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Scribe
Join Date: Aug 2005
Posts: 51
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Ma Cherie
Comments greatly appreciated.
C’est la Vie, Ma Chérie
The elevator door opened, and Shane was greeted by wafts of tobacco smoke and an unexpected burst of profanity. Two men with pock-marked faces and badly dyed blonde hair appeared before him, arguing hotly about something or other. Shane stepped back instinctively as they squeezed through the entrance and stayed there, obnoxiously in the way.
Shane coughed, and was finally noticed; they stepped away from the pathway, but not before throwing him a sneer.
The door closed behind him a moment later, however, and Shane sighed heavily before he continued his search.
The corridor was dirty, and the small tiles were lined with smoke stains, coke stains, mucus stains, or something equally yellow and disturbing. Covering parts of the wall were gaming posters, the usual— Counter Strike, Call of Duty, Dead or Alive, and one of a polygon woman with polygon breasts holding up a welcome sign.
Through a small hallway, zombies filled the rows and rows of computers and chairs. Occasionally, one would rise to buy a pack of crisps or a coke.
(For every five purchases, the establishment gets enough money to replace one broken armrest, but it won’t.)
Just then, a roar sounded from a far corner as a few of the gamers stood up and pumped their fists in the air. Others swore at them, and they swore back. A game was won and a game was lost. Life went on.
I’m above this, he thought. And so is she. Why does she come here?
The man in the counter noticed him and raised an eyebrow.
“May I help you?”
He found it amazing how such a question could be said so rudely.
Things I do for love.
Indignant, Shane walked past the counter with nothing more than a dismissive gesture (though then again the man stopped caring a second before that), and instead began to scour the room for his friend.
Where are you Ashley? Where are you ma chérie?
He weaved his ways through the musky room and glanced at each and every face. Under the dim lighting, they all looked the same, but he was sure he would notice her. Of course he would— after all, she is
Ma chérie.
The first few rows were dominated by DoTA players, and he watched them with mild interest.
Vi Sitter här i venten, o spelar lite DoTA, o pushar på o smeker, med moståndet vi leker…
The player he was watching was pushing up center into what looked suspiciously like a trap. Sure enough, the gank came, but the hook missed, and the player somehow managed to escape.
Life went on.
A few rows later, he managed to find a few who were playing the actual Warcraft game, tucked somewhere in a corner, spamming with their mice and keyboards.
Good on them, I guess.
After that, past a few CS players, two girls playing some Korean MMO or other, and then some more Counter Strike, he found her. Seat 49, muttering quickly into the microphone and pressing the keys furiously. Quietly, Shane moved behind her with his thumbs in his pockets, and checked the screen.
Yes. That’s her.
And he breathed in. For a second, he was gripped by the desire to simply put his arms around her and whisper into her ears: “It’s me, it’s me.”
Instead, he drew back and returned to the counter, keeping his eyes on her as he went.
So pretty, ma chérie.
“50 please.”
“Is the seat empty?” the man asked, putting down the magazine he was reading.
“Yes. My friend’s there.”
“Yeah… sure,” he said, having confirmed the vacancy on his computer. “Got a card?”
“Yeah.” He brought out his old student card, hoping that the man would accept it. “Half an hour, please.”
“It’s just twelve bucks if you do a whole hour.”
“No, it’s okay. I just need…”
His voice trailed off as he turned around and glanced at her, still focused on the screen.
So pretty, ma chérie.
“Yeah, all right. An hour, please.”
The clerk kept the student card along with a deposit in a little slot marked with “49” and handed him a folded sheet of paper with his password scribbled on. The man then half-heartedly offered Shane some of their overpriced junk food, and returned his attention to the magazine.
The girl was still there when he returned, same posture, same frown, same vacant look, brows tightening now and then with flashes of mild concern.
He stood there for a moment, and watched, trying to catch the sound of her voice as she whispered into the dirty microphone. Shane wondered if she had exchanged more saliva with other guys through microphone shields than she had with him, but decided not to be ridiculous.
Of course she had. We haven’t seen each other for months.
He pulled the chair out, and it scraped loudly across the floor. She pulled her keyboard closer to her side to make him space, but did not spare him the slightest of a glance. It left a sour taste.
“Hey,” he said, knowing full well the chatter in her headphones would block his voice. “Hey.”
No response. He did not get his miracle.
I might as well leave now, he thought. Goodbye, darling. Goodbye, ma chérie.
Just then he noticed that a stray strand of her hair slipped; it poked into her cheek, and he was seized with the urge to brush it away for her, even raised his hand slightly in reflex, but he checked himself.
But why not? He thought. What bad can it do?
Just when Shane found himself at a loss as to how to approach her, the girl suddenly pulled back from the screen with a sigh of relief. She breathed a few words into the microphone and took her headset off, letting her hair go.
