Little Frog

I’m late, again.  But to be fair the train has been known to be quite unreliable lately and okay I might have stopped to get a coffee for me and granddad, so he’ll be less upset with me. 

I’m running through the large building; the spring air is usually what I wait all winter for but today the sun is doing little to my advantage. I’m sweating like an iced cup on a wooden table, trying to hold our coffees, while my overstuffed tote bag keeps falling off my shoulder in a way that makes me want to scream. 

“Hold it! Hold it!” I’m yelling across the fancy halls, that granddad can barely afford, and haul towards the elevator. I usually take the stairs, you know exercise and all that, but I have a meeting with the boss/granddad today. I already know he won’t agree with what I have to say and being late will definitely not be helping my case. 

Oh, you have to be kidding me. There’s a man in the elevator, he’s tall and handsome in a proper kind of way, oh and he’s a complete ass. I’m mere inches away from the elevator when I see him lean and press the close door button. Absolutely no emotion behind his eyes while he pushes his glasses back with his pointer finger and stands back perfectly straight. 

I stick my coffee hand in the middle of the closing door, causing drops of coffee to splash on my bright green cardigan, and step inside. I rolls my eyes at him, as he stands here holding his fancy briefcase not a hint of embarrassment on him as I stand here sweaty and flustered from running. I compose myself and stand with my head tall and face the close elevator doors.

“Are you going to press a button, or are we going to stand here all day?” He doesn’t turn to me when he talks to me, which is extremely rude by the way, and his condescending tone makes me want to make him wait a little longer. But I am already late, so I push number 3 on the elevator and stand facing the ass. 

It doesn’t help that he’s freakishly tall, and annoyingly handsome. “Did you not see me running towards the elevator? Or are you just that rude?” I snap at him, hands on my hips. He stares down and the smallest smirk lifts on his face. 

“Your big eyes remind me of a frog.” He has the nerve to say, leaving me stunned in silence while my floor dings and he gestures for me to go. 

Screw him. 

                                                 *****

The meeting with granddad, well it went as expected. 

I take out my bright green laptop case, and slouch back into my chair. Ready to be bored out of my mind for the remainder of the day. Pulling up my email, I don’t bother to log into my personal email as I message my best friend through my work laptop. David works on the top floor for an insurance company, but we’ve known each other since we were kids. 

Poppy: You wouldn’t believe the rude ass that I just met on the elevator. Speaking of ass do you think I should rent a donkey for my beautiful niece's birthday party, or will that be too much?

Ps: Do you think my eyes are too frog like?

Dave: Good evening, I believe you have the wrong email.

PS: I think a donkey is an excellent idea, however, make sure it isn’t the same one that was in the elevator wouldn’t want your niece to have a rude ass in attendance. 

I take a closer look at the email handle and they’re right I did send it to the wrong person. I

forgot my immature friend spells his email “dav3” like were still in grade school. 

Poppy: I apologize for the mix up and thank you for the advice J  have an amazing day.

Dave: Is it rude of me to ask how your days going, beside the elevator villain? I am devastatingly bored at work today. 

Poppy: Well, Mr. Wrong email I too am very bored, so it isn’t rude. My day is going well, as well as can be expected when you work a dead-end job in a news paper company that will probably go out of business in the next year or so. 

Why did I say that, jeez that was so depressing. 

Dave: Ahh well ms. frog eyes I wasn’t aware those type of companies still existed. I’m sorry your day is just going “well”. How come you work there if you see no future in the business. 

Poppy: My grandfather owns the company. I would leave but he’s taken care of me my entire life and I feel it’s the least I could do. If it wasn’t for people like the assholes on the top floor, who run expensive tech companies, maybe paper wouldn’t be becoming obsolete. How about you? What’s making your day so boring?

Dave: hmm interesting way of thinking, I too was raised by people other than my parents (my uncle) but I wouldn’t dedicate my life to him. 

Haha you sure do love the word ass I’m starting to think maybe elevator guy wasn’t that bad. And my days are always boring, I should love my job, its all I’ve wanted to do and yet I just don’t. 

