A tall, thin man. I wasn’t familiar with most of the doctors who worked in this department, but that description fit about half of the ones I did know.
“Er, and what type of bloodwork?”
She stared at me blankly. I waited. And waited. When no answer to my question was forthcoming, I readjusted my tablet against my hip. “What is your name, ma’am?”
“Johnson,” she replied. “Elizabeth Johnson.”
Oh well, shit. Could she have a more common name?
I typed her name into the system. Four Elizabeth Johnsons appeared. However, I still had the means to discern which one I wanted.
“What’s your date of birth, ma’am?”
“That’s kind of a rude question to ask, isn’t it?” Her aged forehead crinkled. “Of a lady my age.”
It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes. “Uh. I need to be able to find you in the system.”
She glared at me suspiciously. “Hmm. Well. I was born on June 13th.”
“Year?”
Her brows went up. “Isn’t that enough to go on?”
I glanced down at the four Elizabeth Johnsons. Not one of them had the birthday June 13th.
“Uhh. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
Underneath her thick makeup, she flushed beet red. “Well, of course! I’m not senile.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to imply that. But…you’re not showing up in my system under Elizabeth Johnson, and in order to find you by your birthdate, I need the year, too.”
This went on for ten minutes before I finally convinced her to give me her “real” birth year, not the one—five years later—that she gave out in her social circle. Come to find out, she was listed under her second husband’s last name.
Oh brother.
Once I located the right account, I saw that she had seven different doctors—and no order for blood labs. I knew this because I had to call each and every one of their offices to ask.
Oh God, spare me from the madness!
Returning home one night after a particularly trying time in the ER with a drunken man who vomited everywhere in between calling me every name in the book, I took the hottest shower imaginable. Of course, at my house, that only lasted all of three minutes because of my hot water situation. But in that brief time, I sobbed harder than I had in years. I just had to let it out.
Then I logged on.
And though I was primarily there to blow off steam, I had to admit I was a little dismayed that no one from my friends list was online. I checked. FallenOne hadn’t been on in over a week! My heart sank a little…
I’d really been looking forward to chatting with him, but there had been no text messages, either. I picked up my cell phone and then thought better of it when I realized what time it was on the East Coast.
I made a mental note to text him in the morning and see how he was doing…
Turns out, I didn’t have to. Twenty-five minutes later, Fallen’s private message magically flashed on my screen. I tried not to examine too closely that little thrill that ran through me when I saw that it was him.
*FallenOne tells you, Hey. How’s the job going? They are working you a lot more than usual.
*You tell FallenOne: Meh. I’m tired all the time.
Him: What’s with the increase in hours?
Me: Just money hungry, I guess…
I’d decided not to get too specific about our money troubles—with anyone. I hadn’t even spilled the beans to Heath, yet. Maybe I would eventually. But I had to figure things out first. Ultimately, the answer to my financial problems wasn’t going to be this job. I’d crunched the numbers, and though I’d be able to live on my paychecks and the blog revenue, there wasn’t going to be much of anything to replenish my savings.
Tears started welling in my eyes, and I ordered myself to stop that nonsense. I’d only allowed myself that brief collapse of emotion in the shower.
Me: Feeling a bit down tonight.
Him: I’m sorry. Can I do anything to cheer you up?
Me: I dunno…can you? Got any dirt on that secret quest everyone’s talking about?
Him: I’m afraid not. But how about mass pixel murder?
Me: Tempting…but no…
Him: I’m sorry. Want to talk it out?
Me: I’m not sure I even have the energy for that. You ever have those times in your life where things just don’t go the way you expected?
Him: Is this about the test again? Are you torturing yourself about that?
Me: It’s not just about the test.
Him: You should just take it again, you know. Take it and take it and take it again. Failure is just a way of learning. And with each attempt at the test, you learn more and you’ll do better.
Me: I’m feeling like too much of a failure to even consider it. But really, it’s more than just that damn test. It’s only a fraction of my worries…
Him: I’m here for you. I’m your friend. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.
Me: I will. I promise. I know I just logged on, but I’m actually really exhausted. I think I’m just going to crash.
Him: Okay. But check in with me tomorrow, please? I don’t want to have to worry about you all day.
Me: Okay. I promise :)
Him: Sleep well.
Me: Bye.
I was drifting off before my head hit the pillow, but my mind was racing even as slumber took me. Strangely, the last thing I thought of was that weird scene in DE where the female elf in her shiny lingerie armor stood on the platform in the town square, auctioning herself off to the highest bidder.
If only it was that easy in real life…
I woke up with the idea fully formed in my brain, ready to be realized. I ran to my computer, opened the word processing program and began to type furiously.
Oh, this was a wild idea. An insane idea. I could never carry this out. I would never carry this out. But it was so insane, and I couldn’t not write it down. It was just spitballing…right?
Right. And so I typed as fast as my fingers would allow me.
