by Ray Hecht
“Goddamn it,” she said, weary and sad.
She turned to the back porch and climbed inside a half-open window. It only pulled up so far, and she struggled to fit her head and hips through. As her legs passed the barrier, she lost her balance and simultaneously felt a brief pain in her side. She fell, and closed her eyes just as she heard the sound of something breaking, and felt the instant reverberations of exploding glass. CRASH! Frightened, she slowly raised her eyes to see the remains of a violet vase, scattered chips everywhere, and the broad leaves of a pot plant spread before the tiled floor.
Andrea sat up and stared at the mess of crumbling brown dirt, green leaves, and shards of porcelain. She left it alone. With that, she turned around, flipped off the lights, headed back towards the comfortable sofa, wanting nothing else but to return to the forgotten half-memories of a deep sleep.
* * *
She awoke an hour or so later, heart racing, the time uncertain, cold sweat dripping down her neck, surprised to look out the window and see darkness.
In her dreams she was falling down a canyon and no one would help her. She was the last human left alive in a vast, dying, grey desert. The ground opened before her, and she was careful but she couldn’t help it and she fell. Lower and lower and lower, into Hell, and then she awoke.
After she was acclimated back to reality and caught her breath, she felt relief that it was just a dream.
She was generally used to nightmares, although they were increasing in frequency the last few days. She breathed in deeply and shook her head until the dizziness replaced the fear, and jumped up.
“Power nap. Okay, girl. Nice. Like, nice power nap.”
Her lower back was sore. She went to pee. Her mouth tasted nasty, like dried-up wood. She rinsed out her lips and throat on the tap, and then inspected some toothbrushes. Abandoning the notion of borrowing someone else’s brush, she applied a dab of whitening toothpaste to her finger and rubbed it atop her gums.
Staring at herself in the mirror and adjusting her hair, she noticed the plastic wristband. With the snip of some nail trimmers, she cut it off, and let it fall to the floor.
Feeling refreshed, she returned to her spot in the dark living room. She took out her flashing Grapephone from the purse. Only ten unread messages. Looked like mostly bullshit. Various –whatsups on Minnderrr and the social networks. Nobody really down to hang out in person, no concrete plans. Only ashy flakes disappearing in the wind.
She walked to the doorway and peeked at the driveway. Where was everybody? No Carla. No Mama.
Mentally going through her options for the evening, she considered each possibility. She could return to her apartment, perhaps get online and make money. Her roommate was still out of town. But it was too quiet over there. No, she was in no hurry to go back to her place any time soon. She could call up her two best friends, but too much social capital had already been used up for the lunch. Lisa’s boyfriend was most likely off work by now and the two were probably occupied with quality time together. Can’t even get her online when she’s with the bf. What a bitch.
As for Cera, Andrea felt a vague sense that they might have plans but she also sensed that Cera was getting sick of her lately. She could tell these things. And, Cera could very well be fucking Blake by now. The thought made Andrea both laugh and experience a brief rush of jealousy.
She should find a man herself. How hard could it be? She could find a man right away, if she wanted to.
This was her neighborhood. Something interesting was going on nearby, something to ease the silence, something to keep her together for one more night. Someone out there was willing to spend time with her. There must be someone out there.
Hey Im in town. Wanna catch up? Thinkin dinner and-or drink @ Magicpark… she quickly saved a draft, and copy-pasted it to four guys she knew in the area. Paulie. Antonio. Timothy. Ian.
Tim and Antonio were all-out sexfriends from the year before, but had mostly lost touch when they eventually got coupled off. Still she haphazardly messaged emojis and and hearted pic posts from time to time, just in case they wanted to reignite old sparks. One never knows.
Paulie was an older man, and barely ever online. They slept together once while drunk. Ian was a new contact she met at a club last week, a young black guy; they had made out but he declined to invite her to his place that night. She vaguely recalled some banter about how his office wasn’t far from where she grew up.
Paulie, surprisingly, replied first. He expressed that he was busy, but would like to catch up soon. Why not now? Andrea knew the game well enough… he was probably married.
Antonio and Tim, nothing. What a couple of assholes.
Ian, reliable and a tad too desperate, replied within minutes. Already the best bet:
– Id like that, he answered.
– Cool. What time works for you?
– Gimme 2 hours.
– Sure see u then.
Nice, dependable Ian. She felt a warming sense of respite. Now armed with the skeletal structure of a plan, and knowing that a guy out there wanted to see her, Andrea’s confidence built up and she was ready to go.
After a quick shower, she raided her sister’s closet and borrowed a navy blue backless dress. That’s what sisters are for. The size was a little large but she could pull it off. She found matching heels and tossed her casual wear into the washing machine to be picked up later.
Just before she left, she noticed the broken plant parts on the floor. She quickly took out the broom and swept the mess under the refrigerator. With that, all was fine and she left the empty home.
Two cigarettes later, Andrea got to Magicpark, and was surprised by how dead it was. The stage was empty, the dancefloor barren. Compared to the usual scene she was used to, it all seemed so much smaller and bigger at the same time. Well, it was only the twilight of a grey Tuesday.
