Inconstant Moon - Default Font Edition

by Laurel L. Russwurm

  “Is it that bad?” Barbie asks, surprised.

  Tamara nods miserably. “I can't party all the time or I'll wash out. I have to focus on my studies. But how can I even concentrate if I'm spending half my life wondering where he is.”

  Barbie shakes her head, “Wow, Tam, I had no idea. What are you gonna do?”

  “I've been hoping it'd pass, telling myself he'll settle down. Start participating in his coursework, get involved. But if anything it's getting worse.” Tamara sips her tea, staring at the steam rising up out of the mug, “I just don't know, Barb. I didn't hardly get any sleep last night, trying to wait up for him. It was after three when I put out the light and he still wasn't back.”

  “You have to talk to him about it.”

  “I try to but every time we end up in bed having even better sex than the time before. I freaked on his head this morning and he still almost got me back in the sack. Just talking about it hours later I still feel equal parts lust and anger. How do you handle that?”

  “Whoooo, sounds kind of tempting actually.” giggles Barbie.

  “You are not helping. But it sounds like you regret not giving Jose a tumble. Maybe you should, release a little tension.”

  “If there was any chance at all of a no strings roll in the hay with Jose I'd be there in a heartbeat. Maybe what I'm really afraid of is that once would never be enough and we end up game over. Married and dead.” Barbie blushes and claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh Tam, I'm sorry I didn't mean . . .”

  Tamara smiles sadly, “You did, and you'd be right. I gotta figure something out 'cause this married thing is gonna kill me.”

  Barbie suggests, “Maybe it would help to talk in public so he can't put the moves on you. Go to the pub or something.”

  “Maybe. He swore to me he'd be here for dinner tonight but he just blew it off. He knows I've got a lab and he'll miss me again.”

  “Maybe he missed on purpose 'cause he knows you're mad.”

  “If he doesn't bother to show up it only makes me madder. He knows that too.”

  “Yeah, but guys. I mean, don't they all do that? We all make choices, and it's hard to know what we'll regret later.”

  Tamara leans on her hand, dejected. “I regret too many things now, I can't afford to worry about later. What are you worried about regretting?”

  “When I'm a little old lady sitting in my rocking chair in the old folks home, when I stare into the fireplace and think about my life, will I regret passing up a chance at Jose? Oh hell, I was doing so well keeping the fantasy Jose separate from the real one until, god, I was such a slut, I practically attacked him, and you know, it was so close, Tam. It was way better than my imagination. And part of me still wishes I did jump him.”

  Tamara says,”Sounds like you're regretting right now.”

  “Maybe I am. What I really better do is call Terrence.”

  Tamara snorts. “Barbie girl, you are the only woman I know whose vibrator has a name.”

  chapter 51 . . .

  Jake and Quentin have the path to the Fyfield House Res to themselves.

  Gesturing, Jake says, “Lets check this one too.”

  The side path Jake is pointing at isn't groomed with wood chips, it's just worn into the undergrowth by students creating their own shortcut. Jake has no idea where it goes although Quentin knows it leads to his circle's favourite clearing, surely littered with roaches. Still, they need to check it. His friends won't have been back since it got so cold.

  “Liz is probably being a bit alarmist,” Quentin tells Jake. “Nat's probably just out buying shoes or something.”

  Jake nods, not really believing it.

  Natasha has never struck him as one of the girls who buys truckloads of shoes. She's willing to get dirty if it'll get her a good picture. She never seems to care what she wears or if it's a mess. He doesn't quite get the bond with Boris, either. Boris is the one he can see maxing the plastic buying new clothes to make himself feel better. Bo always makes him aware of how tattered his own off the rack wardrobe is. Boris generally looks like he just stepped out of GQ or something, but Natasha's favourite couturier is Goodwill.

  “Natasha!” Jake calls. They stop and listen but hear nothing but the distant sounds of the creek.

  “I hope you're right.” They follow it to the clearing where they find lots of trampled grass, cigarette butts and roach ends. But no Natasha. No anybody.

  Quentin peers into the bushes as he does a circuit of the clearing. “Natasha!” he calls, but gets no response.

