by Matt Vancil
Reid glanced at the screen. Astrid was steering her character through a dungeon, some enormous underground complex, but numbers and icons and status bars utterly obscured the scenery. “How’s the raid going?”
“We’ve been in this ass-damn maze for twelve hours!”
“Mm. Productive day.”
“Had to kill a bunch of kook raiders camping the instance, too.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“And one of them actually rolls a smuggler toon so he could yell at us for ganking him. Hey, dumbass? It’s a PVP server. You want to play with the big dogs, raid some T-9 gear or go home and play Puzzle Pirates.”
“So that’s a no on those job links.”
“I have a job. I finished the newsletter while we were rezzing. I’m almost done.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” said Reid. “When was it? Oh, right. Every day for the last two years.” He dropped the flowers on the desk in front of her.
She looked from the flowers to the card in his hand with a semi-panicked “shit, what am I forgetting?” expression. “Is that for me?”
Reid handed it over with a nod.
Astrid opened the card and concert tickets fell out. “Oh, my God. The Proclaimers!”
“Yes. But! Not till after dinner.” He whipped the blanket off the picnic basket with a flourish. “I stopped by Hess on the way home. Got some gouda and stilton, some imported muenster, brie, three kinds of bread I won’t bore you with… let’s see, black currant marmalade, that salami you like, this weird German meat-paste in a squeeze tube—I don’t know, the lady said it was good, and if you can’t trust Germans… Anyway, if we leave now, we can make Point Defiance by sunset.” He set the basket aside, took her hands in his. “Picture it. Just you, me, questionable German tube meat, and Scottish heartland rock. No work. No video games. Happy anniversary.”
Astrid smiled at him. The panic was still there.
“The Shot,” he explained. “Seven years today.”
“Oh, my God. No, it can’t be.” Astrid checked the date on her phone. “Holy shit, you’re right.”
“Yeah.” Reid beamed. He couldn’t help himself. “It seemed like a day worth remembering.”
She giggled. “I remember.”
“Damn right.” He took her hands. “Look, I’m… sorry I’ve been riding you so hard about the game and the job thing.”
She nodded. “Look, I know it wasn’t the plan, but I’m paying my share of the rent—”
“I can be better,” he said. “It’s just, today means a lot to me, you know, and the game—”
She sighed. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you. The best part of my life is what I’ve spent with you.” Despite the game, he didn’t say.
She looked down. “Oh, Boo-Bear.”
Got her.
“I don’t get why you’re so good to me sometimes.”
“Easy. I love you.”
“I forgot it was today.”
“That’s okay.”
“I didn’t get you anything.”
“You didn’t have to. But you still can.” She eyed him curiously. Worriedly? Nah. “I was hoping we could make this anniversary more official.”
Astrid arched an eyebrow. Reid dug the ring box out of his pocket and got down on one knee.
Astrid’s hands flew to her face. “Oh, fuck.”
“Astrid,” said Reid. “Will you—?”
The kiss nearly knocked him over. Astrid came up for air and ripped off her headphones and glasses. “Shut up.”
Reid broke free. “Is that a yes?”
“I said shut up.”
The next kiss did knock him down. She slipped into his lap and kissed him again. Reid raised a fist in triumph as she groped for his belt.
A tinny scream in the distance made Astrid sit bolt upright.
“What?” gasped Reid. “Why’d we stop?”
Astrid’s headphones had pulled loose. Now sounds of battle were coming from the computer. Combat filled the screen and swirled around Astrid’s character, who was standing stock still.
Reid’s heart sank. “Don’t. Please.”
“Sorry.” She looked at him with her please-forgive-me face. “I have to finish here.”
“You have to finish there?”
“You don’t understand.” She pulled her t-shirt back down. “I can’t just abandon my group.”
“But you can abandon me?”
“It’s not like I’m going anywhere!” She slammed herself down in the chair and pulled on her headset.
Reid zipped back up. “Yeah, so I gather.”
She sighed. “I am so almost done with this.”
