Details, details...

To Ben, From God (IV): Back to School

< < <

"Okay, hold on a second here," Julie said.

I brought my Smirnoff Ice halfway to my mouth and froze. "Hm?"

She pointed a finger at me, an amused smirk on her lips. "Do you REALLY want to learn Japanese? I think that's the most important question."

I looked at her from across the dining table, took a sip of my drink. "Actually—"

"ACTUALLY, Jules," said Chris, sweeping out of the kitchen with a big wooden salad bowl cradled in the crook of one arm, "the most important question should be, is he PAYING HER?"

"Oh!" Julie hooted and broke out into giggles. "THAT'S TRUE!" The two of them grinned at me in stereo.

"Well..." I took a nervous gulp of my drink and shrugged. "Sure. I mean, she IS teaching me, so of course I'm paying her. My tutor students all paid me regardless of how good friends we became."

Chris set the bowl down on the table next to the chicken and fried rice. "Yeah but your students never tried to put the moves on you." He looked me up and down for a second. "Or did they?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"See, exactly," he said and smiled. He touched Julie on the shoulder. "What are you drinking, babe?"

"I'll have whatever you're having," she replied.

He nodded and left the room again.

Julie pat my hand. "We're just teasing you, you know that."

"Yeah," I said unhappily. "But do you seriously think it's wrong for me to hire her just so I can spend time with her?"

"No, I guess not. It just sounds kind of extreme, that's all."

I pursed my lips. "But I have no game, Jules. You know that."

She chuckled. "That's not true. Your game is just different."

"Yeah, and this is different, isn't it? It was the best I could come up with under the circumstances."

She smiled, shook her head and sighed. "You're such a sucker sometimes, it's kind of cute."

Chris came back to the table with two tall glasses of cranberry juice and gave one of them to Julie before sitting down. "You know, I can't claim to be an expert or anything," he said, "but I think this could work. It's certainly original enough."

"I hope so," I replied.

"You'll have to introduce her to us when you get a chance, though," Julie said. "I want to meet this girl. I mean, Milla Jovovich crossed with Audrey Hepburn crossed with Angelina Jolie's hair? I can't even imagine what she might be like."

I smiled. "She's, like, magnificent," I said.

"Well, I'm glad you found someone who seems like a better match for you than that Josie chick was," said Chris.

I groaned softly.

He raised his glass. "To love at first sight."

Julie lifted her juice too. "To true romance."

I clinked the neck of my Smirnoff to their glasses and laughed. "To desperate measures."

-/-

Together, Evangeline and I went up to the fourth floor of the central library where there were study tables and more floor space. Her long braid swished like a pendulum against the red Mountain Co-op backpack hanging on her right shoulder as she climbed the stairs. She was wearing an olive green top with a v-neck that dipped to a couple of inches below her collarbone. Written in Chinese across the front was "Beijing University". She also had on the same low-riding jeans that she'd worn the night we shot pool together. When she stood still, the hem of her shirt and the waist of her pants just barely touched; when she moved, they pulled apart and came together like merging waves, exposing an inch or two of her perfectly flat stomach and genetically skinny waist for split-seconds at a time. By the time we'd found a semi-private corner in which to work, my breathing had settled into a rhythm with her walk.

"Is this table okay for you?" she asked.

"Huh? What?" I looked around. "Oh. Yeah, it's fine. I'm okay anywhere, really."

"You sure? You look kind of distracted. Would you prefer a different spot?"

"No, this is good." I was carrying only a notebook with a pen clipped into the spiral binding, which I set on the tabletop. "Let's just stay here."

She smiled and sat down; I settled in across from her.

"So," she said, opening her bag and rummaging through it. "You said you learned Japanese before, right? How much do you still remember?"

"Oh, not much," I replied. "You could round down and say I remember nothing."

She got out a steel pencil case and a dark blue University of Toronto folder, which had a Cowboy Bebop sticker pasted just under the school crest and "Evangeline" written under that in White-Out. She flipped this open, riffled through the pages clipped inside and pulled out photocopies of notes that were handwritten, presumably by her. She slid them across to me face down.

I was about to turn them over but she put her hand on top of mine and stopped me. "Hold on, sorry, not yet," she said. "That's our lesson for today but first we have to have an interview."

Her fingertips were cool and dry on the back of my hand while my palms had started sweating the second she touched me. I managed to say, "Uh huh," but that was about it.

"You said you don't remember much but how much is that exactly?" she asked. "Do you remember the hiragana? Katakana? Both?"

I shook my head. "Just a couple of sentences. I can say, 'Wakarimasen,' which is 'I don't understand,' right?"

She smiled at me and nodded.

"And I know, 'Mo ichido kudasai,' which means 'One more time, please,' although I don't know what good that would do me since I can only follow that up with 'wakarimasen.' I would be like one of those people who don't speak English but say 'Pardon? Pardon?' like a million times before finally admitting, 'Oh, solly. No English.'"

She fell into a string of giggles.

I grinned right along with her. "Oh and I know, uh..."

She calmed into a wide smile and looked at me for a second. "What?"

"No, nothing. That's pretty much it. 'Wakarimasen,' and 'Mo ichido kudasai.' That's all."

She gave me a light smack on the arm. "No, it's not! You're hiding something! What else do you know?" She looked at me expectantly and I turned away. I could feel my face warming up. "Come on, Ben, confess! You're actually FLUENT, aren't you?"

I chuckled. "No, of course not! Well... the only other thing I know how to say is, uh..."

She blinked at me, eyes wide, perhaps expecting me to quote a long monologue from an Akira Kurosawa movie or something.

I arched one eyebrow at her, gave her the flirtiest come-hither look I could manage without cracking up myself and said in my deep, Boyz II Men voice, "Anata wa sugoku kirei desu."

Immediately, her cheeks turned pink and she laughed.

"That means 'You are very beautiful,' right?" I asked.

She cleared her throat shyly. "Uh, yeah, it does." She smiled and shook her head. "Just full of surprises."

"I'm trying to keep you on your toes."

"You should come with me to Japan and try that line out on the girls there. They'll melt."

I shrugged. "But anything they say afterwards would just be wakarimasen."

"We'll work on that." She flipped the lesson notes over and let me look at them for a second. The first page was the Japanese hiragana character set written into chart form. "Recognize this?"

"Not really."

"Whew. I thought for certain that you would remember this from your old classes." She pat me on the hand again. "But this is good. Now I have something to teach you." She smiled. "Let's start with the first row."

-/-

"So when do your lessons start?" Julie asked.

"Tomorrow," I replied between mouthfuls of salad. "I'm meeting Evangeline at the library."

"Are you guys having lunch first?"

"No, it's too soon for that. I think I came on too strong already as it is, I'm surprised she's even talking to me. I'm not going to push my luck anymore. I'm returning to the realm of reason for the next couple of weeks at least."

"That's a good idea," said Chris. "Make her want you by being unavailable."

Julie narrowed her eyes at him but he was too busy building a small hill of fried rice on his plate to notice. When he was done, he positioned a large piece of chicken on top of it like a fortress.

I laughed. "Is that what you did, Chris?"

He glanced at Julie and smirked. "Nah. She wanted me from the beginning, I didn't have to play any of those reindeer games."

