8 Nov 2019

Digital Magic - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I wake up with the sun streaming through my window.  The back of my mind is telling me that something is wrong; the sun streams in only in the afternoon.  Crap.  I slept late.  I know it's Saturday, but I had some plans.  I roll out of bed, still in the t-shirt and jeans I had on last night.  Crap.  Crap crap crap.  Okay, time to get moving, salvage the remains of the day, finish the damned assignment, get a life.  First, a shower.  I grab clothes for today; underwear, an oversized plain black t-shirt, and a pair of track pants.  Should do for all my afternoon errand running.  Then I can sit down and figure out what I did to the game.

Clothes under my arm, I leave my bedroom and head towards the shower.  Unfortunately, Trish is in the living room and notices me.  "Finally," she says.

"Morning," I mumble.  If I can just get to the bathroom . . ..

"Jackie, we need to talk."

So much for escaping.  "Trish, I don't --"

"Yes you do.  I was expecting to see you last night.  Instead, I find you here in the apartment looking the same way you did when you left yesterday morning.  You're turning into a hermit, Jackie."

I half-sit on the arm of the couch.  "The assignment took longer than I thought."

Trish arches a perfect red-tinged eyebrow.  "It's not even due this weekend."

"I had a thought I wanted to follow through with before I forgot it.  I lost track of the time, that's all.  By the time I got the program to work, it was too late to bother going out."

"And how long were you online after that?"

I feel my cheeks grow warm.  "I don't know."

Trish shakes her head, disappointed.  "Jackie . . . you need to get out.  It's been too long since you had a date."

"I've been busy."

"Look, if it's because of the guy back in June--"

"I don't want to talk about him."

Trish sighs.  "Jackie, he was a bastard."

"Yes, he was."  My last relationship lasted two weeks before I found out he was engaged.  I only found out because a co-worker asked if I had been invited to the wedding.  Trish got to be the lucky woman to help me pull myself back together again.

"You haven't been out with anyone since then.  You can't stay home like you did last night.  You're coming out with me tonight."

"But—"

Trish cuts me off.  "No buts.  No more imaginary people.  No more hiding in your room.  I'm going to drag you out and you'll have a good time, even if it kills you."

"We'll see."

"Nuh-uh.  I'm making sure you're out of the apartment tonight."

I stand up.  "Fine," I snap.  "Can I get my shower now?"  I storm to the bathroom, not looking back.

The steam from the running water fogs the mirror in mere seconds.  I sit down on the toilet seat.  That chat with Trish did not go well.  I shouldn't have snarled at her.  It's not her fault that my love life is down the drain.  I just have the worst luck with meeting men.  Before Mr. Engaged, my last date ended with the guy ditching me for some blonde he saw at the bar.

The shower helps ease the tension through my shoulders, back, and legs.  My stomach growls.  Breakfast, well, lunch would be a good idea once I've dried off.  I step out of the shower and towel off.  My bangs dangle in front of my eyes; it's way past time to get a hair cut, but I wanted to try my hair long for a change.  I brush the annoying locks aside so I can see what I'm doing.

Dressed and my hair wrapped in a towel, I leave the bathroom.  Wisps of steam follow me.  Trish has a movie on in the DVD player; I'm not sure which one.  I try not to disturb her as I make my way to the kitchen.  There's half a pot of coffee sitting.  I pour a mug, adding my usual two cream and two sugar.  At least I have something to sip while I hunt for something to eat.  Inside the fridge, I find bread, cheese, and the last few slices of roast beef.  It'll do until I get groceries.

With the sandwich assembled, I join Trish in the living room.  Despite the TV, there's an awkward silence in the space between Trish and me.  "Need anything from the store?" I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.  I tear a bite out of my lunch before I can add anything more.  The beef and cheese taste surprisingly good; I must be hungrier than I thought.

"The usual, I guess.  We're almost out of coffee.  I think I can get one more pot out of what we have left.  Oh, and can you get cracked wheat this time?"

I make a mental note to pick up the usual and extra coffee.  "Alright."  There's an delicate pause.  "Trish, I didn't mean to snap," I blurt, the words escaping.

Without turning away from her movie, Trish replies, "Yes, you did.  It's okay, though.  I understand."

"I'm sorry.  I'll make it up to you somehow."

Trish turns her head to look at me.  She smirks as she says, "Then you'll come bar hopping with me tonight and you will wear something much more classy than what you have now."