Reid grabbed a dry erase marker and wrote “Dinner @ 6” on her monitor. She erased it with her hand without taking her eyes off the screen.
Some time later, Reid set a plate of bread and cheeses by Astrid. She mumbled a thank-you and ate one-handed, never once looking up from the computer.
Reid checked the time on the concert tickets—8:00pm, one night only. He checked his watch. 8:35pm.
Lodge answered the knock at his door, and flinched when he saw Reid’s face. “Dude.”
“Hey.” Reid halfheartedly went through the motions of their handshake. The concluding chest bump was decidedly morose.
“You okay?”
“Is there still a spot at the table?”
Lodge nodded.
Reid held up the picnic basket. “Cotswold?”
2
Game Night
TIP: Enable “Call to Adventure” to see available quests!
Reid slumped behind a forest of empty beer bottles. Beyond, small wooden knights faced off across a colorful cardboard battlefield.
“So she looks over the side, right?” Reid said. “And she says, ‘This is where I’m building it. The world’s first extreme bed and breakfast.’ And then she base jumps while giving me the finger.”
“And what did you say?” asked Leo, brushing crumbs out of his beard and onto his bowling shirt. He took a bite of some cheese roughly the color of a traffic cone.
“I was too busy not terror-puking to say anything,” said Reid. “But when we got back to the trail head, I pointed out that the cliffside wasn’t exactly zoned for business. Also that parking would be hell.”
“Still don’t care,” said Cass. He’d remained laser-focused on the gameboard the entire time Reid had been talking, totally ignoring the bounty of cheeses and bread.
“Anyway, so she starts drawing up a business plan—her folks are in real estate so she knows this shit, right?—and she actually gets commitments from a couple of travel agencies, so it looks like it’s gonna happen! How awesome cool is that?”
“On a scale of one to shut up?” said Cass. “The latter.”
Lodge spun listlessly in his desk chair. “Would you make a move already?”
“Patience,” said Cass. “Your asses can’t all get kicked at once. Or maybe they can.” He placed his pieces, only to snatch them away with a last second frown.
“She started planning it out,” said Reid. “I was gonna join her, like ‘Hey, and I can do a wine and cheese shop in the place,’ and she wasn’t really sold on it, but, you know—it was our thing. But that was before.” His head slid to the table. “She hasn’t even talked about it for months. Not since the game.”
“You’re not still paying for that shit, are you?” asked Leo.
“I never was,” said Reid. “It’s her hobby.” She paid for the game and her half of the bills herself. She’d worked for her parents’ real estate agency part time—website, and a little IT—since college. It paid well but was meant to be a temporary thing while she got her passion project up and running. Now all that extra time just went into the game. She could still knock out their newsletter in about eight hours a week, which let her ignore Reid’s calls to get a better job, or at least get out of the apartment.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about
it,” said Cass. “For the last three hours.”
“I’ve lost her.”
“Yeah, sounds like.”
Reid flopped his chin on his folded arms. “Not even to a real person. To a game! She’s online all the time with her guild, playing make believe.”
“Here.” Cass offered Reid a ninth beer. “Put some shut-up juice where those words are coming out.”
“Thank you.” Reid swigged.
“Okay.” Leo brushed off his bowling shirt. “Let me see if I get this. Your girlfriend—your mega-hot girlfriend, the one with the pixie tattoo—”
“Gelfling,” Reid said between gulps.
“Gelfling tattoo—is a gamer. And you have a problem with this.”
“No! It’s just that it’s all she ever does!” It’s because the game’s more important than me. He drowned the thought in beer, then planted the bottle in the forest of empties. “It’s like I’m not even there.”
“Then dump her,” said Cass. “That’s what I’d do.”
“Same,” said Leo.
Reid scoffed. That wasn’t an option. Not even. “You don’t drop your partner just because you’re going through a rough patch.” A two-year rough patch… But still, they were living together. Practically married. He was lucky to be with her. She was way out of his league. He’d never find anyone like her again.
Reid looked to Lodge for support. Lodge was married. He understood.