Julie eyed him up and down. "Oh, I did, did I?" She was THIS CLOSE to snapping her fingers in his face—I don't think so, mister, snap-snap-snap.

I focused on the remaining lettuce on my plate.

"Seriously though, you wouldn't learn a new language or anything just to impress me, would you?" asked Julie.

"I cook and clean for you, babe," he replied.

"Well, I learned to play Halo for YOU, just so you'd have someone to kill," said Julie. "And you never even let me win."

Chris rolled his eyes and gave me a pained look.

I laughed.

"How about this, Jules: you learn about hockey for me and I'll learn Japanese for you. Fair?"

She looked at him for a second, then said, "Forget it. Not worth it."

-/-

"Japanese works a lot like English," said Evangeline, pointing out boxes on the hiragana sheet with her pencil. "They have the same vowels—A, E, I, O, U—except in Japanese ALL vowels are short; there are no long vowels, there are no silent Es, nothing like that. So if you see Japanese spelled phonetically in English, remember to read all vowels."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well, this for example." She wrote "sake" and "sake" side by side on a piece of scrap paper. She pointed to the first and said, "Sake, like forsake." Then the second: "But this one is sah-keh. See? No silent vowels; you pronounce everything."

"Okay, I understand." I looked over the hiragana chart. It was a grid eleven tall by five wide mostly filled with curvy Japanese characters. The columns were labeled with vowels but in an unusual order: A, I, U, E, O. At the head of each row starting with the second was a consonant.

"All right, good. It's a simple concept, I think. But we can't learn Japanese in English; we have to learn the proper characters. There are a lot of them though, so take your time. You don't have to memorize them all in one go."

I nodded.

She got out her pencil again and started going through the chart with me repeating after her.

"Ah, ee, oo, eh, oh. Kah, kee, koo, keh, koh. Sah, shee—"

"Not see?" I asked.

"No," she replied. "There are exceptions to the rule. So it's sa, SHI, su, se, so."

"Sah, shee, soo, seh, soh," I repeated.

"Good!" she said. "Now the Ts are a little tricky. They're not T sounds all the way through. They actually go—"

"Tah, chi, tsu, teh, toh."

Evangeline looked at me, surprised, and I grinned. She laughed excitedly and gave me a small ovation. "Sugoi!" she cheered.

"What?" I asked. "What's that mean?"

"Kind of like a combination of 'Wow!' and 'That's awesome!'" She punched me gently in the shoulder. "You lied to me! You DO remember some stuff."

"Just this part."

"Okay, well, let's carry on."

Over the next half-hour, we went through the first five rows of the chart, then she quizzed me by covering the consonants and vowels and pointing to the Japanese characters one after another.

"Let's start with... this one."

"Ta," I said.

"Uh huh. And this one?"

"Ko."

She smiled at me, impressed. "Sugoi," she said again. I smiled back at her. Then she tested me on the remaining twenty-three characters and I nailed them all like pictures to a wall.

"Holy crow, you have some memory," she said.

"Just average," I replied. "It's because you're a good teacher."

She blushed a little at this. "So, uh, should we try some vocabulary now? Or would you rather continue with hiragana? I don't want to bore you with this."

"No, it's okay. Let's continue. It'd be easier for me to pick up vocab once I learn the alphabet."

"All right."

She continued to read and I continued to repeat. She pointed out another exception where hu was read as fu and also noted that there were no characters for yi or ye. It was smooth sailing until we got to the second last row, which was headed by the letter R.

"Now these ones can be a little misleading because, in English, we write these as Rs, like a-ki-ra, ka-ra-te, and sa-yo-na-ra. But in reality, these characters are pronounced more like Ls."

"So if I want my accent to sound authentic, it should be more like a-ki-la, ka-la-te, and whatever."

She clapped her hands again. "Exactly!" She pat me on the arm. "Very good!"

"Mm. Got it. So this column would be... lah, lee, loo, leh, loh."

"That's right!" She beamed. "Wow, you're picking this up so quickly! I'm worried now we won't have enough material to fill the whole two hours."

"Don't worry, we'll figure something out. What's next?"

-/-

I finished off my salad and washed it down with the remaining third of my Smirnoff Ice. Then I helped myself to a piece of chicken. It had the golden brown skin of extra crispy KFC but looked surprisingly dry.

"Did you fry this?" I asked. "I didn't hear a fryer when you were cooking."

"Oh, no," Julie replied. "It just LOOKS like fried chicken. I actually baked it."

"So then this skin is what? Not batter?"

"No, it is. I just added something to give it that consistency."

"Like what?"

"Guess."

"Oh man, how am I supposed to do that? I don't cook."

Chris picked up a piece and examined it. Up until this point, he'd just been eating them without giving them much thought. He said, "Oh, I remember this recipe. It's in that book on the shelf, the one with the turkey on the cover."

"It's crushed corn flakes," Julie said, smiling.

I frowned and pushed back from the table. My head was suddenly swimming and I felt like throwing up.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Are you all right, Ben?"

"Yeah," I answered. "I, uh... don't worry, it's not the food. I just feel a little woozy. I think it was the, uh..." I picked up my empty Smirnoff bottle and looked carefully at the label. "Aw shit, 7.5% alcohol." I put it back on the table, groaned, and put my head between my knees.

"I'll go grab a bucket," said Chris, hurrying off into the bathroom.

Julie put her arm around my shoulders. "You sure that's why? I've seen you drink stronger stuff."

"I think it's the bubbles," I muttered. "I don't know why exactly but those bubbles make it worse. Mike's Hard Lemonade and Boddington's Cream Ale does this to me too."

Chris came back with a beige mop bucket, which he slid under my face. "Are you going to throw up?"

I shook my head. "No, I just need to sit for a bit. It'll pass on its own."

"Come on, let's go into the living room," Julie suggested. "There's a vent next to the armchair. It's cooler there."

I nodded weakly, got to my feet, and shuffled off with Chris and Julie following closely behind, ready to catch me if I fell over. Luckily, their condo wasn't that big. I made it under my own power and collapsed into the chair unassisted.

Julie and Chris stood around, watching me nervously.

"Do you want the bucket?" she asked.

"No, I'm okay."

"You don't look okay," said Chris. "You look kind of messed up, actually."

I chuckled softly. "I just need to sit for a couple of minutes. Go finish dinner before everything gets cold."

Julie gave me an uncertain look but I shooed them off. "Seriously. This isn't the first time this has happened. I'll be fine in a little bit."

"Well, all right..." said Chris. "Come on, Jules."

"Holler if you need anything," she said.

"I will." I leaned back and closed my eyes, feeling the air from the vent behind the chair blowing softly across the back of my head.

While I waited for the wooziness to pass, I imagined the hiragana chart that I'd gotten from off the Internet, and mentally reviewed all the characters, mumbling to myself, "Ah, ee, oo, eh, oh, kah, kee, koo, keh, koh..."

I did this for about ten minutes, smiling stupidly to myself at how impressed Evangeline was going to be the next day when I appear to learn all the hiragana in just our first lesson.

"Sah, shee, soo, seh, soh, tah, chi, tsu, teh, toh..."

Slowly, my head began to clear. I opened my eyes and looked around. I could see Julie and Chris still sitting at the table, flipping through magazines together and talking.

I stood. The floor felt solid and didn't spin, which was a positive sign.