I will shock most of you, I think, by stating that at the nearly unthinkable age of twenty-two, I still possess an intact hymen. No, I won’t answer any questions about why this is. Yes, I am heterosexual. NO, I won’t go out on a date with you…
And on I typed, not even knowing if or when I’d show this to another soul. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.
Chapter 13 : WTF Did I Just Read?
To: Heath, Persephone (Katya), FallenOne
From: Mia
Re: A Wild Idea
So, on a whim, I wrote a “manifesto.” I’m not even sure at this point what it means or what I’ll do with it. But I’d be honored if you read it and tell me what you think.
Hugs,
Mia
Attachment: Virgin Manifesto.doc
***
I went to my study group.
Jon asked me out. Again.
I had to think of another lame excuse on the fly. Again.
This was getting tedious. I vowed to brainstorm with Alex and Jenna a list of excuses I could have handy in the future. He’d have to figure out eventually that I wasn’t interested…right?
And as for him being “the one” to relieve me of my burden of virginity…I had already decided against it.
Not that I was on board with the idea of auctioning it off, either. I was waiting for feedback first.
When I returned to my studio, the phone was ringing as I stumbled up the stairs. It was the landline, because, as always, I was low on minutes—and low on money—so I’d asked people to call the landline instead.
I got to it just as whoever it was hung up without leaving a message.
Damn it.
I guessed it was probably Heath, so I waited until settling in before getting back to him.
First, I checked my email and discovered a reminder for the upcoming MCAT retake. Without hesitating
longer than five seconds, I followed the link, logged into the site and pushed my test date back three more months. I’d done this two times before, since they allowed a window of thirty-one days or more before the test to move the date.
This was starting to become a sick little game of Avoid The Test Date, no less intense than a fifth-grade game of tag on the playground. With that same tight feeling in my chest lessening, I knew—just like I’d known those two times before—that I’d done the right thing.
Of course, I was almost certainly dooming myself to skipping a year before I could attend medical school. My fear had caused me to wait too long, and now I’d pushed myself out of the window of opportunity to apply for the upcoming year. I swallowed the lump in my throat and packed that heavy burden away with the rest of the worry, anxiety and guilt that had been weighing me down as of late.
Without another thought, I scrolled down my inbox list to check and see if there were replies to my manifesto. Indeed, there were emails from both Persephone and FallenOne waiting for me.
To: Mia
From: FallenOne
Re: A #%@$& idea
What the fuck did I just read???
No seriously. WTF is this?
Ooookay then. Fallen wasn’t on board, apparently. Or he was taking it as a joke.
I had half-jokingly sent it, so… that was understandable. I replied quickly, hoping I’d get clarification from him later.
I scrolled down to Kat’s response.
To: Mia
From: Katya Ellison
Re: A kickass idea
This was awesome. Are you going to do it? It’s kinda scary but also super exciting, and…to be honest, I’m a little jealous I didn’t try to cash in monetarily on getting my v-card punched! You’re a smarty.
So… are ya going to do it?
That was more like it… So I had one yay and one nay—although possibly a joking one. And Heath, the wild card. It was time to find out what he thought.
I picked up the phone and called him.
“Yo, doll,” he answered, sounding a lot better than he had in the three weeks since Brian left. Heath was starting to heal at last…though I made a point to check in with him every single day.
“Hi!” I squeaked. “How are we today?”
“Exhausted. I’ve been pushing through this project deadline. Just posted the last bit of work about an hour ago. Now I’m sitting in front of the TV mindlessly vegetating.”
I paused. “Oh okay, so you didn’t just try to call me?”
“No, why?”
“I was coming home from study group and didn’t make it to the phone. No message.”
There was rustling, like he was readjusting how he was sitting on his squeaky leather couch. “You know I always leave a message. Even though I hate doing it.”
“True. So I take it you haven’t checked your email?” I fiddled with my phone cord, suddenly feeling nervous without understanding exactly why.
“Nope. I haven’t done anything but work on that website update. Why, did I miss something?”
“Uh, I sent something out to you, Kat and Fallen for an opinion. The other two got back to me, sorta, and I was just wondering what you thought.”
“Sec. Opening up my laptop…” I cleared my throat, suddenly wanting to get off the phone while he read it. Did I really want to hear his real-time reaction? “I’m gonna—”
“This is a joke, right?” he cut me off. “A Virginity Manifesto?”
“I just wrote it on a lark.”
“Okay.” He paused, and I could only assume he was still reading. I fidgeted in my seat, self-conscious.
“Interesting treatise, Mia. What’s it for? Are you defending your right to stay a virgin without judgment, or somehow trying to say you want to profit from being a virgin?”
I blinked. “I, uh, the latter, actually.”
A long pause. “You lost me. Can you go back to the beginning?”