She eyed the piles of flyers. No special DJ on for the night, no bands lined up. There were to be shows on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Old-school techno and electro, mostly. Three of the headlined DJs she knew personally. Yet nothing tonight.
The darkened stage with a still drum set and silent turntable, all as quiet as the night sky.
A typical playlist of indietronica pop hits blared out of the loudspeakers, auto-tuned and catchy and completely unoriginal.
Several grey-haired men sat at the bar. A few couples in booths ate greasy fries and drank locally-brewed beers. She decided to sit at the bar, two stools away from the grey-haired men.
“A gin and tonic, please,” she motioned to the bartender.
The bartender, a handsome man with neck tattoos and lip piercings, smiled robotically but dutifully made her drink. “Do you want a tab?” he asked.
“No.” She paid and tipped three whole bills.
She recalled that bartender with fond memories, his apartment downtown and his strong hands and beautiful back and the cat hair on his sheets. Seemed he didn’t remember her at all.
When she finished her drink, she was pleased to find another appeared before her. She looked back and forth, wondering where it came from, making sure it was hers. The bartender reassured her. “Compliments,” he said, and pointed to a portly man in a suit who sat by himself at a table.
Andrea looked at him, and he waved shyly. Her face couldn’t help but smile. How old-fashioned. Someone actually bought her a drink.
He was handsome but plain in an older gentlemanly sort of way. Her friends Lisa and Cera, she thought, would probably give him a six or even five.
With pleasant surprise, the man came and sat next to her! To her. Without even a text first. It was unheard of.
He was clean-shaven, unlike all other men her age. He smelled of thick cologne. His tie was half-undone and his white dress shirt had a small tan stain on the left pocket. She looked at his ring finger to see a shiny sliver of gold and grey.
“Hello,” she said, with an effort to stay cool. “Thanks.”
“I couldn’
t help notice that you were by yourself. Why should a pretty young thing like you be all alone here?”
“You think I’m pretty?” she said.
“Beautiful.”
“You’re so kind.”
They introduced each other and shook hands. He didn’t even take out his phone once, though Andrea took out hers several times to check her updates. Nothing important.
Older men, she thought. That’s the trick. They’re so much better than the immature dudes I hang out with. That’s been my problem all along. I should be with older, married men.
When they finished the gin and tonics, Andrea asked to see the wine list.
“Oh my,” said the man. “An elegant lady.”
“Don’t you forget it,” she said, and laughed and touched his shoulder. “I’ll have the house chardonnay,” she told the bartender. He winked at her.
He passed her the glass and she twirled the liquid in her fingers, sniffed, and had a sip. “Nice and wooded,” she said. “Though maybe a bit too buttery.”
“You know wine, my dear. Grace and elegance indeed.”
“I told you not to forget it.” She took a longer sip. “You know what? This chardonnay would go very well with something sweet. Perhaps, fruits, and, like, so forth.”
“It’s a bit late to go grocery shopping for fruit.”
“Oh, but you aren’t going to offer me grapes at a fireplace?”
Her hand rubbed his shoulder up and down all the way to the fatty bicep, and he let his opposing palm rest on her thigh, fingering the hem of her dress. He left it there for the remainder of their time sitting.
“I think my hotel room has a few things like that.”
“Hotel room you say…”
As the moon hovered above the window, she felt an energy rising within her. The man’s touch gave her warmth and comfort. She wanted to grab hold and make him squeeze her breasts. She wanted to hump the barstool. She wanted the man to seize her.
I always do get horniest after my period, she thought. Wonder why that is.
“Shall we go top ourselves up at that hotel you mentioned?” she hummed, gulping the last of her drink.
His irises lit up, and he paid the bill. The man couldn’t have jumped out of there fast enough. “Let’s get going already.”
A distant sensation of a device vibrated within the confines of her purse, barely perceptible, and a small part of her noticed, but mostly she ignored.
3
Ben
Ben Weiss sat with his back against the wall and his eyes glued to the door, at a certain authentic little Tex-Mex eatery the Mexastary. He was full of bitter coffee, his stomach in knots, surrounded by Hispanic immigrants, his technical equipment all laid out on the plastic table. He cursed himself for overdoing it on coffee. He was on his third, not including his morning pick-me-up. Finally, his nervousness abated and his date walked through the glass double doors. Even in the bad lighting he immediately recognized her, and hopped up to greet her. She approached, forced an unwanted smile, and he readied himself for a hug as she motioned for a handshake.
Candace had years of experience with this sort of thing, and she was getting impatient.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said.
“I owe you that much,” she replied. “I suppose.”
They walked to his table. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. “It’s lunch. They do excellent vegan burritos. The guac—”
“Let’s get this over with.”
He chuckled anxiously—a bad habit—and pulled out a seat for her.
“I want to sit outside,” she said.
“Oh, okay,” he said, and gathered up his laptop and plugs and chargers and mug. It was a clumsy sight as he stumbled out the doorway, praying coffee wouldn’t spill on the keyboard.
“Hurry up.”