Oh God.
Rubbing her ears, and stretching, she caught sight of him. She froze and bit her lips, and he did the same.
What will she say, what will she say?
He could feel the thumping in his chest.
What will she say, what will she say?
She opened her mouth, and closed it again.
Oh God, oh God.
His hand resting on the mouse pad stretched and spidered and clenched, as did hers. Slowly, they pushed themselves up and moved closer, trying clumsily to mirror each other’s pace. Timid, hesitant, afraid, they raised their arms and took small steps, not daring to touch, almost— twice shy, young again.
But the moment they touched, it was all well again, and they rushed into each other’s embrace, arms tightening around each other’s waist and shoulder.
They said nothing; she tried to speak, but said nothing, words choked back by invisible tears— it was over, the time for sweet nothings, and it was not as he had feared.
They embraced, amidst rows and rows of gamers, LCD lights illuminating their faces, ignoring them as they took the center stage.
He would not have it any other way.
*
“I’ve missed you,” she said when they finally calmed down and sat down. “I’m so sorry.”
He wanted to say it’s okay, but it was not.
“Hey,” he said instead. “Hey, Ashley.”
“Hey.”
They leaned closer, just an inch.
“So, how’ve you been?” she asked, only vaguely aware of the words.
“I’ve been okay,” he replied; another inch. “And you?”
He held his breath and looked into her eyes, but could not help notice her lips, too dry, and trembling, begging to be saved.
“Me?” they asked. “I’ve been…”
A sound came, from somewhere miles away.
“I’ve been…”
Overdriven, the voices broke through their solace and called to her.
“I…” She breathed in, and there was silence for a second before she finished. “I’m sorry, I really am.”
Quickly, she pulled back and rushed to put her headphones on. Yes, yes, I’m here, she said. Just a moment, she whispered, and Shane had lost the battle.
But not the war, not yet. She glanced back at him and saw the pained expression on his face.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’ll only take—”
“A second,” he finished. “I know.”
The last time you said that I waited for four months. I never called because I believed your promise, believed that you would come around. You never called because…
He smiled sadly, and took her hand.
You never called because you don’t love me.
“I love you,” he said, kissing it. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
She wasn’t fooled, and stared back at him.
“Go ahead, silly,” he cooed. “We’ll talk later, when your mind’s not on something else. Go on.”
Into the jaws, he conceded. Go on.
The voices called to her again, and she submitted herself to them.
Yes, she said again. I’m back, and he drew back. He had finally lost the war as well.
He knew that the fact had not hit him fully yet, though. He knew because he hadn’t started yelling yet, hyperventilating yet, his eyes not itching red. He clenched his fist to see if it was coming.
Nope. Still in denial. Still in denial.
He sank into his chair. His hands moved to the mouse and keyboard mechanically as he watched her return her attention to the raid. She managed a glance back at him, all apology, and he smiled.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll be quick.”
“Go on,” he said again reassuringly. “I’ll be right here.”
For now.
And she smiled. The girl named Ashley looked back at the screen, and was gone from his world.
He would wait there, he had decided. He would wait there for a while, check his emails, maybe even play a game or two, and then? He would go.
He opened up Gmail and began typing his address:
Shaneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…
He would go and she would not notice, he thought as his index finger stuck stubbornly on the key.
(Funny, he added as an afterthought. He didn’t know Gmail had no character limit in the textbox).
No, he told himself. She’d be too entranced with her raid and the voices on Ventrilo.
And— and if she did notice, he would simply say that he had to go to the toilet, and that would be it.
And if she wouldn’t let him? If she grabbed onto his sleeves, crying, and wouldn’t let him go?
Shane watched the row of Es blink on the screen.
Then that would be another miracle. Miracles never—
“Hey.”
He blinked.
“Shane,” she asked again. “What are you thinking about?”
He turned his head and saw that she had taken her headphones off.
“Shane?” she said.
He blinked again.
“Oh. Oh, nothing. I was… I was just—”
“Shane.” Fear had crept into her voice. “What were you thinking about?”
He felt saliva gathering at the back of his throat and he swallowed it.
“Nothing,” he said. “What do you mean? Aren’t you going to finish the raid first?”
How did you know?
“You’re doing it again— you’re glaring. You’re smiling, but you’re glaring at the same time.”
“What— don’t be ridiculous. I’m just tired.”
“Shane…”
“Look,” he replied, looking away. “I, well, I’m very happy to see you, but I haven’t had much—”
“Stop it!” she shouted.
He did, and realized that she was on the verge of tears.
“What do you want?” she said. “I apologized already, what more do you want? What can I possibly do to make up for it?”
“It?”
“For not calling, for running away, for…” She stopped short and breathed in. “I’m sorry.”
