‹~KaREEM~›: u like that?
Amy17: not so much tonight
A little disappointment for him, there. I could almost smell the palpably wounded male pride in the next message, which arrived on-screen quickly.
‹~KaREEM~›: why?
I guess no man likes to leave his woman unsatisfied. Kareem was probably worried that his dream girl was about to bale on him, and I figured he’d do just about anything to stop that from happening.
A few quick messages, punctuated by the [RETURN] key.
Amy17: not enough anymore
Amy17: need more than that
Amy17: need more than just words on a screen
Amy17::-(x 1000
I was surprised by how excited I felt. There was a fluttering in my guts: the thrill of the hunt. Anything could happen in the next few minutes, and it would all be played out in a handful of sentences dropped onto a screen: black on white in neat, meaningful little scars.
Amy17::-(x 10000000000000000
‹~KaREEM~›: sorry.
‹~KaREEM~›: sorry not enough 4 u.
Amy17: not ur fault
‹~KaREEM~›: (pauses) so what do u want?
Amy17: (pauses) brb
Amy17 was going away to think about something. I leaned forwards in my chair again, bringing my face closer to the screen. Watched the blank space for a second or two, and then turned my attention towards the last frowning emoticon that Kareem had left me.
‹~KaREEM~›: Amy17?
I zoomed in on that simple, unhappy face until it seemed to fill my head from one side to the other. So simple and straightforward: just a couple of lines, really. But the human expression is universal. We see the frowning, unhappy face, and we feel sad for it. Or at least, we’re meant to.
Something that Kareem had said to me on the first night we met.
That had been the wrong thing to say. I would learn, from subtle enquiry, that Kareem and I lived quite near to each other, and that was one coincidence too many. From that point, it would always have come to this. It had just taken a little bit of time to soften him up along the way.
‹~KaREEM~›: Amy17???
I started typing, before I lost my nerve. I didn’t look up the whole time.
Amy17: back now. listen.
Amy17: tomorrow is Saturday
Amy17: there r woods nr my house
Amy17: Swaine Woods. between morton and ludlow
Amy17: lonely woods nobody ever around
Amy17: i walk from lacey’s beck entrance to ring road
Amy17: i start at 4pm. i’ll be there by 4.30pm
And then I paused, just for a second, and glanced up at what I’d written. That pause seemed like it had the potential to last a while. But there was no time for doubting. I’d made up my mind about what I was going to do days ago. Without this, it had all been worthless.
So I finished up quickly.
Amy17: im easy tofind there
Amy17: so find me
As soon as I’d pressed [RETURN] on the last message, I closed the private window and disconnected from the internet. My desktop appeared; the conversation vanished. Of course, the words would still appear on Kareem’s monitor, wherever he was, but now there would be a footnote running underneath them in red:
‘Jason, it’s me. Charlie. I was just calling to find out how you are. I mean, I know that you’re not great, but… you know. Williams is going spare about you not turning in this week.’
I picked up the phone and checked that Charlie had been the last caller; she had. I hit redial and waited, turning gently on the spot to wring some of the stiffness from my lower back. As it rang at her end, I wandered through to the kitchen, selected a pint glass from the cabinet and took it over to the sink.
‘Hello?’
‘Charlie,’ I said, ‘it’s me. Jason.’
‘Oh hiya.’ She sounded pleased that I’d called. Maybe a little surprised, too. ‘I’m glad you rang back. We’ve been worried about you.’
I held the receiver between my head and shoulder and poured water into the pint glass.
‘I’m okay. Just finding things… hard-going. You know?’
‘Yeah. Well, you know – not really. But I guess I can imagine what you must be going through. I wish I could help, or do something.’ She paused. ‘I mean, you’re in trouble here.’
‘I figured.’
‘Not that it matters.’
‘Not much,’ I said. ‘No.’
‘I guess you’ve got other things on your mind at the moment.’
Hearing her voice, it was like Charlie was in the room with me; I recognised her slight accent. I mean, it was
It was an artificial voice. Made-up. Created.
But then we never really do hear people do we? We experience the vibration of air molecules in a certain way, and come to associate that with the individual people around us. It struck me that – in a weird way – I’d never actually heard Charlie at all, just the effect that she’d had on the world.
‘Yeah,’ I said, closing my eyes. ‘A thousand things.’
‘Is there anything I can do? Anything at all? I’d like to help.’
I sighed. Opened my eyes.
