by Rachel Cohn
Vikram said, “So how have you been surviving ESCAPE? Here in the cozy-quaint wilds of Vermont? What offense got you slapped into this wasteland?”
Very said, “I went overboard with being online and whatever. Then my friend Bryan destroyed my laptop. And I sort of tried to kill him over that.”
Vikram sounded impressed. “That is passion. Did Bryan live?”
“Oh please, I barely had him in a strangle before I fell. The bruise on my ass was probably bigger than any bruise on his neck. Wuss.”
“So I don’t need to fear that I’m marrying a homicidal maniac?”
“You’re in the clear. For now. Are you a homicidal maniac?”
Vikram said, “Only on certain days of the month.” Sweet, sweet woo-words.
“I like those shorts you’re wearing. Target online?”
“Maybe. Not sure. I stole ‘em from an ex-girlfriend back in my college days. Before she, and the universities, kicked me out.”
“She had good taste,” Very said.
“Only in boyfriends,” Vikram said.
Very and Vikram sat together silently then, for a measure of time that didn’t seem to matter. That they could sit together comfortably, without talking, or computing, seemed a hopeful sign to Very. The lakeside spot was almost romantic, with only bright, twinkling stars, a half-moon, and a fully loaded iPhone flashlight to help them find their way to one another.
When she spoke again, she asked, in all sincerity, “What else should I know about you?”
Vikram answered in kind, telling her about himself, this time without pretense. Like her, he’d been raised all over, in India, and Paris, and London, and Washington, DC, until finally his parents had landed in the refined suburbia of Scarsdale, New York. They sent him to prep school, where he did well enough to get into Dartmouth, where he didn’t do so well, and he subsequently transferred to a smaller college in Connecticut. Like Very, he could excel at academics when he wanted to, but he, too, burned out quickly, distracted by nonacademic pursuits—machine pursuits. Also, all the hacking and whatever, it had caused some problems with administrative types, wink-wink. Very understood. Wink-wink.
She gave him her abbreviated report. The unknown dad, loss of mother, move to New Haven, on to Columbia—a broad sweep of the general facts, with none of the specific hurts and joys and real feelings.
Dawn approached over the horizon behind the trees. They needed to leave hastily in order to return to their cabins before light broke and the staff at ESCAPE awoke and could possibly report the Double V infraction.
Very dropped Vikram back off at his open window. He leaned in for a good-night kiss, but she turned her cheek. The feel of his stubble-fringed mouth upon her skin was exquisite. But no. She wasn’t ready yet. But his breath on her neck. Sigh. She wanted so badly to be bitten.
“I think I love you,” he said, half-teasing, half-sincere, before he vaulted into his window. From the other side, inside his room, he added, “Even if you don’t fornicate before marriage.”
Very laughed, and hurried back to the comfort of her own cabin.
Alone in her bed, aware of the condom stash beneath the mattress, she regretted that she’d given in to her stupid resolve not to give in again until she was truly ready. She wished for a Vikram to snuggle up to. Or maybe it was merely a warm body she craved. She couldn’t be sure.
This was love? Very wondered.
CHAPTER 32
Very assumed it would be hard to reconcile the El Virus person who’d starred so prominently in her fantasy life with the Vikram creature who’d appeared live and in person at ESCAPE. In fact, it wasn’t difficult at all.
Vikram was exactly like El Virus, only a fully dimensional, awesomely cute version. And as dimensions went, his proportions fit nicely against hers. The expiration date on their ESCAPE time together loomed near, but as of Day Twenty-six, they were holding steady on holding out. No kissing, or fondling, or any of the other usual rest stops on the road to fornication occurred between them. Instead, they settled into a relaxed, dreamy state of cuddling, in her room, without his iPhone, between chores and therapy sessions.
