by Shayla Black
“Without help?”
“Well, not exactly,” I admit wryly. “When I called here to ask about a private, after-hours tour, they connected me with the catering manager, who was full of suggestions. So we’ll have dinner, then the guide will show us around. I’m hoping you’ll see why this place fascinates me.”
Machines make sense. No emotions. No gray areas. No unpredictability. Just binary code. Just black and white. When I’m here, I forget my problems and lose myself in the technology that has transformed the world.
“I’d like that. Thanks for going to so much trouble to make this special.” She rims her wineglass with one finger, then looks my way. “It’s interesting, dating you suddenly.”
“I was thinking the same thing earlier.”
“There are things I know about you and lots I don’t. I think we should treat this like any first date. Talk and learn about each other. I’ll ask you some questions. You feel free to ask some, too. You know?”
Not really, but I’ll play along. “All right.”
Nia finishes her bite of lettuce. “So, how did you meet Becca?”
I wasn’t sure what I expected her to ask first, but that wasn’t it. “In high school. We found out we were both foster kids. I was in a good home by then, but her situation was terrible. We started talking because I was a little older and she wanted advice about how to handle her foster parents. I quickly realized she needed way more than someone to offer an ear every now and then. I was sixteen, so there wasn’t much I could do to intervene, but I stayed on her guardians’ radar. Things were always tenuous. She was afraid.”
“They were abusive?”
“He was. When stuff happened, the wife was suddenly blind, deaf, and mute. I did the best I could to look out for her, but Child Protective Services never seemed to have a spare caseworker to investigate Becca’s claims. We got married the day she turned eighteen. She went straight from being their ward to being my wife. From then on, I took care of her, and she took care of me.” I wolf down a bite of salad and regard Nia across the table. “What about your first boyfriend?”
“Serious one? Not my middle school crush, right?” At my nod, she swallows another bite. “I was a cheerleader, and Jayden played running back. His senior year, he put up more points than any other high school football player in the state. We dated for almost two years and broke up just before graduation because we were both going to college hundreds of miles apart. And because I found out the football wasn’t the only thing he was scoring with.”
“He cheated?” I dive into my salad, unable to imagine why anyone would so intentionally and flagrantly break his bond with Nia. Besides being beautiful, she’s interesting, genuine, and smart. To risk losing her for fleeting pleasure seems illogical.
“Apparently a lot. I think I knew on some level. I wasn’t in love with him or anything, so I probably didn’t care as much as I should have. Anyway, when I realized we were going in different directions and that being without him was actually a relief, I broke it off.”
“I’m glad. I don’t understand people unable to keep their commitments. You deserved better.”
“Thanks.” She cocks her head. “After him, I dated off and on in college—all kinds of guys—black, white, ambitious, lazy, snarky, sweet, smart, and some less bright…who had other attributes to make up for their lack of brains.” She laughs at herself. “But I started going out less frequently when I hired on at Stratus. I was too busy to put up with guys who were either self-absorbed, wanted to party, seem married to their careers, or only looking for a hookup. The dating pool out there is terrible.”
“Based on the women I met yesterday, I’m glad I’m here with you, rather than swimming in it.” Before I can say more, a waiter wheels out a cart with two domed dishes and a basket of steaming bread, then takes our salad plates away. “I didn’t expect you to find candidates for me while I was in LA. I certainly wasn’t expecting to interview anyone yesterday.”
“I figured that if you want to be married before you move, we couldn’t afford to waste time.”
It’s not an illogical conclusion. “You didn’t know I’d changed my mind.”
We pause as the waiter sets our dishes in front of us and lifts the lid to reveal filet mignon, asparagus, and a steaming baked potato. The heavenly smells waft as the waiter walks away. I’m surprised when Nia doesn’t dig in.