She's got me.  "All right."  There is no arguing with Trish when she gets you into a corner.  "I just want a bit of time to try something on my computer when I get back from shopping."

"I'll come get you when it's time."  She returns her attention to the TV.

It's a mild reprieve for me.  I finish my sandwich and coffee and head out for a quick grocery run.  Despite the press of people at the Billings Bridge mall and a quick trip into EB Games, the place for me for computer games and rumours, to see if anything interesting is out, I make the trip in under an hour and a half.  Not bad, really, though traffic on Bank Street really slowed me down.  Trish helps me unpack the load from my little light blue Honda hatchback, then I disappear into my bedroom.

I start up Valor Quest again and let Jacinda Nine's data load.  She still has her dark blue robes and stands with a bored expression on her face.  I try to call up her option screen again, right clicking all over her.  Nothing appears, though.  However, I'm known to be stubborn, especially when working on computer issues.  I get Jacinda to return to the town's marketplace to see if the bug is a location problem instead of a mouse problem.  There are more characters around the dolphin fountain now: elven archers, human armoured knights, even a kobold necromancer (you can tell by the skulls hanging from his belt).  I ignore the traffic and start experimenting.  More clicking, this time with all of the mouse's buttons, and I still can't get the options to return.

Okay, Jackie, think.  There had to be more to it than an accidental click.  I could have been moving the mouse.  Probably was, but it was so late when I did it last night I can't remember.  I try mousing from each corner, right clicking as I pass over Jacinda, whose entire posture radiates boredom.  I have to hand it to the people who did the facial animations.  I can't wait to see her in action.

The options screen pops open.  I close it and try a shorter gesture from the top left over Jacinda.  The options reappear.  I open a chat window and wait for a developer to arrive.  "Valor Admin 5" joins me.  It takes me a couple of minutes to explain everything to him; how I accessed the options, how I verified the mouse gesture; I even invite him to see Jacinda's new outfit.  VA Five doesn't say much to me except that he'll look.  He's probably busy juggling half a dozen worse issues, so I don't expect him right away.  To my surprise, a human knight in silver armour materializes in front of Jacinda; the name over him is Valor Admin 5.  I move Jacinda in a tight circle so he can see her blue robes better.

A chat window appears at the top of the screen.  VA Five types in, "Can you change the color again?"

I open up the options screen again and change the colour code to what I hope is green.  Apply and poof!  Jacinda's robes are now a vibrant green.  I add in the chat window, "I didn't try any of the other options yet.  I was worried about breaking my character before I had a chance to play her fully."

The chat window and the knight both disappear.  A bit rude, but VA Five could be busy.  It just means that I can send Jacinda out into the game world and see what she can do.  A quick side trip so I can get healing potions to let me stay out in the virtual wilderness later and Jacinda walks out of the town, her head held high with confidence.

The town is surrounded by a field of wheat, the gold highlighted by the brilliant sunset.  A few other players are walking around.  I'm not ready to interact with anyone here yet.  I want to explore the world before anyone tells me anything, experience the surprises as surprises.  Jacinda strolls down the road; I doubt there'd be anything to fight this close, even with just beta testers playing.  There might be a low level monster just outside the civilized area.  It shouldn't take long for Jacinda to get there.

Valor Quest surprises me by sending several goblins at me from the wheat fields.  I make Jacinda back off a few steps so they can't all puncture her with their rust coloured swords.  Now would be a good time to cast a spell of some sort.  Too bad I never thought to read how to do that.  I click on a goblin and do get a list of options; Attack, Defend, Cast, Parley.  Cast it is – I click the the option emphatically.  Jacinda's spell list appears, somewhat translucent so I can see the action behind it.  The goblins keep approaching.  I choose Flame Lick.  A small arc of flame burns from Jacinda's hands to the goblin.  It writhes for a moment then falls.

The remaining two goblins have reached Jacinda, though.  One stabs her.  Jacinda winces with the blow.  Her hit points drop dangerously low.  I really don't want to lose her so soon.  Sure, she could be resurrected in town, but I don't know what she'd lose as a result.  Maybe one of those option screens can be accessed here.  I run the cursor around the goblins and right click.  Instead of options, I get a longer list of spells.  One called Shimmering of Knives looks good to me.  I select it.  The goblins get surrounded by a scintillating mist.  Before they can react, small blades form and start whirling around and through the mist.  Jacinda's opponents fall.  She looks pleased with the results.

