Erotomaniac

by Jon Athan

  A jingly, bubbly tone interrupted his rant. With downcast eyes, Ethan glanced into the kitchen to his left. His telephone, which sat on the counter, was silent and dark. He turned his attention to his right and stared into the living room. The noise was coming from the laptop on his desk – a ringtone. He chuckled as he wiped the tears and mucus from his face.

  As he approached the desk, he smiled and said, “I... I have a call. I have to take this...”

  ***

  Ethan frowned as he stared at the screen. He wasn't receiving a call from a secret admirer. His doppelganger wasn't messing with his head. The caller ID read: Mom.

  An image of his mother, Brooke Miller, was shown above prompts to answer or reject the video call. In the image, the middle-aged woman had curly black hair, dark brown eyes, and a few wrinkles on her face. From afar, she resembled any other woman – nothing special. Her eyes, dark and sharp, appeared malevolent, though.

  Ethan sat and adjusted his shirt, preparing himself for an unpleasant discussion. He muttered, “What do you want this time, mom?” He inhaled deeply, then he accepted the call. He smiled and enthusiastically said, “Mom! Hey, how are you doing?”

  Brooke, who appeared to be calling from her patio, smirked and said, “My little Ethan, it's so good to see you. We're doing fine over here. I don't want you to worry about us.” She took a sip of her wine – yes, wine in the morning. She smacked her lips, then she said, “I know you get annoyed, but I had to call about your date last night. I was awake all night thinking about it, you know? It's exciting stuff, isn't it?”

  Ethan blushed as he stared down at his lap and twiddled his thumbs. He didn't know what to say. I decapitated my girlfriend because I thought she was a demon – it was nonsense.

  Brooke asked, “So, how did it go? Hmm?” She giggled, then she asked, “When's the wedding, sweetie? Am I going to be a grandma any time soon? Huh?”

  Ethan sighed, then he said, “We broke up.”

  “What? Are you... Are you kidding me? Please tell me you're joking, Ethan.”

  “It's not a joke. It wasn't working out between us so we broke it off. I just... I wasn't feeling any magic with her, mom. I thought it was there at first, but it disappeared last night. It wasn't there anymore. I don't know how to explain it.”

  “Magic?” Brooke repeated in disbelief. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, annoyed. She asked, “What is that even supposed to mean? Huh? I didn't raise a little fairy. You hear me? I raised a man and a man is supposed to have a family. He doesn't rely on 'magic' to make it happen, he just does it. That's how life works.”

  Ethan stared down at himself, ashamed. When it came to his mother, he was not the confrontational-type. He could only sulk and wait until she was done.

  Brooke leaned back in her seat and shook her head. She was blatantly disappointed in her son's failure. She wanted to mold him into a family-man so she could continue to spread her genes. Her family line could not end at Ethan. She had other opportunities, like Ethan's younger brother, but, if he ended up the same way, she would die off without a large family.

  Eyes brimming with tears, she clenched her fist and looked away. Disappointment opened the door to rage. She swallowed the rest of her wine with one loud gulp.

  Brooke glared at her son and sternly said, “I am tired of this, Ethan. This is the... the fifth time you've failed to tie the knot – to seal the deal. You're running around with these girls, some who are already older than you, but you always mess it up. You just don't know how to please a woman, do you? Your father knows how to pleasure women. Do you want him to teach you? Hmm? What? Do you want him to... to cuckold you? Is that what you want?”

  With his head slumped down, Ethan ran his fingers through his hair and sniffled. He tried to shrug off his mother's insults, but he was genuinely hurt by her vile tirade. He survived the rampant bullying in school. The insults were worse when they came from family, though. What kind of mother could bully her own child?