Very considered it a sign of her improved mental state that she even distinguished between the online and Real World versions of El Virus / Vikram. And she actually preferred the live version. The online version had been fun and naughty, like the real version, but the real version had bonus add-on features, like being able to breathe on her neck, and let her nuzzle her head against his, with no adrenaline surge rising in Very demanding more more more. It was almost like their cuddling time together was a pleasant, stoned haze. Except it was real. And as if to prove that, Very could occasionally feel Vikram’s boner pressed against her, but he was considerate enough to leave for the privacy of his own room when that happened, and not press the moment, or her, too far. Cuddling was a nicer way of getting to know a person, Very thought, rather than learning about him online, or jumping straight to Real Time sexual mischief. When Very went back out into the world, she might try to start a whole new crusade, International Cuddling Day or something.
She’d prefer not to move even that fast with Vikram, but the rehab schedule necessitated the accelerated leap to cuddling. With only a few days left before Very graduated from the program, they had no choice but to fast-forward to some form of intimacy. There was no time to grow the relationship; better to just jump in and act as if they’d known each other significantly longer than a few days—when, sorta, they had.
Very didn’t bother mentioning El Virus / Vikram to Keisha at all, and, sure, holding on to secrets had been a path to darkness in her past. But this time, Very was confident, she could handle it. Truthfully, it was still too embarrassing to admit this one detail of her past online life. Not embarrassing in the Deep, Dark Secrets way, but embarrassing in the Sheer Stupidity way, which was a harder distinction for Very to reconcile than the simple El Virus / Vikram fantasy versus the real person.
Anyway, it wasn’t like Keisha knew everything. It wasn’t like Keisha could really help Very with this situation.
(It was more like the situation would probably make Keisha answer Very with more questions. Questions, questions, questions, just when Very was starting to figure out answers, answers, answers, and, just … No, thank you. Situation under control. No need to drag it to death in therapy.)
Vikram would probably turn out to be no more than a nice little footnote to Very’s ESCAPE experience, and who ever bothered to read the footnotes? Surely Keisha didn’t.
“Guess what?” Very said to Vikram during their postdinner cuddle on her Day Twenty-six.
“What, my little cherub?” he said.
“Keisha authorized me to go out for reintegration tonight.”
Reintegration was a time-honored ritual, and now it was Very’s turn. With Keisha’s authorization, she’d be permitted to go into town with a staff member for a night’s entertainment at a music or spoken-word performance, so long as it was acoustic. The idea behind Reintegration Night was for residents to be exposed again to the outside electronic world, but, according to Dr. Killjoy, they’d be reintegrating in a safe, relaxing, and non-threatening manner (which was why hip-hop spoken word or tribute performances to the music of Laurie Anderson were, alas, not permitted). The night out was residents’ celebratory first step toward the reintegration that would happen once they left ESCAPE and returned to their regularly scheduled, fully powered ON lives.
At Very’s announcement, Vikram pulled out of their cuddle and jumped to his feet. He stood over her, looking angry and scary—a side of him she hadn’t seen yet, online or real. “Who’s leading reintegration tonight?” Vikram demanded.
“Jones,” Very answered, confused by Vikram’s sudden hostility. “He’s taking the few of us who are graduating out tonight to some music event. I think it’s some acoustic banjo? It will probably be shit. But it will be fun to go out, finally.” Vikram stared at her with utmost venom. “What? Why are you looking at me that way? Wh
at did I do?”
Vikram said, “I just don’t think it’s fair, the way Dr. Joy does this. Separates the haves from the have-nots.”
“I hardly think it’s an issue of fairness. It’s a reward system. For people who’ve made it through. For instance, Raelene the sexcapade mom? She isn’t allowed to go even though she’s almost at her twenty-eighth day. Not after the rooftop spectacle with Enrique the club promoter after his graduation last week. Wow, were they loud—”
“Fuck you!” Vikram interrupted. “I could make it through this program perfectly fine, if I chose to.”
This time, Vikram chose to storm away, leaving her cabin with such a heavy door slam that her bed shook.
“Psycho killer,” Very mumbled.
Poor Vikram. She should be irritated at him for storming away like a stupid girl, but she was more sad for him. She was almost all the way through the program, and she indeed felt a righteous sense of accomplishment. She’d made it through, and, except for fondling Vikram’s forbidden iPhone a couple times, she’d made it through fairly, without falling off the wagon, and she was feeling brighter and lighter as a result.
