Once And Forever: Virtually Impossible Part 6

"I wish you'd talked to me before buying me anything."

"So you could say no? I don't see how that would've been useful."

"I can't accept it."

"Is it not good enough?" Why else would she sound upset? "If not, it's not my fault. Although, I admit to deferring to the salesman, who I now know shouldn't be trusted."

"You bought me a top of the line gaming computer!"

"So it is good enough?"

"It's too good. I can't take it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's too much. You can't just go around giving people $5,000 worth of electronics."

"Not 'people.' You." Yes, I'd bought it on impulse, but since then, I'd been able to come up with a few really good rationalizations for doing it. That she was questioning those perfectly good excuses bothered me. A lot. They hadn't been easy to come up with. "I know I'm not your only client, but I deem my work important. The things you do to a.s.sist me are integral to my success. It's not a car or a trip to Europe, Sira. It's a computer and some accessories. So, you'll accept the d.a.m.n thing, say a quick thank you, and go back to doing my work."

"What about the laser printer? I don't even use paper for your stuff."

"True"-and that might actually have been too much-"but I thought it might be useful at some point in the future. Plus, the salesman could obviously see that I was out of my element, and he used that to his full advantage." And earned himself a nice commission off my disinterest and distraction. I hadn't listened to his sales pitch. I'd been too preoccupied by my reasons for buying her something at all.

"I know you can't be out-negotiated by a guy who works in an electronics store."

I wasn't used to people not accepting my gifts. I didn't give many of them, and when I did, the recipients were always happy. "Fine. If you'd prefer something else, then return what I bought and go fight with the guy for something else."

"It's not-" Her tone had softened, obviously in reaction to my increased and irrational intensity. "You're right. You work hard for your money, and deserve to buy whatever you want."

"For whomever I want." I waited for her to understand my point and stop arguing. "You work hard too, Sira. I think you deserve to be rewarded for that occasionally. Don't you?"

She laughed quietly. "How often do you really think people get what they deserve?" Something in the way she said it made me think we weren't talking about computers or printers or paychecks anymore.

"I'm not sure, but I don't think life is about that. Or how it's determined. I know a lot of unpleasant people who have more than they could ever need, and good people who don't have enough."

"And other people who try to be good, but who wonder if they ever will be."

Interesting. "Is that who you are?"

"I'm not sure I know who I am, Hayden."

I rubbed my lips together, wondering what to say that would keep this conversation going in the direction it was. Before I'd figured it out, she spoke again.

"Look at me getting all deep and morbid," she said dramatically. "I think the high of receiving such a fantastic gift is wearing off." She laughed. "Thank you for the computer and the printer and all the other things that incredibly talented salesman talked you into. I love it all. It's so much more than I would even ever dream of, but I know I'll love it. Seriously, the only thing that would make me happier is if that erectile enhancement thing turns out to actually work for you."

"I was kidding about that," I said quickly.

My comment only made her laugh harder. "I know, Hayden. So was I. Seriously, I couldn't be any happier right now. So thank you. I don't know what else to say."

"Say you'll help me figure out what the h.e.l.l to do with the one I bought for myself."

"Oh, boy. I will gladly help you with whatever you need." If only that were true. "What did you get?"

"I wanted a laptop to take on my trip." I read the model number off the box.

"Hmm... For what you want to do with it, you probably shouldn't have gone with that brand. They're temperamental and over-priced. Next time you go computer shopping, call me first."

"Would you have come with me?"

Silence. "No, I can't...but I would've given you advice." Advice like how to get a woman I'd never met out of my head? How to stop from falling back into a walking coma if I ever did the smart thing and said goodbye to her?

"Actually, I don't see very much computer shopping in my future. I hate getting screwed."

She laughed. "You got screwed, but I'm the one with the huge smile on my face." She gasped. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Why not? I'm glad you're smiling." That I made her smile.

"There are lines."

Lines, right. As far as the eye could see, going in every direction, except where I wanted them. "Do you ever wonder what would happen if we drew new ones? Ones that led where we needed them to?"

After a moment, she said, "I'm happy to help you with the laptop, but it would probably be easier if you brought it to your IT department."

"It may very well come to that, but I'd like to try with you first."

She led me step-by-step through the set-up, obviously trying not to make me feel like an idiot. She failed on that last part but, thankfully, she realized where I'd gone wrong and got me through it.

"I've now completely obliterated any lingering intimidation you still felt toward me, haven't I?"

"Of course not," she said sweetly. "You did that a while ago."

"Are you sure you can't bring me any aspirin?"

"Positive. But hopefully this will all be over soon. Then you can lie down and recover."

I took a break to get myself a drink, putting the phone on speaker while I poured. "I'd offer you something, but I don't know what you like."

"I'm not a big drinker, but I've been known to enjoy a beer from time to time."

"Beer drinker, huh? Are you sure you're real?" There was something innately s.e.xy about a woman drinking a beer. Maybe the sight of her lips parting and going around the long neck of the bottle, her hand wrapped tightly around the base. Swallowing with a look of satisfaction on her face. Yeah, that's something I'd go through a lot more humiliation to see Sira do.

"I'm so real, it hurts. Unfortunately, so does my head when I drink anything stronger than beer. I'm an ugly drunk."

"I doubt that."

"Someday, after I get that check from the Nigerian prince who keeps spamming me and I'm living on an island in the Caribbean, I may fly you out just so you can see how ugly a drunk I am. And if you're really lucky, I might even buy a round."

"Deal, as long as it doesn't come with an umbrella in it. I have limits."