  Ethan grunted to clear his throat. In a cracking voice, he whispered, “I–I messed up. I'm... I'm sorry. I was–”

  Disregarding his apology, Brooke said, “I think I need to ask you a very serious question before I can continue calling you my son. So, think wisely... Are you gay, Ethan?” Ethan's bottom lip quivered and his eyes welled with tears. Brooke said, “Answer me. Open your mouth and talk. I swear, if you don't answer me, I'm going to assume the worst. I'm–”

  “No,” Ethan interrupted. He stared at his mother with an unwavering glare – please, believe me. He said, “I like women. I've always liked women, mom. You know that. I just messed up. You wouldn't have liked her anyway. She was a whore. She wasn't pure.”

  Brooke puckered her lips and nodded as she examined her son's demeanor – he wasn't lying. She was an old-fashioned woman who did not agree with homosexual relationships. Her beliefs weren't exactly developed through religion or hatred, though. She didn't actually care if other men or women wanted to partake in homosexual relationships.

  Brooke wanted biological grandchildren so she could spread her genes and beliefs. Homosexuality would lead her to another dead-end and she didn't want that. She was wicked and selfish – and it never bothered her.

  Brooke said, “Good. You should only be concerned with getting married and having kids. If you want to be 'gay' or whatever, you can do that after the baby is born. Okay?”

  Ethan said, “I have to go, mom. I'm very busy. Love you.”

  Before his mother could respond, he disconnected from the call. Stiff, he stood from his seat and marched into the kitchen. He loudly exhaled, then he panted as he trembled. He was unnerved and frustrated by the conversation.

  Veins bulging on his sweat brow, Ethan muttered, “Why does she care about my sexuality? Huh? It's my life, isn't it? I'm doing it the way I want to do it. She... She told me about the succubi anyway. She did this to me.” He approached the cupboard and grabbed a mug. He shouted, “Damn it, she did this to me!”

  With the furious roar, he hurled the cup at the wall. The mug shattered into a dozen pieces. He ran his fingers through his hair and paced in the kitchen, visibly upset. He couldn't control his anger. Unfortunately, that meant he couldn't enjoy a nice breakfast at home – a microwaveable breakfast sandwich.

  He grabbed his keys from a rack and said, “I can't do this. I can't stay here. A diner... Yeah, I'll go to a diner.”

  Chapter Three

  Love At First Sight

  Loneliness was a difficult subject. Some people enjoyed lonely days while others loathed the involuntary solitude. It was funny how things worked: the same thing could cause happiness and pain to two separate people. The pain caused by loneliness was only amplified by the happiness of other people – perhaps it was self-pity.

  That's exactly what Ethan felt at the diner.

  The young man sat by his lonesome at a booth at the far-end of the eatery. Puffy-eyed, he watched the other guests with a blank expression. Families sat in the other booths, enjoying eggs, bacon, and pancakes. A few couples sat at the other tables, flirting while they ate. A drunk homeless man sat at the bar, eating a cheap meal by himself.

  That could be me, Ethan thought as he stared at the homeless man, I could end up just like him. The life of a lonely hermit was terrifying to him.

  “Sorry for the wait. It's been a little busy this morning,” a tender female voice said.

  Ethan shook his head as he snapped out of his contemplation. He glanced towards his left, then he leaned back. His waitress finally reached his booth – and she was beautiful.

  The woman stood five-one with a petite figure. She had silky black hair down to her shoulders and bangs down to her eyebrows. Her dark brown eyes were gentle. She wore a black polo shirt, black pants, and matching work shoes. A black apron with three pockets was tied around her waist, too. Her outfit wasn't glitzy, but she was still very attractive.

  Hopeful, Ethan stared at the name tag on her chest. To his dismay, the name was illegible.
The waitress pressed on the button on her pen and held her notepad up.

  She smiled and said, “My name is Emmy. I'll be your waitress today. Are you ready to order, sir?”

  Ethan grinned and chuckled. He opened his mouth to speak, but he could not utter a word. He was rendered speechless by her beauty. He could feel butterflies flittering in his stomach as his heart rapidly pounded in his chest.

  The magic was back.