Very hoped for Vikram to one day also share in this sense of accomplishment for himself. It was a sweet feeling, despite knowing that the life awaiting her back out in the world looked to be nasty for a while, until she could straighten out her many problems. But at least now she genuinely wanted to straighten out those problems. And she felt like she might possibly be capable of doing so.
At the same time, Very understood now why Kate and Erick had left ESCAPE with so much trepidation. As exciting as the prospect of leaving ESCAPE was, it was equally terrifying. Reintegrating into the electronic world would be the least of Very’s hurdles; tackling the Real World, and her place within it, head-on loomed largest.
CHAPTER 33
Going into town for Reintegration Night, and seeing real lights, and people with phones, and television screens through storefront windows, was not the shock to the system Very had imagined. It felt more like returning to everyday life after a long vacation—a bit abrupt, then business as usual.
Jones had chosen a bluegrass band at a local coffee bar for the group’s night out. It was the perfect safe haven, Very thought. The place was designed like someone’s oversized basement, with comfortable chairs and sofas, but no alcohol to make people too fun or too mean, just heavy doses of caffeine to make them jumpy and happy within a mellow setting. As expected, the band a little bit sucked, but Very loved hearing the pure sound, anyway. Life was good. Music made it so.
Sharing the experience with Very were about-to-be graduates from the Olds school: Bob from Arizona, architect and misfit online gambler; and Suzanne from Minnesota, scourge of her retirement community’s online investment assets. Suzanne sighed over her java brew. “So sad not to share this night with our Irma.”
Bob said, “Who would have thought an eighty-year-old, retired Ma Bell great-grandmother would sacrifice all her progress to run off with a newly checked-in thirty-year-old Blackberry dealer?”
Very said, “Ah, cross-generational, cross-platform love. Warms my heart. Icks my soul.”
The three clinked mugs, exclaiming, “Cheers!”
Very felt no sentimental loss that she’d probably never see these people again. What they’d shared—the addiction, the disco music during kitchen duty—had been adequate bonding for a lifetime. She wished them well, with no hopes for a future connection. She suspected they felt the same, and liked them all the more for their indifference.
She wished Vikram could be so indifferent, but no such luck. He apparently could not let the good moment on the outside happen without him. He, too, had to participate in Reintegration Night. He walked into the coffee bar just as the group clinked glasses and then brazenly seated himself between Very and Jones.
Jones shook his head. “This isn’t good, Vikram,” Jones said. “You know that, right?”
Vikram waved his hand nonchalantly. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a big deal,” Jones said. “Dr. Joy won’t be happy. How’d you get here, anyway?”
Vikram extracted a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket. “This way. Could I, perhaps, interest you in one of these, Jones? As a very humble thank-you for not telling Dr. Joy about my unfortunate case of premature reintegration tonight?”
Jones pushed Vikram’s hand away. “I can’t be bought,” Jones said.
Since he was here anyway, and facing some major hostile stares from the Olds, whose faces indicated that reintegration was earned and not bought, Very took Vikram’s hand and led him away from the group’s table, toward the dance floor. She said, “Are you here because you missed me too much, or because you couldn’t stand the thought of me having a night out without you?”
“A little of both,” Vikram said.
At least they could share one last dance together, before Very graduated, and before Vikram got kicked out of ESCAPE again.
There was no chance for a dance. The song ended just as Very and Vikram wrapped arms over each other’s shoulders. As the band cleared the stage for a break between sets, people in the audience shuffled, getting up to head to the bathroom, or to return to the coffee bar for refills. Standing on the dance floor as the crowd dispersed, Very had a clear line of vision to the far end of the room. Shocked at the sight her eyes discovered, Very let her arms fall from Vikram’s shoulders to her sides. Her mouth was agape.
Two girls sat at a remote table, lost in each other’s eyes, holding hands across their table.
One of the girls was Lavinia.
Who the hell was that other girl?