  Looking through the parking at the path going through the woods.

  On the opposite branch of the path Ethan and Liz walk toward the parking lot. Periodically Liz calls out “Natasha!” but there's no sound beyond the rustling of leaves in the trees.

  Liz says, “We have to find her. I have such a bad feeling.”

  “We'll find her.” Ethan gives her hand a squeeze, then looks into the woods.

  Most Christie students are off somewhere eating, or studying, or whatever, leaving the walkways nearly unused as night falls.

  As it gets darker the sensors activate and the lights mounted on the poles lining the path wink on, one by one. They're losing light fast so it's getting harder to see.

  Ethan says, “Let's just check the parking lot.”

  Liz nods and they hurry up to where the footpath widens into the lot that's used by day students with cars. Unless something's scheduled in the Arts Centre, its pretty empty nights, so now only a handful of cars are flung across a space large enough to accommodate a few hundred.

  Although the bus shelter looks empty, Liz crosses the lot to check while Ethan starts peering in car windows.

  Approaching the residence, Jake rubs his hands together vigorously, then stuffs them in his pockets. “I'll just be a minute.”

  Quentin nods. “Go on up, Jake, I'll keep looking around down here.”

  “Why don't you come up with me. Warm up.”

  Quentin laughs. “Then it'll just be harder to come back out. I'll keep moving thanks. Bring flashlights, that'll help.”

  Jake nods and keys his way in the side door.

  Walking around the back of the building Quentin peers through the trees. Although the forest is thinner here it is almost dark. No sign of anyone, certainly no one taking pictures. He doesn't want to scare Jake, but he is starting to get worried. Maybe it's just because Liz is so worked up.

  But.

  Turning it over in his mind, Quentin knows hiding out is terribly out of character for Natasha. Or shoe shopping for that matter. The Natasha Quentin knows would have gone to the shoot and taken a bunch of fantastic photos of antique cars. When she came back she'd either apologize to Bo or knock him down again.

  Rounding the building he comes to the residence parking lot. A quick scan of the cars tells him they all have Christie parking stickers. He doesn't think Natasha has a car, but he looks in car windows just the same. Maybe she's catching a nap or something.

  Nothing. Looking back at the building, he notes a line of dumpsters backed up against the lower wall. The higher floors all have windows, but most of the lights are out. Students seem to resist going into their tiny cells until they have to to sleep.

  Quentin looks at the dumpsters, but isn't sure he really wants to even think about them, let alone look. Back home in Ottawa his brother is a cop, and he's heard too many grisly dumpster stories.

  Please don't be in a dumpster, Natasha.

  Upstairs Jake lets himself into the residence, passing through the common room where Elsie is curled in a chair eating a cream cheese bagel. Elsie smiles at him. She always smiles at him. That's part of what scares him. Jake knows other guys think she's hot, and he'd probably think so too if she wasn't so frightening. She'd make a great Lady MacBeth or a wild haired Boudica leading a charge on the Romans. But in real life she's a bit much.

  “Have you seen Natasha?” he asks heading to the kitchen.

  Elsie watches Jake, clearly amuse
d at the reaction she always provokes in the boy. “I'd expect her to lay low a while.”

  Opening the junk drawer Jake roots around until he finds a couple of pencil flashlights. Then he decides they really need a big one, too. Coming back through the common room he asks Elsie, “You haven't seen her, have you?”

  Elsie laughs. “No, just the results of her handiwork.” Jake looks confused, until she adds, “I had to ice Bo's eyes and put him to bed.”

  Elsie makes eye contact with Jake, who'd momentarily forgotten how uncomfortable this woman makes him. But when she smiles and runs her tongue suggestively through the cream cheese Jake mutters, “Oh” and turns and escapes to his room.

  Watching Jake flee makes Elsie smile. God that little one is too easy. Maybe she should take him to bed. Been a while since she's had a virgin. Then she chastises herself. Stop it. She's already made a mess in her nest, better not compound it.

  Safe in his room Jake slips into his coat, wondering if he should wake Boris. Better not, probably wouldn't be a good thing to have him there when they find Natasha. She'll probably be mad.