I don’t respond for an hour. I don’t need some stranger telling me what I should or shouldn’t be doing with my life. And anyways he has no say, he’s just as miserable as I am. But I can’t help myself to reread the last message over and over. The sadness in his words remind me of my own, and even if he thinks I should follow my own path where would it leave me? He said it himself he’s just as miserable as I am. The sound of grandfather's cuckoo clock screams out causing me to jump out of my seat. 

Poppy: Well, seems we both took opposite paths. You followed your dreams, I put mine on hold, so tell me. Why are we both messaging a stranger at 12pm instead of focusing on work? 

PS: He was that bad. 

His response is almost instant. 

Dave: touché little frog. How come your grandparents raised you? I know that’s a forward question, but we are strangers so maybe it should be easier to speak freely. For example, my mother died during childbirth so my uncle (who was nineteen at the time) took me in. 

I bite my nails, as much as possible anyways when they’re already nubs to begin with and contemplate my response. I’ve never been an open person before but he’s right. What do I have to lose? 

Poppy: That’s very noble of your uncle, I’m sure it was hard for the two of you to be raised by someone so young. I agree it is somewhat easier to speak directly, but I do hope you aren’t some creep who gets off on strangers deep seeded trauma. 

Ps: that nickname is so not funny. 

Dave: and how do I know you aren’t the creep? You did email me first little frog. 

Poppy: I guess in that case. My parents committed double suicide and left me in the crib crying for two days. It wasn’t until the neighbors couldn’t take the crying anymore that they called the police. 

Now its his turn to not respond for an hour. Maybe I went too honest. 

I never told anyone that. Only my best friend David knows about it. And that’s only because he foolishly read my diary when we were in the fourth grade. I was mad at him for weeks, but in the end, it only made our friendship stronger. I’m about to close my email for the day when I hear the tiny ding and see his reply. 

Dave: Did you ever forgive them? 

Poppy: No. 

What a strange question. That’s definitely not what I expected him to say. But I’m happy he didn’t do the usual “I’m sorry” or “that must have been hard” bullshit most people do. So, I message him again. 

Poppy: What are your plans for the rest of the day?

It’s almost time to go home, and I don’t think the day has ever passed this fast. I hate to admit its because of this silly conversation. 

Dave: Just going home to walk my dog, and maybe watch some television. Do you have any pets?

Poppy: Nice, what kind of dog? And I have a fluffy cat who basically runs the house, he’s pretty awesome. 

            We continue talking back and forth and its not until the automatic lights shut off that I notice it’s way past five. I usually count down the seconds until that damn cuckoo clock screams at five, now I’m not even sure I heard it. We must have sent tens of messages to each other. I hate to admit but he’s pretty amazing. I can’t help but wonder who he could be, what he could look like. Oh god please don’t be a sixty-year-old man. I know he has to work here in the building the end of everyone’s email is the same for the entire place. And I hate to say it, but what if this is fate. Ew please forget I said that, but yeah, he’s pretty awesome. 

            I don’t bother saying goodbye, I know we would both find a way to keep the conversation and head to granddads office. As usual he stays here way past any other workers, I’m pretty sure even the custodian leaves before he does. I place a kiss atop his head and carry on home, but right before I walk out, I grab my work laptop and decide for the first time ever to take it home. 

                                                *****

            Poppy: How’s Romeo? I just made it home and Bells is currently napping at the window. 

            Ps: Did I mention cats are way better than dogs?

I continue biting on my nonexistent nails, as I pop my premade lasagna in the microwave. I may be hoping he doesn’t find me messaging from home weird. It takes a little while for his reply to come, maybe he lives far? Or maybe this is completely weird Poppy. I lightly bang my head against the top cabinets hating how much I want to talk to a stranger, but I’ve felt lonely for so long and for some reason I think so has he. 

Dave: I just spent the last hour cleaning up my torn-up pillows, so at the moment I maybe agree that cats might be better. Is it weird that Im messaging so late? 