As if feeling Very’s laser beam of a stare, Lavinia looked up and away from the monster who was affectionately stroking her hand. Lavinia noticed Very, and her face brightened. She raised her hand to amiably wave Hi in Very’s direction.
Very felt no compatriot amiability. She suddenly felt nervous and weird and alive, and not at all because of the night’s caffeine infusion.
WHAT. THE. FUCK. was Lavinia doing here? And with a girl?
“Don’t follow me,” Very demanded of Vikram. She didn’t need him to distract her while she sorted out this disgusting situation.
Very walked over to Lavinia and Monster’s table. “Hi,” she said, trying to sound casual, but really wanting to shoot daggers into Monster’s soul. (Also, Monster was very butch-looking, and Very had always assumed if Lavinia went in that direction, she’d go more femme. Like, preppy crew girl, or hedonist has-been hoochie. Or something.) “What are you doing here?”
Lavinia smiled at Very. “Hi!” she said, not sounding guilty at all. Lavinia said to Monster, “Annie, this is Very, my roommate from college I was telling you about. Very, this is Annie. Annie is another counselor at camp. It’s our night off, so we came into town to hang out, have some fun. What are you doing here? Are you allowed to be, you know … out?”
Very said, “It’s a reintegration event. For people who are almost finished with the program. We get to go into town for some live entertainment.” She turned to Annie-Monster. She accused: “Are you the lifeguard?”
Monster said, “I’m working as a lifeguard this summer, yes. Why?”
“Do you go to UMass?”
“Yes?” Monster said, puzzled.
Very turned to Lavinia. “I thought you said he was on the football team!”
Lavinia, responding to Very’s tone, answered with similar antagonism, “She does the scheduling for the UMass football team.”
Monster said, “What’s going on here? What’s the matter?”
“NOTHING!” Very and Lavinia both said. Then they both amended, “Jinx!”
This was too much. Infuriating. Outrageous. NOT. HAPPENING.
Very said, with no sincerity whatsoever, “Well, have a great time tonight, you two. Don’t want to interrupt your time together. Catch up with you later, Lavinia.” Very turned away to return to her group, hoping the girls noticed the full-on fuck-off effe
ct of her dramatic exit.
“Lavinia?” Very heard Annie ask Lavinia. “Who’s she talking about, Jennifer?”
UGH.
Could Monster be more ignorant?
HATE HATE HATE MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER.
Someone at the coffee bar had turned on a stereo during the band break, and the speakers overhead let out the sweet soul sound of Mr. Otis Redding.
I’ve been loving you a little too long and I can’t stop now.
As good a make-out song as any.
Very’s target-lock stare-glare relocated Vikram, now sitting in the opposite corner of the room, separate from the ESCAPE group. She headed back to him and seated herself on his lap. With the subtlety of a giraffe, she caressed his stubble cheek and breathed hot onto his neck. He didn’t bother to question her intentions. He knew when opportunity knocked; he closed his eyes and opened the door to his mouth wide to meet Very’s.
Very wrapped her arms around his neck and ground her pelvis into his lap, loving the attention it immediately extended to her. Their mouths met in a forceful kiss, tongues meeting, hands exploring, minds totally not caring that they were in full spectacle at a crowded coffeehouse.
Very felt a tap on her shoulder. She opened one eye from the sloppy kiss with Vikram to see Lavinia standing over them. “Can I talk to you?” Lavinia said. Very shut her eye again and stayed inside the Vikram kiss—harder, more insistent. Tap-tap on Very’s shoulder, one more time. “Outside,” Lavinia commanded. “Now.”
Very whispered into Vikram’s ear, “I need to go outside and deal with this for a minute. I promise you I’ll make the wait worth your while.”
Vikram smiled lazily, seeming to appreciate the conflicting messages Very was sending him, perhaps misconstruing her behavior as foreplay, or as some potential three-way action coming his way.
Although it wasn’t like Very gave him a chance to question her behavior. She immediately jumped off Vikram’s lap to follow Lavinia outside, to a dark, empty alleyway behind the coffeehouse.