  He reaches into the night table drawer for the lantern flashlight his mom gave him. He pockets spare batteries fresh from the charger, since it eats batteries ridiculously fast, but it's bright.

  Locking the room Jake wishes Q had come up just to get him get past Elsie. Bracing himself for the gauntlet, he's relieved Elsie's not in the common room this time, and he hurries to the stairwell.

  Jake hopes Liz is over-reacting, but he's afraid she's not.

  chapter 52 . . .

  The computer club members spread out in Kate and Nick's married student bungalow. Although the same size and floor plan as Tamara's, Kate has dispensed with a dining room, merging the intended dining area with the living room to make one larger living space. Sofas anchor either end with two folding tables down the middle. Oscar and Maggie sit on junk shop easy chairs flanking the Jelly Belly bowl; Krystal and Adam sit along the side on two of Kate's vintage vinyl and chrome tube chairs.

  Kate sets a bowl of ChedACorn beside Krystal before curling up on the window sofa. “I thought Jake was coming.”

  Krystal nods, “Me too. He was gonna try and bring along some other photography students.”

  Oscar very formally announces, “The Christie Computer Club Is Now In Session. Hear ye hear ye hear . . .” When they start pelting him with jellybeans and ChedACorn Oscar shuts up.

  “Who died and made you president?” asks Maggie.

  “No one,” answers Oscar as he picks jellybeans out of his lap and pops them into his mouth. “I assumed possession of the biggest mouth and the largest ego made me a shoo-in.” Lifting a ChedACorn from his shoulder he sends it after the jellybeans.

  “Well,” suggests Kate, “Far as I'm concerned if you've got an agenda you can have the job. I have no idea how to run a club.” Gesturing toward the snack food array,'“Parties yes, clubs no. Whose idea was this anyway?”

  Kate looks at Maggie who says, “Uh. Yeah, that'd be me.”

  “What is on the agenda today, Maggie?” Adam asks.

  “That's the problem,” says Maggie. “I don't have one. This meeting is to figure out what we want the club to be for.”

  Adams says, “Why not evaluate and compare software?”

  “That's a great idea. Give us a focus right off.” Oscar nods. “A ratings website. We could post software and hardware reviews.”

  “Not bad,” says Maggie, “Call it Computer Science Department. It should be easy enough to do it for our coursework web pages.”

  Krystal says, “It would be fun to have something besides celebrity gossip to tweet about. I could plug the website.”

  Kate shakes her head. “Identi.ca is better than Twitter for security issues, especially if you host your own instance.”

  Maggie says, “I signed up to Twitter for Stu, but we hardly ever use it; we're more likely to just text each other.”

  Oscar shakes his head. “I can't believe you lot call yourselves computer geeks.”

  “Wait just a minute, there. Oz, microblogging is more social network than a geek haven.” says Kate.

  “I prefer the term 'nerd'.” Maggie grins.

  “Depends on who you hang out with, doesn't it now.”

  “There are plenty of geeks and nerds on Twitter,” says Krystal. “You guys just gave it up without giving it a chance.”

  “I connect to Twitter through Identi.ca” says Oscar. “All the better to be anonymous.”

  Krystal's eyes widen. “Are you in Anonymous, Oz?”

  Oscar smiles, “If I told you, I'd have to kill you.”

  “Twitter is simply too frivolous.” says Adam. “If I want to connect with programmers I'll go though IRC.”

  Krystal frowns. “What's that?”

  “Internet relay channel. Live chatting without that 'following'business, so everyone can see the conversation.

  Maggie laughs. “It's what Sheldon Cooper would use instead of Twitter”.

  Krystal asks, “Who?”

  Oscar says “To live chat with Moss and Roy no doubt.”

  Krystal frowns. “Now what are you guys talking about?”

  “Geek sitcoms.”

  Krystal shakes her head. “There are Geek sitcoms?”

  Maggie says, “Oh yeah. I've only seen bits of I.T. Crowd on YouTube but I told my folks I want the boxed set for Christmas. Oz and I have a running argument about which is better, Big Bang Theory or I.T. Crowd. My favourite I.T. Crowd clip is where the cops break down the door and gun down the girl.”

