Single Player: Humor, Love, Breast Cancer and a Gaming Girl... (15 page)

“Hey mom,” he calls as I hear a door open in the background.

“WHAT MOM? She soooo does not deserve that title,” I retaliate, now not caring anymore that I’m shouting in his ear.

“Got to go Cee. Liddy switched our flight and it leaves in two hours. We’ve got to book it to the airport. We’re all exhausted.” 

“I bet you ‘all’ are. I hear prison will do that to a person!” I shout at the top of my lungs. 

He totally ignores my childish behavior and continues on as if I’m just fine on the other line. “I’ll call you as soon as we get back to my place. And Cee… I love you.” He waits for me to say it back but I’m in no mood to deal with traitors, ex-cons or cute petite blondes so I just hang up, that’ll show em’. 

I look down at the giant dog head in my lap and listen intently to Ash’s voice, trying to calm myself down without the aid of the alluring liquids in my well stocked liquor cabinet. What the hell will happen next is anybody’s guess but the one thing I know for sure is that I’m double-bolting my door. No way is Connor forcing anyone on me.  Not even the “you know who” who will not be named.  Not going to happen, end of.

***

Since today’s proven so awesome already I decide to go online and try to save it with some much needed adult playtime. What could possibly go wrong? Right? I mean I’ve already spent way too many hours offline in order to avoid Mr-spies-on-me-in-the-night and surely my other game pals are starting to get worried about me. I need to show my virtual face for a bit. I’ll just have to hide from “Christian” and find PaulGayman and GamesWood before he spots me out and about. 

After logging in the crew finds me on
Splinter Cell
within five minutes and collectively shout their ‘hey’s!’ and ‘where the hell you been’s?’ into the headset before we start in on our regular regimen of spying and ass kicking.  Since they don’t know me it’s easy to misdirect their questions and avoid lying, which is a good thing because I’m told that I’m a “terrible, terrible liar”. Ashton says I have “like a million tells”. So, if you’re in the same room as me, I can’t do it. Not even changing the subject will work if I’m standing in front of you. 

Maybe I have Asperger’s Syndrome like this boy Jack that Ash and I were friends with in high school.  He didn’t get along well with anybody, but Ashton and I loved him and his ability to always, and I mean
always
, cut through the bull shit and tell it like it was. You had on a shirt or a pair of pants that weren’t flattering, Jack told you (that’s where I really learned what made my butt look big). If you had food in your teeth, he pointed it out (and loud; that was his only volume for some reason). Your zipper down, no problem, thanks for pointing that out Jack, oh and with a finger point to boot! Wow! Thanks!             

Last time either of us saw him was high school graduation where he promptly told me that my hair looked weird the way I’d fixed it under my cap and also, that even though his friendship with Ashton and I was good, since we were all leaving high school it was probably over. Turns out he was right on both accounts.  When I first saw the pictures from that day I immediately regretted my hair decisions. Seriously, do not try to force a French twist under a graduation cap, it’s just so bad. Then shortly after graduation my dad relapsed and I was too busy dealing with Cancer to cultivate or nurture any of my high school friendships so they died (bad word choice, but the truth none the less). The only reason Ashton hung on was because he was family and I would have killed him myself if he tried to leave me. As for everyone else, they had college to get to, parties to party at and all my death stuff rained on their party parades so I get it because death makes me uncomfortable too. So there you have it, the sad story of how I lost all my friends, including one of my all time favorites, Jack.

Now I’m thinking maybe I should nurture my online friendships and then they can grow into the healthy relationships I’m so desperately in need of, it’s certainly worth a shot. I’m going for it! Decision made I break gaming etiquette again and ask GamesWood how his weekend’s been just as he’s yelling for me to protect his right flank. Surprisingly, he answers and we just continue on fighting. Then he does something that surprises me even more by asking me how my weekend was in return!  I’m FOSTERING a friendship and it’s working because guess what? He’s FOSTERING BACK! 

“So Panties, tell me? You got a guy?” I wonder if he asks all his friends this.

“Yeah, that would be a big N…O. You got a gal?”   Really Cee? You got a gal? What am I, a 1920’s gangster from New York?

“Nah, girls are too much work. Except for you of course.”

“Nice move,” I say. He laughs. Oh man, he has no idea how much work
I
am!

“Anyway, I prefer my freedom, ya know? She’d probably always complain about me playing my games and then try to make me clean up around here and I don’t need that kind of pressure right now. I’m only thirty. I’ve got plenty of time to act old later?”

The thought, ‘Yeah, unless you get cancer’, immediately pops into my mind and I have to literally squeeze my lips closed to hold that depressing thought in. Instead I say the more appropriate, “Yeah, tell me about it.” Who am I, Joey Tribbiani?