Still, it's an odd game that allows for mouse gestures to cast the more powerful spells.  I experiment with different motions.  Different movements get different lists.  I grab a piece of paper out of my backpack and jot down the spells available.  Something to think about and to look up in the game documentation.

I get Jacinda back into town without any further ambushes.  The inn seems a good place to leave her while I find out if what I reported is supposed to happen.  I retrieve the manuals from the links Lance179 game me and start reading.  It's obvious that the documentation isn't ready for release - many spelling errors, some sentence fragments, and absolutely no organization at all.  The books are meant to get us beta testers up and running and that's all.  In fact, just based on the lack of editing, I'd say the beta is still early.

I start reading the manuals.  Without an index, I have to read each section to find what I want.  Some of it is interesting.  There's a background on the world, descriptions of the different playable races and how well they get along (the dwarves seem to like everyone; the kobolds can't even stand each other), lists for weapons and armour, even descriptions of all the spells in the game.  Nothing about how I did Jacinda's spellcasting.  Instead, the correct way is to right click on the target and choose from the list.  Same with the robe colours; they can't be changed yet, the code hasn't been written.

Well, I'm stumped.  I wonder if anyone else is seeing the same thing.  I send an email to Lance and ask him.  In the meantime, I can stretch out on my bed and catch up on my reading.  There's a small stack of novels on my nightstand, mysteries mainly, just waiting for me.

A knock came from my door.  "Are you decent?" Trish called.  The door opens before I could answer.  Trish entered and looked me over with a critical eye.  "Time to get changed."

I peek at my alarm clock.  It's only a quarter after five.  "Now?"

"Now.  A night of wining and dining needs to be done properly."

"You never said anything about dressing up."

Trish rolled her eyes.  "Jackie, you can't go to a nightclub in your track pants.  For one, they won't let you in."

I blink.  "What nightclub?"

"There's a new one in the Market, Shattered."

It's been a while since I've gone anywhere in the Byward Market, the hot spot in Ottawa, where the major party places are located.  It's also the home of a farmer's market when vegetables are in season.  "Okay, but I want dessert before we hit the dance floor."

Trish gives her trademark crooked smile.  "Of course.  I know this place that has the best cake that you'd ever taste."

"Chocolate?"  It's a not so secret weakness of mine.  People have bribed me to help them move by promising good chocolate for afterwards.

"Is there any other flavour?"  Trish laughs, a real laugh, not one of her giggles she saves for when there's a guy around.

I know when I've been beat.  "Okay, but no dresses."

Trish walks over to my closet and looks in.  "You haven't worn your little black number for a while."  She takes out the black dress, leaving it on its hanger.

"It probably doesn't fit."

She tosses it on my bed.  "Try it on.  I'll keep looking.  I know you have something presentable in here."

I slip my shirt off over my head.  "I have work clothes in there."

"You have clothes for interviews.  I can work with those, too."  She looks over at me.  "Oh, Jackie, you're not wearing that bra, are you?"

I look down at my chest.  "What's wrong with it?  It fits me."

Trish shakes her head.  "Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.  It's not right for tonight.  You need something fancier.  Frillier.  Feminine."

"I can be feminine without frills."  We've had this argument before.  Always ends in a stalemate.

Leaving my closet, Trish walks over to my dresser drawer and opens the top drawer.  "I know you have something more suitable for tonight."  She starts rummaging through my underwear.  "And don't argue.  You'll see that I'm right.  Aha!"  She pulls out a black bra with a lace fringe and holds it over her head in triumph.  "Thought so!"

"Trish, really."

She tosses the bra at me.  I manage to catch it and hold it against my chest.  "Put it on," she orders.  "I'll keep looking for something for you to wear."

Trish has always been a force of nature, unstoppable when she gets going.  Sometimes she can be redirected.  Tonight, though, she's on a mission.  I change from my perfectly good Wonderbra and put on the lacey black one.  By the time I've adjusted my self for comfort, Trish has found an outfit for me.  In one hand, she has a forest green blouse; in her other hand, my white mini-skirt, the one I use for interviews.  "Here," she says as she thrusts the clothes at me.

