by Romi Moondi
“You kissed the screen?” she said, suddenly embarrassed for me.
I frowned. “Shut up. What I mean is, I get it now. James was never going to save me from my life. As soon as I started to think that, he was gone. I guess I needed to learn that lesson for myself.” I finished the tepid hot chocolate in one long sip.
“Now it really DOES sound like you’re over him.”
I nodded my head. “Yeah, sure.”
The only thing I’m over is this topic.
“By the way, how’s Dave?” I asked. “Are you guys all in love and stuff?”
Laura started blushing as soon as I mentioned “love.”
“So when are you two getting married, hmm? Or is it still a little too early for that? ‘Cause you know me, always jumping the gun.”
We both started laughing and I had to admit, it was maybe a little bit funny.
My horrific failure in the art of Internet seduction…
***
Writing a blog post at six a.m. was not the sort of thing I’d ever thought I’d end up doing. But how could I deny cerebral-programming? My brain was simply used to the six a.m. rush; that feeling of checking e-mails, re-reading e-mails and writing e-mails back. It had been two months since the end of all “that,” yet still I felt the urge.
So I continued to feed the habit, only this time I was writing for myself…
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Ask me to paint you a picture of Hell, and you won’t see any fiery pits or a muscular red-skinned Devil; instead I’ll draw you a grid of the “House Wares” section.
The small appliances…the miles of cutlery…the (gulp) dishes; these are my triggers for self-mutilation.
According to the chicks on television though (who are the obvious benchmarks for realism), buying crap for your house is supposed to be fun. Not only is it supposed to be fun, but it’s supposed to be addictive. Whether it’s the crazed, twitchy-eyed woman stocking up at the “Sale of the Year,” or the chicks on the sitcoms swapping their wedding gifts (and purchasing ten more items along the way), women love their house-related products.
So why don’t I love them too? It’s yet another reason why I strongly suspect that I’m twenty-percent “man” (I’ll reveal the rest of the clues another time)…
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In my writing haze I eventually realized these teeth weren’t going to brush themselves. So I hit “Save” mid-post and made a date with my terrible work ethic.
Next stop: blogging at the office…
***
“Are you going to the Christmas gala?” Eleanor looked at me with pleading eyes, her and Amy my dates for an office lunch at my desk.
I frowned as I peeled back the lid from my yogurt. “It’s my third Christmas working here, and I’ve never once forked out the cash for these fancy galas,” I said. “Like why should I have to PAY for our office Christmas party? I prefer our casual parties better. Getting drunk at a bar with the cool people. Let’s stick with that.”
“But it’s fun!” exclaimed Amy. “You get to be all dressed up and there’s tons of wine.”
“There’s also tons of boring old executives with their husbands or wives.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s so awkward. And besides, you expect me to go without a date? It would be like high school prom all over again.”
Eleanor tried to hide her smile. “But maybe you wouldn’t be dateless…”
Excuse me?
I eyed her cautiously. “Go on.”
“Remember Arjun?” she asked.
I immediately blushed at the sound of his name. “You mean the guy who probably thinks I’m a psycho? He saw me scream at you that night. Don’t you remember?” I shuddered as the memory consumed me.
“He doesn’t think you’re crazy, I swear! I told him you were drunk that night because I forced you to have lots of shots. I blamed it on me. See? I AM a good friend.” She smiled with satisfaction.
“I know you are,” I replied sweetly. “But I’ve only talked to this guy for two minutes. I can’t take him as my date to a gala. That’s too forward!”
“No it’s totally cool. I told him it’s like a big ‘group’ thing,” she said, while picking out the grungy-looking lettuce from her salad. “I’ll be taking Arjun’s friend, and a couple of his other friends are going with some girls in Accounting. Which means Arjun would be more like your guest for a big group party!”
Maybe it wasn’t such a crazy concept. And my parents wouldn’t mind a work-related Christmas party. “But I don’t even have a dress,” I pointed out. “And it’s not like I can stay out super-late.”
“Don’t worry we can shop for a dress next week. And Arjun is Indian remember? I’m sure he’ll be cool with your curfew. Must be home before midnight, just like Cinderella!”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t even mention that stupid bitch. I don’t wanna hear another thing about Prince Charming, or magic slippers, or any of that happy ending garbage.” I was suddenly ready to start up a street fight with anyone. Intense.
Eleanor looked a little frightened. “Okayyy Romes, sensitive topic. Got it.”
“When is this damn thing anyway?” I asked between spoonfuls of yogurt.
Amy consulted her Gala promotional flyer. “Saturday December 20th!”
“You carry your Gala invite in your purse?” I chuckled.
Amy wasn’t fazed. “I love dressing up.”
“Okay then,” I said. “Sign me up for a ticket El. And one for my ‘guest’ as well.”
“Awesome! And I’m also giving him your number. You guys need to talk on the phone before you spend a whole evening together.”
