Mitch heard the GIM sound the one click he'd designated for online contact alerts, and he could see from the kitchen area that it was Elizabeth. The length of her nickname on the messenger was more easy to spot than most, and with the capital B and E of BethEliza, Mitch had gotten into the habit of just looking for the word BE to know it was her.
He brought the two warm slices of bread over to the computer area. Placing them on a napkin he'd put down earlier, he smiled at the word and emoticon Elizabeth always used to start a conversation: Hi! :D
He replied with the usual: Cribbage?
They'd been playing cribbage every morning together for a month now, and his rating on the game site was already on a daily basis of fluctuation in the top ten of players in the rating level they were at. Elizabeth had quipped that soon he'd be out of her league, but he told her he'd still game her even if he got to a higher level. He beat her almost all of the time, but she never gave up and asked a lot of questions on his strategy. Usually after a hand was done she'd explain what her six cards had been for that round, what she'd put in his or her own crib (the area a player puts two of their own cards combined with two of their opponent's cards) and she'd ask him if he'd have done the same or if she should have placed two other cards other than the ones she had put into the crib.
Teaching her his strategy was easy. Hiding his motive was not. He'd slipped up at least a dozen times since their initial cribbage game, mentioning things from her blog accidently during webcam chats, saying "Happy Birthday!" to her before she'd even told him it was her birthday. Little things that she always let slide, shrugging it off with the text: Mitch, you're a psychic or something! :D
Mitch clicked on his webcam option and focussed the lens on the bread. Bits of parsley and pepper speckled the light tan crust.
BethEliza: I'm playing a game of cribbage against a piece of bread?! :D
Miticihi: lol
BethEliza: crap, that cut is gonna cost me. Gic.
Miticihi: Gic? Oh, gift in crib, ok. I'm still getting used to these cribbage ones.
BethEliza: yeh, it took me a while, too.
Miticihi: I downloaded that music you said I should check out. Foreigner.
BethEliza: it's so old but they were a famous band over half a century ago, filled up those concert halls they used to have. Sold out shows. There's something about the guy's voice and the beat of that music, it reminds me of something.
Miticihi: Well, I thought the music was awful.
BethEliza: WHAT!? hahaha!
Miticihi: Seriously, it was worse than some of that new country-techno garbage.
BethEliza: Oh nosa, nosa!
Miticihi: Yessa, yessa.
BethEliza: Give it another chance! I just heard one of their songs I hadn't heard yet. Check out Long, Long Way From Home, it's maybe more of the type of song you'd like.
He accepted the file from her, and as it started to play he watched her on her webcam as she sang the song along with the file that played out to both of them. This song he could like, even if it had sucked as badly as the rest of them. This song made him long for Elizabeth like no other song in the world ever could. He watched her smiling and her hands going out to emphasize each word of the song.
I was inside looking outside
Oh, the millions of faces, but still I'm alone
Waiting, I was ever waiting
I could feel the tension, I was longing for home
I'm looking out for the two of us
And I hope we'll be here when they're through with us
I'm a long way from home
They'd often use the GIM even while playing cribbage, rather than use the chat area on the game site. The options were better on GIM, and the ability to share files in various formats just wasn't being done yet on gaming chat areas. Doubtful it ever would, as most people prefered to use their own IMs for privacy reasons anyways.
Mitch watched her thinking about her six cards. He could always tell when she had a hard hand to split up, because normally she selected the two crib cards within five seconds. Anything over that time frame meant she had a difficult decision to make, or a hand that wasn't easily read. These were the ones she'd jot down the cards to ask him about after the round. More often than not she selected the same split he would have, but there were occasional strategy and playing of the odds she missed.
There was something about looking at Elizabeth and eating bread, Mitch thought to himself, that almost drove him out of his mind. The soft texture of the middle, when it hit his lips, if he looked at her at the same time it would give him an instant erection. He put the bread down and tried to concentrate on the game, a strange sense of guilt rolling over him. Or shame. He wasn't sure which, he'd done nothing wrong, logically. It was normal to think these types of thoughts about women. For some reason, though, with her he felt almost as if he shouldn't or he'd lose her. Which, he suddenly realized, was bullshit. He wasn't sure what he was projecting onto her, but there was no reason to believe Elizabeth was not interested in sex. She was a young woman in her 20s, she must have thoughts about it. Maybe she was just like him? Somewhat focussed on other life stuff, but the sex thoughts just floating on the surface and easily stirred?
