Maybe I should quit and try again tomorrow.
Aida peeked in. “Can I watch?”
My heart rate increased, but the accountability was well timed. “If you promise not to laugh. This is going to be rough.”
“You’ve got this. Pretend you’re talking about your vagina in front of a crowd of strangers.”
“Not helping.”
“Isn’t that what you guys do at the diary contest?”
“Ha-fucking-ha. Maybe if you shut off the lights, I can pretend you’re not here.”
She tsked. “Gonna have to learn to do it with the lights on.”
“That’s what she said.”
The video rolled behind me, but its power over my adrenal glands had dissipated. Aida had reminded me this wasn’t close to how embarrassing the diary readings were.
After I finished, Aida bobbed her head from side to side. “Not bad.” She got up, though it was more like seesawing into a standing position. “Keep practicing. I’m gonna—”
She made a face of disgust. “Oh, God. I think my water broke.”
“Oh, shit! What do I do?” I rushed to her side.
Her light-blue jeans were turning navy. “Call Marco. Please.”
I fumbled for my phone and nearly dropped it before I hit the Call button.
When Marco answered, I blurted, “Aida’s in labor!”
After that, everything became a mad scramble. We helped Aida to the car, and then Marco drove like some bizarre combination of a New York City cabdriver and my great-aunt Ruby—fast, yet incredibly careful. Luckily, the hospital was only blocks away from our office.
Once we got into the hospital, an intense flurry of activity gave way to brutal inactivity. Aida was admitted into her room. And then, I was alone in the waiting room. I’d never paced in my life, and suddenly I understood the attraction.
Alfie arrived thirty minutes later with a couple of sandwiches and a bag of chips.
While we waited, I pulled out the notecards from my presentation.
Alfie said, “You should do this here.”
“You’re kidding me.”
There were families huddling together, uncontrolled kids running free, people in wheelchairs either due to age or ailment, and enough ambient noise I could maybe talk low and not feel like a dork.
“You want to get good at doing this outside your comfort zone. This is definitely outside your comfort zone. Come on. When will you ever see these people again?”
I cringed but took a breath and spoke loud enough to be heard at least a row away. “Castle Capture is a medieval multiplayer online role-playing game in the style of Final Fantasy.”
A teenager turned around. “Final Fantasy? I love that game.” He had the look of our target demographic. “Do you play it, too?”
“Actually, I’m a developer. I’ve designed a game similar to Final Fantasy, but it’s set in a medieval kingdom.” I knew this cold. My memorization had cemented all this info in my head. Not to mention, I actually did design the game. “It has an arsenal of weapons, including a trebuchet.”
His eyes lit up. “No way. I freaking love those things.”
I described the landscape, the battlefields, the levels, the characters and skill sets, the game play, but in my own words, not based on the notecards. I was feeding off his interest. Knowing he wanted to hear the details allowed me to share the game with him with an authenticity I’d been lacking.
He was so enthusiastic it was infectious. If I could present to someone like him, it would be so much easier than Reynold. And it suddenly dawned on me, I would be presenting to someone like him. A whole lot of someones like him. The entire Gamescon was a magnet for true fans of gaming. How had I forgotten that?
Marco appeared. “You can come back now.”
Marco looked changed somehow—exhausted, older, like he’d seen things that weren’t available to low-level players like us. He’d been given access to the secrets of the universe.
He led us to a quiet, dimly lit room, where Aida propped against a pillow, holding a blanket with a wee face sticking out. She also looked tired and splotchy and incredibly happy.
She waved us in. “Wook at how pwecious him is.”
I looked at Marco. “What have they done with Aida?”
She glared at me. “Shut up.”
“There she is.” I peeled back a bit of blanket to get a better look. “He’s so tiny.”
Aida stroked the baby’s arm. “Meet my son, Kamal.”
“He’s beautiful, Aida,” Alfie said. “Congratulations.”
He really was, and despite obvious exhaustion, Aida glowed with love. I couldn’t help envision myself in her shoes. Maybe when Alfie had asked me to share my life goals, I’d set my sights too low. Maybe I wanted what Aida already had.
Some day. I wasn’t crazy.
I choked back a lump in my throat. I was so, so happy for my friends. “Good job, you two. You did it.”
“Aida did it.” Marco fell into a chair and yawned. “At least the hard part’s over.”
We all turned and stared at him, like he was crazy if he thought life had just gotten easier, but his eyes closed and his breathing evened out. So we let him sleep, knowing full well it might be the last chance he got for a long time.
Soon Aida shooed us out, saying, “Go. Be free while you still can. I’m going to enlist your babysitting help when I get home.”
Chapter 26
Alfie had the night off, so the plan was to go out on a real date. Dinner, dancing, and romance. I went home to shower and dress up, excited to finally go out in public together.
We did make it to a nice restaurant. He looked so gorgeous in a black button-down I wanted to rip it off him. The scruff had made a comeback, too, hallelujah. He was seriously cute with or without facial hair, but the scruff made me all silly inside.
Halfway through dessert, all the emotions and exertion of the day hit me hard, and I just wanted to be alone with him. Not to mention, with the wicked looks he was giving me while I licked the chocolate mousse off my spoon, I didn’t trust myself around other people.
When I finished the mousse, I picked at Alfie’s apple torte. “Can we skip the dancing?”
He pushed the plate closer. “What? You don’t like dancing?”
“Think about it. If you and I get on a dance floor, our bodies will be pressed together. My hands will slide up around your neck. I’ll sway against you, and my dress will begin to rise—”
“And we’ll end up in the hallway, copulating like monkeys in heat, with no regard for anyone passing by?”
“In the hallway? I’d have my legs wrapped around you in the center of the dance floor.”
His cheeks turned red, and he called for the check. “I have a better idea.”
We drove back to his place. Once inside, he fiddled with his phone, and the room filled with music, from Bluetooth speakers.
As Ed Sheeran sang about finding a love, about dancing in the dark, Alfie pulled me toward him, and I lay my head on his shoulder, swaying with the music. He sang into my ear about finding a woman stronger than anyone he’d ever known, who shared his dreams, and one day our home.
I kicked off my shoes and danced against him barefoot. When I drew back, I saw the future in his eyes.