The Online Experience

May 2, 1996

April 21 was a day I will never forget. Until the day I die I will never get over how tight my chest felt at the sounds coming through that telephone line. How helpless I felt, how I simply didn't have a clue what to do for someone so far away, but so clearly in desperate need. John had been my only real option, the only person I knew there that would take me seriously or that would possibly truly care about what was happening. And I was right. John had been quick to act, quick to thank me for the call, quick to try to calm me and quick to get off the phone. I had done all I could do, but still as I sat there surrounded by the silence of my apartment I wasn't able to ease that tightness in my chest.

I had paced my apartment for the next few hours. All the worst possible scenarios running through my mind while I waited. I don't know exactly what I was waiting for, but I waited. Maybe part of me thought he'd call, tell me everything was alright, that he was fine. Or perhaps I thought John would call with an update, something to put my mind at ease. Instead I was met with silence from his part of the world. Hours later I found myself sitting on the couch running the events of the evening through my head. The images my mind concocted about what was really happening with him and around him grew increasingly worse the longer I was left to my own devices. And I was most certainly left to my own devices.

The next morning I woke with swollen eyes and a shattered heart. The radio, new channels, the internet, I checked them all and nowhere was there even the slightest mention of Prince. No news was good news and I told myself he was fine and I'd be hearing from him in no time. A quick hello on instant messenger, or an email or maybe even a phone call. Anything to tell me he was ok, but as the days passed the less certain I was that I would ever hear from him. I busied myself with classes and work and going out to the bar with my roommate and her friends, but he was a constant worry in my mind.

Eleven days after the incident I found myself sitting at my computer aimlessly meandering through the internet looking for chat rooms to jump into. I'd grown tired of my friends asking me what was wrong and had decided to lock myself away for a few days while I tried to figure out what exactly was going on.

SixStringGuy: Hello Sydney.

With a quiet hiccup my breath caught in my throat as the message popped up on my screen. The last time we spoke it sounded like he was barely breathing and now here he was online, throwing a casual hello in my direction. With a deep breath I leaned back in the chair and felt my fingertips caress the black, plastic keys in front of me.

Grumpybluebear: hello yourself. It's been a while.

SixStringGuy: I'm sorry for that. I've had a lot of things going on.

Frowning at the screen I was at a complete loss for words. "So is this how it's gonna be?" I asked my empty room out loud. In a split second I decided if he was going to pretend like nothing happened, I sure as hell wasn't going to let him. 

Grumpybluebear: A lot going on huh?

SixStringGuy: Yes, a lot going on. I do have a record that I'm finishing and planning to put out all on my own. You could say that takes a little attention and time.

Grumpybluebear: And I'm sure it does. Don't get your panties in a twist I'm not suggesting your not a busy guy.

SixStringGuy: Ok then. What have you been keeping yourself busy with?

Grumpybluebear: Keeping myself busy with?

SixStringGuy: Yeah. You know, other than missing me being there with you ;)

Cocking my eyebrow at the screen I settled comfortably into my conviction that I was owed an explanation about what happened. About why I'd not heard from him until now. I was not going to let him ignore this topic.