A 24-year old hairdresser and a 37-year old divorced English teacher scroll their phones in search of love…whatever that is these days.
Kat eyed Jim while she poured his gifted Pinot into her tiny apartment’s only two wine glasses.
His profile picture didn’t lie. Tall, lean and seemingly kind at first live pass, the blue polo and stonewashed jeans were having an effect. Tonight’s DoorDash selection even smelled good, like wintergreen soap.
She made sure not to spill. “I actually really love Pinot. And thanks for letting me break the seal.” She flipped a tousle of hazelnut colored hair clear of her face, away from her undercut side, preferring the way her make-up free face presented.
Jim clinked her glass.“I know. Insane what people do these days.” He sipped and smiled. “Your picture is exactly you.” His large hands formed a frame centering her, taking in her appealing but unreadable plain face and progressive hair. He liked her stylish simplicity, the white tank top peeking out from a thin open checkered flannel, her bare feet roaming the carpet without a care.
“Well, that’s me, what’cha see.” Her hand trailed down her length in a mock presentation. “But I do have an admission.”
“Let me guess? You’re older than 21.”
Taking a generous sip, her drinking figure pointed at him. “Guilty! But that pic is the real me and it’s from last week.” She scrambled to justify the innocuous lie. “Older guys are intrigued by youth, which is weird. I’d think it would be the opposite.”
“I was attracted to your picture. The complete lack of pretense. ”They felt the flirt meter rise a notch “You’re not even smiling, but you do smile a lot in person.”
“I think you have to really feel a smile.” She seemed to be deliberately withholding one. “Then, and only then, does it work”.
Jim liked that answer. “You’re smiling now. You must be feeling me?”
“You seem…youngish to me”. Kat topped off his glass. “I kinda go for the older guys. Last year I was “feelin’ it” for a 52-year old divorced grandpa if you can believe it. Distance runner. Frankly, he had too much energy for me, I couldn’t keep up with him.”
Jim noticed her very full bookshelf for the first time. He considered his next words. “He who travels the fastest travels alone.”
Kat smiled. “Kipling!”
Jim sprang to attention. “That’s right!” Her tightly stuffed bookshelf suddenly seemed to pull him towards it. “I teach English. I’ve read a lot of these. What an interesting collection.”
She moved toward the books while Jim studied. “Reading is kinda my distraction. Well, one of them anyway.”
“I loved this book.” He pulls out Memoirs Of A Geisha. “I wish they’d let us teach stuff like this to high schoolers. I bet kids would be more inclined to read if we could get them past Animal Farm and Lord Of The Flies.”
“You’re so stinkin’ cute.” Kat liked talking with minimal filters. “The way you light up.” She finished her wine and set it down. “Be right back. Pick one and we’ll discuss in obscene detail.”
Jim called to her in the next room. “The Dead Of Night? Maberry. I wouldn’t take you for a zombie fan.”
“Didn’t think you’d pick that one.” She laughed, fumbling with something unseen. “Feel like getting high?”
Jim didn’t reply. He pulled a Shteyngart novel from the shelf and paged through it. “I just started reading Lake Success. What did you think?”
“Keep going. It’s dense with detail but you’ll be glad you stuck with it.”
“Sapiens…They definitely won’t let me teach that one. It’d take an entire semester by itself.”
Kat emerged, wearing only an oversized sleeping shirt and a smile. She held up a red vape pen and moved playfully. “You don’t get high?”
“Well, it’s just been a while.”
“Let me guess. Since college?”
Wow, yeah. Am I that obvious?”
She leaned softly into him, drew a breath from the pen, then exhaled and smiled. “These little distractions have come a long way since your college days. Trust me.”
Jim tentatively held the pen. The young stranger and this intimate little literary space had earned his trust. He copied her, placed it to his lips, and inhaled.
Kat giggled. “You seem like a Jimmy to me. Come sit.” Kat guided him back to the couch. “If we’re gonna talk about books then we’ve gotta get comfortable.” She bent to remove Jimmy's loafers, and he took the cue and then pulled off his socks while she reached back over to the bookshelf. “I assume you’ve read Updike?”
“Oh sure. Rabbit Run. The Harry Angstrom character always made me uncomfortable.”
Kat took another hit from the pen and passed it. “Yeah, that’s what makes it so good. Weird, but relatable.”
Jimmy inhaled more expertly now. Finding a whole new level of relaxation, he sunk back into the couch. “It’s like it bothered me because his thoughts were so crazy, so undefendable, but so weirdly similar to my own. I bonded with him. Like something terrible I did or thought but could never admit to”
“That you refused to even admit to yourself.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly it.”
Their bodies now stretched astride each other closely. “Funny you noticed the zombie book.” Kat reached for it. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately.”
“Do you believe in zombies?” Jim fingered the vape pen like a zombie might.
“I believe we’re all becoming zombies” Kat picked up her phone and changed the music mix. “I’m getting more into organic techno lately. Chill Out”. Soulful, hypnotic downbeats softly reflected their deepening vibe. ”If you wanna play your music, go ahead.”
They stared blankly at the books, the pages seemingly holding some mysterious code to the true meaning of life. Her foot found his lower leg, and Jimmy curiously watched her foot tickle his. “Say more. About the zombie thing.”