“You’re a cool chick, Panties. I think I could date a girl like you, but even then I’d feel like I’d have to clean up if you came over here to play and that’s why it’d never work out. See? I just go out when I’m lonely, hook up and I’m all good. It’s great to be me.”

I’m shocked at his simple ability to use people (a girl) for a night, leave her after he’s been satiated and then just go and be alone again as if nothing has happened. In the abstract that sounds perfect because you can’t get hurt if you live by those rules but the reality sounds worse. Oh my good gracious! LIGHT BULB MOMENT. I’m the reality. I’m always here by myself, playing games, trying to use my best friend for a capital “SCORE” when I’m “lonely”. I’m GAMESWOODS! I’m a man-whore… (maybe not technically) because eventually I’d figure out a way to have “it” and that’s exactly what you’d call me (except obviously, you’d say woman-whore. Which I guess would really just be plain old whore then, huh?).

“Listen Games, I’ve got to go and I don’t plan on being back for a while. I’ve got some stuff going down. But seriously, I hope the playing and sleeping around keeps going well for you. You’ve been a great….?” I go silent looking for an appropriate word for him but instead he saves me when he says, “gaming bitch” in his deep, cocky voice that I’ve grown to like so much.

“Yah, gaming bitch,” I say laughing. “Take care and seriously work on your KDR. Your numbers are worse than a little girl’s and considering how much you play, you may need to get your eyes checked, old man.” 

I forgot about PaulGayman being on with us until he shouts, “EW… BURN!” And then just as I start to leave Games shouts back, “Stop trying to get in my pants Panties. It’s slutty,” then there’s a bunch of guffawing in my ear as I click to disconnect, my headset goes to static and they’re gone. I’m out. 

Before I turn off the console it dawns on me that the entire time I was on today I never once saw Christian and I’m simultaneously relieved and a little sad because starting now I’m not signing into the game world again until I’ve stepped out my front door. This will be the first condition that I set for myself. Suddenly, I’m struck by the need to know if there could be a new McDonald’s on my street or any new shops I could sell my awesome lingerie to that are within walking distance to my house. That settle’s it, starting today I’m initiating the CHANGE CEECEE’s LIFE plan. Hold on to your hats people (or your underwear), this is going to be a bumpy ride. OR… it’s going to be awesome! (I’ve decided to become an optimist as part of the new life plan thingy as well!)

twelve

It’s now or never.  Do or die. No time like the present. I’m in it to win it. These thoughts are ricocheting around the inside of my head in a sort of ‘you can do it’ cliché relay-race as I ready myself to approach the exceedingly menacing front door. Who knew doors could look so unapproachable? I mean, that’s what they’re there for, the approaching.

With road runner like speed and accuracy mean spirited, hideous butterflies have taken up residency in my belly as I’ve begun to move forward. There is a chance that I could become more afraid of the door itself rather than what lies behind it if I don’t move quickly. So before I’m able to chicken out, my shaky legs hurtle themselves toward its well cleaned veneer while all of the ‘you can do it’ cliché’s play on full volume throughout the many horrified corners of my mind.

Snatching the metal knob, I twist and pull with enough force to tear the arm off of a three hundred pound grown man before I remember it’s been bolted shut… twice.  OUCH! Have you ever done this? Note to self: Doors don’t budge when they’re sealed shut. Holy CRAP! Mother Fudger! If you yank something that is not prepared to give, and I mean even a centimeter, with your full body weight behind you, that’s some serious business!

The old me would take this self-inflicted injury as a sign to give up. This is exactly where I’d decide that the worlds just too dangerous a place for a young girl like myself to explore and then I’d proceed to immediately quit the mission of saving my life. But not anymore, not this new GamesWoods-inspired me. This me will stand up and become the man I know he (she) can be (sorry, Wo-man, still thinking about GamesWoods and how he needs to grow the eff up!). 

Not giving up on my mission I flip the two bolts beneath my nimble gaming fingers and then with all the force I used the first time, throw the door open, repeating Ashton’s move from only weeks before and breaking the plaster behind it. My numb right leg lifts at the knee, my foot follows its forward trajectory and lands on the front porch where my mind told it to and then, before I can process what’s happening, Master hurls his body thru the shockingly open front door and pushes me out much further than I’d intended to go. He then TAKES OFF DOWN THE STREET and I’d swear on a stack of Playboy’s that he’s leaping about like a princess in a Disney movie. 