“I’m with them,” said Lodge. “If we’re being honest.”
Stung, Reid gestured for a tenth beer.
Cass’s eyes locked onto a section of the board, and he grinned. “There we go.” He slammed his knights down. “Boom. Flip your tokens, scrubs.”
Reid flipped his tokens with numb fingers, not really paying attention.
Leo nudged Reid and pointed to the board. “You do realize you’re attacking a vastly superior force? That’s kind of suicide.”
Reid hadn’t noticed and didn’t care. “Blaze of glory and all that.” He took another swig.
“Maybe you want to reconsider—” said Lodge.
“Nope!” said Cass. “Orders are final once flipped. Bring it on, Light Brigade! You’re about to Crimea River.”
Leo glared at him. Cass smiled back and enunciated carefully. “Cry-me-a-river?” Leo studied the game board. “Get it? ‘Cause back in the 1840s—”
“1854,” said Leo. “And wait.” He eyed the board, nodded decisively. “Okay. I’m supporting Reid.”
“What?” puffed Cass. “No, you’re not. Why would you suck like this? Is this about my awesome Crimean War joke?”
“Partly. If you go down, it’ll open up my flank.”
“I’m not going down!”
“Whoa, you totally are.” Lodge finished a quick scan of the board. “I see it now. Hell, yeah. I’m with Reid, too.”
Reid grinned. It was nice to have people on his side, even if he didn’t quite know why.
Cass glowered. “Mutineers! Deserters! I have more force on the board than all of you! As Melville said: ‘With dice and justice, I smite at thee!’”
Leo shook his head with a sigh. “Not even close.”
Cass hurled a handful of six-siders across the table. They bounced off the game box and scattered. “Well, dick in a cake.”
“Ha,” said Leo. “You got pwned.”
“By a noob,” added Lodge.
Cass folded his arms and sulked. “I most certainly did not. There was asskickery, yes, but no pwnage.”
Reid looked to Lodge. “There’s a difference?”
Lodge grinned. “Pwn, verb: to overwhelmingly defeat, usually in humiliating fashion. Used in game to taunt opponents and rub in victories.”
“So, like… Germany-France, World War II?”
“More like Spaniards-Aztecs, 16th century,” said Lodge.
“No,” said Leo. “Mongol invasion of Khwarezmid Empire, 1219-21. Total pwnage. Not unlike the sort you unleashed on our friend here.”
“Or maybe,” said Cass, “like your gamer girlfriend and you.”
Reid sank into himself. Cass looked pleased, until Reid’s first sob worked its way free.
“Oh, shit,” said Cass. “No, don’t do that. No crying. If you cry, then I’m the asshole.”
Reid ground his eyes shut. That tenth beer was a mistake. “I don’t know what I’d do about her.” He’d meant to say “without.” Shit, he really was crying now. “I can’t lose her.”
Leo actually looked befuddled. “Why not?”
Because I’ll die, Reid didn’t say. It’s what happened to the men in his family when they lost their wives, whether it was to death (his grandpa) or realizing what an unredeemable shit you were (Dad). Well, maybe Dad wasn’t dead, exactly, but it wasn’t like he—
Cass slammed his hands on the table, toppling the beer bottle forest and startling everyone. “You wanna know what to do? Apparently I’m the only one who’s been listening and cares, because it’s obvious to me.” He pointed across the table dead between Reid’s eyes. “If the game is what’s come between you, then—pow!—you get rid of the game!”
Reid blinked. Sat up. “You think so?”
Cass spread his hands, the picture of innocence. “Would I steer you wrong?”
Leo opened his mouth, and Cass slapped a hand over it. “Be a man, Reid. Go home, right now, and confront her. Right now.”
Lodge frowned. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea—”
“Silence, naysayers! Ride that wave, cowboy!” Cass yelled. “Ride it home! Right now! While you’ve still got the nerve!”
The asshole was making sense. “Yes,” said Reid, nodding, pointing at Cass. “You see this? This is what I need to hear.”
“You go, Reid!” said Cass.