“Can’t you see it? We’re all staring at screens, walking around in earbud comas, being told by little electronic things what to buy. How to think. What to wear.”
“Who to date?” Something clever popped into Jimmy’s head. “Your reviews got me to…add you to my cart.”
Kat advanced the joke. “78% who picked me also bought…” She poured the last of the wine into their glasses. “...pinot.”
Jim stared at his phone. “Is there ever even a minute of the day or night that I’m not being led around by my phone?”
Kat took another hit off the pen, settling her head on Jimmy’s chest, his arm now cradling her. “It feels like we’re in the zombie apocalypse.”
“Does that mean we’re destined to eat each other?”
She shot him a grin. “Well, maybe”. She pulled two condoms from an unseen pocket on her sleeping shirt and tossed them on the coffee table. “Just in case.”
Jimmy’s reaction is neutral, and Kat moves away a bit. “It’s okay if you’re not that into me, I…”
“No, no! That’s definitely not it...at all. I’m very into you. But I’m actually very into this…whatever it is we’re doing right now.”
“What’s your distraction, Jimmy? These books are a big one for me. I also like getting tipsy with someone I like.”
“I guess, well, hooking up has been lately, what you might call my distraction. Since I’ve been single again.”
Kat guided her hair out of Jimmy’s face. “What was it like being married? What did real love feel like? I’ve always wondered.”
He paused. “I don’t think I ever really knew. We got married because, well…it seemed the logical next step. Keep moving forward or suffocate. In the end I suspect I never really knew her. And the parts that she let me know, well, I guess I didn’t like them as much as I thought I did. She never really wanted to know me deeply. I loved to write stories, and she hated reading them, but she faked interest early on. Maybe she faked the orgasms. I’ll never know.”
“I think faking an orgasm is the saddest thing. It’s like forcing a smile. I just couldn’t ever do that to someone.”
Her voice provided him clarity, cutting through their cannabis haze. “I had a nephew, technically, for a few years. Her sister’s boy. Dylan. He was 7 last I saw him. Redhead, they were all Irish. Anyway, there was something about him that was, well…special. My sister-in-law's only kid. The look on their faces when he entered the room. I remember the few times when I was alone with him. Something radiated from this boy that I cannot explain. I felt something. If I had to describe what love is, I’d start with how I felt being around him. How everybody felt.”
“So much of how we spend our time, I think, is just distracting ourselves, however we can, until that shows up. Whatever that is.”
“I fear we might not find it in any of those books.” Jimmy waved his phone. “Or these apps.”
“Or the handy-dandy gadget in my nightstand.” Kat’s free hand started to caress Jimmy’s chest, then wandered south. “Thank God for modern distractions.”
Jimmy suddenly looked conciliatory. “Here’s the thing. Sometimes after drinks, and….when my mind is whirling….like right now, I just can’t…”
Kat put her finger to his lips. “There’s pills for that.”
“I’m aware. I took one earlier. But with the Zoloft…the wine and….” Jimmy was suddenly triggered by another book title.
“Grapes of Wrath. Ah.” He stood. “I made my 10th graders write a paper on this book and what came back were some of the most specularly written analyses of that story that have ever been written.
Kat rolled her eyes. “AI?”
“Yeah, and it pissed me off because I know most of those kids never even read it or only skimmed the notes. They can’t think like that and they never will. But then I realized how insightful it was. How I kinda wished I’d written it. Then I thought, well, why should I even bother thinking? This machine thinks through deeper human issues better than I ever will.”
They were both again sitting up straight.
“Okay, but what good does deeper human insight do for a goddamn machine, Jimmy? It doesn’t do the machine any good to beat you at an essay contest, but if the machine helps you think about humanity more humanely, then maybe we just let it?”
“But we can’t stop thinking just because a machine did the heavier synaptic lifting.” Kat took the final hit off the vape and blew it out. “Agreed! Now we’re getting somewhere.” Jesus, what the hell exactly did they teach you at Supercuts school?
Kat blushed, absorbing the flattery, settling back into his chest. “I’ll save you the unguided tour of my bathroom medicine cabinet. I’ve been on Cymbalta for a year. That and the pot keep my panic attacks away. The last one I had was with scissors, so you’d better watch me...” Her head bounced off his chest as he laughed. “But, do you think I’m at all hot?”
Jimmy smiled. “I’d say you’re warm.”
“So is that like minor league hot? Like someday but not tonight hot? Because…I think you’re hot.”
The music stopped playing for no apparent reason. Jimmy’s thoughts were clear as a bell.
“You know when someone serves you soup, like I’m thinking of that Zuppa Toscana at Olive Garden I always get. And it arrives and it’s clearly hot. Like smokin’ hot. And you rifle down that first spoon and it stings the roof of your mouth and you just wish you’d waited a few minutes. And then in a little while you blow lightly on that first spoonful, and it hits your tastebuds, and they tingle. it’s warm, you appreciate all the amazing nuance of the flavors. You don’t need salt or pepper. It’s warm….and it’s so right.”
Finally, he guided her lips to his.
Perfecto
Bio:
A Rhode-Island based defense industry professional, Devin has written two screenplays, self-published one novel, and writes regularly for an online creative writers blog. He fell in love with fiction late in life, and depending on the story in work, it serves as both the cure and the cause of chronic insomnia. As long as he stays in touch with the human condition, he vows to never run out of stories.