“I wanted to meet you at the airport, you know.”
“I… I came here first thing. I went to the hotel, dropped off my stuff, had a shower… and had been logged on since.”
“For three days?”
“I didn’t know what else to…”
“You could have called me. I waited, you know. I stayed up, glancing at my cell phone every few minutes, waiting for your name to show up.”
Waiting as you laughed and joked on vent with your closest friends. Your real friends. You would talk to them instead of me.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t know whether you were still angry… last time we spoke you were shouting and…”
“You haven’t been answering my calls and emails.”
“I… I know. But I’m here now. I was going to get to you, I swear. I just needed some time to think.”
He looked at her quietly for a moment. Voices continued to pour from her headphones.
“Okay then. Go ahead, think.”
Think all you want. I’ll be gone, and you can think all you want.
“No…” she begged.
He regarded her coldly.
“What were you thinking about?”
He eyes narrowed into slits, half sleep deprivation, half silent rage.
“What do you want?” she asked again. “What do you want me to do?”
How daft can you be? He thought as the headphone noises rolled onto the foreground amidst their silence. Isn’t it obvious?
They stared again in silence until finally she pulled back and returned to her screen. He was taken by surprise; despite all the thoughts going through his head, he had hoped for that miracle.
Goodbye, ma chérie, Shane thought, his mind still numb, Goodbye.
A few deft strokes, and his computer began shutting down. He stood up.
He felt a tugging on his sleeves as he began to leave, however— it was her, still in front of the monitor as it washed red, blue, and purple onto her face.
“Wait,” she begged. “Wait.”
I’ve waited enough, was on his mind, but “all right” were the only words his lips could find. She was at the log in screen, and he raised an eyebrow.
“I’d spent my life on her,” she was saying. “You know that right?”
“What about it?”
“All those hours, days, and weeks where I would disappear from the world, when I would stop taking calls or replying emails (I read all of them, mind you)— all that time… was spent on her.”
He looked at it, a night elf, long ears purple skin.
“You know that, right?” she continued. “You believe me, right? I haven’t been seeing anyone else, I really just—”
“Yeah, I know.” His eyebrow twitched. “Yeah, I believe you. Okay.”
Somehow being replaced by a game doesn’t feel much more comforting than being given up for another guy, but okay.
The next question came as a surprise.
“Shane,” she asked. “Do you still love me?”
He floundered for a second, and managed a chuckle.
“Do you?” she asked again.
He gave a quiet laugh, dry and sarcastic, to cover up how surprised he was to hear those words, how glad he was that she even cared the slightest.
“I don’t know,” he said softly, trying desperately to keep the façade from breaking down, keep his pride from backing down, would-be tears from sliding down, holding it all up with an indifferent frown. “I don’t know, but I guess I’m still standing here.”
“I spent my life on her,” she said again, returning once again to the screen. He sat back down with a frown and watched. “I missed the offer because of this, you know? I simply didn’t care about life any more. This was all I could look forward to.”
And then, suddenly he realized what she was doing; the cursor glided over the button, and then, suddenly, Shane was more awake than ever.
“Are you…”
She was. She clicked the mouse button and the message popped up:
Do you want to delete Nilmandra Level 70 Priest?
“Ashley!” But he was not sure what to say. “Ashley… you don’t…”
But he knew that she did. She had to do it.
Type “DELETE” into the field to confirm.
She did. D, E, L, E, T, E. Delete.
He watched her quietly as she hovered the cursor over the “Okay” button; Shane licked his lips and waited. She was going to do it.
He knew that the character could easily be restored by some GM, but that was not the point. He knew that she could always start again somewhere else, but that was not the point.
She was doing it for him— that was the point, and the pointer hovered and hovered, but she could not find the resolve. Shane raised his gaze and saw her.
He could see her eyelids twitching, even in the dark, and her lips were trembling.
Ashley, he mouthed in silence. Ma chérie…
He told himself that it was something she had to do herself, but when he saw her, biting her lip, taking small, quick breaths, he had enough.
“It’s okay.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “Let me…”
He paused. He was ready to squeeze the button and end it, but found himself inches away from his darling’s face.
“Let me—”
He could say no more. They leaned forward, this time as one.
Their lips touched and they pushed into each other; they gasped for breath and for each other, their free hands caressing each other softly while the other clutching the mouse.
He did not know when he pressed the button, and she did not even notice at first, but somewhere during their kiss, Nilmandra disappeared from the world.
“She’s gone…” she said when they pulled apart.
“Ashley,” he whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder.
“She’s gone!”
She rushed again into his embrace and he held her close.
“I killed her,” she whispered. “I know it’s the right thing but… but I killed her.”
“No, ma chérie.” The chatter around them died down and all they heard was each other’s breathing. “You didn’t kill her. We did.”
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