My heart rate suddenly quickened. “I’m not so sure about that. Isn’t that a little too fast?”
“Too fast?” Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Romes, I think the Internet has skewed your sense of reality. And for the last time: this is NOT an arranged marriage set-up!”
She rose from her chair and put her arm around my shoulder. “Just relax okay? A little fun won’t kill you.”
A little fun, a nice dress, and a date to the magic ball. Move over Cinderella...
Chapter Twenty-Two
I took a long sip of my tea, as a blanket of snowflakes fell down fast, obscuring my view of the street.
Sitting and staring out the window seemed like the best thing to do. There was always work of course, but me and work and Mondays rarely ever mixed.
I heard a muffled buzz as my phone began to vibrate from deep inside my bag.
A text message this early in the morning?
I pulled it out to read the message: “Eyes open, sailor! Because I KNOW I just caught you sleeping at your desk ;-)”
I smiled at Arjun’s latest text, and dropped the phone back into my bag, knowing I had to wait before replying.
Don’t wanna look too eager.
Arjun had started texting me a week and a half ago. Most normal people would’ve probably talked on the phone by now, but there was still ten days until our very first “date,” and I didn’t want to go too fast. He did seem sarcastic and funny though, just like Eleanor had said. I wondered what it would be like to spend some actual time with him. Things would probably start out well, since my plum-coloured dress would totally rock his world. A steep three hundred dollars, my low-cut dress was a form-fitting masterpiece (and the material was thick enough to hide any lingering imperfections).
Aside from the outward confidence of having a sexy dress, I wondered how my insides would feel when I saw him. Would I get so excited that I’d feel the sudden urge to puke in his face?
I needed a guy who could make me feel like puking thick streams, ‘cause that’s when I knew it was real. Please make me hurl, Arjun.
I suddenly wondered if Arjun had a profile on Facebook. If he did he’d add me soon, but in the meantime I could check if his photo albums were public. Hopefully his hottest pictures would light the “Romi fire.”
I logged onto Face
book and scrolled through the newsfeed first, as I could never help but check people’s updates.
I moved down the page pretty quickly, until I reached a certain name that would always catch my eye.
James Caldwell.
And the update: “James Caldwell is…soon off to LA to talk films.”
I gasped.
He’d sold his script to Hollywood! Or perhaps I was reading too deeply.
I read the update again, and quickly realized that sold script or not, it would be rude to ignore the development.
But wouldn’t it be dangerous to open up that door?
Maybe I could send him my kudos in a one-line public message. But that was so impersonal! I wanted to at least be sincere.
What if it was me? What if I had a book deal? Would he congratulate me? Of course he would!
I opened up my e-mail and took a deep breath.
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Hey James,
I hope that Hollywood is ready for your greatness!
Will keep an eye out for your name on the silver screen.
Romi
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If this had happened back in that other dimension of “Internet addictive mental stimulation,” I’m sure my e-mail would’ve gone on longer, but for now I wanted to play it cool. Not to mention that it was the first time I hadn’t sounded like a self-absorbed or giddy and obsessive fool. Maybe I was growing up.
Overall this was a different era, one in which a close-ended e-mail was definitely the way to go.
I felt a lot better for at least having sent it, but I needed to return my focus to my current existence. My current and “local” existence.
I grabbed my phone and started texting Arjun: “You caught me b/w a quiet snore and a puddle of drool. Don’t judge ;-). And you’re way too chipper for Mon. morn. Loser.”
“So now you’re texting at work?”
I turned to find the one and only Todd hovering above me, like so many other times in my office life. How does he walk so quietly?
“Uh, I was texting my mom.” I said defensively.
“Your mom? Does she even know how to text?” He rolled his eyes.
“Yes…?” My mom, of all the people I could’ve picked.
He started scratching at his short blond hair, while at the same time kicking the bottom of my chair. How primitive. “So, does this mean you’re back in the saddle?”
Nothing would’ve pleased Todd more than to know I was back in the game. Especially after he’d seen me cry at my desk over James (awkward!). He’d threatened to have him killed, like any good work-dad would.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Hmmm…” he mused, still kicking my chair like a jackass. “Just tell me he’s a local.”
“YES he’s a local.”
“HA! So there IS a dude! You’re so easy to trap.”
“Shut up.” I tried my best to hide a smile. “And go away, I have work to do.”
“Yeah, like getting all ‘worked up’ with the guy on the phone. Just keep your pants on okay? This is an office.”
“You did not just say that!” I hissed. He didn’t wait around to defend himself. Instead he strolled away in his aimless manner.
I wasn’t lying, I really did have lots of work to do. Like answering those e-mails I’d knowingly ignored on Friday.
As I typed away, my eye kept falling back to the minimized window on my task bar. My personal e-mail account was calling out to me.
Open up the screen! Hit “Refresh”! There might be a message from James! Come onnnn!
I tried to ignore the crazy voice which had been dormant for weeks, but after watching myself type a shit-brained response about sales growth in vacuums, I couldn’t fight the feeling any longer.
