by Alice Wasser
I waited for the computer to tell me that I needed to install a new update or reboot within the next five minutes, but it didn’t. I eased off the keyboard like Sam taught me to do, instead of my usual trick of pressing every button in an attempt to make it do something. Except now the computer was essentially frozen. And then all of a sudden…
Blue Screen of Death.
My first instinct was to panic. It used to be that when my computer broke, it meant a long, unproductive phone call with Dell, followed by either mailing them my computer or taking it to some local repair shop. But these days, I just get Sam to take a look at it. I’ve never managed to find a problem with my computer that he couldn’t fix. I can’t tell you how amazing it is to have somebody in my very own home who can come to my rescue when I’m having computer problems.
Lately I’ve gotten so dependent on Sam that I don’t even bother to turn the computer off and on before I run to get him. But after what happened last night, I didn’t want our first interaction to be my begging for help with my computer. So I shut the computer down and restarted it.
Still the Blue Screen of Death. The computer refused to even attempt to load Windows.
This was potentially serious.
I checked my watch. Nine in the morning. Potentially, Sam might end up sleeping another three or four hours. I guess I could have called Dell, but I actually thought that Sam would’ve been really offended if he woke up and found out that I called them instead of asking him for help.
(Although it probably wouldn’t have been as bad as if he found out how much time I spent last night with Jake.)
After several more minutes of internal debate, I went to the bedroom and woke him up, and informed him ominously that I was getting the Blue Screen of Death.
“Huh?” he said, looking at me with bleary eyes.
“I need your help,” I said. I added, “Please.”
After last night, I was worried there was a chance he might tell me to go to hell or something along those lines. But instead, he just rubbed his eyes with the back of his wrists. “Okay, Millie. I’ll be right there.”
I was practically pacing by the time Sam wheeled into the living room in his underwear, looking very tired and unshaven, his hair sticking up. Actually, he looked adorable. I ran over to him and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you for getting up,” I said.
He smiled sleepily. He didn’t seem upset at me in the slightest. “No problem,” he said. “What happened?”
I explained everything to him again and he wheeled over to my computer to take a look. He rebooted it, removing his glasses briefly to rub his eyes again. Sam looks so cute in the morning. I’m so lucky that I have him. And also that he can fix any computer problem known to man.
“Uh oh,” Sam said.
My stomach flip-flopped. “What?”
“Millie, I think your hard drive died,” he said.
“Can’t you fix it?”
“Not if it’s dead,” he said.
I was shocked. I genuinely believed he could fix anything. I thought of all the data I had on my hard drive and was horrified at the idea that it could all be gone. I remembered Sam telling me I needed to back everything up, but I hadn’t listened. I’m such an idiot. “Isn’t there anything we can try?”
There was, thank God. Sam got out an external hard drive reader he owned. Don’t laugh, but I find it sort of sexy that he has all these gadgets like an external hard drive reader. He got out his tool kit, turned my laptop over and unscrewed my hard drive with this other little mechanical gadget he has that helps him unscrew things with his limited hand movement.
I watched anxiously as he tried to boot up his own laptop with my hard drive. “Is it working?” I asked.
“Um,” he said. “Not… really. No, it’s not. I think it’s completely dead.”
“Is there anything else you could try?” I asked, almost hysterically.
He shook his head. “I really think it’s dead.”
I’m embarrassed to admit that I started crying. I know it sounds stupid to cry over a computer breaking, but I’d had my laptop for four years. Four years of information… gone. Photos, documents, music… all gone. Just like that. I couldn’t believe it.
“Millie,” Sam said gently. “Don’t cry over this. I’ll run out to Fry’s and get you a new hard drive right now. I’ll have it working for you by tonight. I promise.”
“But I lost all my data,” I sniffled.
“Oh.” He smiled crookedly. “No, you didn’t. I backed it up for you a few weeks ago.”
I stared at him. “What?”
He shrugged. “I kept telling you to back up your computer and you didn’t. Your computer was being really flaky and I had a bad feeling about it. So one day last month when you were working late, I backed it up for you with my external DVD writer. It wasn’t even that much. I got it all onto two DVDs. I thought I told you about it.”
For a second, I was speechless. Then I fell into his arms, kissing him all over his neck and cheeks. He laughed.
This is what I love about Sam. The fact that he’s looking out for me to the point where he anticipates what problems I’m going to have and prevents them.
I’m not going to answer the email that Jake sent me. I’m not going to talk to him at all anymore. The flirtation needs to stop.
May 24:
Is it just Sam or are all guys so horny when they wake up in the morning?
I really don’t know the answer to that. Sam’s the only guy I’ve spent the night with on any regular basis. And he is always horny in the morning.
I got him up at 11:30 a.m. this morning for lunch and he grabbed me and pulled me into bed with him. He is surprisingly good at doing that, considering how poor his grip strength is—he uses his forearms to pull me towards him. He started kissing me all over my neck and then pushed up my shirt to kiss my abdomen. “I was having a dream about you,” he murmured.
“Really,” I said. “What was it?”
