Sugar Spell it Out

Eleven: You use AIM?

"When are you going to talk to Christopher with your actual voice?" said Trish. "I think that it'd be good if-"

I put the phone on my desk and went across the room to fish the laptop from underneath my bed. Walking back, I made sure everything was in place before putting the phone back between my shoulder and ear.

"-you're never going to amount to anything if you keep yourself locked up in that room in front of that laptop."

I rolled my eyes, opening the computer. "Says the person who wants to do just that for a living."

Trish laughed. "I'm a writer. You chat to random strangers. Big difference, honey."

"Correction. Just one random stranger," I qualified.

"Who happens to be your soul mate," she grinned.

"I wouldn't go that far," I said, distracted.

My eyes squinted at the computer as I tried to see if the small green dot was next to Christopher's username. There was none. "He's offline," my brow furrowed.

"It's after one o'clock and he's not online." I winced at the slightly higher pitch of my voice.

At this, Tristan laughed louder. "You poor child. Wait a few minutes."

I nodded absently, although she couldn't see it. "So what were you babbling about earlier?"

"I was saying that you need to talk to him. It has been nearly..." she went quiet for a moment. I could picture her counting on her fingers, "... a week since you've been chatting and emailing each other. I know you like him and he obviously likes you..." She trailed off.

After giving me his email address and exchanging a couple of lengthy emails back and forth, he admitted that he didn't want to just stop our napkin conversations. In the week's time we've been talking, I've learned so much about him.

I knew about his family, how his mother died when he was really young. He told me about how his band got their first gig playing at his dad's bar. He told me of all the places he's been around the country—Seattle, his hometown, New York, Portland, LA, Chicago, all of the big cities. I still haven't heard any of his music yet, being that he'd been suffering from writer's block for the past couple of months.

The relationship between my parents had gotten considerably better. Looking at them, I almost forgot the conversation they had in their room about divorce. While there were some little disagreements between them, it made me happy to see them smiling at one another, but I knew everything wasn't going to be perfect forever. Chris called it like he saw it, though. To only be a couple of years older than me, he gave such good advice.

It's odd how we came to know one another, but I swear I've never felt more excited to talk to someone other than Trish about everything and nothing at the same time. Being so cooped up all of the time, Christopher quickly became my breath of fresh air. My sarcastic breath of fresh air. I've learned that when God had decided to create Chris, it was with 89.9% of sarcasm. The rest was an odd mixture of wit, sweetness, and a good taste in music.

Blushing, I shook my head. "I don't think so, Trish."

"Well I do. Think about it. When he messages you, he calls you brown eyes and girl. Don't you want to know what his voice sounds like? He said he was in a band. Imagine that voice, imagine!" she sang and my face became warmer.

"I have thought about it," I mumbled. Too often. Everything was going well so far. I've just avoided asking him for his cell number. He hasn't pushed the idea either, but I know that it'd be more convenient for him with his busy schedule. A small part of me just doesn't want to be disappointed if he wasn't what I expected him to be.

I heard a beep coming from my computer. Chris was online, I told Trish I'd call her back.

Chris' instant message popped up on my computer screen.

aLias: hey girl.

siennaVal: Hey boy, how was your trip?

aLias: Hell, not being able to talk to you.

My face heated up while reading his message. He was a sarcastic bastard. I knew this, but I couldn't control my face and how it handled him.

siennaVal: You went to Oregon this time around, right?

aLias: yes, Portland for some promotion. I didn't have time to sit down long enough to get to you. Things have been off the wall. Like always.

siennaVal: oh no... How's the songwriting coming along? Has anything changed for the better?

aLias: You are the only person I know who still uses instant messenger to communicate. Do people still use AIM?

siennaVal: Quit picking on me and answer my question!

aLias: meh...I have a few new songs.

I could tell already tell he wasn't fully happy with his new songs. I knew things had been hard for him lately. He'd managed to write the majority of (what I guess was) his debut album. I remember when he told me that his producer decided to tack one more good song onto the end of the band's record. I felt the need to encourage him. Just looking at some lyrics he'd sent me I could tell Chris had talent. It made perfect sense why he'd want to work in the music industry.

siennaVal: Look on the bright side. You're obviously doing a good job with all of these gigs you've been getting around the country. Don't give up just yet, idiot.

Taking a deep breath, I continued to type really quickly before I lost my nerve.

siennaVal: I love your lyrics, Chris. You should let me hear your songs sometime. I know they're bound to be good.

aLias: ◦ ◦ ◦

The dots appeared, showing that he was in the process of replying.

I bit down, my teeth murdering my bottom lip. I hated putting myself out in the open, but it was true. I had never heard any of the melodies with the lyrics, but he had a great taste in music, I could tell that much from us exchanging our favorite songs. His lyrics were both passionate and soft at the same time. His style kind of reminded me of my favorite band, which I didn't have a problem with.

aLias: thank you, girl. I gotta go. I'll message you later?

siennaVal: no problem. :]