Trigger warning: scenes of depression, moderate violence, and suicidal ideation.
*****
Sometimes the smallest things signal a huge opportunity. This was very much the case one unassuming April evening at the end of a long week when I met this girl. She wasn't dancing. I was OK with that; I've come to accept that trying to dance causes a hazard to everyone around me, and I've reluctantly given it up. I don't know how else to flirt with a girl. But I saw her sitting at a table all by herself, looking sad and forlorn. So I decided to go say hi.
"Hey!" I said.
"Hi," she replied.
"Taking a break?" I asked.
"I can't dance," she said.
"I don't believe that. You look like you've got some sweet moves. I can't dance; they don't let me anymore. People's eyes bleed. Because of my elbows, not because it's painful to watch, although it is that, too. Name's Kyle."
She caught herself with her mouth hanging open, and laughed to cover it.
"Cheri. Like 'Sherry' but spelled with a 'C' and an 'I'. I'm not allowed to either. Doctor's orders," she said, pouting a little bit.
She was really cute. She had these tiny braids with ribbons that caught the colored lights in the club quite strikingly against her dark hair.
"Aw. Too much high blood pressure from all the men getting turned on?"
She giggled.
"No, I have... lymphoma. Cancer of the throat. I never even smoked a day in my life."
"Oh geez. That's awful, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"No, it's ok. I'm coping. It hasn't beaten me yet."
"There's always a chance, right? Miracles have been known to happen."
"Something always gets us in the end. A girl can hope to live a good life first, at least."
"Speaking of that, if you don't dance, what do you do in a club?"
"I stalk people. I watch them. Sometimes, I even meet one," she said, winking.
"Well, as a web developer and programmer, I think you might be a little too edgy for me," I quipped.
"You sure about that? You came and talked to a girl without even a wingman."
"Yeah, that would require having friends," I grinned.
"You don't fool me. I saw you come in with that guy in the blue jacket."
"Busted! I was his wingman actually. I guess you're pretty good at watching people."
"My research shows there are a few things it's worth being good at," she said with a sassy shake of her head.
"Hmm. If I buy you a drink, will you tell me about it?"
"Thought you'd never ask. Rum and coke, if you don't mind. Without the rum."
"Haha... seriously?"
"Say it just like that, they'll add a rum flavor here, but alcohol reacts with my meds, and my kidney can't process it correctly."
"Oh, fair enough. Cheaper that way at least, right?"
"Thanks to Dr. Ramirez, I may be higher maintenance now, but I'm a cheaper date too."
"I'll make it a Mexican coke at least, in his or her honor."
"I've heard of that, but I never did figure out what the difference is."
"It comes in a glass bottle, so there's none of the metal can flavor. They also use cane sugar instead of that corn syrup stuff."
"Oh! Sounds tasty. The things you learn from meeting new people!"
I came back with the drink and one of my own, and we talked as much as the pounding dance music would let us, but as the night wore on the volume went up and that ended up not being very much.
"Hey, I have to go to the restroom," she said.
"OK, see you in a bit!" I said.
I found that I had to go as well, but after I went and came back someone had stolen the table. I waited around, looking all over for Cheri but never found her. I reluctantly wrote her off, vowing to come back and look for her another time.
*****
"Hey Loretta. Got anything for me today?"
"Hey Kyle, so good to see you! Yes, Mrs. Johnston wants you to help with her new phone, and the wifi in here is acting up again, if you don't mind taking a look."
Loretta was the front desk attendant.
"Sure. Do you still have any spare cables or wireless doohickeys?"
"Is that the technical term?"
"No, I believe in the biz they're called 'thingamajigs'. But I'm no pro."
"Well don't tell our residents, I've already told them we have a real tech guy coming out today, and he's gonna get their cat videos back up on YouTV."
"Alright, I'll see what I can do."
I spent an hour finding the maintenance guy so I could get the ladder, and get into the supply closet where they had an unopened wireless access point still shrink-wrapped in its box and lots of cables. Then another fifteen minutes running the cable through the drop ceiling from the internet modem by the community printer.
"Mistah Kyle, are you almost done fiddle-fartin' around?"
"Yes Mrs. Johnston, I'll take a look at your phone in just a minute."
"I dunno why you worried about them signal bars so much, I got a niece in Georgia had a new baby boy and I wanna see him."
"Mrs. Johnston, I can't get your phone to have good video if the wifi isn't strong. You know the walls aren't good for other phone signals."
"Well just you hurry up then. I'm liable to die before you get every little error message and broke screen around here fixed."
"Mrs. Johnston, you're gonna outlive everybody here. Including me."
"You better hope so. I die before I see my little Anton, imma come back and slap you."
"Mrs. Johnston, you're my favorite civil war survivor in the world."
"Oh, pish tosh. It was World War II young man, and you know I was a baby."
"I'm sure I don't."
Mrs. Johnston grinned and cackled from the doorway to her room. I laughed too. Up the hall, I saw Loretta talking with someone next to a cart of food.
"Is that the young lady does our new food program?"
"I don't know, Mrs. Johnston."
"You go find out for me, and tell her I want to thank her personally. She got the kitchen all turned around since she started coming here. Best meals I ever ate, and that's sayin' somethin', cuz that includes mine."
"Yes ma'am."