“Your food look okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just…not sure why you decided you want to marry me. You listed your logical reasons, but what about feelings, Evan? Are you going to care about me? Will you be okay with whatever feelings I might have for you? I know you don’t want ‘entanglements,’ but how do you expect to live with someone for the rest of your life and not be connected more than mentally and sexually?”
Once again, Nia asks great questions. I consider as I fork in a bite of steak. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t care. I won’t love again, but I promise I’ll always do my best to make you happy.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “So you loved Becca?”
“Of course I did.”
After all, if I hadn’t, I could never have been married to her happily. But…Becca didn’t inspire the kind of passion in me that Nia does. I didn’t ever think I would lose my mind if I had to go another day without being inside Becca. She didn’t linger in my thoughts—until she was gone.
“Did you ever tell her you loved her?”
“Sure.” I don’t remember a specific instance, but I must have. “Not often, but neither of us required verbal reassurance. Maybe we weren’t a typical couple, but we were secure in our marriage and knew we were together until death parted us.”
I just never expected that would be so soon. Or that she’d take our child with her.
Nia presses her lips together as if she doesn’t like something about my answer. “What about your foster parents? Tell me what they were like.”
Where is she going with this? “I had a lot of them over the years, some pretty rough. But I always had computers and the Internet to help me escape. I got by. Then Diana came along when I was twelve, and I finally had a good place to finish out my time in foster care.”
“Did she ever tell you she loved you?”
Why does Nia seem so hung up on love?
“Not in so many words. Diana is a free spirit. She raised me for money, and I never let myself forget that. But she taught me a lot about respecting the Earth, about healthy eating, and about art. She taught me how to laugh. She never had to speak words for me to know I mattered.”
Nia nods as she swallows a bite. “Do you remember much about your mom, since she died when you were so little?”
“Not really. I have a vague recollection of her ruffling my hair as I sat on her lap beside the Christmas tree. That was a few months before she passed. The only other thing I remember is the way she always put her arms around me, kissed my cheeks, and called me her little man. I wonder sometimes how different my life would have turned out if she’d lived.”
“Maybe not as much as you think. You’re brilliant, ambitious, and hardworking. Nothing was going to change the fact you were destined for success.” She nibbles her lip as if she’s debating the wisdom of whatever is rolling through her head. “Tell me about finally meeting your biological father. You didn’t say much after you returned from Harlow’s wedding in June.”
“Not much to say.” Barclay Reed was there with his wife, Linda. Looking into the face of the man who contributed half of my DNA and realizing he’s not only a stranger but an asshole rocked me. “We talked for three minutes. He seemed far more interested in selling me on ‘investment opportunities’ than learning about his grown son as a human being.”
By the time I walked away from him, I felt nothing but contempt.
“Did he even try to explain why he never took you in?”
“No. He didn’t have to. Harlow and I were born three days apart. I’m sure the last thing he wanted was for his wife to know he’d
knocked up his secretary at roughly the same time he’d impregnated her. And I doubt she wanted to raise his bastard.”
Nia grimaces. “But you were a kid when your mom died, and he cut you loose to save his own ass.”
He did. “Well, I think Karma got the last word since, according to Maxon and Griff, he might well be going to prison.”
She knows this part of the story, so she’s not surprised, just snide. “It sounds like you didn’t miss much by not growing up with him.”
“According to my half siblings, I should consider myself lucky. I don’t know about that. But at least they seem fantastic, so something good came from the whole mess.” I sip my wine. “That’s enough about me. What about you and your father? You’ve never said much about him.”
“I don’t know much. While I was growing up, he met his financial responsibilities. He even put me through college. But we’ve never met.” None of that is news to me, but when she pauses, I have a feeling she’s about to tell me something big. “I don’t even know his name.”
My jaw drops. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. When I was a kid, my mom always said she’d tell me when I was old enough to understand. But when I got older, she admitted she couldn’t answer my questions because the two of them had reached a settlement, which included her signing an NDA.”
“And this nondisclosure indicated she couldn’t tell his own daughter his identity?”