He didn’t answer. He was busy pulling my bra cups off my breasts with his teeth.
“You know, I made lunch. It’s getting cold…”
“Don’t care.”
I felt a little guilty because he was obviously very turned on, but I had just made food and he’s turned on every morning! I playfully pushed him off me and he pouted, but then agreed to come eat. I mean, I think he knows that I’m not going to fool around with him every morning. It’s flattering that he wants me so frequently, to be honest.
May 25:
Late this morning, Jake texted me: “I need to talk to you to go over some numbers.”
I haven’t been texting as much with Jake since the party. That is to say, he’s been texting me and I’ve been mostly not replying. It’s easier than just telling him to stop. But since Jake and I work together, I don’t want to ignore any work-related requests.
I wrote back: “Which numbers?”
He replied instantly: “36-24-36?”
Very funny, Jake. Aren’t those the numbers from “Baby Got Back”? I don’t think women exist who truly have that kind of figure, and if they do, they are definitely not me.
I wrote back: “Those are NOT my numbers. Sorry.”
Jake wrote again: “OK, but I accidentally bought two sandwiches from the deli this morning. Come by and help me eat one.”
I sat there, staring at my phone. The right thing to do was to say no. I’m engaged to another man and things were getting a little bit too weird between me and Jake. In the past, Jake has been coming to my cubicle when he wants to say hi. But while my cubicle is completely exposed, his office is not. If I were in his office with him, anything could happen in there and nobody would see.
But then again, Jake and I are old friends. We come from the same neighborhood and our mothers go to temple together. Is it really so awful for us to have lunch together every once in a while? Honestly, it would be more insulting to Sam if I couldn’t trust myself to spend time with an attractive man.
“I’ll be right down,” I texted Jake.
Jake looked really happy to see me and I noticed he immediately closed the door behind me when I came in, but I tried not to make too much of it. Anyway, it was better that the door was closed because otherwise people might get the wrong idea if they saw us together in here.
“Turkey or ham?” he asked.
Turkey is healthier and I still need to lose more weight than I want to think about. “Turkey,” I said.
He handed me a wrapped sandwich. He wasn’t making a move to unwrap his sandwich, so I felt like I’d be a pig if I started eating mine. But I was pretty hungry.
“Go ahead and eat,” Jake said.
“Maybe I should go back to my cubicle,” I said, hesitating in front of his desk.
“What—you’re not going to keep me company?”
Jake was about a foot away from me. The bastard was wearing another great suit that fit his body perfectly. I wondered how often he went to the gym. Maybe every day. I could just see him in his shorts and a T-shirt, getting all sweaty as he lifted a barbell over his head and…
Ugh, no! Stop, Millie! What was wrong with me?
“I should probably get back to work,” I mumbled.
“Matilda.” Jake took the sandwich out of my hands and looked into my eyes. He had brown eyes, like mine, except I think his were actually prettier than mine. Men shouldn’t be allowed to have longer eyelashes than women. “Look, I’m going to be completely honest with you. After that party the other night, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He paused. “And I think you’ve been thinking about me too.”
I swallowed. “Sam and I…”
Jake screwed up his face angrily. “Bullshit, Matilda,” Jake said. “Don’t tell me Sam is the man of your dreams. Sam is a nice guy, but that’s not the right reason to get married. Look at that ring… clearly he’s overcompensating because he knows he’s not good enough for you.”
I remembered what Sam had said to me about nice guys always finishing last. As Jake hovered close to me, his hot breath wreaking havoc on my emotions, I wondered if this was true.
“I have to go back to my desk,” I managed to say.
Jake didn’t budge. He was staring into my eyes. His face must have been maybe six inches from mine, which believe me, isn’t very much. My heart was pounding so hard, I truly felt like I was going to drop dead of a heart attack any second.
(Hey, that would solve this problem, at least.)
“I’m going to go,” I said softly.
Finally, Jake nodded. “Go,” he said, but his eyes never left mine.
I took my turkey sandwich and got the hell out of there. I noticed Jake’s secretary Cheryl gave me a funny look as I came out, so I held up the sandwich and croaked, “Lunch.”
(Because obviously the only way for anyone to get lunch at this company was to go to one of the junior executive’s offices and get a sandwich. That was an airtight excuse.)
I felt an urgent need to find Sam. Even though he had no idea what just went on inside Jake’s office and had less of an idea of what was going on inside my head, I felt like I had to make it up to him. Prove to him and to myself that I still loved him.
I went to his office and he wasn’t there. Of course. He’s never there.
I considered searching for him, but he could have been anywhere in the building if he was fixing someone’s computer or in a meeting. It was crazy to run all around to find him. I guess I could have called him, but I didn’t want to bother him in a meeting.
Finally, I went back to my desk and settled down with my ill-gotten sandwich. I sent Sam a text: “I love you.”
Within a minute, I got a reply: “I love you too. Everything okay?”
I hesitated before typing back: “Yes.”
May 26:
We’ve been seeing a lot of Sam’s brother Eric since he moved down here from Oregon. I really like Eric, but it’s clear that his separation is doing a number on him. We had dinner once last week and he didn’t talk about it much, but he looked kind of wrecked. I think he misses his family, but especially Alicia.