"Oh, come on, Hayden! It's an island in the Caribbean. You have to get girlie drinks in the Caribbean! One?"

"Not even one."

"Are you afraid of umbrellas?" she asked with mock concern.

"d.a.m.n, you spotted my weakness. Umbrellas, yeah. I had no idea what a tough negotiator you were."

"Says the man who got played by an electronics salesman."

I groaned. "Ouch, another blow to my ego. I can't take much more."

"I bet you can take a lot more, Hayden Bennett."

When it hit me, it hit hard. Triggered by something in her laugh or her teasing. The feeling itself wasn't new, just the realization. I was incredibly attracted to someone I'd never laid eyes on. All I knew about her was that she had an amazing sense of humor, was smart and hard-working. She was so full of life and, somehow, she'd woken me up, made me laugh, and I wanted more. She made me want more-of life and of her.

And I'd never felt a more useless emotion. Or a more troubling one. This was why I'd always chosen to ignore my feelings. My brother had his way, I had mine, and neither of us were any good with them. Not until he'd met Laney, a woman who accepted him for who he was and, just by being there, made him better, happier than I'd ever seen him. Their love had done that, the kind of love I'd never known or could have. Because I'd been asleep too long. Because I'd spent too much of my life doing the 'right' thing and had made promises I couldn't free myself from.

Having what I wanted was impossible. Even if I knew what that was.

"Now that you're hydrated," she said, "restart the computer and see what happens."

Right. Back to business. I slowly walked back to my office. "How do you know so much about this stuff?"

It wasn't a pause-it was a hesitation. Normally, I would've changed the subject. I'd had a lot of experience with small talk, and the point of it wasn't to get the other person to admit or confess something they weren't comfortable sharing. But this didn't feel like small talk, maybe because it was genuine, a sincere attempt to understand her better. So I waited for her answer.

"I grew up on technology," she said eventually. "Like milk and eggs and things that make you strong. I didn't have a lot of friends when I was young, so I played with computers."

"Why didn't you have many friends? You seem like a very likable person."

"Thank you. But...um...my mom was sick for a long time, and I had to help her a lot. Not much time to socialize, I guess. Plus, I was really shy."

"Is your mother...?"

"Shy? No. Dead? Yeah." Her chuckle was half-hearted, too thin to cover her unhealed grief. "She died when I was in high school."

"I'm sorry. I was in high school when my father pa.s.sed, but it isn't the same."

"Why not? You didn't get along?"

"My father wasn't a nice man." I cleared my throat. "Are you still shy? In real life?" As I said it, I realized how odd it sounded-real life, as if this wasn't.

"Kind of. But we should keep going on the set-up. Is it loading?"

"The...?" Oh, right-the reason we were still on the phone. "Do my questions make you uncomfortable?"

"No, but it kind of goes against the virtual code of conduct."

"There's a virtual code of conduct?"

"No." Her laugh was light, breathy, real but unreal.

"We've been working together a lot lately, and I feel like I know you. But I don't. Not really. I thought it would be nice to try."

"Alright, let's go." The warmth was back in her voice, the confidence. "Why do you know so little about computers?"

I smiled. "Because my mind is so full of useless knowledge, I can't seem to find a spot for technology. But if you ever need to know about ancient Rome or how to convert metric into imperial, I'll impress the h.e.l.l out of you."

"Thanks, but that's what Google is for." She laughed softly. "Actually, while you may be inferior to Google, you still impress the h.e.l.l out of me regularly."

"Thank you." The conversation was stunted and awkward as we tested her imagined code of conduct. What would 'too far' be? How much could I learn about her before she shut me down?

"Do you have a lot of friends, Hayden?"

"Just one." Oh s.h.i.t. Just one. And I was talking to her. Although calling her a friend might not be accurate. "Besides my brother. But calling him a friend isn't at all accurate. Pain in the a.s.s might be more appropriate." An occasionally amusing pain in the a.s.s, who was the only reason I'd made it out of my teens.

Who I should've taken better care of.

"Why don't you have a lot of friends?" she asked.

"I don't particularly like people."

She laughed. "n.o.body?"

I shook my head even though she couldn't see me. "Not many. They are fine, and I don't wish them ill, but people tend to......this may sound incredibly rude out loud. But, for the most part, people are far too much work."

"Am I?"

I paused. "No. You're no work at all." Because I didn't have to prepare my response, weigh the consequences, lie.

"Hayden?" Clare called from the living room.

And there it was-the 'too far' moment. Too personal. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "Speaking of work..."

"Bring it on," Sira said, laughing.

"Hayden! Are you here?" Tapping on the door, Clare opened it and stuck her head in. "Why are you home so early? Are you sick?"

I shook my head and heard Sira say, "Is someone yelling at you?"

"I'm fine, Clare," I said, covering the phone with my hand until she left. "Sira?"

The silence was deafening. Because as soon as Clare had knocked on the door, I'd felt the heat of shame. This was why I didn't lie. Or cheat. Didn't hurt people, purposefully at least. Because of this feeling, of knowing things were wrong but not knowing how to fix them or what I did to make them go bad, of knowing it was my fault at the same time I knew it wasn't. This lack, or lapse, of control ruined me every time it had ever happened. Thankfully, it didn't happen often, because I didn't care very often. I always stayed separate from what or who was in front of me. So why couldn't I do that now? Because this was real. Real life.

I'd never hidden who I was. And it shouldn't matter what a voice on the phone, some words on the screen, thought of me.

But when I spoke, it was softly and with regret. "That was just Clare. My wife."