I went into the dining room feeling sheepish.

"Oh, you're up again," said Chris. "Feeling better?"

I nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"I'm never letting you drink again," Julie said.

"I'm telling you, it's the damn bubbles," I replied. "I think they make the alcohol dissolve into my system faster or something. But I just need to rest for ten, fifteen minutes and I'm fine again."

Chris and Julie looked at each other.

"You were gone for an hour and a half," she said. "Look, we cleared the table and everything."

My eyes widened and I checked my watch, the Kenneth Cole one that'd supposedly gone missing. "Holy crap," I said. "It's almost eleven!"

"Yeah," said Julie.

"I must've, uh... blacked out while I had my eyes closed."

"Must have," Chris agreed, shaking his head.

"Man, and I still have to review!"

"Review what?" Julie asked.

I got a piece of paper out of my pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to her.

"What's this? Japanese?"

"Yeah, it's the hiragana character set," I said. "I memorized most of it already."

Julie laughed. "Oh, you are hopeless."

"That's my game," I said and sat down across from her at the table. "Well, I probably shouldn't drive for the next little while, so can you quiz me?"

She shook her head at me like she often did. "Ben..." She said and sighed. "Oh, what's the use? All right, sure."

Chris, looking over her shoulder, pointed at one of the characters and said, "What's this one?"

"Ro," I said.

"And this one?" said Julie, also pointing.

-/-

"Yu."

"And... last one," said Evangeline, showing me the final flashcard.

"Mi."

"SUGOI!" she exclaimed. "Holy crow, that was amazing! I can't believe you memorized the whole thing!"

I smiled and shrugged. "You're a good teacher."

"No, you're a genius!"

"No, I just paid close attention, that's all."

She smiled at me, then tidied up the small pile of flashcards, snapped a rubber band around them, and replaced them in her pencil case. "Well, we did the hiragana, vocab, and dialogue, so that's it. We're done." She checked her watch. "Finished half an hour early too."

I closed my notebook and looked at her for a second, searching for a clue as to how she was feeling about our first lesson. Finally, I ventured to ask, "Uh, did you have plans for after? Like, are you busy or anything?"

"No, not really. Why?"

I grinned. "Well, I just got through my first Japanese lesson in years! I feel like celebrating!"

She laughed. "All right," she said. "What do you have in mind?"

"Have you ever had bubbletea before?"

"Huh? Bubbletea? What's that?"

I smirked. "Oh, perfect! Come on, grab your stuff. Now it's MY turn to show YOU something new."

... tbc.

To Ben, From God (III): MSN-ology

< < <

I stared at the cursor blinking a couple of lines down from where I'd typed "Dear Evangeline," and drummed my fingers lightly on the home row. I had an empty email before me and I didn't know what to write.

"Hi, this is Ben. Remember me?"

I stopped, thought about it for a second and decided that if I was suggesting that she might not remember me, I really had no business writing to her.

Delete.

"Hi, this is Ben. How are you? I'm fine."

I stopped again. What am I, in grade three?

Delete.

"Hey hotness, whassup? Dis is Ben. Whatcha been up to?"

Oh good god.

DELETE DELETE DELETE.

I was hopelessly stuck. What was I supposed to say to her? We hardly knew each other. And it seemed a bit presumptuous to think that she'd be interested in my boring life. I mean, I was barely interested in what I did on a day-to-day basis.

I stared vacantly at the screen for a few seconds more, made a sound in the back of my throat that sounded alarmingly similar to that of a beached walrus, and abandoned my email.

Do you want to save changes to this message? my computer prompted me.

"Yeah right," I muttered, and clicked No. The window mercifully disintegrated into so many jumpy electrons.

People blinked on and off my MSN Messenger. With the school year well underway, traffic was heavy.

Suddenly, a grey box popped up in the top left corner of the screen: Jazz: L is for the way you look at me (jazz4thepeople@msn.com) has added you to his/her contact list.

I had no idea who this was but approved her anyway. I wrote, Hello!

And she replied, Hi! This is Jasmine from Xanga. Hope you don't mind that I added you.

- No no, it's cool. Which Jasmine?

- The one from Texas.

- Oh, howdy! Haha...

- Haha... yeehaw! So how are things in Canada, eh?

Not as bad as they were five minutes ago, I thought. I've got an idea now.

-/-

Success! windsorevangeline22@hotmail.com was added to your list!

I closed the prompt and moved Evangeline's contact into the "Friends" section of my MSN. That was when I noticed that her little icon was green.

She was online.

My mouth fell open. This was worse than calling her up from the phonebook. My hand jerked my mouse sideways to drop my status to Offline but before I could do that, she messaged me.

- hello? who is this?

I sat there staring at the message box, my face turning red. Her profile picture was a still of a dour-looking blue-haired girl from some Japanese anime and her nickname had changed from "windsorevangeline22@hotmail.com" to "rei / blue hair brings out my eyes".

I had to smile and shake my head at how cute this was, even as my head and my heart competed to see which could pound hardest and explode first. Even if I'd gotten away with the random phoning thing, there was no way I would get away with this. I'd come on too strong this time. She must have her defenses up now.

Not that I was going to admit defeat so easily. I went into weasel mode.

I wrote back to her, Hi, it's Ben. Sorry, I didn't know if you actually had MSN. I was just experimenting. Hope I didn't freak you out.

oh hehe... it's ok. i was just surprised, that's all. no one's ever added me at random before.  she said. did you find ur watch?

Yeah, it was in my car under the driver's seat, I lied.

- haha... i'm glad u found it.

Me too. I replied. So, how are you?

-/-

Who's that girl in your profile pic? I asked.

- do u watch anime?

Not since high school, no, I said.

hm, then maybe u don't know, she replied. her name's Rei. she's from a series called "Evangelion".

- Oh, I get it! Haha... That's funny. You like anime? Or just that one?

- no, i like anime in general. i've been a fan ever since i saw "Akira" in jr high. philly's bf at that time was really into them... he was the one who introduced the whole culture to me.

- I've seen Akira. Kind of brutal for a kid in junior high though.

- yah, it was. but it was beautiful too.

-/-

- so what do u do now, ben? are u still in school?

- Haha... no, I graduated a while ago. Thanks for asking that though. It makes me feel good. Actually, I work at my dad's office now. He's in cargo. I used to work in Hong Kong writing ads.

- really! that sounds interesting! it's the closest a regular person can get to being a movie star!

I smiled. That was exactly what I always told people.

She went on: i bet ppl ask u all the time which ads u wrote and when they recognize it, they're all in awe, huh?

Uh, I guess, I replied. People usually aren't AWED though. More like STUPEFIED that an ad so dumb could get approved, haha.

- well, it sounds like a fun job to me. better than being a waitress.

- Is that what you do? You're a waitress?

- yah. 3 years now. and counting.

- Wow. All at the same place? Are you like HEAD WAITRESS now? You must have seniority.

- haha... yes, yes, and yes. not the most intellectual job in the world, especially to do for so long. sometimes i feel stunted.

- Nah, don't say that. I've noticed the same waitresses at my favorite cafes for five years or more. I even HAD a cafe job once. Got fired after two weeks. So if you can stick with it for three years, that's pretty good. It's a harder job than it looks.

