METANOIA

BLUE INN

Silas and Lisa walked toward her car. It was an old beat up dark green Honda Civic. Much to Silas' delight, the car was nowhere near as clean as Lisa's house. Clothes and various papers lay on the front seat. Before Silas could get in the car, Lisa tossed everything on the passenger seat into the back seat.

They had been on the road for barely a minute when a semi swerved in their direction. The driver had fallen asleep behind the wheel as he drove toward them. Neither Silas nor Lisa had noticed he had lost control.

Silas was jolted alert by yet another zap in his shorts and grabbed the steering wheel at the last minute, saving the three of them.

Lisa screamed out to the driver.

"Motherfucker!"

The droplet was almost into non-existence now. Most of it had evaporated away. The pixels on the phone had died in the form of a crescent and a point.

Lisa cried in panic as she regained control of the car and she looked at Silas in awe. He had saved both their lives. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She was thankful, to say the least.

As with any near miss, the moment was forgotten as quickly as it came. The driver of the semi didn't even register what had happened. Silas had once again dodged death. Someone was giving up on Barry and trying alternatives. Yet, with the droplet there, the results were unpredictable. They drove on. They weren't far from the hotel.

The Blue Inn, which Silas had checked into earlier in the day, was a cheap drive-up motel just outside the Ohio State campus. The check-in office was enclosed in bulletproof glass, and the whole place screamed out "sketchy." It was also the most convenient hotel in the vicinity and within walking distance of campus.

Lisa drove up to the Blue Inn carefully. They pulled up straight to his hotel room, and when she stopped, they both got out of the car.

She stared at Silas in gratitude; he was her savior or perhaps her knight in shining armor. He had always been charming. But history was an ungrateful bitch. To date, Silas had been unreliable at best, at least as a partner. She could sense something about him was different, but she couldn't quite make herself believe it.

Silas lit a cigarette. "So, what are your guys' plans for tomorrow?"

Lisa said, "I've work tomorrow morning, and I'm babysitting for the night."

Silas asked, "Can't you drop the babysitting?"

Lisa shook her head, "No, the family is going out of town, so I don't think I can see you tomorrow."

Silas said, "I suppose this is goodbye, then."

Lisa told him, "You better not wait another three years to come back."

Silas said" No ma'am; you have my word. You better visit me too."

Lisa smiled, "I'm gonna visit you, with my own money, and on my own terms."

Silas nodded, "I can respect that. I just don't think money should be an issue in something like this. I can cover you."

Lisa said, "I'm not a person who can do that."

Silas said gently, "I know that, and it's one of the reasons I like you."

Lisa said, "I guess this is it then."

Silas said, "Guess so."

Now imagine you are Silas for a second. You had an amazing day with an amazing person. What is a healthy cerebral tangent for someone at that point?

Thinking about kissing her? Getting inside her pants maybe?

But Silas thought only about rejection. This was the bitter hardwiring he had been enslaved by somewhere between learning to walk and being toilet trained. The treacherous ghost of his insecurities whispered to him maliciously.

You don't deserve her.

And he didn't. Not because he wasn't worthy of Lisa's affection; he didn't deserve her because he gave in to the chains of his own fears. From the first time they met, no matter what he said, or how he moved, all of his actions betrayed him. It was a collection of small gestures that adroitly delivered a clear message to Lisa's subconscious.

"Don't love me."

Objectively speaking, he had everything to offer: safety, devotion, loyalty, money, future, good genes, no history of disease or anything else that postmodern couples take into consideration when thinking about marriage or love. But he didn't have that one thing necessary to make it work.

He had never allowed himself.

Silas had asked Lisa out in the most juvenile fashion before he had really gotten to know her. He had pulled her aside at the café one day and said, "I like you." She had just gotten out of a relationship and said she wasn't ready. He responded by saying, "You seem to take two steps toward me, and a step back the next day." She, in turn, had replied, "Well then, I guess I need time." He would never admit it, but the possibility frightened him.

He had rebounded the next day with a married woman.

You can imagine how well that went.

It took both of them a few months to recover. One day, Lisa had stolen his hat and went off to Chicago with it, taking pictures of the hat wherever she went. Silas, in turn, had custom designed Jones soda bottles with their photo on it: cream soda, her favorite flavor at the time.

They had a lot of good memories, and being around her had made him happy.

By the time he wrapped his head around what was happening, it was almost too late. He had been staring awkwardly into her eyes for a few seconds now, his eyes scanning her facial features.

Now that the silence between them had grown awkward enough, deep down Silas knew he had to find three seconds of courage to start something. He wanted to, but his giant calculator of a brain was only generating white noise again. He could not think.

He was dumbfounded and speechless. His brain could only display the 404 error, which was fitting; his heart was playing a dubstep bassline and all of the blood had been sucked out of his brain. He barely had enough intelligence left at that point to stop himself from drooling.

He choked.

Lisa ended the awkwardness of the moment by giving him a hug, not a small one, but a prolonged, forceful one. Silas, narrowly registering he had missed the moment, kissed her on the cheek.

She laughed pleasantly and headed back to her car. "I am going to fucking visit you."

She never would.