<<so what hemisphere are you on?>> he asked her

But she was still in that state 

<<you can’t know that. I keep my lives totally separate>>

<<why did you come over here to the Internet cafe—don’t you have those over there?>>

<<over here?—like, yours?no, I’ll forget this conversation in the morning. I don’t want to know where you are—ok? Oh—because the downloads are better—duh!>>

She would not have remembered any of this had it not been for the several incessant sounds of alerts ringing in her head like mass bells 

 

And it was only because he caught her in a mood—a very bad day and a few slugs of cheap vodka so,

in front of the webcam she shot her bright teal lace panties then opened her legs and looked into the cam,

<<let me be the object of your desire>> and fell flat on her face from the last shot hitting her just then

arching her back sharing an unintentional view of a nether factor realized and faced around

<<just joking>>

and fell flat on her face again 

Internet cafe story continues

The Internet Cafe was on the ‘other side’ of the northern hemisphere; she had taken the Broadband Cable Jet across which happened to be—at that time—during her coffee break at work 

Anyway she got back in time but —there’s always that second lag between time zones and your virtual self isn’t quite honed to you.

It was hours later before it occurred to her to check her messages. The In Real Life work hours sucked the most, and it’s mostly because people don’t know how to talk to each other anymore. Well, Roux thought, anyway—and she was the worst example of this exact thing, she knew.

They had to watch a boring lecture. On video! So what was the point? And then after, the discussion—in a circle like the ‘Round Table’ concept —and? Everyone is texting each other and no one says a word out loud.

It could be about that they record the meetings. And everyone is encrypted —or whatever they call it.

But it gave her such a headache! People can still get in your bubble without actually being in your physical bubble which —big brother counts on.

So, after downloading her daily stats she went home and ate a burrito and reached for her laptop to write, remembering what she meant to put down —and there was his message —this is not a Pipe man/guy/person/entity who was on the other side of the hemisphere and she ….had his pipe. That’s how this all started with them. That pipe 

virtual life—part of that other story

<<I like to visit your place in your head>>  he said 

<<but that’s not a real place>>

She had gone home with his pipe, as he’d asked and things got complicated ….

I find I start to reach a sense of acceptance; I watch the snow come down and I find I surrender …. I have let out my rage.so this is fine. I am reconciled to the whole of it all.and I think I was a damn good knight 

Byronic rain

And as they watched the rain pour down over the glass of the windshield that faced the swings he said,

“you don’t remember where we would meet….” 

and even though the tone of his words did not suggest any question—it was

but he was looking directly at the swings when he said it 

it is so interesting the things that people say in opposition to their very own thoughts. Because she had heard some things about him. Things from those of whom didn’t know what their real story was…. now such old ….history —what became….? well—she heard he had a trail of quite a checkered way—which not only had given her pause but made her feel such a strong sense of —what was it exactly? not guilt; for there had only been his own bad behavior but —no, more like unfinished business with a vague sense of —bad timing 

She watched the rain come down. The swirls over the windshield made such mesmerizing designs. Like ginkgo biloba leaves swirling down

It swept down in the most interesting layers.

So what really made her decide to RSVP back to the wedding invite?

She was looking at the swings. 

“Uhh—vaguely—wasn’t it….” she feigned an heir of unabashed awkward forgetfulness “….?” as she stared right at the swings. scratching her head. Very convincing too.

“I really wish I remembered ….myself,” Greg said and after a moment of an intended and imposed pregnant pause—he simply added, “….Miss Pim.”

It is possible that it was the nice glow from the nearby safety lights. What do they call them in England? She hardly had an idea of the term in her country but it was a useful thought to —

And at the same moment both said: 

“—did you really believe I’d come back?”

“—why did you really return Miss Pim?”

Sharply her head shot towards him.

He watched her face for the impact. 

“Yes.”

“I…. guess if…. I were willing to be honest with myself I’d say—well to answer your question…. I was hoping to ….find ….out…. whatever might ….have —become ….of you….”