If I had taken the proper amount of time to think this whole life-changing-plan thingy through I would have probably given some more thought to the throw-open-the-front-door-willy-nilly part of the plan. I’d have made arrangements for the DOG, I mean PRINCESS, to be in the back yard where he/she clearly deserves to be during such a life changing moment. Instead I’ve left him/her to his/her own instincts behind me.
My
instincts, however, are the ones proving to be out of practice, because OF COURSE Master would be excited and run out, he loves out, it’s his favorite! They say when one makes their bed they have to lay in it. Well “they’re” wrong because I’m not going any further than here. Here is already proving to be a bad place. The shaky limbs of only moments ago have suddenly turned into unmovable concrete blocks. They will move neither backwards nor forwards, only holding to their current position… still.

Watching in horror as Master rounds the corner to my right, I start to catalog the few options I have at my disposal. One: scream like mad (probably what will happen). Two: run after him (not even swallowing a valium would enable me to perform this feat). Three: call for help (hopefully the screaming will accomplish this) and finally, four: sit down and cry (I’m clearly most familiar with this option; it’s my go-to move). 

Before I have the time to make my choice (we all know I was going to do number one or four) a man steps out of a car that’s sitting at the curb in front of my place and approaches the clearly manic woman before him (me) slowly and with what a appears to be caution.

“You look like you could use some help.” Well, duh. As he moves toward me I continue to stand where I’m planted and watch in horror as he gets closer. About two feet from the railing he stops and I can tell he’s aware that I’m struggling. Good.

“Okay. How about we do this?” 

He continues talking and I do this really unusual thing (shocking) and stare at him in what appears to be a full catatonic state. At first, this doesn’t stop his chattering and as he continues on I try my hardest to focus over the loud whirring sound in my ears. At some point though he seems to notice I’m struggling to understand him because he’s stopped talking and is now waiting for me to come back to the moment, which I don’t. Instead, more awkward staring ensues (at least from my side of the railing it’s awkward, he looks incredibly comfortable from his side). 

All I can think is, how did this happen? The plan was simple. One foot out, touch the porch and then a quick escape back inside, that would’ve been enough for one day, but apparently Master had other plans. So seeing that I’m already flying my freak flag here I decide to up my weirdness factor by a hundred percent and make things more awkward. To accomplish this I just sit down. Yep, I just plop down into an Indian-style kindergarten-squat right here on the porch and put the railing between us.   Now he can’t see me and I’ve also just lost the ability to breathe. I literally cannot feel my legs.

I think he’s going away because he’s no longer in my field of vision but nope, he’s relentless. His head pops up and over the slatted railing sending me into hysteria where I henceforth lose control of myself, screaming and pointing at him to go away for a full minute before I realize my pleas are fruitless. My shouts calm to curses and my flailing arms wrap themselves around my body and I ask the now smiling man, “What’s so funny?” I’ve just TALKED TO A STRANGER… OUTDOORS! I stare at him shocked by my own bravado.

“Nothing’s funny. You just look cute down there is all.  But,” he sticks his hands up giving me the signal that he’s not going to come any closer and continues, “I was going to say before, you know? All of that… (his smile is infuriating!) and when you were still standing (Has no one taught this guy manners?) that I’d be happy to go get your dog for you if you’d like.” Oh. Well, that’s actually very nice. 

“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.  For all you know my dog’s a menace looking to take somebody’s limbs off, and you look like someone who’s grown accustomed to having all of his limbs.” Now that I’m seeing him I take note that his limbs are nice.

“I’ve had labs my entire life. He’s not going to “take my limbs off,” I assure you. He looked really happy and excited. Tell me his name and I’ll go get him.” He’s serious. Who knew there’d be an option five and it would be so handsome?

“His name’s Master. Actually it’s Master Chief, but he’ll answer to Master or Chief or Master Chief, however you want to configure it is fine.” Ramble much. Lord, I’m already in Indian style here, I’ve got to be cooler than this.

“How about Chief Master?” I give him my ‘are-you-serious’ eyes and he shakes his head, “I was just teasing.  Be right back.” 

He turns to walk away and I use the opportunity to grab a hold of the wall and pull myself back up. Nailed it!  The added bonus to standing? I get to watch my stranger walk away from me and me-ow! Down the sidewalk he goes, unaware that the crazy catatonic girl is watching and calculating the math on him and, as it  turns out, it’s an easy equation: smokin’+hot = SMOKIN’ HOT! 

“HEY!” I shout to get his attention before he gets too far away. “How do you plan to get him? You forgot his leash!” I’ve not screamed out this door in a solid year, especially not with the sun still shining and no skanks to chase away as they paw all over my best friend. If any of my neighbors come out they are going to be shocked to see that it’s me who still lives here and not Ashton; the rocker-dude who’s always leaving sad, lonely girls behind.

“I GOT THIS!” He shouts back, and then I lose sight of him and his delightful derrière as he rounds the corner. Please God, let him bring my princess back to me safely.

