by Jane Frances
An instruction below the list of room occupants caught Emma’s eye as she continued to sit silent, fingers poised over the keyboard. “Click on a name to view the profile.” Maybe if she could find common ground with someone in the room she could strike up a conversation of her own. She clicked on Vixen. Her profile read, “Chicago. 29, independent, fun-loving, no games. No pvt.”
No pvt? What on earth did that mean? Emma clicked on Shygirl. It appeared she wasn’t too shy after all. “Petite 36D Sub. Cum let’s have some fun.” Hmm…
Next she tried Pookie. No profile appeared. Maybe she hadn’t clicked properly, or maybe, like her, Pookie had not entered a profile. She tried again anyway, this time giving two clicks in quick succession.
Oh, dear. Emma had no idea why yet another window materialized. It was devoid of the list of room occupants and for a moment was completely empty. Text suddenly blinked.
Pookie: hi kayisha
Emma discarded her worries over the technical foibles of a chat room, glad someone was finally speaking to her.
Kayisha: Hi Pookie.
Pookie: u wanted 2 speak 2 me in pvt?
Pvt. There was that “word” again.
Kayisha: What’s pvt?
Pookie: lol where we r now. u brought me in
Kayisha: How? What’s lol?
Pookie: new 2 this?
Kayisha: First time.
Pookie: u 2x clicked on my name n brought me in. this is a private room. no 1 can see wot we say
Kayisha: Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know.
Pookie: i did it 2 when new. frightened the life out of me LOL
Kayisha: lol?
Pookie: lol = laugh out loud. where u from kay?
Since it was obvious everything in this virtual world was written in some funny shorthand, Emma wasn’t too surprised Pookie abbreviated her user name. She decided not to return the gesture. Being referred to as “Poo” might not go down too well. Emma hesitated over her answer. The chat site was apparently worldwide. Should she say Australia, Western Australia or Perth?
Kayisha: Perth
Pookie: perth scotland or perth wa?
Kayisha: WA
Pookie: which side of the river?
Emma quickly deduced Pookie must also be a “Perthite.” Anyone who asked that question was obviously a local and knew of the ongoing debate over which side of the Swan River was best. North residents thought North best; South voted South. In this debate anyone who resided East or West didn’t count.
Although it was nice to think she had happened across a woman from her own town, Emma found herself in a conundrum. Had Pookie been from deepest, darkest Africa Emma would have no trouble revealing her approximate location, but knowing she was in the same city, maybe even in the same suburb, raised alarm bells. Pookie may be a charming psychopath. Dear Lord, she may even be a he.
Emma typed in what she thought was a suitably obscure answer and waited for the response.
Toni smiled when she read Kayisha’s reply to her “which side of the river” question. Her answer, “The good side,” proved she was a local. Finally, after all these months of chatting, Toni had bumped into someone else from Perth. She had begun to feel she was the only one.
Pookie: so we have something in common
Kayisha: You live on the good side too?
Pookie: now i do. when i arrived i lived on the other side but i crossed over. still work on the other side tho
Kayisha: A double agent.
Pookie: lol i guess so
Kayisha: Arrived from where?
Pookie: melbourne
Kayisha: I love Melbourne. But I think I put on five pounds during my last visit. It’s definitely not a place to go when on a diet.
Pookie: the refrain of a lygon street victim
Kayisha: Spaghetti heaven stretched out on a street.
Toni smiled again, never having heard Lygon Street, famous for its plethora of Italian restaurants, described in such a way. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, running off a string of her favorite Lygon Street haunts. To her delight Kayisha declared two of them as “must visits” when in town. She even went into raptures over the same “to die for” spaghetti marinara. Toni found she was smiling yet again. She decided she liked Kayisha.
Much later, the phone rang. Toni was so engrossed in the words on her screen she jumped at the noise. A glance to the time display revealed it was nearly five-thirty. Goodness, last time she checked it had only been three forty-five. She typed an apology before reaching to answer the phone, and she used it as a chance to introduce Kayisha to another piece of chatter jargon.
Pookie: brb = be right back
Kayisha: ok
Toni was still watching the screen when she stopped the phone from its shrill ringing. “Hello?”
“Hi, Toni.”
“Oh, hi, Julie.”
“Sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier. It’s been all go over here.”
“Back to me?”
“You called and left a message with Sue.”
“Oh, yes.” Toni closed her eyes so she could concentrate on something other than her computer. “But you didn’t need to call back.”
“That’s okay. I wanted to see if there was anything you particularly felt like for dinner tonight.”
“Honestly, Julie, it’s fine. You don’t need to come over again. I’m feeling much better today.”
“It’s really no trouble, Toni.”
“I was going to rustle up something for myself. Forget about me and go enjoy your weekend.”
“How about a Caesar salad?”
That was it. Julie hung out the bait and Toni took it. Of all foods known to womankind, Caesar salad was Toni’s absolute favorite; even more so than Lygon Street spaghetti marinara. “Okay.”