“Apparently so.”
“Why the hell would he not want you to ever know about him?”
“So I couldn’t come after him and his money as an adult, I guess. Oh, don’t look so shocked. He was married, rich, white, and well respected. And he knocked up his young black maid. My mom admitted she fell for his charm and smooth tongue, even though she knew better. Predictably, when she told him she was pregnant, he broke it off. It didn’t matter that she loved him. He never talked to her again, except through lawyers.”
I’m furious on behalf of Nia and her mother. “His behavior was irresponsible and unforgivable.”
“Cowardly and short-sighted, too.” She shrugs. “When I was a kid, I used to play with other children and be envious of their really involved daddies. My mom always claimed his absence in my life was a blessing in disguise. Maybe it was, but it never felt that way. I’ve always wanted that typical TV-perfect family, you know? Hell, any family at all. I still do.”
“I guess we both wanted family growing up because neither of us had an ideal childhood.”
“Probably. So…if we both want family, does that mean you still want kids? After everything that’s happened, do you see yourself having children with your second wife? Maybe with me?”
It’s a question I should be prepared for. I’ve been asked if I still want children, and I thought I knew the answer. I want family…but I don’t feel anywhere near ready to risk conceiving a tiny human with my DNA, only to possibly lose him or her again. Becca’s absence in my life has been difficult. But as November came and I was confronted with the due date of the infant I’d never get to hold, I’ve been wracked by pain and guilt. Why did I survive while my wife and child died?
“Not this soon after losing Becca and the baby. Maybe in a few years.” But even the thought of it terrifies me. “Maybe never.”
Nia softens. “You’ve been through a lot, Evan. I know. I’ve watched you struggle, and I hurt for you.”
“Thank you for picking up a lot of slack in the office when I couldn’t.”
“It was my job and my pleasure. But if you seriously want to marry me, I have to be honest. I’m eventually going to want kids, at least two. If you’re not sure you’ll ever be ready for that, this won’t work. I also want a man who can tell me he loves me and mean it. Not today. Not even next week. But someday. I’m not sure that’s you. Your childhood was rough, and no one gave you the affection you deserved. Becca didn’t need to hear how you felt, but I do. If that’s a problem, I should call your other four candidates back tomorrow and let you interview them.”
Everything inside me seizes up. Having another wife pregnant and vulnerable terrifies me. I’m equally afraid of telling another woman I love her.
But Nia walking away scares me most of all.
It’s a feeling, so I know it isn’t logical. But that doesn’t make what’s churning in my gut any less real.
“Don’t. I want you with me and I want you to be happy. We’ll negotiate, work something out. But I need more time to come to terms with everything.”
She nods. “You’ll have the next six weeks while we’re dating to figure it out.”
I’ve had six and a half months so far and I’ve untangled nothing. Does she think the next six weeks will somehow magically make everything clear?
Then again, I’ve only given her six weeks to figure out if she wants to spend the rest of her life with me.
Nia reaches for bread and breaks into my thoughts. “I guess it’s weird to be talking about the possibility of love and babies on our first date. On the other hand, you’ve already asked me to marry you and we’ve had sex. We’re doing everything ass-backwards.”
I have to laugh. “That we are.”
The rest of the meal passes in companionable conversation—and a lot of Nia moaning about the chef’s amazing ability to elevate cheesecake to orgasm on a fork. I’m not usually a fan of desserts and sweets, but I agree with her assessment.
When we’re done, I help her from her seat and we head downstairs. As we open the door and find ourselves on the museum floor, Nia takes it all in. It’s odd to see the place devoid of people. The main space almost looks like an office building from an old TV show. Gray metal grids hold up flecked ceiling tiles. Track lighting illuminates the putty-colored walls, along with various exhibits and the walkways between them.
“You two ready?” Aiden asks as he approaches.
I defer to Nia, and she nods. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
He walks us through photos of some of the earliest computers.