  The waitress nervously laughed, amused by Ethan's peculiar behavior. She said, “It's okay if you're not ready to order. I can come back later or someone else will come help you. I'll–”

  “No,” Ethan interrupted, afraid of missing his chance at love. He stuttered, “I–I'll have... three scrambled eggs, two bacon strips, and the–the hash browns.”

  “Okay. We'll have that ready for you in ten, fifteen minutes. You want coffee with that? Orange juice? Milk?”

  “Coffee. I'll have coffee.”

  “Okay. I'll be right back.”

  Before she could leave, Ethan lunged over the table and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her back to the booth, which caused her to stagger. The young waitress yelped as she struggled to keep her balance. Stunned by the patron's audacity, she turned towards Ethan with wide eyes.

  She stuttered, “Wha–What are you doing? Please, let me go.” Confused by his own actions, Ethan absently stared at the waitress. The young woman said, “Let me go.”

  Realizing he was causing a scene, Ethan released her wrist and leaned back in his seat. He clasped his hands in front of his mouth.

  He said, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was just... I was going to ask you for your name. That's all. I just... I just wanted to know your name.”

  “I told you my name already: Emmy.”

  “No, I meant your full name. I can kinda see it on your tag, but I can't read all of it.”

  The waitress stared down at her chest with a furrowed brow. She was surprised to see her handwriting was smudged and illegible. To her disappointment, it was supposed to be legible at all times. She feared the patron would report her to her manager if she didn't cooperate. She wanted to avoid that headache.

  She said, “My name is Emiko Takahashi. Everyone calls me 'Emmy.' Okay? What's so important about my name?”

  Ethan said, “I just... I noticed you were, um... Asian or whatever is the politically correct term. Like, uh, Chinese or Japanese or Korean or–”

  “I'm Japanese. Asian, Japanese... it doesn't really matter, sir.”

  Ethan smiled and nodded, blatantly interested. He said, “Japanese. I've always been interested in Japanese culture. It's... It's fascinating.” He stared down at the table and blushed. He said, “I'm sorry about my aggressive approach. I really didn't mean to grab you like that. My... My name is Ethan, by the way. Ethan Miller.”

  Emiko stared at Ethan with a deadpan expression. She was still unnerved by his eccentric behavior. She couldn't read his intentions. He appeared harmless, but there was something about him that was strange. She couldn't put her finger on it. She assumed he was trying to hook up with her. Being fit and attractive didn't give him the right to touch her, though.

  She said, “Whatever. It's... It's okay. I forgive you. Your food will be ready in a few minutes.”

  As the waitress walked away, Ethan joked, “Great. Maybe you can join me when you come back. Huh?” Emiko clenched her jaw and glanced back as she approached the bar. Ethan said, “I'm kidding, I'm kidding...”

  Normally, Ethan was a smooth and charismatic young man. He knew how to communicate with women. The waitress made him feel different, though. He couldn't control himself around her. He stuttered and stumbled, unable to keep a cool composure around the waitress. It was an odd feeling, but he welcomed it with open arms.

  He watched Emiko until she disappeared around the corner, hidden by the kitchen walls. Giddy, he stared down at himself and chuckled inwardly. He glanced around the diner and grinned. The grim atmosphere vanished. He was no longer jealous of the other couples. In fact, in his mind, every couple was replaced with an image of himself and Emiko.

  Love was in the air.

  Sitting by his lonesome, he imagined his entire life with Emiko. He pictured their early dates – walks in the park, bad movies, and candle-lit dinners. He imagined their wedding, which would inevitably lead to a small family. And, his own family would lead to acceptance from his mother. With Emiko, the future was brighter than the sun.

  “Here you go, sir,” a male with a husky voice said.

  Ethan glanced over at his left and raised his brow. A man in a white, short-sleeve button-up shirt and black trousers stood beside the booth. The bald spot at the center of his head was obvious as he leaned down and placed a mug on the table. The man sniffled as he placed a plate next to the mug.

  The man ran his fingers across his mustache and said, “Holler if you need anything.”

  “Wait,” Ethan said. The man glanced at the patron with a raised brow. Ethan asked, “Who... Who are you?”