So I flipped to my personal e-mail and hit “Refresh.”
This is insane.
Just like that, James bounced into my inbox as a brand new message.
I hadn’t seen that in two whole months. I breathed in and out for ten straight seconds. And then, with one eye closed and the other one squinted open, I read the message:
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Hello Roms.
Thank you for the kind words. It’s nice to see you being as enthusiastic as ever. Hope all is well at your end.
Don’t be a stranger.
J
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I suddenly felt so aware of my existence. My heartbeat pounding in my ears, the blood rushing through my body, and the sound of my heavy breathing.
What’s going on with me?
I stared at the e-mail for a while, worrying about how open-ended it really was. It was only polite to answer, right? But that would mean continuing our thread of contact.
Was I about to embark on a dangerous path? I wasn’t sure, but to make matters worse my phone started vibrating.
Oh crap, Arjun!
A second later my desk phone started ringing.
Oh crap, Eleanor!
She was calling me to meet her for a walk in the underground mall, a usual routine for our highly unproductive Monday mornings. I rose from my chair with a single thought in my mind: do not tell Eleanor a thing…
***
I walked past the stores in silence for the first little bit. Meanwhile Eleanor described her latest eventful weekend.
“I mean YES, we hung out after the bar and got some gyros,” she said. “You know, my group of friends with his group of friends. But now he’s already calling and texting non-stop. And I’m talking about consecutive text messages. What should I do? It’s not as if I like him in ‘daytime’ hours.” Eleanor slowed her pace and turned in my direction.
Answer the question. ACT NORMAL.
“Well what’s the usual way to ditch a clinger? Ignore, ignore, ignore. And if that doesn’t work, tell him you’re really busy with life right now. ‘Life is running away from me,’ you’ll say, but you’ll call him when you get the chance. Except you never will.” I smiled and hoped my answer would conceal my disturbing thoughts.
“That’s true! Good tip Romes. So…are you and Arjun still texting? Or have you switched to talking on the phone?” She stared at me with brightened eyes, as we walked past the generic purse and wallet store.
“Ugh, how does this horrible store even stay in business?” I said, trying hard to change the subject. “No one is ever here, it’s probably a front for a drug cartel.” I shook my head in disgust, while Eleanor continued to stare.
Fine, fine, distract her with Arjun-talk. But DON’T mention James. She plays for the “Arjun team” now.
“And to answer your question, YES, he texted me this morning. It was funny and cute so I wrote him back. I guess you could say it’s continuing nicely.”
I tried to smile like a girl caught up in an early infatuation, though the feelings were quickly switching gears.
“That’s great!” she said, while playing with her long mane of hair. “You guys should talk on the phone though. That should be your goal by the end of the day. Get him to call you!” She was elbowing me now, and continued to, until I finally told her what she wanted.
As I thought about a phone call I considered Arjun’s voice. I’d heard it before, and nothing about it had stirred anything inside. It was just the sound of words being spoken.
But was I really being fair to Arjun? Or was I maybe just comparing his voice to a perfect English accent? Damn you James!
After what truly felt like the longest morning break of my life, I returned to my desk and plopped into the chair with a sigh.
I have to write him back.
I breathed myself into a calmer state, the one where my fingers wouldn’t shake so I could actually type.
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Hey James,
Yes, I’m trying to be more enthusiastic these days! Working away, working out, trying to write, and t
aking life a day at a time.
By the way…I think about our past communication sometimes.
Romi
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I hit the “Send” button with relief, but seconds later I was feeling pretty stupid. What was I even hoping for this time? To ignore the lovely guy who was right here in Toronto (oh shit, I should reply to Arjun’s text!), and keep being hung up on James?
It was time to think things through.
What is the probability of James being your boyfriend? What is the probability of Arjun being your boyfriend? Weigh both options to determine if you’re stupid.
STUPID!
I grabbed my phone and furiously texted Arjun.
Once I sent it I was already feeling better.
This is real. That other thing? Not.
I leaned against my chair, feeling surprised by this Monday’s level of stress. And it was only half past eleven.
No one was around so I dropped my head on my desk, trying to organize my thoughts a little better.
In the end, one major thought beat out all the others: less than two weeks left until the Christmas Gala. Stay focused!
The Christmas ball would be a turning point for me, a real chance to end off the year with the humble beginnings of a courtship. Or if not an official courtship, then at least an evening of fun with some three-dimensional people!
Yes, I needed to transition back into the world of moving objects, and e-mails from James weren’t exactly helping my cause.
I opened up my e-mail.
Time to log out.
It was strange, the way my brain and my fingers never seemed to be in sync. My brain instructed me to log out right away, but my hand moved the cursor until it hovered right on top of the “Refresh” button.
Once I clicked, I found yet another reply.
NO!
It was the last thing I wanted, so why did I feel just the tiniest tinge of excitement?
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Hello Roms,