***

An hour, you heard me correct, AN HOUR has gone by and they’re still not back. Let me share a couple of the scenarios that have started running through my rather expansive imagination. One: Master likes him better than me and they’re high fiving at the dog park right now while picking up new girlfriends (I can’t believe them!). Two: Master’s in doggy ICU somewhere breathing his last breath with this handsome stranger by his side while I’m stuck here on our porch (and it’s dusk now so I’m also dealing with a heavy bombardment of mosquitoes, awesome). Three: they’re going to come waltzing up any minute and give me the old ‘we were just getting to know each other better with a long, slow walk through the woods and lost track of time’ line (the nerve!).

Fortunately for both of them before I’m able to get any further into my psychopathic doggy fantasies they come striding side by side around the corner.  When did my dog stop needing a leash? The last time the two of us were outside walking together was three years ago, and he absolutely required a leash. This new information goes on the same list as, ‘is there a McDonald’s nearby?’ but instead goes under the heading of ‘Things I no longer know about my dog.’

When I begin to plan my voyage into the great unknown, I think I’m going to need a spreadsheet to handle all of the new questions that are sure to arise. Re-entering the world is going to be a bigger deal than I’d perhaps anticipated. I mean just an hour ago I thought I could just wistfully open the front door without facing any real consequences, and look where that got me. Now I’m faced with a stranger who may or may not have been holding my dog hostage for the last hour. Little does he know I’d have given up a kidney on the black market in order to get that big lug back, but instead I’m getting him back free of charge, no FBI necessary, kidneys in place. It would have been terribly uncomfortable going into detail with “the law” about how I couldn’t go outside to chase after my dog because of my period being The Cancer and my Dad dying and how on top of all of that my rocker BFF has taken off. They would’ve said tough shit about the dog lady and high tailed it out of here before the negotiations were even started, quickly deciding that my dog was probably better off with someone else. Unfortunately, I think they may have been right.

Inside the house my phone beeps alerting me to an incoming text but I’m too engrossed with the two guys strutting toward me to care. The size of my unnamed hero/stud is impressive. Even walking next to the behemoth size of Master Chief he still looks enormous. If I were to compare him to Ashton I’d call him… formidable. 

“Turns out the big guy here was just feeling a bit frisky today,” he says patting Master on the head like he’s the neighborhood stud. “I finally caught up to him down at the dog park and he was in the company of a very beautiful Labradoodle and they were not “talking” if you know what I mean.” He gives me an over exaggerated wink to make his point. Yep, got it.

“MASTER!” I huff out in horror. He drops his head saying ‘I know, I know. I’m a bad boy’ before I shoo him inside with nothing but a hand gesture and my very best ‘you’re in big trouble, buddy’ eyes. “How embarrassing, I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. I don’t know what to say.” Look at me talking! Whoop, whoop! I really am mad though.

Laughing he answers, “Honestly, this was a fun twist to my day. I didn’t have any plans so no worries. It’s not like you’ve set me back or anything. Really, please don’t be embarrassed on my account. Trust me that would be a tremendous waste of your energy because that was way too much fun.”  

He appears to be waiting for the customary ‘Thank you’ and maybe even to be invited inside for the customary ‘glass of water’ but... jokes on him! How do you explain to someone who just saved your dog that it’s not an option for them to either come inside your house or to have a glass of your water? That sounds so crazy. Remembering I am crazy I easily revert back in to my normal awkward self and go completely silent in the hopes of making this moment so uncomfortable that he’ll eventually give up and leave.

Like I learned earlier, this guy is no quitter. After several awkward minutes (on my side; yet again, he seems just fine with the silence) he smiles, sticks his hand out and says “I’m Chris.” Now I have to decide if touching him is okay. Hmm? What to do? As I’m contemplating, the Change-CeeCee’s-Life plan pops into the forefront of my mind and I have the sudden desire to climb up this man and have him for dinner. Shaking his hand will have to do though as it’s a much more appropriate response, especially in light of all of my hot and cold behavior today.

“I’m CeeCee, nice to formally meet you, Chris.” His smile is as beautiful as his bum so I take a moment to appreciate it and stare at his beautiful lips just a tiny bit longer than appropriate. “I’d invite you in but,” how do I say this? Just rip the ban-aid off. “I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” Cheeky boy. 

“They’re the same thing.” Cheeky girl.

“Nope. Can’t implies there’s some kind of impediment in our way and seeing that your door works fine and I’m standing here in front of you able to walk through it, you
can
invite me in. But, the won’t, now
it
says much more. It says you
will not
invite me in and thereby one can infer that you don’t want to invite me in. So? Which is it? Can’t or won’t?” 

“Fine. I go with can’t.” Try to infer that, buddy. He didn’t even take my “crazy” into consideration after he saw me go catatonic earlier, twice! I’ll infer that this guy’s not too smart.