  Krystal says, “Uh huh. Sounds real funny. Not.”

  “No really, you have to see it. I didn't explain it very well,” Maggie says. “It's a take off on those theatre piracy ads.”

  Adam says, “I am sick of being lumped in with criminals. All computer people are not pirates. I wish pirates would stop downloading and making me look bad. It is illegal after all.”

  Kate says, “But all downloading isn't illegal, and an awful lot doesn't even infringe copyright. They're trying to make it sound as though all downloading is illegal.”

  Oscar adds, “You should look at the laws they're pushing before you judge. The worst of them require no conviction nor evidence. You don't even have to download anything to get barred from the interwebs. Accusations can evict you, and not just you, but everyone at your address, innocent family, flatmates.”

  Adam says, “That doesn't sound right. Are you certain?”

  Kate says, “I thought it was to stop copyright infringement.”

  Oscar says, “That's what they want you to think, Kate. But in this brave new world you're guilty until proven innocent.”

  Adam says, “But they have to do that to stop the pirates.”

  “You mean like at our terribly depraved Ubuntu release party with all of those torrents.”

  “That's not what I mean,” says Adam.

  Maggie says, “I hadn't thought of that, Oz. That means when they throttle torrents it means they target Ubuntu parties.”

  “Of course that's wrong, but that's not what I mean though. What I'm talking about is people who steal music and movies.”

  Oscar says, “Lets think about that a minute, Adam, shall we? How are people stealing music exactly?”

  “People download it then share it with other people.”

  “Have you ever watched a movie on TV Adam?”

  “Of course.”

  “Was that stealing?”

  “No, but we pay for cable.”

  Kate reaches for the remote and switches on the TV. “You know what? I pay for cable too.”

  Adam says, “Of course you do. I didn't mean to imply you wouldn't. I mean . . .”

  It's the new House episode. Adam trails off as he notes that Kate isn't really listening, she's intently watching the doctor wheel out a crash cart and shock the patient until she's stable.

  Oscar says, “Is that why we didn't recruit anyone new? I didn't realize it was a House
conflict. We'll never get any new members at this rate. Better pick a new night.”

  “Or include House watching as a bonus.” says Krystal.

  When the show breaks into a commercial, Kate mutes it, then turns to Adam. “How is watching my cable broadcast different than if we shared a download?”

  Adam opens his mouth to answer, then closes it again, frowning. Then, “I will have to think about that, Kate.”

  chapter 53 . . .

  The darkness of the night is emphasized by the flashing lights of the police car angled across the parking lot behind Fyfield House. Jake's stomach drops as the worst case scenario catches his throat and he hurries over.

  But wait. This isn't it. This is something else. Quentin spread eagled against the car in the time honoured tradition of TV cop shows. Why is the cop frisking Q like they do on TV? This is bad too. Just a different bad.

  As Jake approaches he realizes it isn't a real police car, it's campus security. “Hey, what's the problem?” he asks.

  The burly guard dismisses Jake with, “Move along son.”

  Jake moves in closer, ignoring Q's warning head shake. “You're making a mistake here.” says Jake firmly. Facing up to this beefy guard is nothing compared to dealing with Elsie.

  Planting his hands on his hips to maximize his chest inflation, the guard glares down at Jake, irritated at the skinny kid's challenge. “I caught this guy lurking around down here, but that isn't any of your concern kid. So just move along.”

  Jake crosses his arms. “Q wasn't “lurking”, he was waiting for me. Now just let him go.”

  “Just piss off kid.”

  Righteously indignant, Jake says, “Didn't you hear what I said? You have no call to harass him.”

  “Oooh, are you a lawyer, boy?”

  Quentin is shaking his head more emphatically, trying to get Jake to stand down, eyes wide, trying to will Jake into silence.

  “I live in Fyfield House, he lives in the cottages. We're both Christie students, boy, so that means we pay your salary. Now are you gonna let him go or do I call a real cop?”

  Quentin is aghast, now worried that young Jake's heroics are gonna get them both killed.