The Online Experience

April 7, 1996

"Are you sure you don't wanna come with us?"  Alley's voice rang loudly around me as she popped her head into the bathroom I was cleaning for the fifth time in the last few weeks. Anger. Annoyance. Frustration. All those emotions had built up to a tremendous boiling point after more than a month of trying to work my way through this situation, and I'd decided to take all those feelings out on the bathroom.

"Yeah I'm sure," looking over my shoulder as I tried to remain focused on tile shower wall before me, "you guys go scoot down to Florida and enjoy your spring break." Focusing entirely on the already clean tiles surrounding me I laughed quietly at the thought that we likely had the cleanest bathroom in this little college town, he'll maybe even in the state.

"I just worry about leaving you here all alone girl," standing up I turn completely to face Alley who was in the doorway, her eyes quickly looking over my slightly bleach stained yoga pants and white V-neck with my hair up in a disheveled bun, what I always wore for cleaning, "you've just been so off for the last month and a half." And she really had been concerned, she had made that annoyingly obvious, especially over the last few weeks, and I was really looking forward to my time alone.

"I'll be perfectly fine and when you get back next Saturday," my first non-forced smile in in some time came over my face, "this please will be spotless. Now get out of here and bring back all sorts of stories for me." She flashed me a big smile before turning and heading towards the front door. This was going to be a great spring break, the apartment to myself, the town nearly completely clears out for this whole week, meaning I would have hours and hours to think through everything, get my shit together and finally move forward. The abrasive sound of the bristled brush against the tile filled the room, but I could still barely make out the mumbled noise of Alley talking to someone at the front door. Her ride had finally showed up I assumed.

"Sydney. . ."

"Go Alley, before you miss your plane." I cut her off, but my smile could still be heard in my voice.

"Have fun!" Finally I heard the sound of the front door sealing me in and I leaned back against the opposite tile wall, which I'd previously cleaned. I was exhausted and as I closed my eyes my first thought was to wonder what Jamie was doing on this Sunday. I let my mind wonder that path for just a few moments before releasing a heavy sigh and silently scolding myself. Jamie wasn't real and the person in his place was a liar. I had no business wondering what they were up to. It didn't matter, I wasn't a part of that nor did I want to be. The scrub brush dropped from my hand, echoing loudly against the porcelain tub. I was alone, everyone was gone for the week, completely alone with my thoughts and in that moment I was terrified. Leaving the bush where it landed, like a casualty of my excessive cleaning, I step out of the tub and out of the bathroom, heading for the kitchen, but all my forward movement halted abruptly when I entered the living room. My brain couldn't make sense of the image my eyes was relaying to it, but that same image was currently causing my stomach to twist into tight painful knots. My dry mouth opened, but no words or even sounds made their way out. The image was different than the last time, different in general appearance and style, but still so similar.

"You're roommate let me in." His soft, deep voice carried through the room, verifying that this was in fact not just an image, but he was actually here, sitting on my second hand beige couch. His compact frame clad in black from head to toe, shoes, pants, shirt, there was no hint of color to his attire aside from the large swath of auburn coloring in his naturally dark hair that was pushed to the right. That wasn't there the last time I had my fingers buried in his hair. . . His legs were crossed while his arms were spread wide across the back of the couch, making his frame look larger than it really was.

"Motherfucker..." The singular word fell from my lips without even a single thought. What if he showed up at your door? Those words had appeared on my screen so many times and never once did I think it would happen, but here he is, this lying motherfucker has taken up residence on my damn couch. The anger I thought I'd managed to get in check over the past few weeks was starting to percolate within me the longer I stared at him sitting on my couch. Sitting there as if nothing had happened. As if showing his face would make things better. As if he has somehow been invited into my personal space, as if I wanted him here. I could actually feel my blood pressure starting to raise  making my head ache as I stood there staring at him sitting comfortably as if nothing were wrong.

"I'm starting to respond to that as if it's my name you know." His voice casual, an attempt to lighten the mood, but I only served to infuriate me.

"How dare you come here," taking a step towards him, "come in my home." Hazel eyes not wavering from mine as my heart started to pound beneath my flesh.

"I'm sorry Sydney." Narrowing my eyes to study his emotionless features that in no way matched the apologetic tone that decorated his words.

"You're a liar."  His head tilts up at my raised voice and I watch as his Adam's apple moves smoothly along his neck. His face and tense frame reading as indignant

"No," watching those lying lips move I noticed his facial hair, the barely visible line above his top lip, the faintest line coming down both sides of his mouth to meet with a patch of short hair on his chin. It made him look younger than last time somehow, "I misled you about my name and I'm sorry for that Sydney," un crossing his legs and placing both his feet on the ground as if steadying himself, "but I'm not a liar." His voice stern as those eyes bore into me, while I scoff at him and his apology.

"I'm sorry I misled you." Mocking his words as I turn and head into my kitchen. Stopping at my sink to fill a glass with water "I'm sorry I misled you about my name." Those words bothered me so much and for the first time, as I heard myself repeating his poorly chosen words I really understood why I was so mad. Why I felt so strongly about this. Staring at the clean fluid in my glass I let the memory of that night cascade around me, the sweet little intricacies of that tour, our warm conversation, his calming presence and his gentle touch.

"You know I don't get it, lots of people lie about their name online and I've said I'm sorry. Why are you still so mad?" I couldn't force my body to turn even though the clearness of the his voice told me he was now in the kitchen with me. "I'm sorry I wasn't honest about my name, but I'm still the same person." His tone was soft, almost as soft as it had been that night.

"Is that all your sorry for?" The voice that filled the room sounded nothing like me, but I knew my lips had moved, creating those words.

"I have nothing else to apologize for." The glass slipped from my hand, shattering against the cold sink, a noise so sharp I felt it inside my body. Shattering the memory filling my head,

"Get out." My words stagnant, no emotion conveyed or intended as my hands came to rest in the edge of the sink for support. The clicking of heeled shoes against the floor bounced from the walls.

"Sydney," his breath crossed my neck causing my shoulders to tighten and my skin to shiver and I couldn't decide which emotion cascading through me caused it, "I'm sorry." I sounded like the mantra of a man who didn't really care, who figure things out, who thought This would be that easily fixed; showing me he understood literally nothing about this whole situation. "What do you want me to do?" From the corner of my eye I saw a ring clad hand moving up from my side, it's only logical destination was my arm.

"Get the fuck OUT OF MY HOME!" His hand flinched back without making contact and the sound of his quick moving heels returned as he left the kichen. I couldn't move, I was trapped at that sink, my fingers wrapped over the edge as if I was holding on for dear life, trying to escape the crevasse that had just opened under me. He didn't see it, he didn't understand why I was so upset, hell I only just discovered it myself. After a few more minutes I heard the front door open and close again.

With a deep breath I stepped away from the sink and went back into the living room. It looked as if he'd never been here. My eyes roamed the room looking for any sign of him, until they landed on a white business card for the hotel in the middle of town that had been carefully placed in the middle of the light wood coffee table. I gingerly picked it up and flipped it over.

Room 415 until Friday

The handwriting matched what had been on the note that accompanied my jacket. Just as I was about to crumple the card into my hand, a wet spot appeared on the white card stock. I had no idea how long I'd been crying.