They broke the news to their parents a few days ago. Apparently, Sam’s mother started crying. I don’t think she was a particularly huge Alicia fan, and I heard there were a few “I told you so’s” during the conversation. On top of that, his younger brother’s wife recently decided that she doesn’t want children, so they’re having marital problems too. Sam told me that, according to his mother, the only saving grace was the fact that at least her middle son was getting married “to the most wonderful woman in the world.”
(Her words, not mine, obviously.)
Today Eric came by with a photo album that turned out to be his wedding album, along with a bottle of wine. He proceeded to get drunk while tearfully flipping through the pages of the album with Sam. It made for a fun evening.
I looked on with them, mostly because I was curious to see early photos of Sam, who was Eric’s best man. He was pretty easy to pick out, being the only person there who was in a wheelchair. He was about 23 years old back then. He actually looked pretty similar to the way he did now, and was devastatingly handsome in a black jacket and tie. Sam is just about the most photogenic person I’ve ever met.
I noticed a brown-haired girl posing with Sam in one of the photos. His arm was around her and they were both smiling for the camera. “Who’s that?” I asked him.
He looked over at the photo I was pointing to. “Oh yeah, that was Elisa. She was my girlfriend in college.”
I studied the photo for a minute. After seeing Sam’s drop-dead gorgeous ex-girlfriend Holly, I assumed that was the only kind of women he dated. But Elisa was… normal-looking. In fact, she looked a little like me. Or at least, the way I did in college. Maybe Holly was the anomaly in his love life. I always felt like Sam must think I was hideous compared to his other girlfriends, but I guess his standards weren’t as crazy as I had thought.
“What?” Sam said, looking at me quizzically.
“Nothing,” I said. “She just seems… nice.”
Sam grinned. “You sound shocked. What—you think I only dated horrible bitches prior to you?”
“Actually, that’s kind of true,” Eric said. He winked at Sam. “I won’t embarrass you with examples.”
“Thank God.”
“Elisa was pretty nice though,” Eric added. “What did she end up doing?”
“Law school in New York,” Sam said. “She’s some high-powered district attorney now, I think.”
“She married?” Eric asked with a grin.
Sam glanced at me nervously. “How should I know? You think I keep track of my ex-girlfriends?”
Eric laughed. “Oh, come on, Sam. You think Millie is jealous of some girl you dated ten years ago who lives across the country?”
“No,” Sam said, although he didn’t sound sure of himself.
The truth is, I wasn’t jealous at all. In fact, since laying eyes on Elisa, I feel a lot better about myself and my relationship with Sam. If he likes girls like Elisa, it makes more sense that he could like me. Maybe I really am his type. Not that he’s done anything to make me doubt the fact that he likes me.
May 27:
Jake and I are still texting. A lot.
For a few days after the party we stopped, but then somehow we started up again. It’s all completely innocent. I haven’t said anything in a text message to Jake that I wouldn’t want Sam to see.
But I have to admit, I definitely wouldn’t want him to see how many messages have been exchanged.
I just haven’t had a lot of experience with men being as persistent as Jake. I hardly ever even get asked out, so having a guy who wants to text me all the time and makes it obvious he’s interested is weird for me. Sam was the first guy who ever really pursued me actively. Maybe the fact that I’m spoken for makes me somehow more desirable. Or maybe I’m just getting hotter as I get older.
(Yeah, right.)
Anyway, I can
handle it. Whether or not Jake is interested, I am definitely not interested in him. I am 100% dedicated to my fiancé.
Donna came over to my desk today while I was in the middle of writing a text to Jake. She saw what I was doing before I had a chance to close it. “Millie, are you working on some project with Jake Winston?” she asked me.
“No…” I said.
“Why are you exchanging so many messages with him then?”
I shrugged helplessly. “He just… keeps writing to me.”
Donna’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, Millie, seriously, is something going on between you and Jake?”
“No!”
“Oh, Millie,” Donna murmured. She pulled a vacant chair over to my cubicle and sat down. She’s pregnant enough now that she says her feet swell when she stands too long. “What are you doing? How could you do this to Sam?”
“I’m not doing anything to Sam,” I protested.
“So does he know you’re flirting with Jake?”
“I’m not flirting!”
Donna sighed. “Millie, you know Jake doesn’t really like you. He just wants you because you’re not available. That’s the kind of guy he is.”
My cheeks flushed with anger. A few months ago, Donna was yelling at me for not being confident enough. Now she was belittling me for possibly thinking that a desirable guy like Jake could be interested in me.
“That’s not true,” I said.
“Jake is obviously a player,” Donna said. “Come on! He’s good-looking. He’s wealthy. He’s in his mid-thirties and he’s not married.”
“Sam is in his mid-thirties and not married.”
Donna rolled her eyes. “Obviously, that’s a little different. He’s in a wheelchair. And anyway, he’s engaged to you.”
“Jake is not a player,” I insisted. “You just… don’t know him like I do. He’s a really nice guy.”