“I’m gonna do it!” Reid jumped to his feet and missed. Leo helped him up off the carpet and aimed him towards the front door.
Lodge snatched Reid’s keys out of the goblet on the mantle. “I’ll drive you.” The door slapped shut behind them.
“Nice kid,” said Leo.
“Girl’s probably asleep anyway.” Cass spun in his chair to face the game board. “Well, would you look at that! He left before his turn was over! Which I believe, according to the rules, invalidates that entire last battle.”
“You’re a dick.”
“A dick who’s gonna win.” Cass reached for the dice.
Reid padded into the apartment and draped his blazer over the back of the recliner. Astrid was where he’d left her, still playing, still in her pajamas, her face awash in the light of the monitor.
Any other night, Reid would have just stood there and waited for her to notice him before he skulked off to bed. Tonight, the thought of going to bed by himself pissed him off. The ring box lying forgotten on the floor pissed him off more.
Reid dropped his keys onto her desk from a yard up. The jangle scared a jump out of her. “Jesus, Boo-Bear!”
“It’s tomorrow.”
“I’m almost done.”
“You said that…” Reid checked his watch. “Eight hours ago. And the day before that. And last week, last month. There are tablets in the pyramids with you saying that.”
Astrid sniffed at him. “Are you drunk?”
“Pshaw.” Reid dismissed that with a wave. He leaned towards the bookcase and missed. “Ow.”
Alarmed, Astrid half-rose from her chair. “Are you okay?”
He saw her then, a brief glimpse of the Astrid he had fallen for—that wide-eyed girl who’d kissed him under the piano at Jonah’s aunt’s house. She was worried about him, and that should have been some comfort, but this time it just hurt.
“I’m sorry, Reid. I know you’re unhappy.” Her hands on the keyboard, she looked at the screen and sighed. “We’re just spinning our wheels, aren’t we?”
Reid grunted. Admission was the first step to recovery. “Could you maybe help me up?”
The screen flashed and changed. Astrid went rigid. “My God,” she said. His p
iano girl was gone. “There he is.”
Her back was to him again. He tried to escape from under the bookcase, couldn’t. “Um. Help?”
“Fuck me, I’m so close.”
“What the hell, Astrid?”
She shot him a brief look, a guilty look. “I’m sorry, Reid. I really am. This isn’t who or where I thought I’d… well. I’m working on it.”
She pulled her headphones back on and spun back to the computer.
Reid’s dam burst. He dragged himself up the bookcase, tearing the cuff of his grandfather’s shirt. “God damn it!”
Still wobbling, Reid stormed to the kitchen, ripped open a drawer, and pulled out a pair of scissors.
Astrid glanced away from the screen. “What are you doing?”
Reid grabbed her Ethernet cable. “Something I should have a long time ago.”
Astrid went pale. “Reid, no!”
He sliced the cord.
The action on Astrid’s monitor froze and kicked back to the login screen, where a message popped up: You have been disconnected. Astrid stared at Reid like he’d just clubbed a seal pup.
“Okay,” said Reid, “we’re gonna talk.”
Astrid burst past him, nearly knocking him back into the bookcase. She yanked open the hall closet and rooted frantically through bins. “Oh God, oh no, oh God…”
“This has gone on long enough.”
“You’re fucking God damn right it has.”
Reid picked his way through the clutter towards her. “I really think we--no, you, it’s totally you—have a problem. Sorry, that was accusatory. Let me rephrase.”
Astrid hurled a plastic crate against the far wall. It exploded in a shower of office supplies. With a triumphant cry, she pulled a fresh cable from the mess and darted back to the computer.
“You play all the time,” Reid said, stumbling back towards the desk. “I can’t remember the last time you weren’t plugged in to that thing—”
“Come on!” Astrid yelled. She connected the replacement cable and threw herself back into the chair. “Come on, come on!” She spammed the enter button on the login screen. “Comeoncomeoncomeon!”
“And that makes me feel a little bit—shocker!—unimportant. Like you don’t even care I’m here.”
