long laugh. “Go downstairs and introduce yourself. When you get back, call me with the details. I’ll put money down that he tries to sleep with you.” “Well then, I better introduce myself.” … I’m not sure why the company was arranged on two floors, producers on the seventh, editors on the sixth. Space, I guess. Most took the elevator. I liked the stairs. Plus, the bathroom was on the way. I could fix my hair before the in- troduction. I was apprehensive. Especially since I insulted him an hour ago. Please God, tell me he didn’t hear that. I walked slowly until I stood at his door, hesitating as a noisy rock ballad escaped from behind it. I lifted my fist to knock, con- sidered how I’d actually introduce myself if he had heard the insult. Our boss Kaethy turned the corner, headed toward me. I quickly knocked, appearing busy. “Come in.” He turned from his computer and smiled broadly, easily persuading me to enter. “HI, I’M CHAS,” I yelled over the loud music. He turned it down. “Ahhh, so you’re the producer as- signed to clean up this mess of a project. I’m Anthony.” 4 inspiration information He stood to shake my hand, stumbling around his desk and coffee table. A true gentleman. His excitable smile made me smile. Huge. And he smelled good. Damn good. I took a deep inhale, then realized I was still shaking his hand. Minutes passed, possibly days. Silence. Awkward. Do I even know English? Words. Speak. Produce! I immediately dropped his hand like a hot potato. “Soooo, where are we at with the project now?” Smooth. Chas, real smooth. Then wiped my clammy palm on my jeans. I was anxious, but our dialogue flowed as we discussed the Bette Davis and Joan Crawford assignment. Nerves had me chatting too casually, asking questions about previous careers, college. I even told Anthony about working at a gas station in high school, describing it as my favorite job, be- cause I “liked the outfit, a striped shirt.” “Well,” I said, cutting myself short, “I suppose I should get back to my desk. By now I’ll have hundreds of e-mails to reply to.” “Hey, one more question before you go.” “Sure.” “Were you and Emily checking me out earlier today?” Again, with that sexy half-smile. “Maybe?” I teased. “I thought so.” I gave Anthony an awkward grin and quickly closed his office door behind me, practically ran out of there before he asked if I had insulted him too. On the commute back to my desk, I replayed our conversation in my mind. I wondered if 5 even if i am. he was really amused with my gas pumping abilities or just humoring me. Probably the latter.