I take them from her and shoo her out of my room.  I'm not comfortable getting dressed in front of others, even Trish.  I slip out of my track pants and put on the blouse and skirt.  The outfit feels okay but I'd prefer a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, really.  My mother used to joke with me, saying she really wanted a daughter.  She never meant it, though.  She encouraged me at anything I did and she was really proud when I got into Computer Science.  I sigh.  I should give her a call tomorrow.

I check myself out in my mirror.  The mirror me really needs to go for a workout after classes tomorrow so her butt doesn't get much bigger.  She also needs a haircut and to comb her hair again, not to mention do something about the cleavage she's showing.  I go over to my drawers and retrieve a black pullover.  After putting it on, I adjust the blouse's sleeves and collars so they can be seen.  A little better.

I pull off my socks before heading out to join Trish in the living room.  My roommate gives me a critical look-over, walking around me three times, eyeing me up and down.  "It'll do.  Go sit on the arm of the couch."  I do as she says.  Trish grabs her make-up kit from the table and joins me.  "Close your eyes."

My eyes closed, Trish applies make-up on me.  I could have done it myself, but the outcome wouldn't look as good.  I should swallow my pride and just ask her to teach me again.  Minutes later, I'm all made up and ready for a night on the town.  I'm even beginning to feel some enthusiasm for the evening.  I slip on a pair of ballet slippers as Trish puts on her two inch heels.  We are ready!

Trish and I take the bus downtown, getting off at the Rideau Centre, not far from Parliament Hill.  We cut through the ground floor of the Bay to get to the Market.  I let Trish lead the way to Zak's, a diner with one of the best hamburgers in the city in my opinion.  We get some stares, Trish more than me with her mid-thigh skirt and strappy high heels.  Only fair, Trish is dressed for attention getting.

We're seated quickly despite the number of Saturday evening diners at the restaurant.  We linger a bit over the meal and splurge on dessert.  I, of course, get a slice of chocolate cake.  The sugar rush should be handy when we start dancing.  Trish pays for the two of us and we head out.

Shattered isn't a far walk from the diner.  It's close to the American Embassy, about two blocks away from the main gates there.  The music can be felt as we approach, the bass pounding against my chest.  I smile.  Loud is good tonight.  If I can't hear anyone, I can ignore pickup lines.  Trish pirouettes before reaching the door.  She's more than set for a good time tonight.  As long as I don't have to hear the encore from her bedroom, I won't begrudge her.

We get our IDs checked at the door.  Not a problem; we're both old enough to get rip roaring drunk legally.  The music that was pounding outside is a full percussion section inside.  Trish is already grooving to the beat, hands over her head and her hips swinging in time.  I start tapping my hand on my thigh, not quite as into it as Trish.  I lean in to her and say, "Let's find a table."

"What?"  Trish cups a hand around her ear.

I repeat, louder, "Let's find a table!"

Trish nods.  We slip through the small but growing crowd to find a table along the wall.  I sit down and get comfortable.  Trish remains standing.  She dances as she surveys the other people in the club.  With a shrug, she kneels down so I can hear her.  "What do you want to drink?"

"Molson Canadian."  My preferred beer.  If there isn't any, Trish knows me well enough to get me an alternate.  She sashays over to the bar.

I close my eyes.  It has been a while since I've been out.  The music is louder than I expected, and the bass is assaulting me with its intensity.  Bliss.  I let out a long breath then open my eyes again.  The song changes, the rhythm increasing, and more people flow on to the dance floor.  I watch the dancers as they get into the music, moving into small groups where they start synchronizing with each other.

Trish returns with two tall plastic cups filled with beer.  She sets one down in front of me.  "Cheers!" she says before taking a long swig from her cup.  I take a sip of mine.  Trish looks at me expectantly.  "Well?"

I return the look.  "Well?"

"Aren't we going to dance?"

"You can go if you want.  I want to finish this first."

"We're here to have fun."

"I am having fun."  I take another sip of my Canadian, longer than the first.  "See?  Fun."

Trish sets her cup down.  "You will dance tonight, Jackie."  She flounces away from the table and in to the dance area.

I sigh.  Trish means well.  I'm a big girl, though.  She doesn't have to be responsible for my happiness.  I can take the blame for me not being happy.  Besides, I'll be more willing to dance once I have this beer in me.  I learned this in a French class in my first year; it's easier to let yourself risk embarassment when alcohol is involved.  The teacher didn't phrase it quite that way, but that's the sentiment.

