The Online Experience

July 9, 1996

The heat of the summer sun beat down on my pale, exposed shoulders as the hot breeze rippled across my skin. Campus was nearly empty, so few people stayed for summer quarter, and over the past few weeks I'd found myself sitting on this unforgiving stone bench, seeking the solitude the desolate building around me provided.  Had it been any other time of year the campus would have been bustling, the sound of students would have engulfed this space, but not now. I sighed quietly before placing the plastic straw between my lips, my mouth filing with the cool, creamy coffee I knew I shouldn't be drinking.

"Fuck." I announced slightly louder than intended as my head rolled back for a moment and I finally let the stress of it all wash over me. Closing my eyes and letting the last few months replay in my mind I couldn't pin point exactly what had happened. Where had I taken the wrong turn exactly? Did I say something wrong? Did I do something wrong? Had it really all just meant nothing? I was overwhelmed with everything right now. Nothing was right, everything had just imploded in my life and I wanted him. I needed him to be here, to be the person I could count on.   It had been more than a month, more than a month since we'd chatted online and even longer since I've heard his voice.  I've been telling myself he's just busy, he has a lot of stuff on his plate right now, all things are know are true, but also things I know he can work around if he really wants to. I've been sitting out here too long, I can start to feel the skin around my tank top strap starting to burn, by tomorrow there will be two pale stripes where those straps are at. Almost begrudgingly I stand from my bench and decide its time to head back to the apartment.  I've done what needed doing today, I mentally told myself as I started my short walk back home, my free hand dipping into my back pocket to make sure the folded piece of paper was still there. 

On the walk home I convinced myself there would be something for me tonight.  Maybe he'd be online. Maybe he'd email me.  Hell maybe he'd show up at my door, a faint smile crept over my lips at the memory, only to dissipate as I focused again on the reality of now. By the time I reached the front door of my apartment I was feeling lighter, a little happier with the false hope I had built for myself.  I busied myself for a few hours making dinner and prepping a few meals for tomorrow.  All a desperate attempt to keep my mind and my hands busy. 

Hours later, long after the blazing sun had set and I'd applied a heavy coat of aloe to my sunburnt shoulders I finally saddled up to my computer.  The familiar creaking of the worn black computer chair rang in my ears as I leaned back and propped my feet up on the plastic paper shredder sitting next to my desk.  Tonight he'd be here, tonight we'd finally talk about everything. My silent words were so convincing, but the knot in my gut knew better.  Hours passed. I downed one can after another of ginger ale as I watched my friends list and refreshed my inbox tirelessly.  Then entire world seemed to be alive and buzzing on the internet tonight, everyone but Prince. I even popped into the chatroom where we'd first met.  Everyone there was all a twitter about the new albums that had been released earlier today, which to my surprise included his, "Chaos and Disorder". I tried distracting myself by reading through their mixed reviews, that is until their conversation devolved into rumors: Have you heard how happy he is to be married?  I heard they're already planning their second child. They really do look like the happiest couple ever. I heard some bitch tried to break them up. Frustration finally set in and before I even knew what I was doing my finger landed hard on the plastic power button, holding it down until the screen went black. I didn't even consider the time of day or the possible repercussions of my actions, my body just moved on its own.  Feet carrying me through the apartment, the cold, smooth plastic of the receiver in my left hand, my right index finger punishing the illuminated numbers.

"Hello." his husky voice pulled me back to reality and the fact that it was the middle of the night.

"I need your help." I knew I sounded desperate, verging on hopeless, but I was.  Pacing through the living room imagining the absolute worst.

"Who is this?" my face burned with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, it's Sydney. How have you been John?" I didn't have time for pleasantries, I needed Prince now. I needed to hear his voice. I needed him to tell me everything was going to be ok. That we would get through all of this.

"Oh, sorry I didn't recognize your voice." an unsure laugh came through with his words as I heard shuffling on his end "I've been good. What's up?"

"Is he ok?" there was lost sound to my voice I hadn't expected.

"Well things have been..."

"John I haven't heard a single word from him in over a month. Nothing at all. I don't understand what's going on or if he's ok or... I just..." I was rambling and exasperated with the entire situation, "I need to talk to him." My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it, but it still wasn't enough to drown out the heavy sigh I heard from John's end.

" I suggested that he should call you weeks ago," I could hear John walking as he spoke, while I sat down on my couch, anxiety still coursing through me, "guess he didn't, but hold on." A mumbled conversation came through the phone.

"Hello?" That normally soft voice was anything but, causing a strange mixture of anger and relief to wash over me.

"Prince! Oh my god, I've been so worried." I could feel tears of relief building behind my eyes as I started to sink farther into the couch. Waiting for the comforting sound of his voice to wash over me.

"Sydney..." a million questions were spinning through my mind, a million things I needed to tell him.

"Are you ok?" I interrupted.

"Yes I'm fine." my shoulders straightened, taken back at the clear sound of annoyance in his voice.

"Sorry is this a bad time?" I was going for nonchalant cynicism in my words, but even I could hear the hurt in my words.

"Things are complicated right now" and there it was. Complicated. I smirked to myself in disbelief at his use of the word.

"While I can appreciate that, there are somethings I need to talk to you about Prince." My tone stern, I would not allow him to stifle this conversation.

"Sydney I just can't..." the conversation hadn't even started and he already sounded done with it.

"No this is important..." my words demanding

"Dammit, the baby isn't ok and I don't have time for your crap!" that soft voice transformed into something deep and angry, which I'd never heard before. His tone making me jump in my skin, startling me. Before I could even formulate a single word the line went dead. I slammed the receiver down just a my stomach started to lurch. I spent the next 30 minutes on the bathroom floor, his words running through my head, as all the food I'd eaten today flew out my mouth.  And next to me on the tile floor was a folded, white piece of paper that had fallen out of my back pocket; a piece of paper I had been afraid of before and was terrified of now. A piece of paper he didn't have time for. A piece of paper from the campus clinic that told me there was a small piece of him growing in me.