- really? fired after 2 weeks? that's pretty pathetic, hehe. well, i wouldn't say that waitressing is a difficult job although when it gets busy, it can get pretty hectic and stressful. but like u guessed, i'm head waitress now (*cracks whip* haha) so the pay is pretty good, plus tips and most importantly, they let me pick my own hours.

I laughed at the whip-cracking thing. Tomb Raider-esque but very cute. Whatever walls she had around her seemed no more than three feet high. I could probably hurdle them with ease. She reminded me more and more of myself and that only made my heart beat faster.

i end up hogging all the off-peak hours for myself, she continued. so i can study and save for my year-end trip at the same time, hehe...

- Oooh, where are you headed?

- japan hopefully. *fingers crossed* u ever been there?

- Once, when I was twelve. Bought a Sega Genesis there. I don't remember much else about it.

haha... boys and their videogames. she replied. i've been there twice, saw a bunch of the major cities. this year i want to go to hokkaido, see the ocean, have super fresh seafood, and try their famous all-black watermelons.

- All-black watermelons??

- yup. i saw them on tv once. they look like bowling balls and are supposed to be the best watermelons anywhere.

- You're a big fan of watermelons?

- eh, i'm okay. i'm more a fan of the IDEA of the watermelons. japan as a culture is completely obsessed with perfection. they'll take anything, even something as simple as a watermelon and tweak it and improve it until it becomes world famous. same thing with sony and electronics, toyota and cars. it's been like that for thousands of years.

- Yeah, everything is a science to the Japanese.

- and an artform. i think that's what i love the most, everything from their buildings to their tea to their anime is so precise, so detail-oriented, and yet so beautiful as well. it makes me want to burst just thinking about it.

- Don't burst! You'll make a bigger mess of your desk than it already is!

- haha... anyway, so that's my goal for this year. hokkaido or BUST!

-/-

holy crow, it's past midnight! Evangeline exclaimed.

I said to myself, "'Holy crow'? Does anybody still say that?" and grinned. "That's so adorable."

hey, i better get going soon, she wrote. i have to tutor tomorrow morning.

Wow, you're busy! I replied. You tutor too?

- yeah well, saving up, u know.

- What do you tutor?

japanese, she answered. (My eyes bulged.) don't laugh! i only have one student right now. I'm giving her a dialogue to practice tomorrow.

- Laugh? Why would I laugh?

- i don't know. my brother laughed at me when i told him that i was going to tutor someone this year. he said, "u don't know anything, how can u teach?"

- Wow, that's mean.

- oh, he was just kidding, i guess. but it's true, i don't know that much stuff, really. i'm always worried that i'm going to screw this girl up by teaching her something wrong.

- Well, you seem pretty smart to me. I'm impressed that you even KNOW Japanese.

- yeah, not bad for a white chick, huh? haha...

Haha... no, not bad at all!  I replied. Where'd you learn Japanese from?

- school, silly! i'm majoring in japanese studies.

My mouth fell open again. Man, this Evangeline Windsor was full of surprises.

and no, there aren't that many white ppl in my program, haha, she wrote. everybody always asks me that.

- I wasn't going to... well, okay okay, I was. It was the first thing that popped into my head.

-

- How much do you charge for tutoring?

- $10/hr.

- THAT'S ALL??

- well, i'm a newbie, i've never tutored before. and i'm not a prof or an actual instructor or anything. heck, i'm not even japanese! i'd feel bad if i charged more than that.

- Hm. Do you think you could teach me?

- are u serious??

- Sure. Because I was thinking about going back to Taiwan sometime and if I could, I'd definitely like to visit Japan again. Nothing too difficult, you know... Just very simple conversation. I'll do my homework and everything.

- i don't know...

- I've taken Japanese before. I did one course in high school and my grandpa taught Japanese in Taiwan and I would learn from him whenever I went back to visit. I've always wanted to learn Japanese but I could never stick with it because either I had to come home or I had other courses to take.

- wow, u keep surprising me, haha...

(Really? In a good way, I hoped.)

i don't think i'm good enough to teach u though, she wrote. what if i give u a bad lesson?

- And how would I know? Haha...

- that's true, i guess.

- What are you teaching your student now?

- just basic grammar and vocab, stuff like that.

- Well, can you teach me that too? I mean, this is just something that occurred to me. I don't expect to be FLUENT. I just want to be able to piece two sentences together so I can go shopping in the Ginza district.

- ok, if that's all, i can teach u two sentences. maybe even THREE if u're a REALLY quick learner.

- I'll pay close attention if I've got a pretty teacher.

- oh, so i know what it means if u're not concentrating!

That's not what I was saying! I protested. But hey, does that mean you'll teach me?

- yah, ok.

(I jumped out of my chair and did a little dance in the middle of my computer room.)

i hope i can make the lessons fun for u though, she wrote.

- I'm sure you will. Just teach me the alphabet or whatever. Don't stress yourself out.

ok, i'll try not to. she replied. wow, now i have TWO students! hehehe... so excited.

- I hope I won't cause you to give up teaching, haha.

- i'm sure u won't. anyway, i better get going. i'll check out my schedule and let u know my office hrs tomorrow.

- Haha... sure, and sign me up for all the tutorials and labs and everything!

Then I had a brainstorm.

Leave me your cell number too, okay? I asked. So if there's any problem I can contact you.

- Sure.

And then followed seven digits that I immediately committed to memory. I giddily left her my number as well and grinned at how well things were going even though one bad impression could've easily turned our whole relationship on its head. I kept my fingers and toes crossed.

Okay, sensei, I wrote, you better head to bed. It's almost one.

- yah, i know. g'night then, ben.

Oyasuminasai, I replied.

-

-

- yah, you're full of surprises, all right. oyasumi, Ben-san.

-/-

The next day at around lunchtime, she sent a text message to my phone: Sat. afternoons, 2 to 4 ok for u?

I read this and gave a little woot like I'd just hit the lottery, nearly spraying half-chewed sandwich bits everywhere.

I texted her back: Perfect.

... tbc.

To Ben, From God (II): Cold Calls

< < <

The way she pulled at her shirt, the way she bit her lip, the way she stood with her weight on her left side and her cue stick on her right, holding it like a rifle as if she was on guard duty at Guantanamo Bay... damn, I couldn't get the image of Evangeline out of my head for two weeks.

I would close my eyes and see the curve of her body and imagine wrapping my arm around her narrow waist. I would lean back in a chair and feel the gentle pressure of her hand on my shoulder blade. I could remember the tap-tap-tap of her fingertips landing on my forearm like heavy spring raindrops.

She was adorable but the thing that I wanted to see again the most was the way she pumped her fist and cheered me on. Just thinking about it gave me a tingle.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I called Duckie and said, "I don't care what Philly says. I've got to at least TRY to get Evangeline's number from her. I'm losing my brain over here."

"Are you sure?" Duckie asked. She sounded skeptical.

At my end of the phone, I covered my eyes and sighed. "Yeah. This girl really hit my button dead on."

"Uh oh."

"I don't know, it's just... shit, it's just a feeling that I've got. I can't explain it. Sometimes, when someone special comes along, you just catch this vibe, right? I think that's what I got—this sense that this girl could be a big deal. She's just so damned CUTE." I laughed at myself.