Poppy: It’s only seven old man, but no its not weird its usually kind of lonely with just me and Bells at home. Is it weird I like talking to you?

Dave: I’ll have you know I’m only thirty, but I do wake up at five am to work out so Im usually asleep by eight. I can understand feeling lonely, most days I forget what my own voice sounds like… Romeos not that chatty. And if its weird I guess we are both weird because I also like talking to you, little frog.

Hmmm, so maybe Im not that subtle but hey I got his age and I know he lives alone too. And okay maybe a morning person would usually be a deal breaker, but I’ll make an exception. After I type my reply, I decided to hop in the shower and get ready to read for the reminder of the night, but my laptop keeps dinging with replies. We talk for hour and hours until its way passed his little bedtime, and I can’t help but to feel excitement every time I hear the freakin ding. 

We talk more about our families; he understands that someone can love you more than your parents can. He understands that life isn’t rainbows and sunshine. It feels nice to meet someone so honest, so real. Most people hide, me included, we say our days are fine and were doing amazing while on the inside were dying. We don’t tell people our histories so freely for the fear of being rejected. But with Dave I don’t really care. I talk how I want, and about what I want. 

We also talk about random things, things that aren’t so deep. Like his favorite color is gray, boring I know, but at least its honest. I tell him I played the clarinet and for the rest of the night he called me Squidward, and I missed my previous nickname just a little.  

                                                *****

For the last week we messaged every single day, all day long. We message all throughout work, up until we both go to bed. But its not until last night did, we open up more than we ever have. I told him how I have struggled with depression for years and to my surprised he opened up about his same struggles. We talked for hours and hours and I had never felt so close to anyone. 

Before I knew it, I had woken up late- again- but this time with my face down on my computer at my dinner table. I can’t remember a time I stayed up talking to someone all night.

 I quickly ran to the shower threw on my bright green jacket and ran out the door. Thankfully I just made it to the train and ran the rest of the way to the office. 

When I get to work, I also decide to take the stairs even though I’m late already because there’s no way I’m risking bumping into the ass again. The only highlight about getting to work today is that I can continue emailing my new friend, and that’s when I notice no no no, I left my laptop at home. 

I stare at the clock all day after that, and time could not be going any slower. He must have messaged me by now, does he think I’m ignoring him? I make it to lunch time before I make an excuse that I’m not feeling well to granddad and run home. Like I literally run all the way home. And okay maybe that makes me pathetic, but so be it. I’ve never felt like this before. 

An hour later when I make it home, I run to my laptop to check my emails.

Dave: Good morning, did you also wake up with your laptop on your lap or was it just me? 

Dave: Just made it into the office, can you believe this is my first time being late? 

Dave: Everything okay little frog?

My stomach flutters in the way it only does when you know you love someone. I know that makes me utterly insane, but I can’t help it. It’s been so long since I’ve had these feelings for anyone that I know this is real. 

Poppy: Can we meet in person? Roof of our work builder in one hour. 

I leave my laptop at home, not bothering to wait for the reply and run straight back to the office. I don’t give myself time to think, or to back out. I don’t let myself feel insecure like I usually do I just go. And when I get to the office, I don’t bother with the stairs. Im way to excited to meet him, it's already been 65 minutes so he should be there already, like he said he’s never late. So I head straight to the elevator. 

            “Hold the elevator! Hold it!” Ugh I missed it. But right before the door closes someone sticks their hand out and opens it wide for me. It’s the same guy from a few weeks ago. “Looks like someone found their manners I mutter.” 

            He doesn’t reply, he might not have even heard me. He looks so nervous, equally handsome- no scratch that, I’m in love he is absolutely not handsome. Im too excited to wait for him to press his button and I go to push the roof, but then he reaches his hand with mine and we both press the same button. 

            “It can’t be?” I whisper to myself. Our hands touch like electricity and when I stare up at him my heart skips. “Dave?” 

            He smiles shyly, looking a little less nervous now grabbing my hand in his. 

            “Hi little frog.”