Trish is out in the middle of the floor for several songs, long enough for me to finish the Canadian.  I give the alcohol a few minutes to take effect, then get up.  I'm a little unsteady.  It has been a while since I've had booze of any sort.  With the battle cry of, "Let's get it over with," I walk out on the dance floor.  I avoid Trish and her growing circle of dancers and find a more or less isolated spot on the floor.  My hips start swaying in time to the music.  My hands go over my head on their own volition, making my the tallest person in the club.  I close my eyes and try to ignore everything my the music.

When I open my eyes again, there's a guy dancing with me.  His light brown hair glistens with sweat and he matches my rudimentary dance steps with ease.  I smile, happy to not be alone in my spaztastic endeavor but self-conscious of my lack of skill at the same time.  He doesn't seem to mind, though.  I let him lead and try to be a mirror to him.  He steps in close enough for me to smell his cologne.  Part of me revels in the scent while the rest of me tries not to be embarassing.

The song ends and I'm out of breath.  I step back and smile at him again.  Non-verbal communication isn't my strong suit, but he realizes that I'm not dancing through the next song.  He follows me to the table Trish and I staked out.  I sit down and invite him to join me.  "Hi!" I shout.

"Hi!  I'm Steve."

"I'm Jackie."  I hold out my hand and he shakes it.  "Nice moves."  I use sentences of two syllables or less to save my throat.

"Thanks.  You're not bad yourself."  Steve waves over a bartender.   He places his order, a Rickard's Red, then invites me to place mine.

I have to stand a little and step closer to the bartender to ask for another Canadian.  From the corner of my eye, Steve waves to someone else in the club.  The bartender nods and walks off.  I sit back down.

Steve smiles.  "I haven't seen you here before."

"I don't get out much."

"Pity."

I blush a little.  "Come here often?"

"When my work lets me."

I lean in closer so I don't have to shout as much.  "What do you do?  Your work, I mean."

He leans in closer as well.  "It's a small start-up consulting firm.  Management, mainly.  You?"

"I'm a student at Carleton."  I lean back when the beers arrive.  Steve pays for them and gives the bartender a five dollar tip.  "I'm here with a friend."

Steve raises an eyebrow.  "I'm not muscling in on anything, am I?"

I laugh.  "No, she's my roommate.  She thought I could use a night out."

"Good thing she did."

I take a long draught of the Canadian to drown the building nervous laughter.  "Thanks."

Trish returns from dancing holding the hand of a well tanned, muscular man who looks to be in his early thirties.  "Hey!  I'm not interrupting, am I?"

I shake my head.  "Steve," I introduce, "this is my roommate, Trish."

Trish beams a smile at Steve. "I saw you out there.  Nice moves."

Steve seems embarassed by the attention.  "Thanks."

"Jackie, I'll just be over there."  Trish points to a table on the opposite wall where two women and three men are sitting.  "Wave to me if you need anything."  She grabs her purse, gives me a knowing smile, and takes her dance partner across the room.  That leaves me alone with Steve.

I take another swig of beer, trying to hide my nervousness.

Steve just smiles and takes a drink from his own cup.  "Your roommate seems nice."

"She is."

He glances over at Trish, then returns his attention to me.  "Definitely a social butterfly."

"That she is."  I can't believe this.  An attractive guy talking to me, and all I can talk about is Trish?  I am pathetic.

"A woman of few words, I see."  He laughs gently.

I look down into my beer.  "I..."

"Don't worry about it.  Not everyone can be the life of the party.  Who would be left gossip with afterwards?"  Steve's eyes glint with humour.  "Besides, I prefer a quiet woman, one with hidden depths."  He tries to meet my eyes.

I raise my head.  His eyes are dark, though that could be the light in the nightclub.  Still, I can feel myself getting lost inside them.  "I'm not sure I'm as deep as you think I am."

"Like I said, hidden depths."  He offers his hand to me.  "Ready to go back on the floor?"

I take his hand and let him lead me.  We're out there for a while, dancing, getting closer with each song.  I surprise myself with the stamina I have and with keeping up with him move for move.  The DJ puts on a slower ballad to give people a rest from the frenetic pace.  Steve pulls me close.  His arms wrap around me.  I can feel his strength and his restraint.  My arms snake around his waist as we dance.  I gaze into his eyes and he becomes the only person in my little universe.