“Great. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”
“Okay. Oh, and Julie, do you think you could pick me up a couple of AA batteries?”
Julie didn’t ask what they were for. Toni was a bit disappointed. She wanted to use her flat battery and vibrating appliance comment.
All Julie said was, “Sure thing.”
Toni found the telephone handset by touch, eyes already refocused on the screen as she returned the receiver to its cradle. She had at least another half an hour to chat before needing to log off and make herself presentable.
Pookie: back
The screen sat silent. Toni waited a good minute before trying again. Kayisha may have used Toni’s retreat to have a bathroom stop, or take a call or, anything really.
Pookie: u there kay?
Still no reply. Toni tried again but only her own words blinked back at her. Toni moved the private window to the far side of her monitor and refreshed the original window underneath. The membership of the room had turned over since she had moved into private, only Shygirl remaining. Kayisha’s name was gone from the list. More than a little disappointed, Toni closed the private room window and returned to the main room.
Pookie: still here shy?
Shygirl:
Toni didn’t currently feel like chatting to Shygirl. She had a habit of always alluding to sex, once even offering Toni a “pvt session she wouldn’t forget.” Toni had no idea how Shygirl could get turned on by what was simply a load of words flitting across the screen, but apparently she did, and apparently she’d soon get Toni typing with one hand too. Shygirl, having witnessed Toni’s prolonged private session with Kayisha, would find it hard to believe that the last hour or so had been spent just chatting. But that’s what Toni and Kayisha had done. Their conversation flowed easily from topic to topic, but, as if by some unspoken agreement, neither touched on anything remotely personal. Food, its preparation and consumption dominated a good amount of their time, and then it was onto movies and music. So Toni knew Kayisha loved to eat and listened to everything from jazz to rock to classical but couldn’t fathom the explosion of rap. She also discovered they shared similar tastes in movies and they both despised Tom Cr
uise. On the other hand, she had no idea how old Kayisha was, if she was single or attached, what she did for a living, if she was a student, unemployed or maybe even retired. She also had no idea if she’d meet up with her again.
Toni knew people appeared and disappeared in this virtual world. Normally she didn’t hassle over it; it was just the nature of the beast. But this time…Maybe it was because Kayisha was a “neighbor” that made the difference. Which was a silly notion, really. The world outside her front door was full of beautiful, vibrant and interesting women. Why she should worry over one hunched over a computer terminal, who didn’t have the courtesy to give so much as a “by your leave” before dropping out of sight, was beyond her reckoning.
Pookie: speak 2 u later shy
Shygirl: look forward to it pook
Toni exited the room and signed out of the chat site. Now, with time to kill before Julie was due to arrive, she decided to pay some bills online.
Ten minutes later Toni had guaranteed the continued supply of electricity to her home, insured her car for another year and paid the balance of her VISA card. The one bill she was unable to pay online was the vet bill. The standard terms were settlement in seven days, but Toni figured a day here or there wasn’t going to cause much angst at the practice. Virgil was, after all, a long-term client and Toni her usually prompt-paying guardian. She wrote a check, addressed an envelope and leaned it against her printer as a reminder to take it to the post box when she eventually ventured outdoors again.
Toni thrummed her fingers against the edge of her desk, staring at the Google search screen she had set as her home page. In less than a minute she had navigated back to the chat site, logged in again and was scrolling through the list of rooms. The Secret Garden was now devoid of any life. She found Shygirl in the Spa but there was no sign of Kayisha, there or in any of the other rooms she clicked on. Feeling rather obsessive and stupid, Toni closed down her browser, put her computer back to sleep and turned her mind from the virtual world to the real. She smacked her lips together, found her mouth again tasted disgusting and aimed for the bathroom to freshen up.
“Let me in, God damn it!” Despite the curse, Emma held her hands together in the prayer position. Her modem made the correct dialing sounds, rang three times, went silent for a moment and then, infuriatingly, gave an engaged signal. “Stupid, damned ISP.” Her Internet service provider received yet another verbal sledging. Out of the blue, just moments after Pookie had halted their conversation with a promise to be right back, a “You have been disconnected” dialogue box appeared on Emma’s screen. She had been trying ever since to reconnect, but on each attempt she got the busy signal. By now Pookie probably thought she was the rudest person to walk the earth, just disappearing like that. “I’ve a good mind to ring up and complain.”
Emma didn’t get a chance to carry out her threat, her attention diverted by the chime of the doorbell. Halfway to the door, her phone also began to ring.
“Just a minute,” Emma called to whoever was on her veranda. “Hello,” she said into the telephone receiver. “Oh, hi, Pete.” Emma remembered he said he’d give her a call. “You finished work already?”
A low rumble of laughter echoed through the phone line. “It’s nearly six, Em. I’m home and ready with a six-pack if you’re interested.”
Emma glanced at her watch. My goodness, was it that late already? She must have lost track of all time. “Sounds great, Pete, but just hang on a minute, will you? There’s someone at the door.”
