Page 27 of Omega Artist
My young friend beams, rubbing her hands together in glee. “I read a lot, Uncle Tig!”
“Alright, Miss Smarty Pants. I know you’re a smart cookie, but I doubt that your bedtime stories use that kind of vocabulary.”
She mumbles something that I can’t hear, then adds, “Nobody reads me bedtime stories anymore; you, of all people, should know that! But you’re right.” Her hands come up in a gesture of surrender. “Dad keeps telling me that he was smitten with Soraya even before he even met her.”
Smitten, my ass! Soraya made Graham so hard that he couldn’t wait to get in her pants. Smitten is surely more subtle than horny as fuck, I’ll give him that.
“Alright, alright then.” I playfully tap the side of her foot with my own as I reclaim my spot next to her. What is Alie to me, really? “So, no, I’m not… smitten.” I wink. She giggles. We pause. “She’s just a friend… sort of.” My distraction sucks. My babysitting skills suck. My explanation sucks. Thinking about what this mysterious woman truly represents to me makes my heart race. Chloe’s eyes don’t falter. What is Alie to me, really? I clear my throat, embarrassed to voice my thoughts about this woman who became such a ridiculously big part of my life. This woman who infiltrated my social media in the nicest way possible. This woman who whispered words into my virtual ear that made me rock-hard, despite my better judgment. What is Alie to me, really? “But…” I scratch my head. “We’ve been talking every day now, and somehow she means something to me…. She’s a great listener.”
“So are you!” Her chest heaves in such dramatic relief that I wonder what’s going on in that curious mind of hers. “See, you two are made for each other and you are sooo smitten!” She twirls with her dark hair around a finger as she shoots me a knowing look.
“Stop it, will you?” I let out a frustrated groan. “Like I said, she’s a friend.”
“Did you make plans with her tomorrow? Once Dad and Soraya pick me up, I mean.” She’s adorable to be so expectant. I’m about to tell her that we haven’t met yet, but she doesn’t give me the opportunity. “Where does she live anyway?” Such a simple question that I don’t have the answer to. Asking it hadn’t crossed my mind.
And just as I wonder why, my phone beeps; the heat settles in my cheeks before Alie’s text appears on the screen.
Chloe lets out a giggle that’s both sweet and mocking.
Alie G: You awake? I can’t sleep.
Thoughtful, I stare at the picture associated with her contact—my painting entitledFear, the one that initiated our communication. Someday, she’ll have to confide what she fears, because after that revelation, the subject hasn’t been broached.
I let out a heavy sigh as I reposition my body in order to type my response discreetly, making sure that Chloe can’t read it over my shoulder. She whispers that word again, as if Alie could hear her…Smitten…
Tig: Of course I am, it’s barely nine. U OK?
Alie G: U alone?
Naturally, she didn’t answer my question, but I let it slide. It’s the next one that I want an answer to.
Tig: Where do you live?
Alie G: Wow, back up soldier. I asked you first.
Again, I play nice and focus on my objective.
Tig: Not alone. Chloe’s with me. She was curious about your place of residence.
We’ve discussed Chloe since she came up during New Year’s Eve. Eager to know more, I was fishing for more personal information, like if she had kids. We’ve both disclosed pretty intimate things, especially now that we’re mostly sexting; still, nothing too revealing. Using Chloe to get this piece of information is a low blow, yet it’s the truth.
Alie G: You talked about me with her? Should I be worried that you’re gonna propose marriage next?
Tig: For the record, I talked about her with you! And no need to freak out… I don’t do marriage. I don’t do relationships. I don’t do the dating game.
Alie G: Good, me neither.
Oh, so not attached then. How would I have felt if she were? Damn, why do I overthink things with this woman when the others are so easy to deal with? Am I smitten with someone I don’t know? Chloe might be right. And before I know it, I reply.
Tig: Aren’t you the perfect woman?
Alie G: Perfect is my middle name. Modest is the first;)
Fuck! I really like this girl. Am I smitten, though? I don’t have time to dwell on it, thank God.
Alie G: And now that we set the record straight, tell her that I live in Paris.
My eyes pop out of my head.
