Analog Anonymity

December 14th, 1990

I’m an insomniac, waking up from the best sleep I’ve ever had.

So, how did I get here? I can tell you.

I can and I will…

…if you’ll listen.

I’ve been staying in that big old fancy place down on Willow Street across from Haywick Avenue, you know the one—Kimber’s.

For anyone that wouldn’t know, Kimber’s is this swanky place. Unparalleled, I guess. It’s like a mall, a hotel, all sorts of things all wrapped up in a great big package.

I was supposed to be crashing with a pal of mine. Well, pal, I don’t know—he’s kind of a flake, but he’s a good guy. And, well, he’s a flake, so he never showed up. The guy promises me a room and pays for the room, but he says he can’t make it. Something about being caught up with some waitress that never saw the ocean before, so he decided to drive all the way out to the coast so that she could see the ocean. I don’t know. He’s a—he’s a flake.

But Kimber’s is nice. It’s real nice; I’ve got the place for close to a month. I thought I would be crashing, but it turns out I’ve just got a real nice place to myself for close to a month. Sometimes things just work out.

So, anyway, I’ve been here for about a week. Almost a week. I’ve mostly spent it just walking around, looking at all the different things: the decor, the lights, the fountains, and the shops. There’s so much, and most everyday I’ve gotten myself lost.

I got myself lost and…

What’s the first thing she said to me?

“Six.”

I got myself lost, and I didn’t care much about it, so I went into the nearest elevator and figured I’d just keep going. A woman rushed over to the elevator as the doors began to close. She didn’t say anything then; she just rushed over, and I held the door.

“Six.” I went to press the button for her, but she spoke up again. “Did I say six?” She chuckled with embarrassment. “I meant four; I’m terribly sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“No trouble.” So, I pressed four.

That was the first time I saw her. In all my wandering around, I saw her some other times. Mostly from across the room, we never spoke.

But, as you now know, I’m an insomniac. So, I couldn’t sleep. It was late; it was about midnight. I had left the room, and I went down to the lobby, where it was quiet, very quiet, but there were staff members moving about carrying on their work, and I just blended in with the scenery, looking at everything as it was at midnight.

Next to the lobby, a little bit off to the left-hand side of the desk, there’s a weird little hallway, which leads you past some unrecognizable paintings to a—a what? An eatery? I don’t know. They serve food during the day, but the kitchen was closed. The bar was open. That’s where I went.

She was sitting there, the woman. The same woman. Only this time she looked an absolute mess. Her dress, which was very nice, was wet. All of her—she was soaked.

So I said, “What happened to you?”

“It’s raining outside.” She responded with a kind tone, but it was sort of cold, as if she didn’t want to talk.

“You went out there? It’s bone cold; you’ll freeze to death.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright now.”

“No, it’s not; look at you…” I started to take off my jacket. “I—I… Do you…” I decided to just take my jacket off and handed it to her. “Here. It’s—this isn’t gonna do much. You’ve got to get dry.”

She gave a bashful nod. “Thank you.” She wrapped my jacket around her shoulders and went back to her gloomy posing, her head rested in her hand and her elbow pressed into the bar.

Let me stop right here. First of all, okay, this girl is gorgeous. I mean, she’s high class, top-of-the-shelf stuff. She looks like a movie star. I don’t mean an actress; I mean a movie star. She had all this elegance, this grace. She had all that, and she was sitting there soaking wet from a winter rain, acting as if it didn’t even matter.

I sat down next to her at the bar. It was awkward, of course it was. I figured I ought to say something; otherwise, why sit down?

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Absolutely not,” she said with such vigor. “I’m sorry. I—I… I don’t mean to—it’s not… The past is in the past; let’s leave it at that.”

“If that’s the way you want it…” She nodded. “Do you want a drink?” I offered.

She took a moment to make up her mind about it before her voice left her mouth. “Just one.” I signaled for the bartender to bring her something to warm her up. “What about you?”

“I don’t drink.”

“You don’t drink? Well, why did you come to the bar?” She marveled.

And then I took a moment to find words to use. “Company.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah? Think I got some?”

“You should have. I’m not going anywhere.” She laughed to herself.

The bartender brought her another of whatever she was drinking. Looked to me to be some sort of brandy.

“No? No, I guess you’re not. Wanna tell me why? That’s kind of—what, present? Past?”

“Future?” She chuckled. “There aren’t any rooms available.”

“No? You gonna wait here all night?”

“It’s not a problem, really; I’m sure something will open up in the morning.” She took a magnificent sip of her drink.

I mulled it over a little and a lot before saying anything to her. We sat there for a few minutes in silence while I gathered my thoughts. Finally, I worked up the nerve to speak.

“Look, I don’t want to have you sitting down here wet like that. You know what? Why don’t you come up to my room? I mean, it’s a big place. You can get a shower, get changed, and when you’re all dry and comfortable, if you want to come back down here and wait until morning, that’s fine. I don’t even need to be in the room; I just can’t leave you down here like this.”

“That’s terribly kind of you, but there’s absolutely no need—”

“Now stop that. You’ve got to take care of yourself. Can you do that?”

And she looked at me with these great big brown eyes. It seemed like maybe it was the first time she had ever experienced somebody considering her well-being. Sort of hard to believe, but at the same time, it really isn’t. People are strange.

She eventually agreed to go with me. I was pretty nervous about the whole thing.

Fortunately, there are a few stores in Kimber that stay open all through the night. We were able to get her a change of clothes, and we chatted a bit as we walked around.

I learned that her name was Ava. She told me that she had come to the country for a short stint, a little vacation, but because of whatever it is that she’s keeping in the past, she ended up living here for eight years.

She likes to cook and she likes to clean. She says that doing those things makes her feel well kept and organized. She likes to read, and she’s partial to fairy tales and fanciful stories. She went to boarding school and used to dance in the chorus.

We got stopped in the lobby on our way up. Somebody wanted to talk to Ava. One of the employees.

“Oh ma’am, we’ve got one room available now if you’d like to check in.”

But it was Ava’s response that surprised me.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary?”

“It won’t?” I asked.

“That is, if you don’t mind it.”

“Oh. No, no. I don’t mind.”

And we went up to the room. Ava did just as we talked about; she took a shower and changed into dry clothes. Then we sat on the couch and we talked more. We talked for hours. We talked ourselves silly, and we talked ourselves to sleep.

And I slept. I slept like a baby. Knowing that she was there. That she was real. That she shared something with me. Whatever it was. Whatever you want to call it. That encounter in the bar at midnight. The whole night together. It was all something special, irreplacable.

And now I’m awake after sleeping the best sleep that I’ve ever slept in my entire life. I want to talk to her more. I want to know her. I want to learn everything there is to learn. My stomach is turning itself like a whirlpool, and my heart is beating against my ribs as if it were trying to crack them and break right out of my chest. I’m fond of Ava. Very fond.

The very thought of what should happen should we touch. If her hand were to brush against mine. If our fingers were to intertwine. If she were to say my name, softly. Gently. If our lips were to press against each other. If I were to run my fingers through her hair and if she were to run her fingers through mine.

It feels as if I’m going to die.

I guess I’m in love.