She left Pete hanging on the line and dashed up the hallway. Justine was on the other side of the door, a large white folder in one hand, bottle of sparkling wine in the other. Emma assumed the folder was Justine’s wedding scrapbook, mainly because of the bright pink Wedding Ideas splashed across the cover.
Justine flashed an enticing smile and edged past Emma and Kayisha, obviously making the assumption the open door was an invitation to enter. “I’ve found some fabulous papers for the wedding invites and I got some sample menus faxed to me today at work.”
Oh, yay. Emma rolled her eyes as she followed Justine down the hallway. “I’ll be right with you, Justine. I’ve just got someone on the phone.” She picked up the receiver as she watched Justine toss her scrapbook on the coffee table and head for the buffet. The subsequent clink of glass indicated Justine had found and helped herself to Champagne flutes. The woman certainly had a nerve, making herself at home like that. At the same time Emma knew, if there was the slightest possibility Justine wanted to make herself at home on a more permanent basis, Emma’s door would be flung open so fast it would fall off its hinges. She pressed her ear back to the receiver. “Sorry about that.” In the background a cork popped loudly from the bottle.
“What was that?” asked Pete.
“I’ve just had a friend arrive with a bottle of bubbly.”
“If you’re busy we can always make it another time—”
“Don’t be silly,” Emma interrupted quickly. Maybe with a bloke
in the mix Justine would be distracted from wedding talk. “Come on over. The more the merrier.”
“You sure?” Pete’s tone gave him away. He obviously thought the bubbly-toting woman was a love interest.
Emma accepted the glass Justine held out to her. She smiled wryly. If only he knew. “Positive.”
“Gee thanks, Em.” Pete divided the contents of the last can between two glasses. “If I’d known we’d be sifting through piles of colored paper I might have thought twice about coming over.”
Emma laughed as she sat back down. It was after nine-thirty and Justine had just left, bustling out the door, scrapbook in hand and chatting excitedly. Pete’s presence had done little to quell the wedding talk. In contrast, it completely dominated the conversation. Emma slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet under her thighs. She took a sip of the freshly poured beer. It was cold and it was malty. Surprisingly good for a mid-strength brew. “I think you did rather well, actually. Justine certainly was impressed with your knowledge of colors.”
Pete harrumphed. “Any fool could tell you black ink will not read well on red paper. He grinned. “I did like her idea of red invites in black envelopes though.”
Emma laughed again. She knew Pete was speaking more from a standard bloke’s distaste of pastels than an appreciation of the Japanese theme Justine had decided she wanted to pursue. “At least now I don’t have to write all the invitations in whiteout.”
“Yes.” Pete snickered. “Very generous of you to offer, Em.”
“Yeah, well.” Emma adjusted her feet under her legs. It was a shame she couldn’t kick herself from that angle. Now, in addition to being a bridesmaid, she also had to print all the invitations. Justine hadn’t asked; Emma had offered. After all, it was much more economical than getting it done professionally, and, Emma reminded herself, she was a frigging computer genius so it shouldn’t take too long. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do with my days at the moment.”
Emma immediately felt the mood dampen. Pete stared sullenly into his glass. “It’s so wrong what Colleen did to you, Em. I’m tempted to tell her that too.”
“Don’t you even think about doing that, Peter Jamieson,” Emma said sharply. “You’d be joining me in the unemployment line before you knew it.”
Pete shrugged like he didn’t care.
Emma wasn’t about to let him lose his job because of some misguided protest. She untucked her feet and sat up straighter. “If anything, I caused this. I shouldn’t have tried to sneak Blue’s treatment through the books. Colleen had every right to be angry.”
“Regardless, she should just have let you pay the money back and then forgotten about it. You’re a good vet, Em. She’s going to regret letting you go.” Pete looked up from his glass, briefly meeting Emma’s eyes before quickly averting his gaze again. “I don’t like working for her any more than you did. But at least having you there made it bearable.”
“Give it a week and
you’ll wonder why you ever thought that.” Emma was touched by Pete’s shy admission of affection. “And anyway, Judith’s still there. She’s just as good at getting you into line as I ever was.”
“Judith isn’t happy either. She told me she was thinking of moving on.”
Judith, although a good decade older than Emma, was the practice “junior.” Loathing her job as a high-level public servant, she gave up the associated salary and downshifted to become a vet assistant. Having dealt with the bureaucracy and melting pot of characters in government, she cruised through the mix of human personalities that walked through the practice each day. Emma had just assumed that, while Judith may or may not like Colleen personally, she would sidestep her feelings and get on with the business of caring for the non-human personalities that walked or crawled or swam or flew into the practice. That Judith was also thinking of leaving…well, at least it proved Emma wasn’t alone in her inability to warm to Colleen.
“Sounds like Colleen will wake up one day and find she has no staff left.”
“And then she’ll have to sell up.” Pete’s expression showed a certain amount of glee at the thought.
“Yeah,” Emma agreed, trying to picture Colleen in her high heels, scraping out the night’s litter trays. “Because she sure won’t do any of the dirty work herself.”