“A few weeks ago, Fallen and I were on the game together because you were… out, and so was Kat…” Best not remind him that he was out on a date with the now-ex BF. “We worked on that asshole fireworks quest, and I was feeling punchy. When we got back into the town, some lady was up on stage in the town square auctioning herself for cyber.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’ve seen her around before. She propositioned me one time. Had to let her off easy and tell her that she was barking up the wrong tree. I’m gonna assume she inspired you to blog about her auctioning off cybersex?”
“She did inspire me, but not just to blog about it.”
He laughed. “Surely not put yourself up for auction…”
I hesitated, hoping he’d come to the right conclusion, fearing the trepidation already apparent in his voice.
After an awkward minute or so, he broke the silence. “That’s hilarious, Mia. I guess you got me. Scared the shit out of me there for a minute.”
I swallowed. “I, uh… I wasn’t joking around.”
Silence.
More silence.
I couldn’t even hear him breathing. Nothing.
“Of all the hare-brained shit I’ve ever heard of—and I’ve heard my fair share, considering who I was just in a relationship with—I’ve never heard something this ridiculous. Please tell me this is a joke.”
I sighed, tempted to just laugh it off. I wasn’t even committed to this idea, right? This was all…academic. I was trying it on for size—so I told myself. But something deep inside told me not to give in. “I just said it wasn’t,” I answered in a quiet voice.
Another long stretch of silence. I snatched up a pen and began doodling on the back of an envelope. Loops and squares, all interconnected. My pen traced the same lines over and over again, etching deep grooves into the paper.
“I know we just talked about getting your cherry popped, but this is not what I meant. You also asked me if you were ever known for doing anything stupid, and up until now, I agreed. Shit. This is madness. Why would you even consider doing something like this?”
I shifted in my seat. “I think I outlined it pretty clearly in the manifesto.”
“Bullshit. This is about money. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Money is an added benefit, yes. I’d like to have a way to pay for medical school and, um, other things.”
“What other things?”
I briefly explained to him about my mom’s bills and the late mortgage notices. He sucked in a breath and stabbed back. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you…”
“You were going through your own mess at the time,” I replied, referring to the breakup. “And I had it under control, as much as I could.”
“I don’t get this at all. You’ve had a rough patch with failing the test and your mom getting sick, and now the financial issues. I get it. But that’s all it is—a rough patch. And it will pass.”
“Maybe I want to do something proactive instead of waiting around while life throws obstacles at me.” My voice trembled as my conviction grew. “Maybe I want to overcome—”
“How would you even carry something like this out? In case you need a reminder, prostitution is illegal in this country.”
I stared unseeingly at the blank patch of wall in front of me. “Not everywhere in this country. There are legal and safe brothels in Nevada. I could contact one of them and ask for help.”
He let out what sounded like a growl of frustration. “I can’t even with this bullshit, Mia.”
My stomach knotted. Heath’s approval meant so much to me that proceeding without it almost stopped me cold. Almost… “I’d love to have your support, but I could continue without it, if necessary.”
“You want me to help you auction yourself off to some stranger? You do realize this is to have sex with someone, right?”
I rolled my eyes, not dignifying that stupidity with a reply. The circles and squares had transformed into angry x’s now, scratched so deeply into the paper that they were marking the layer underneath as w
ell.
“I can’t force you to help me if you are unwilling …” My voice shook, but there was a new possibility arising. Could I do this?
Heath mumbled something incoherent—probably riddled with lots of bad words—and then said, “I’m exhausted and I can’t think straight, and I’m really not processing all of this very well. I want to meet with you about it tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’m here and available for that.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything or proceed in any way until we talk.”
“If we are meeting tomorrow, there’s not much I can do between now and then.” I shrugged though I knew he couldn’t see me.
“No contacting brothels or whatever. Just sit on this for twenty-four hours. Please, it’s all I ask.”
“All you ask before you work on changing my mind?”
His sigh was longsuffering. “Just promise me.”
“Okay, I promise.”
We hung up, and just as quickly I put my face in my hands, rubbing my eyeballs. Though I hadn’t let on to Heath, indecision was still gripping me. I loved the idea of the auction but hated the reality of it. I loved the statement I’d be making while hating that I’d have to commit to at least one night of sex work to accomplish it.
This would probably all be academic. It would amount to nothing. I didn’t have the guts to see this through.
Did I?
When in turmoil, I did what I liked to do best—dressed in shorts and running shoes and then, instead of making my way out the door, booted up the computer and logged into the game.
I didn’t know why I was expecting Fallen to be on. He was rarely on during the day. But the past few times I had logged in—no matter what time of day or night—he logged on soon after. It was almost as if he’d figured out my pattern for logging in and knew when to look for me.
And I wouldn’t admit to myself outright that I was logging on to find him. Or waiting for him to find me.
After about an hour of running around doing solo stuff, a notification lit up on the dialogue box of my screen. I was more than a little disappointed when I saw that it was Katya, not Fallen.
Girl Geek: A Gaming The System Prequel Page 13