There was a moment of silence while Duckie presumably rolled her eyes at me VERY SLOWLY. Finally, she said, "Okay, hold on a second. Philly's on MSN right now. I'll ask for you."

"All right, all right."

I heard some typing on her end followed by a "send message" chime. I gripped the phone tighter, bit my thumbnail absently, and waited.

Finally, a second chime sounded softly in the background and Duckie said, "She wants to know what I want her Toronto number for. What should I say?"

"I don't know, just tell her the truth: that Ben from that night at your party wants it."

"Really? Well... all right, if you say so." More typing, followed by another chime.

Meanwhile, I had a premonition that Duckie was right, that this was not going to work.

A few seconds later, Duckie's computer chimed again and she said, laughing, "Oh, Philly doesn't know who you are! Must be the hair. How ironic."

"Huh? What? How's that ironic?"

"Because her and Bonnie both love the stories you post on your Xanga site! But here it's Clark Kent asking for a hook-up, not Superman." (I cringed at the analogy.) "She said she doesn't know you, so..." She trailed off, thinking about the problem for a second, then suggested, "Oh, I'll just tell her that I'm asking for—"

"NO! Uh... I mean, no, it's okay. I'll, um... I'll figure something else out. Thanks anyway, Duckie."

-/-

Pride, man. Damnable pride.

I was stuck again, except now I didn't even have one decent lead to go on. Hounding down this girl's phone number was becoming impossible.

Evangeline Windsor...

Man, if only it was HER working in Kingston instead of Philly, I could just crack open a phone book and look her up.

I sat up suddenly on the couch and blinked at the TV. I'd fallen asleep through the tail end of Saturday morning cartoons and was now staring at screaming Neanderthal guys on steroids bouncing each other around a wrestling ring.

"It's a little desperate and a little stalker-ish but what other choices have I got?" I asked myself. "This could work."

I hopped off the sofa and went to the cabinet next to the television where we kept the Yellow Pages and the phonebook.

-/-

It was a good thing her last name wasn't Smith or Brown or Wong or something. I was afraid that there might've been a page or two worth of Windsors in Toronto, but there weren't. There were only about thirty-five. All of a sudden, it didn't seem like such a crazy idea.

"Windsor, Allan," I read and punched his number into the cordless phone.

It warbled on the other end four or five times, then a woman picked up.

"Hello?"

All at once, the temperature of my face jumped by about a hundred degrees and my mouth dried out. "Uh, hello?"

"Yes?"

"Um, I'm looking for Evangeline. Is she there?"

"I think you have the wrong number."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay."

Click.

I set the phone down on the couch next to me, leaned over, and took deep breaths with my head between my knees. After a bit of this, I straightened myself and picked up the phone again.

Okay, that wasn't so bad, I thought. Who's next?

-/-

Not Bradley Windsor, Charles Windsor, or any of the four D. Windsors in the phonebook. By the time I got to George Windsor, my voice had become emotionless—no hint of fear or enthusiasm or anything. As I was told for the eighteenth or nineteenth time that I'd dialed the wrong number, I wondered how telemarketers could do this all day and not go insane. Better yet, I wondered how telemarketing companies could even FIND chumps to do this for a living at all.

There was one Mark Windsor, two Matthews, two Michaels and three listings under just that mysterious first initial, M. It was while dialing these that the worst-case scenario occurred to me.

What if her number was unlisted? What if I'm not the first smitten psycho-ish guy to try this? What if they were ADAPTABLE?

"Hello?"

"Hi, is Evangeline there?"

"Who?"

"Evangeline? Is she home?"

"Sorry, there's no one here by that name."

"Oh. Okay thanks."

Click.

I counted up the rest of the Windsors starting from the bottom. Only eight more numbers to go.

Aw screw it. Come on, Ben. Show some friggin' follow-through.

R. Windsor. Probably Richard or Raymond or some British name like that.

I got back to dialing.

-/-

Couldn't her grandparents have named her dad Aaron? I thought. Was that too much to ask?

I was running out of names. I stopped wondering if her number was listed when I realized a more likely problem: that she lived in the suburbs and didn't have a Toronto number at all. There'd be more Windsors to call then and I wasn't sure where I'd get those phonebooks.

I dialed up Todd Windsor and a man answered. It sounded like he was eating something.

"Hello?"

"Uh, is Evangeline there please?" I asked, already prepared to apologize and hang up and try the first of three William Windsors, the last in the listings.

But this guy, Todd Windsor or whoever he was, didn't tell me that I had the wrong number. Instead, he said with minimal interest, "Yeah. One sec." He covered the receiver with his hand but I could still hear him yell into the house, "EVE! PHONE!"

Time froze. My stomach rolled over. My heart stopped and my body released a couple gallons of adrenaline to get it pumping again. I nearly dropped the phone.

Evangeline picked up the extension and called out, "I got it!"

The guy hung up.

"Hello?" she said.

At this point, I realized that I'd been so concerned about this ploy not working that I hadn't given any consideration to what I'd actually say to her if it DID succeed. And, oh boy, I was on my toes now; time to see if I could pirouette to a graceful recovery or if I would fall flat on my head.

"Uh..."

"Hello?" she said again. "Yes?"

"Uh... hi." (Teetering.)

"Hi." A brief pause while she puzzled over my voice. Finally, she gave up. "Um, who is this?"

"Oh! Sorry! This is Ben. Uh... I don't know if you remember me. Me and Vince shot some pool with you and Philly a few weeks ago at a party?"

"Oh, sure!" She laughed. "How are you?"

"Uh, good. I mean, you know, can't complain. How are YOU? How was clubbing that night?"

"Not bad. I don't go that often anymore, but the place was pretty nice."

I nodded while the hamster in my head burned some pretty high RPMs in its wheel.

"I've heard that This Is London is pretty upscale," I said. "But I've never been there before."

"Yeah, it is. There were a lot of people."

"Mm."

My train of thought derailed leaving the station. All could do was picture Milla Jovovich forming the words that Evangeline was saying. She spoke so lightly, I couldn't imagine her ever yelling at anyone. In fact, I didn't think she could rev up her volume enough to even sound angry. Her voice was high, melodic, and soft. She sounded so familiar but I couldn't figure out from where. And while I was distracted by this, the conversation hit a rock and began to sink.

Damn, I suck on the phone.

Every second of silence was a second closer to her asking me where I'd gotten her number from, which I wouldn't be able to answer because I didn't have a story for that. I had to cut that question off at the pass.

The hamster stopped.

I cleared my throat and asked, "Uh, I was just calling to see if you remember seeing a steel watch that night? Or if you remember me wearing one?"

"Huh? Um, no, I don't think so. Well, I know I didn't see one just lying around. I can't remember if you were wearing one or not. Why? Did you lose yours?"

"Yeah," I lied. "It's from Kenneth Cole. It's got a steel band and a round face. Nothing too fancy but it was a gift, so, you know..."

"Oh, I know what you mean. I lose stuff all the time. Mostly little things like earrings or bracelets or cell phones. But, sorry, I didn't see your watch."

"Okay, just thought I'd check. Uh, is Philly home? Can you ask her for me if she remembers seeing anything?"

"Actually, Philly lives in Kingston. She was just back for the weekend that time. I can give you her email address though, if you want."

"Oh, yeah, that'd be great."