Miticihi: Elizabeth, can I ask you something personal?
BethEliza: sure, will it freak me out?
Miticihi: I don't know, which is why I want to ask.
BethEliza: Ok
Miticihi: Do you want to get married and have kids?
::: long pause :::
Miticihi: ?
BethEliza: ...
Miticihi: ???
BethEliza: we've only known each other a month, but I'm flattered!
Miticihi: NO NO NO!!!!! I mean,t ever in yuor life!
BethEliza: OMG hahaha! Sorry about that!
Miticihi: damn typos! lol
BethEliza: roflmao
Miticihi: So, do you?
BethEliza: I don't know, it would depend. If I met someone and it could work. It's risky. But I wouldn't say no, if it was right. I got hurt once. I don't know.
Miticihi: Same here.
BethEliza: We're in the same boat, then.
Miticihi: Yeh, we are.
The small, jagged piece of glass had cut a half-moon shaped hole into Ed's left foot. The blood had an almost smile-shape to it, and two indents near the middle of his foot bottom almost appeared to be squinting, laughing eyes. How a piece of glass had made it all the way to this island without having every edge of it softened by the water and tides was beyond Ed. He stuck his foot in the water at the edge of the shore and rubbed it with a little seaweed to clear off the sand and blood. Checking to make sure no glass was left inside the wound, his face pressed close to his foot, he noticed the lighting suddenly changed around him, dimmer, and as the water from the shoreline suddenly pulled back, a large wave above Ed paused in mid air and then crashed down upon him. Startled, Ed rolled around in the wave, the sand and rocks of the shore swirling with him, the sand and rocks as disrupted as he was.
Once he got over the disorientation, which took under fifteen seconds, he swam to the surface and saw he'd been pulled out quite a few feet. As he reached the shore, he wondered what exactly caused these freak sized waves once in a while. Most of them he'd seen from a safer distance than the vulnerable spot he'd seen this one from. He'd gathered them to be about seven or eight feet in height, just random large waves.
The sun was beginning to descend downwards toward the horizon. It was that time of the day and season when the weather feels perfect. Warm and gentle, the lighting just starting to soften from the sun's low angle. The wind was blowing from the island towards the shore on this side of the island, and with it brought the scent of flowers and grass, trees and greenery. As the sun dried him off, he walked along the shoreline quietly, picking up pieces of sea glass as he strolled.
A brown piece of sea glass in the shape of a toenail reminded him of IBC rootbeer bottles. His dad would buy them special for holiday meals. A clear piece of sea glass in the shape of a heart reminded him of an energy drink he'd drank too much of at his 16th birthday party. The hall his father rented was practically empty, just 3 of the 10 kids he'd invited had shown up. His Uncle, his dad's brother, was there... as well as his grandparents from his mother's side of the family, but in his young mind they didn't count and neither did his uncle. In his jittery, energized state, he'd spent most of the night pacing the dancefloor counting out loud and naming the people who didn't show up. Then he'd gotten pretty quiet and sat down to drink coffee with the adults and the 3 kids who did show up. Somehow, even the 3 that did show up didn't seem to count or matter. He couldn't even remember their names.
But he could name each person, first and last, who did not show up.
"How could I think they didn't count," Ed wondered aloud and shook his head at himself. Reaching down to pick up another piece of sea glass, he wondered about the person who had held the glass before him. Maybe it was a beautiful woman his age, and maybe her lips had touched the bottle rim slowly, her thirst quenched with every sip. Maybe it was one of the fishermen that died on the boat he'd been on.
Maybe it had been his Uncle, or one of his grandparents that didn't matter. Or a friend who didn't count.
Maybe it was his glass bottle that this glass was from... maybe it was from his own bottle a sharp, cutting piece of glass found its way to the ocean and was tumbled along on salty currents to this shore that he now found himself upon.
He looked up at the sky to where the billboard would blink on later tonight. He settled into the sand and watched the sunset, and prepared to wait for his only connection to the world he hadn't been a part of... to the world he wished now he could go back to and apologize.