“Colossus was the first electric programmable computer. It went into service in December 1943,” Aiden says, then looks at Nia. “Any guesses what it was used for?”
“Given what was going on then, did it have something to do with the war effort?”
“Exactly.” I smile at her. Even if computers aren’t her thing, I like that’s she curious enough to listen and play along. “It was created to help British code breakers read encrypted messages they intercepted from the Germans.”
“Wow. I had no idea. And what about this?” She points to the next exhibit, a photograph of one of my personal favorites.
“ENIAC.”
“Any what?”
Aiden laughs. “It was one of the earliest digital computers. It took up eighteen hundred square feet. Which is bigger than my whole apartment.”
“The picture is mind-blowing. Multiple people standing there, being dwarfed by all the walls, wires, connectors of this machine.” She looks amazed.
I can’t help but smile. “They were. ENIAC used eighteen thousand vacuum tubes and weighed almost fifty tons. It was very state-of-the-art for 1946.”
“I had no idea computers started so early.”
“Absolutely. And look how far they’ve come.” I pull my phone from my pocket. “Even simple things you do with this little device would have taken up a whole room seventy-five years ago.”
“For sure,” Aiden agrees. “Next, we have the first stored-program computer, another British creation called EDSAC. In 1949, it performed the first graphical computer game. Despite the fact it, too, took up a whole room, it was nicknamed Baby.”
That makes Nia laugh.
Over the next couple of hours, Aiden walks her though the first computer with RAM from the 1950s, the first desktop computer from the 1960s, along with teletype units, dumb terminals, and giant Unix machines, which could be used by more than one person at a time. As we continue moving through the advancements in the decades that followed, she gets a huge giggle out of the
first laptop computer, the IBM5100.
“This would crush me,” she protests. “It’s huge!”
“By today’s standards, it’s ridiculous. But this was 1975,” I argue. “So fifty-five pounds with a five-inch display was the latest. And by 1981, a laptop’s weight had been cut to less than half, so progress was happening pretty fast. Sometimes, I think it would have been cool to be alive during the groundbreaking phases of computer development. And yet the limitations in technology would have been so frustrating.”
“You wouldn’t have known any better.”
“I would have seen the possibilities.”
Nia nods. “You always have to look at those…”
I’m hoping she means more than the computers. That maybe she means us, too.
When we work our way through the rest of the museum and I thank Aiden for his excellent tour, I can’t resist putting my hand on the small of Nia’s back as I lead her to my car. “You didn’t hate that place?”
“No. I actually enjoyed it. I had no idea computers were so old and varied and had gone through so many types and versions. I tried to take it all in, but I’m on information overload. I’m sure I missed some details.”
“I visit once a quarter or so and I almost always find some nugget of information I previously overlooked.” I help her into the car.
As we head out of the parking lot, I look her way. I know it’s late. I know we both have to work tomorrow.
But I don’t want to let her go.
The streets are deserted, so we reach her house in the short time it takes for Keeley’s next song to fill the space. Sixpence None the Richer pleads in lilting, feminine tones to “Kiss Me.” I only know this song because Diana loved it and played it whenever she was feeling optimistic about some new girlfriend or another she hoped might fall in love with her. The lyrics are chanting through my brain as Nia sings along just under her breath.
Yes, I want to kiss her beneath the milky twilight. Hell, I’m aching to kiss her anywhere. I’d love to kiss her now.
The night we had sex is emblazoned in my memory…but it’s a blur. Everything happened so fast it was almost an out-of-body experience. My inexplicable anger at seeing her naked for a room full of strangers with Kyle’s hands all over her, followed by the raging lust that overtook everything, especially my inhibitions and common sense. When it was over, I was breathing hard, stunned, reeling with guilt, yet flush with a bone-deep satisfaction I’d never felt. But the details—the way she smelled, tasted, kissed—aren’t clear. And I need them to be.