"Okay, hang on. Let me just find her business card. It's around here somewhere." I could hear papers, books, and some other stuff being shifted around in the background. "Sorry, my desk is due for a thorough tidying-up." She giggled. "Oh, here it is: philadelphia.windsor@keystonenorth.ca. That's 'keystonenorth', all one word and it's dot-ca, not dot-com."

"All right, got it." I scribbled this down in the corner of the Windsor page of the phonebook, just for the sake of keeping the drama natural. "And, uh, can I have yours too?"

A brief moment passed in which I thought she was going to ask, "What for?" and this whole thing was going to crash down around my ears. Then she said, "Hm, I'll give you my Hotmail one, okay? I check that one more often."

Whew.

"Yeah, sure," I replied, pen hovering over a clean sliver of margin and itching to put marks to paper. "Shoot."

"Okay, it's 'windsorevangeline22', all one word, at-Hotmail-dot-com."

I grinned giddily to myself as I wrote this down, then thought, Holy, she's only twenty-two? Does that make me a dirty old man? (As always, I was getting ahead of myself.)

"Cool, got it," I said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

I wanted to talk with her some more but thought I'd pushed my luck enough for one day. Besides, my mind was a blank. "All right, well, I better get going. Thanks for your help, Evangeline."

"My pleasure. Hope you find your watch."

"Thanks. Talk to you later."

"Bye bye."

Click.

 I dissolved into a puddle of boneless flesh on the sofa. The cordless phone rolled out of my hand and onto the cushion beside me. I sighed. I suddenly knew who her voice reminded me of.

She sounded exactly like Audrey Hepburn.

I was in love.

... tbc.

To Ben, From God (I): Shooting Stick

< < <

(This story takes place from August, 2003 to March, 2004. Hopefully this will explain the outdated opinions expressed in the story, namely my misguided hero-worship of Vince Carter. Just the very thought of it makes me gag. *ptooptoo* Anyway.)

-/-

In August, my friend, Duckie, threw the biggest party I'd ever been to in my life. Somewhere in the neighborhood of eighty to a hundred people invaded the first floor of her new condo complex, occupying the big function room and most of everything else into our own little kingdom. Duckie was a tremendous organizer; everything that could be booked, was. Other stuff that couldn't be—like the swimming pool, for instance—we overran through sheer numbers. The party peaked at around ten. I got there at quarter to eleven and just goggled at all the damn people.

The big function room was made bigger by retracting the wall dividing it from the smaller multi-purpose room next door. I stood just inside the door, looking at everybody bouncing around to Nelly playing on the surround sound and searching desperately for a familiar face.

"Excuse me," someone shouted in my ear.

I turned as a tall Chinese girl with brown-streaked hair pushed by me with two blondes following closely behind.

"Sorry," I mumbled and sidestepped to the wall. My head turned to follow them into the crowd and that was when Duckie appeared out of nowhere with a bottle of Corona in her hand.

"Ben! You made it!" she exclaimed, thrusting the beer at me. "Here, hold this."

"Oh. Sure." I took the bottle and noticed that it still had the wedge of lime in its mouth. "Uh, there are a lot of people here," I said, glancing around.

Duckie ran her hands through her hair a couple of times. "Yeah. But hey, don't freak out, okay? You have that look."

"What?" I scoffed. "I'm not going to freak out. What are you talking about? You make it sound like I have a phobia or something." I absently squished the lime into Duckie's Corona and took a swig. Then I realized what I was doing and turned red. "Oh, sorry! I'm uh..." I waved the bottle about in front of me like I wanted to give it back to her.

"It's okay, that was for you anyway," she replied. "We don't have anyone making cocktails so I figured that that's the only thing fizzy you could drink without blacking out."

I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes. "Thanks," I said dryly.

She laughed. "Well, try to relax and mingle. The bar's that way"—she pointed to the opposite wall where the rhythmic pulse of people dancing was more of a low throb—"and, you know, there's stuff in the other rooms too, like videogames on the projection TV, pool, and I think there are people playing cards around here somewhere. So hang around for a bit and don't run away, okay?"

"All right, I won't."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

"Good. I've got to get more CDs for the DJ. I'll come find you later." She patted me on the arm and hurried out just as more people came bouncing in.

-/-

I really don't have a phobia about crowds; I'm just more comfortable in small groups, that's all. So, after standing rooted to the floor and staring at the throngs of people for about five minutes, it occurred to me that, with this room as packed as it was, there had to have been smaller clusters of people elsewhere. I took another sip of my Corona, then headed out to explore.

-/-

The TV room was next to the combination function room/multi-purpose room. Inside, four couples were playing tag-team Mario Party on the giant projection television. Mario was about the size of my head. I discreetly backed out into the hall again.

On the other side of the party room was a hallway, which turned and led to the main lobby. About halfway along were the washrooms on one side and the billiards room on the other.

I stood at the corner, leaning against the wall and sipping my beer, watching people come and go. My drink was half gone and the lime wedge bobbed like it was measuring beats while I decided if I shouldn't just forget this whole thing and head home.

I pressed the back of my free hand against my cheek. I was getting warm.

"Aw dammit," I muttered to myself. I ducked into the men's room and saw that my face was getting quite rosy. I was feeling okay but I didn't want to have to convince a cop of that at a spot check coming off the highway.

I splashed some cold water on my face and sighed.

All right, let's see who's in the pool room, I thought. Man, I hope Duckie comes back soon.

-/-

The door was made entirely of glass and I could see how small the billiards room was before even setting foot inside. There was just enough elbow space for two tables and a narrow bar for drinks along the far wall.

There were four people playing nine ball at the far table but only two at the near table and they looked like they were just finishing up a game of stripes and solids. I went in and stood by the wall.

The guy who had solids lined up his shot and popped the three ball into the corner pocket. The cue ball spun back, bounced gently off two rails and settled just off the eight ball a few inches back.

"Side, over here," he said, pointing with his stick. Then he leaned over, drew back and thock. Game.

The guy who had stripes shook his head. He still had two balls on the table.

"Hey, mind if I join you guys?" I asked.

They both looked up at me and the one who lost grinned wide. "Hey, you're Ben, right?" he asked. "You're Duckie's friend."

I stared at him stunned. I thought maybe I'd met him before but didn't remember, in which case I was glad that my Corona had already made me red.

"Uh, yeah," I said.

He must've seen the surprise or shock on my face because he continued to explain: "I recognize you from the photo on your blog. Your hair's different but..." he trailed off for a second like he'd said something he shouldn't have and wanted to retract it. "My GIRLFRIEND went to school with Duckie and Duckie told her about your site and the stories you write and, well, I guess you could say that she's a fan."

"Oh," I managed to say. "Uh, thanks."

The guy who was shooting solids said, "All right, Vince, I'm outta here, man. I'm going to get another drink." He set his cue on the nearly bare tabletop, nodded at me, and left.

As Vince and I re-racked the balls, the door opened again and the two blonde girls who'd pushed by me into the party room came in. The Chinese girl with the streaks was nowhere to be seen.

The shorter of the two girls said, "Hey Vincent, have you seen Bonnie anywhere?"

"I thought she was with you guys," Vince replied.

"Yeah, we lost her at the bar. She saw Duckie come back in and poof—" (she blew across her fingertips) "—she vanished on us."