The song changes to something faster.  Steve and I ignore the change in beat, not wanting to let go of each other.  Trish was right; it has been too long.  I've missed feeling important to someone else.

Finally, Steve and I pull apart.  We walk back to our table.  I sit down to rest and brush beads of perspiration from underneath my bangs.  Steve sits down opposite me.  I smile at him.  "Thanks."

"Want to go someplace quieter?"

I nod.  "I just have to let Trish know I'm leaving.  Meet you outside?"

Steve agrees and walks away.  I head over to the table Trish has flitted to, different from the one she said she'd be at.  I tap her shoulder to get her attention.  "I'm heading out."

"So soon?  Jackie . . .."

"Steve and I just want to talk.  I'm not going home."

Trish winks at me.  "I'll see you later, then.  Have fun!"

I head out of the nightclub.  My back between my shoulder blades tingles, like someone's watching me.  I glance around and see no one looking at me.  I'm not sure if I should be relieved or disappointed.

When I get outside, Steve pushes himself off from a lamppost.  "Hi," he says.  "How are your ears?"

A passing car sounds further away than it should.  "Not so good.  Really loud in there."

"Would you like a coffee?"

"Sure."

Steve and I walk to a Second Cup.  My hearing recovers slowly.  I can hear the barista at the coffee shop when she asks what I want.  I order orange pekoe tea, then wait for Steve to place his order.  His coffee is ready the same time my hot water arrives.  We take our drinks and find a quiet corner to sit in.

"Thanks," I say as I pour my tea.  "For the drinks and the dancing and all."

Steve's smile makes me want to melt.  "A beautiful woman like you should have fun.  And you said you're a student.  I know about student budgets."

"Where did you go to school?"

"Thunder Bay, then a graduate program at York."

I sip my tea.  "Impressive.  And you look so young, too."

"I found a great job that lets me travel.  I handle recruitment and put out the occasional fire here and there."

"So you're just hitting on me because you've got an opening you need to fill."  I smirk.  I wouldn't be surprised if that was true.

Steve laughs.  "I'm not trying to hire you.  At least, not now.  It's the weekend, time to relax and escape the work week.  And you are a beautiful woman."

I take another sip, leaving my cup in place on my lip to hide my reddening cheeks.  "That's the alcohol talking."

"No, really.  I saw you dancing on the floor and had to meet you."

"What about Trish?"  I set down my cup.

"What about her?"  Steve shrugs.  "She's not what I'm looking for in a woman.  Not that I know her or you that well."

"Exactly.  Wait."  My mind whirls with confusing thoughts.  I know I turn heads in class, but women are in the minority there.  Trish, however, commands attention no matter where she is.  I've seen men watch her pass by them.  I've even seen men walk into obstacles because all their attention is on her.  Yet, now, someone is saying I'm more attractive than her?  "Me?"

Steve reaches to rub my hand.  "You."

The touch is electric.  I put my other hand on his.  "You don't even know me."  My head is befuddled.  It has to be the beer.

"Every couple has to start somewhere.  My parents didn't know each other when they met."

I giggle.  "Okay, yeah, I can see that.  But they must have talked to each other before marrying and having you."

With his free hand, Steve takes a drink of his coffee.  "What do you think we're doing now?"

"Oh.  Um.  Oh."  Social skills for the win.  "So, um, is this how your parents met?  I mean, at a nightclub?"

Steve shrugs.  "They never told me.  I think they met in school, though.  I've seen some of their photos.  There's one where they're at a high school dance.  Stiffest pose I've ever seen.

"No one looks good in a high school photo.  I've asked Mom to burn mine."

"I'm sure you were attractive then, too."

"Nuh-uh."  I shake my head.  "I was all arms and legs and gangly and awkward and definitely not attractive at all."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Believe what you want."  I pick up my tea again before it gets any colder.  "I never liked getting my picture taken."

"Then how am I going to prove to my friends that I met an angel tonight?"  Steve laughs.  "Unless I introduce you to them."

My eyes widen.  "Tonight?"

"I was thinking later this week, but if you want to go now . . .."  He smirks and winks.

"No.  No, that's fine.  Later is good."

Steve finishes his coffee.  "Want another tea?"

I pick up the metal pot that came with my order.  I feel water sloshing inside.  "I think I'm good for now."

