Chapter 12: A Lived-In Strife
he was sitting on his couch, coffee in hand, looking out the window.
he began talking to himself out loud.
”do i even care?”
He seems baffled at his own state. he can’t tell if he’s feeling love, or infatuation, or an obsession, or just a weird obligation that’s just been a part of this.
it feels a little clerical.
”shouldn’t i know? wouldn’t i know how i’m feeling by now?”
he thought on that for a second.
”…i know that i at least feel bad.”
it seems so crazy to him that he could have such a level of involvement with this person for so long and not have definitive feelings about her.
he pulls up tinder. he starts swiping mindlessly. he swipes right non-judgmentally on everyone. a swipe every 5 seconds turns into a swipe every second which then turns into a furious two-handed swipe tactic.
he gets a match. he investigates the profile and immediately realizes that it’s a fake one.
in that realization, he gets a message from her.
”hey! how’s your saturday going?”
fine, just having a coffee and talking to you, honestly. what about yours.
at this point, she launches into a full-fledged story about how her ex has left her in some sort of state and she’s just trying to find someone to talk to and hang with to ‘come down’ from it all.
the irony.
it was at this point that he realized that it wasn’t just a bot - it was a real person with a weird agenda. so, he decided to play into it.
well, i’ve got nothing going on and would love some company. when do you want to come over?
”The thing is…”
and just like that, the concept of some credit card charge gets introduced. like clockwork!
who is paying you to do this? are you safe? i want to know the real person behind this. i know you’re just trying to do something. i want to know who this actually is, and to tell you that you don’t have to keep doing this very strange and shady thing. i want to help the actual you.
”i don’t need your help, and i don’t even know what you’re talking about. are you gonna help me with this payment?”
after 30 minutes of back and forth, he ‘concedes’. he googles for test/fake credit card numbers and uses one to complete a payment and get to the confirmation page. he sends her a screenshot of the confirmation page.
immediately, she deletes her account.
he chuckles to himself, and lobs the phone off to the side of the couch, returning the hand to his still-steaming mug of coffee, looking out at the greyscale sky. The grin that lingers from his chuckle turns straight-lipped before long.
i wonder if she ever thinks about me.
the phone rings. he picks up the phone and sees an incoming call from the 412 area code.
pittsburgh.
he rushedly accepts the call and brings the phone to his ear, not saying anything. he hears a fuzzy noise floor for about 3 seconds before it cuts to silence and he hears the 3 beeps that signify the call has dropped.
now, he more than lobs the phone on the other side of the couch. he whips it into the pillow as hard as he can.
…
he turns on his laptop, connects the bluetooth to his stereo speakers, and turns on Spotify.
i just need to find a way to ease back.
he turns on his ‘discover weekly’ playlist.
”If you wanna leave
You just have to say
You're all caught up inside”
one of her favorite bands is on the number one slot of this algorithmically generated playlist.
he shuts off spotify, sets his laptop off to the side, sets his elbows into his knees and buries his face in his hands.
he feels like he can’t believe just how much he doesn’t know what to do.
how long can i stay here to make this pass? 5 minutes? even just 5 minutes will still turn into a listless pace around the house. a listless pace around the house will turn into a walk to the park ‘because it’s good for me’. returning to the house becomes crumpling to the floor. crumpling to the floor becomes feeling sorry for myself. feeling sorry for myself becomes a recognition that i have to eat something, not because i want to, but because now it’s an obligation to serve myself. food becoming an obligation turns into realizing i don’t have any food in the house. not having any food in the house turns into nervously driving to a wendy’s. returning home from the wendy’s turns into watching the daylight fade and feeling like you have just 30 minutes to seize the day before it becomes a waste. watching the day become a waste turns into staring at the floor. staring at the floor turns into
he lifts his face out of his hands and realizes it is still only 9:30am or so.
he sighs out heartily, with a bit of a quiver in his breath.
he grabs the guitar and begins messing around…
”how many times can you bear to let me go and suffer?
wondering why you don’t drop me off your world forever…”
his phone rings. he doesn’t want to fall for this again. he lets it ring….
and ring…
and ring…
…and then, he’s just too curious. he slowly flips over the phone.
j.
he answers the phone.
”hey…how are you doing?”