"Ah well," Vince said, waving a hand at her. "Bonnie'll be okay. You two want to play?"

The other blonde girl looked at the table doubtfully. "I'm not very good at pool."

I smiled and said, "Neither am I. I'm just killing time."

The first girl shrugged and got a cue from the wall bracket. "I'm in, at least until Bonnie turns up."

"Boys versus girls then?" Vince asked, rolling the cue ball around absently against the near rail.

"Sure," said the first girl, chalking up and scrutinizing the way in which Vince had arranged the rack.

"I think they're going to shark us, man," I said.

The second girl glanced at me.

"Naw, Philly can't shoot stick," Vince said. "She just talks."

The first girl—Philly—pointed her cue at him like she was about to run him through.

Vince said, "This is Ben. Do what you want with me but leave him alone. He still has a lot to offer the world." He rolled the cue ball across the table to Philly.

She caught it and said to the other girl, "This is Bonnie's boyfriend, Vincent." Then to us, she said, "This is my sister, Evangeline."

-/-

Vince and I were stripes for the first "game", if you could even call it that.

Vince was wrong; Philly COULD shoot stick. Matter of fact, she slaughtered us single-handedly, never sinking fewer than two balls in a turn. Evangeline got to shoot twice (missed both, the second one just barely), and through it all, Philly and Vince spat trash back and forth at each other.

"All luck, all luck," Vince proclaimed after Philly had knocked the five ball into a side pocket and rolled into position on the eight. "Sink this one and you're a slut, Philly."

Philly was hunched down low so that her cue was practically brushing the tip of her chin. She glared at Vince, hissed, "Right corner," then drilled the eight ball hard into the pocket.

Vince and I traded a look. We hadn't sunk anything and it was already game over.

"New teams," he said. "We'll go black/white."

Philly shrugged. "Whatever, Vincent."

We all stood in a circle between the table and the door where there was more room and put our hands behind our backs. Philly counted off one, two, three, shoot! and we stuck our hands out, palms either up or down.

The first time, we were three palms up and one palm down—three white, one black. The second time, we were three black, one white. On the third try, we were all white.

Evangeline laughed and said, "This isn't working."

I was standing across the circle from her and she smiled at me. At that moment—that EXACT SECOND—I decided to cheat so that we would be on the same side. On the one hand, it would've been funny to stick Philly and Vince together, and on the other... well, she had the same smile as Milla Jovovich. She'd zapped me with the soft curl of her lips and I caught it all like a lightning rod catches a blast of electricity from the sky.

Philly again: "One, two, three, shoot!"

I watched for Evangeline's wrist as her hand came out from behind her back and I shot just half a second after her.

Two black, two white.

"Oh, looks like it's you and Vince, Philly," Evangeline hooted and giggled.

"Dude, you shot late!" Vince exclaimed, pointing at me.

I shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

"All right, come on," Philly said, going to rack up the balls again. "You better not choke, Vincent."

-/-

Evangeline and I kept the game close, mainly because, as bad as we were, Vince was worse and Philly was no longer as deadly as she'd been in the first game, probably on account of her own partner trash-talking her after every miss.

We were solids and by my fourth or fifth turn, Evangeline and I had managed to sink five of seven balls between us (mostly through sheer dumb luck, I admit it). We were up by one and for a second, it looked like we could win. But then Vince pulled his shot so that, even though he'd missed, he'd managed to fluke the cue ball into the middle of the table where Evangeline had no clear angle on a solid.

She stood with one hand around her cue, the other on her hip. She was frowning and I discovered I couldn't stop staring at her mouth.

She was about five-five with soft curves although she looked taller because she was one of those naturally skinny people who couldn't gain weight even if they wanted to. She wore dark blue jeans faded along the thighs and a white tank top under a white cotton shirt buttoned to mid-sternum, sleeves rolled up twice so she wouldn't get chalk on them. But the thing that you'd remember most vividly if you ever saw her was her hair. It was strawberry blonde and done up in one thick French braid that went down to her lower back. It reminded me of Tomb Raider, which made it all the more difficult to stop looking at her.

"I don't think I can do this," Evangeline said. She tugged absently at the top button of her shirt and bit her lip.

"Yeah, you can," I replied and tried to visually measure the angles. I traced a V from the cue ball to the rail to the three ball in the corner. "If you aim here, you should be able to go around that striped ball in front of you and maybe sink the red one." I put my finger on the rail to give her a spot to aim for.

"Sink it? I'll be happy if I can just tap it." She made a bridge with the thumb and first knuckle of her left hand, rested her stick in the notch, drew back, and let go. The cue ball hit the rail a little to the left of my finger, rebounded, and tapped the three away wide.

Evangeline took a hop towards me, one hand resting lightly on her collarbone. "I hit it. No scratch at least." She pat me on the back of the shoulder. "Thanks, Ben."

Even though she didn't scratch, Evangeline left Philly good angles on two of the three remaining striped balls and she dropped them with ease, one after the other. Tap-ins, really.

The last striped ball—the thirteen—was at the opposite end of the table from where the cue ball ended up. Evangeline stood beside me, touched her fingers to my arm, and held her breath as her sister stroked the cue. She hit the thirteen straight on but too hard. It knocked around the mouth of the pocket and popped back out again.

Vince rolled his eyes and Philly said, "Shut up, Vincent. I'm doing all the work here. What kind of man are you, anyway?"

I took a deep breath and chalked up the end of my cue. Evangeline pat me gently on the back and said something that sounded like, "Gum butt-ay."

"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and looking at her. Was she was using a Jamaican accent on me?

She gave me her Milla Jovovich smile again. "Nothing. Just 'Go, Ben, go!'" She gave little pumps of her fist and grinned.

My stomach rose as if I'd just stepped off a twenty storey building into empty space. I finished off the rest of my Corona, which was sitting at the edge of the pool table, tried to steady myself and not burst out laughing.

I studied my options and saw that my best shot was probably the three again. The other solid ball was behind the eight.

"Are you going for the red one?" Evangeline asked.

I nodded. "No other choice, really."

"It looks awfully tough."

If you imagined that the table was a clock with the three ball as the center, the cue ball would've been at the six and the pocket would've been halfway between nine and ten. Not the easiest shot in the world, I had to agree. Still, I pointed out my plan to her and said, "I just have to kiss the three on the far right side and spin it off to the left."

Evangeline didn't say anything, just stepped back and gave me space.

I leaned over, aimed as best I could, and let fly. The cue ball glanced off the three but too softly. It rolled sideways and came to a rest just barely touching the rail. It was about an inch and a half behind the pocket.

"Guess you're just not a very good kisser, Benjamin," Philly said and smirked.

"Yeah, too gentle," I replied. "Oh well."

Vince stepped up to the table and drew a line on the thirteen. He pulled his cue way back and opened fire just as Philly exclaimed, "NO! LIGHTLY!"

The cue ball crashed into the thirteen and sent it barreling towards the corner pocket, where it caught the lip and deflected out. All the balls in that part of the table scattered and the thirteen eventually doubled back across the felt and struck the eight, sending it straight into the opposite corner where it landed on whatever ball was already in there with a soft click.

Vince's mouth fell open and he nearly dropped his cue stick. Philly kicked him in the butt.

Evangeline asked, "Hey, doesn't that mean we win?"

