We go back a long way, you and me.
You were a rogue when I created you, flirting with all the women in a Medieval role play sim on Second Life. I just wanted to play my princess character, but the role players needed you. You were the anti-hero and the comic relief that kept the story moving. And you had a way with women, that’s for sure, whether it was the princess or the barmaid. You had that swagger and eyebrow wiggle down, even back then. You looked like a mercenary, but you were loyal and good underneath, a true Chaotic Good guy.
When that gig went away, you didn’t. You stuck with me, biding your time, waiting for a new creative outlet.
You are the reason I started writing again after fifteen years away. You kept tapping my shoulder. You were kind of annoying after awhile, as you often are, but your persistence was effective. I have to admit, I missed you and your pretty gray eyes and floppy dark hair and that nose that’s just a little too big to let your face be classically handsome.
I missed the smarmy eyebrow wiggle.
I never imagined a character, completely housed in my imagination, could speak to me, tell me stories, compel me to pursue him. It’s a special kind of crazy writers have, I suppose. But I never would have known this madness if it wasn’t for you and your insistence that I bring you to life.
Then I had to give you flaws, a painful past, an uncertain future. You, my perfectly imperfect man, my own creation. I was tasked with the job of making your story full of conflict. Stories ARE conflict. Life is conflict. So I killed your parents, gave you an empty, hedonistic life, and dangled a problematic love affair in front of you. And I made you a time traveler. That may have been the worst thing of all.
I made you cry, made you angry, almost killed you. I gave you a new best friend and took him away. Sorry about all that.
Kind of how life is, though. We gain, we lose. We hurt, we triumph, we weep. A time for love and a time for hate. A time to mourn, a time to dance.
Here’s to you, Giovanni Raphael Capello, my leading man. Kind and cowardly and funny and talented and oh, so beautiful. Thank you for helping me create your story. I hope one day the world comes to love you as much as Sarah and I do.