The cashier looked at him piteously as he tucked wires under his chin and struggled to keep the pile of expensive equipment together. She didn’t even help him with the door.
“Come on.”
Other patrons peeked from behind their own laptop and phone displays, the energy of the couple drawing away their attention from their personal chats and screenplays. Momentary flashes of curiosity came and went, before retreating back to their own little worlds.
“Look Candace,” he said as he sat down at the porch, beneath a hot sun and a cool breeze, with all the confidence he could muster. “I like you. We get along. We have a lot in common. Um, I want to keep seeing you.”
“Then why did you cheat on me?” she snapped.
“What?” he said. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I never.” His head cowed down in shame.
“Then what is this?” Candace declared in full vitriolic fury, and presented her Grapephone. The dramatic tension died down as she fiddled with it a bit, found a saved page on the browser, and finally then she shoved it in his face.
Ben looked at his own reflection staring back into him, the greasy smile, the off-white background. His badly shot profile pic. “What?”
“I know you’re still on Arrowchat,” she said. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Um. Oh. So?”
“So why didn’t you delete your profile when we started dating? What do you think this is?!”
“Oh, I see.”
He took a slow, long swallow of the lukewarm caffeinated beverage. He felt it ooze down his guts. When his throat closed, he began speaking. “I didn’t know.”
“You should know better!”
“I haven’t even logged on.”
“Let me see your phone,” she said.
“Um,” he hesitated.
“I thought so. Ben, you’re a nice guy. But I want someone serious. If you’re emailing other girls, that is cheating. Period. I deserve better.”
“I swear I haven’t cheated,” he said, eyes drooping, hands talking. “I didn’t date anyone. I don’t have time for that. I’m glad I met you. You. Only you.”
“Then why didn’t you delete your profile? Dude, that’s what normal people do.”
“They do?”
“Duh!”
“I didn’t know I’m supposed to do that. I’m new to the whole online dating thing.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Really. I didn’t use it in college, or barely at all since then. Anyhow, I’m so busy these days with my freelancing. You know that. I got into the scene last year; I tried Arrow out and met you and I’m glad we did. I just kind of let the profile sit there after we started seeing each other. It’s true.”
“Yeah right. You don’t have a backup or two?”
“I’m not that kind of guy,” he pleaded, with a desperation slowly shifting to irritation. “Um,” he thought to add. “Did you delete your own profile, Candace? May I see…” and he began to open his laptop.
“Hey!” she shouted, again drawing the attention of all the heads around them. “You’re not turning this around.” He closed the laptop, slightly ashamed of himself, feeling frustrated. “Ben, I’m the girl here. It’s about me, not you. You’re supposed to be the man and step up.”
“I know, I know.”
“And I don’t have time for this shit. I’m not going to teach you how to treat a woman. You’re an adult. This relationship is either going to work or it’s not.”
“Give me a chance. I’ll totally delete my profile if that’s what you want. I’ll do it now.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you. Besides, it’s too late.”
Suddenly, he thought of it. “I would totally delete it, but… I mean, that is, but I can’t right now at this time. Because of my app.”
“What was that?” she asked, a little intrigued.
“You know I’m a developer. Me and my friend, um, Matt. We’ve been trying out all this research for new application ideas. We’re still in the brainstorming stage, hammering out details, anyhow. See, we laid down the foundation for a location-based—”
“What’s it called?”
H
e thought about some of the names, but decided against saying them out loud. “We haven’t really gone that far yet.”
“I don’t believe you—”
“Missed You Connections!” he blurted.
“Missed You Connections?” she asked, mockingly. “Seriously?”
“What can I say? It’s true. I’ve been setting up the necessary algorithms. It’s all about utilizing social media for missed connections applications. Like those old newspaper advertisements, you know? We want to let potential couples find each other, by way of synching various other software, piggybacking if you will. Arrowchat included, and stuff.”
“Go on,” she said, after a confused pause.
“Oh. Okay. So imagine you and I met at the coffee shop, or imagine him,” he pointed at a guy indoors, “and her,” then a lone woman walking on the sidewalk. “Their eyes briefly meet, but they didn’t say anything out loud. A missed connection. What can they do? He could post on Dougspost, but that’s stupid these days. Better to use our app, and synch it without whatever social networking tool is applicable. Log on and see who met eyes at that time at that locale. Then, she could even check out his profile to know if she likes him back. Wouldn’t it be beautiful?”
She didn’t answer.
“And it only takes a moderate amount of server hosting to—"
“Don’t talk down me,” she said, changing the tone back. “It’s rude. That’s the thing, man. You don’t know how to act. I know you’re a smart guy and you’ll be extremely successful one day, but I don’t want to teach you how this man-woman thing works. I’m not going to wait for you to grow up. I have too much shit of my own to worry about.”
“Believe me. The app is the only reason I’d be on Arrowchat. Don’t you see?”
“Fine. I believe you.”
“You do?”
“Oh, Ben. You just don’t get it. It doesn’t even matter if I believe you or not.”
“It matters.”
“Dear, this isn’t working.”
Ben ran out of words, his head and heart drying up. “Alright then,” he finally said, as his insides went cold.