I grinned at her. "Yup. It's kind of cheap but..."

"But still, we win." She smiled and gave little pumps of her fist again. Her braid swung gently from side to side. "Yay."

The door opened and the tall Chinese girl with the streaks, Bonnie, came in. "Oh, here you guys are! Duckie's friend got us on the guest list for Midsummer's Night Dream at This Is London. But we've got to go NOW."

Without a word, Philly jammed her cue stick into the wall bracket and hurried out. Vince said, "My woman calls and I must answer. Check ya later, Ben." And then he was gone too.

Evangeline lingered behind for a second, looking alternately at me and at the pool table.

"It's okay," I said. "Go. I'm going to get in a little practice."

She touched my hand and smiled. "It was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

"Sure."

She waved as she left the room, then headed briskly down the hall and out of sight, her hair bouncing along behind her like a lion's tail.

I grinned stupidly as I replayed our game in my mind.

What an incredibly cute girl, I thought. I wonder who she was.

I re-racked the table and was about to play some solitaire when I suddenly snapped to my senses.

What am I doing?! I berated myself. I just let her go! Idiot!

I dashed out and nearly ran over Duckie as she was coming around the corner from the party room.

She jumped aside as I spun by. "Whoa! What's going on?" she asked.

"Duckie! Oh man, I was just going to look for you!" I looked both ways up and down the hall but didn't see any blonde Tomb Raider-looking girls.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"No, not really..." I scratched the back of my head, wondering how I was going to put this without sounding like a lunatic. "I was just, uh, looking for this girl that I was playing pool with. Maybe you know her? Tall, skinny, blonde hair down to almost her waist. Her name's Evangeline."

Duckie shook her head slowly at me. "Uh-uh. Doesn't ring a bell, sorry."

I thought for a second. "Oh! She's Philly's sister. You know Philly, right? They came with Bonnie and Vince?"

"Philadelphia? Yeah, I know her, but not well."

"You think you can... uh... find her number for me?"

"Which one, Philly or Evangeline?"

I stared at her for a second. "What?"

"Philly works in Kingston; she's just back for the weekend. Her family lives in Toronto somewhere but I don't know where."

"Oh, then I'm looking for her family's phone number. I want to talk to Evangeline."

Duckie nodded thoughtfully. "I don't know Evangeline; Philly can be kind of a bitch sometimes though." She shrugged. "Anyway, I don't have Philly's Toronto number and I don't think she'd give it to me without me explaining why I want it. I can ask for you though, if you'd like. Just that, well, the chance of success is not great."

I deflated. "Okay, I understand. Never mind then."

"Don't worry, maybe you'll see her again some other time."

"Yeah, maybe." I tucked my hands into my pockets and leaned against the wall. "Man, she was so damned cute."

Duckie laughed. "Don't take this the wrong way, okay? But I never thought you'd go for white girls."

"Why not? I was an English major, you'd think I'd go STRICTLY for white girls."

"No, you're too fobby. Sorry."

"Sut up you. I am not fobby so much lah," I said and chuckled. After a second, I straightened up again. "I think I'm going to head home now before it gets too late. I haven't been feeling well lately."

"All right, drive safe, Ben."

I gave Duckie a goodbye hug and began walking down the hall towards the lobby. After a few steps, I turned around and asked, "Hey, what's their last name? Philadelphia and Evangeline what?"

She smiled. "Windsor," she said. "Their last name is Windsor."

"Okay, thanks, Duckie. Talk to you later."

I walked slowly to the main staircase leading down into the parking garage, the whole time thinking what a great name Evangeline Windsor would make for a character in a book someday.

... tbc.

Prologue: Angel

(This is my favorite story. Whenever I think of pitching a book to a publisher, I don't imagine approaching them with Jaye, or Josie, or anyone else but Evangeline. I like this one because it's the most complete, the most educational, the most REAL. Evangeline says something in this story that's very important, something I would want my future Chloe to hear.

In real life, there are no good guys or bad guys, there are only situations.

This was ours.

More than that, this was hers.)

-/-

"Hey," I whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Mm."

"Sounds like you're drifting."

"No, I'm all right."

She was lying on her side facing away from me. I had one arm reached through the tiny space between the top of her shoulder and the bottom of her pillow. My forearm was angled upwards, my hand pointing at the head of the bed and my elbow cradling her chin. She rubbed her cheek softly on my bicep and kissed my wrist. Then she shifted her body into me a little so that her naked back rested flush up against my chest. I drew my free arm from the blanket and stroked her flaxen blonde hair back away from her temple, tucking it in layers behind her ear.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked.

"Just tomorrow," she replied.

"Hm. Yeah, me too."

I kissed her earlobe and sighed. My free hand wandered back down to her waist where it rode slowly up and down the curve of her hip, her skin passing under my fingertips like warm satin.

She took a deep breath and turned around to face me. "What time is it?"

I reached around on the nighttable for my cell phone. It had somehow been pinned between the lamp and the wall. I checked the screen and put it back. "Almost seven o'clock," I said.

"Oh."

"You have to go home for dinner?"

"Yeah."

"All right," I mumbled. But I didn't move. Couldn't bring myself to, really. I just went back to stroking her hip absently with the back of my hand because my fingertips were starting to sweat.

"I shouldn't have come over," she said. "I'm doing more damage."

"No, you're not," I replied. "Don't think that. I chose it for myself. It's not your fault."

"But still..."

"Still nothing. This is on me. End of discussion."

She stared at me for a second, her eyes the color of deep ocean. I wondered what currents stirred behind them.

Then she leaned forward a bit and kissed me. The tip of her tongue made slight contact with my lower lip before she drew back.

I touched her face with my hip-stroking hand, then held her for a moment. "Angel, I think I lo—"

She kissed me again, harder this time. "Don't say it." She looked at me sadly. "Just leave it at this, okay?"

I paused long enough to be certain that I wouldn't start crying. I swallowed hard and replied, "All right. Sorry."

"No, I'M sorry."

"We're both sorry then," I said and she smiled.

"When's your flight tomorrow?"

"Eight in the evening," I answered. "Gabriel is driving me to the airport."

"I won't be able to see you off," she said. "I'm sorry about that too."

"It's okay, I understand."

"I'm going to miss you though."

"Yeah, me too."

She smiled at me. "And when you come back—"

"IF I come back."

"WHEN you come back."

I grinned at her. I'd suddenly remembered what had made me like this girl so damn much right from the beginning: she was adorable in her words, her tone of voice.

"And when you come back, we'll just be friends," she said.

My grin withered and I sighed. "I'll try," I replied. "But it won't be easy for me."

"Me neither. But we can start with email and work our way backwards."

"Until we end with introductions," I said and chuckled sadly.

She smiled and stuck a hand out at me from under the blanket. "Hi, I'm Evangeline. Pleased to meet you."

"Hi, I'm Ben," I replied. We shook hands, and then I kissed her. "Pleased to meet you too."

A tear welled up in the corner of her eye and dribbled down her cheek. She hugged me tightly. I was afraid she would start sobbing but she didn't. Instead, I could feel her warm breath on my neck followed by the sound of words: "That... that would be a good way to end."

I kissed her forehead and nodded slowly.

But in the back of my mind, I thought, There's no such thing as a good ending.

... tbc.