When Steve walks back to the counter, I slump down in my chair.  Tonight has been . . . well, it's been.  Which makes absolutely no sense at all to me, which is what tonight has been.  No sense.  Somewhere along the way, I must have been given a new body.  That must be it.  I'm really in Trish's body and she'll be upset when I get back home, especially because I'm dizzy.  Or the room is from trying to spin.  I glance at Steve.  Maybe he spiked my drinks?  Ecstasy and other date rape drugs have made the news recently; I wouldn't know if any of it has been slipped into something I'm drinking.   But, there's no way he could have; I never took my eyes off him.  No one else came close to us to doctor my beer, and no one's touched my tea except me.

Steve returns with a new coffee.  "Are you okay?" he asks, seeing my lack of posture.

"I'm not feeling well.  I should go home."

"Do you want me to call you a cab?"

I look up at Steve.  "Please."

He takes out a cell phone and calls Blue Line, one of the local taxi companies.  I finish my tea, hoping it'll help with settle me a little.  Steve hovers near me.  He even takes off his jacket and has me wrap it around my shoulders in case I get cold.

The cab arrives a half-hour after it was called, a typical response time on a Friday night.  Steve bundles me into the taxi and hands me a card.  "My phone number's on the back.  Call me when you're feeling better?"

I nod.  "I will.  Thanks."  That tingle in my back returns.  Someone is watching.

He leans into the cab and kisses me on the cheek.  "Take care of yourself."  He shuts the door for me.

I tell the cabbie my address.  The ride takes me out of the Market, past Parliament, and back down Bank Street.  Once south of the Queensway, the main highway through the city, I'm back in the Glebe.  People are leaving some of the bars along Bank.  Must be later than I thought if it's closing time.  Finally, the cab turns on to my street and stops in front of the small walk-up apartment building where I live with Trish.  I pay the driver, then step out.

The cool air feels good on my face.  My stomach settles a bit and isn't threatening to send back tonight's dinner and drinks.  I climb the short set of stairs and let myself into the building.  Feeling woozy, I lean against the wall before I start the hike up to my apartment.  My head spins again.  The hallway tilts to the point where I press my hand against the wall to keep myself standing.  I shut my eyes tight and wait.  There's no way I can be drunk, not on two beers.

The dizziness passes, and I begin my slow trek up two flights of stairs.  I make it home, somehow, without collapsing or another dizzy spell.  I fish out my keys and try to insert them into the lock.  It takes an effort; but, after I close my right eye, I get the key in and the door unlocked.  I step inside.

Trish is already home and, to my surprise, alone.  She's sprawled on the couch, looking at me as I enter.  "Hello."  Her smile is disconcerting.

"Hi."

"So?"

I pull slip off my shoes, bracing my self on the wall.  I curl my toes, kneading them on the grey rug.  "So?"

Trish rolls her eyes.  "Come on, Jackie.  I saw you with him on the floor."

"You mean Steve."  I walk over to the overstuffed easy chair and plop into it.  "We talked."

"And?"

"And nothing.  We talked, that's it."

"Did you get his number?"

"None of your business, Trish."

Trish sits up on the couch.  "You're trying to tell me that you two were out all night talking?"

"Yes.  Trish, I wasn't looking to get laid.  You wanted me to go out and have a good time.  I did.  At the end, I wasn't feeling so well, so I came home.  I should go to bed."

"Happy I dragged you out now?"

"Yes.  And I'll be grateful if you could drag me into my bed."  I make an effort to get out of the chair.  My legs feel like they're asleep.

Trish walks over and offers a hand.  I take it and let her pull me up.  Stumbling, I head to my bedroom.  "How much did you drink tonight?" Trish asks.

"Just the two beer."  Seeing doubt on her face, I continue, "Really.  I'm not feeling well, that's all.  Nausea or something."

Trish helps me into my bedroom and gets me seated on my bed.  "Want me to get a bucket or something?"

I rub my stomach.  It has settled even more since I got home.  "I should be okay, thanks."

"Good night, then, Jackie."  Trish leaves the room, turning the light off behind her.

In the dark, I strip out of my clothes and into my night clothes, an old fleece pullover and a pair of flannel pyjama pants the best I can while sitting in bed.  My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I take a moment to appreciate my room in the half light.  Everything is a soft monochrome.  I climb under my covers and try to sleep.

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