  “My name is Burt Baker, sir. I'm the manager here. I'll be personally serving you until the end of your meal.”

  “Wha–What happened to Emiko? Is she okay?”

  Burt sighed in exasperation, then he said, “She's fine. She's busy working in the kitchen. I'd appreciate it if you didn't bother her. Now, please enjoy your meal. Holler if you need anything.”

  As Burt marched back to the bar, Ethan leaned forward and peered into the kitchen through the pass-through window. He could see Emiko leaning on a counter, chatting with a co-worker.

  Ethan leaned back in his seat, lonely and confused. He stuffed his mouth with eggs and bacon as he constantly glanced over at the kitchen with each bite. The perceived rejection struck him hard. He was brought down a notch and hurled back into his bleak reality.

  Mouth full of food, he mumbled, “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she doesn't love me. She's not like the succubi, but she doesn't like me, either. But... But, I like her. I love her. I know I do. Why? Why won't you come see me, Emiko?”

  From the back of his head, a soft feminine voice said, “I'm sorry, darling. I can't.”

  Ethan glanced over his shoulder, startled. He sat in the last booth so he found himself staring at a wall. He recognized the voice though – Emiko Takahashi. Eyes glimmering with hope, he gazed into the kitchen and smiled.

  Ethan whispered, “It's you, isn't it? You're trying to talk to me, aren't you? It's... It's telepathy. I thought I was the only one, but... it's really you. You like me. You really like me.”

  He shoved more eggs into his mouth and stared at the manager – Burt, that prying bastard. The pieces were easy to connect in Ethan's unhinged mind: Emiko wanted to be with him, but her boss was keeping them apart. The theory was based off of a voice he heard in his head, but he believed it. He was willing to wait for her, too.

  As Ethan finished his meal, Burt approached the booth and placed the bill on the table. He was eager to get rid of the bothersome patron.

  Ethan pulled his wallet out. The bill came out to $9.69. He could have left a ten-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill to cover the tab and the tip. He wanted to make a statement, though. He placed a hundred-dollar bill on the table. He stood from his seat and tapped the money.

  He glared at Burt and said, “That's for Emiko. That's her tip, not yours.”

  Burt said, “That's fine, sir. The exit is right over there. Thank you for coming.”

  Ethan walked away from the manager before the confrontation could escalate. As he strolled towards the exit, he glanced at the pass-through window and waved with a large grin on his face. His newfound love didn't see him, but he could see her. Head over heels, he practically skipped out of the diner and headed to his car – excited for his future.

  Chapter Four

  Worth A Thousand Words

  Emiko Takahashi – it was a very specific name. Surrounding the name with quotation marks and searching through Google, the name yielded over twelve-thousand results. Authors, sin
gers, and everyday people filled the results. Obviously, due to the nature of the name, most of the people resided in Japan. Google couldn't reveal the waitress' identity.

  Ethan sat at his desk in his bedroom, wearing only his gray boxer briefs. He logged into his Facebook account. His other friends, who he did not personally know, were insignificant. He searched: Emiko Takahashi. He slowly scrolled through the results, but he didn't find his secret lover. So, he refined his search and sorted his results by city.

  To his dismay, Emiko did not show up.

  He murmured, “Everyone has a Facebook account these days. Where are you hiding, Emiko?”

  He leaned back in his seat and thought about their first encounter. He remembered every detail, too. An idea materialized – a bulb illuminated above his head.

  He said, “Emmy.”

  He typed: Emmy Takahashi. Then, he limited his search to his city. Lo and behold, he found her at the top of the search results. His fingers trembled as he reached for the mouse. A twisted grin, devious and malevolent, formed on his face. The side of his mouth twitched with excitement, too. He clicked on her name, then he examined every detail of her profile.

  Eyes wide with hope, Ethan stuttered, “Sh–She... She's not in a relationship.” He leaned back, stared at the ceiling, and yelled, “She doesn't have a boyfriend! She's on the market! She's the one! Holy shit! She's the one!”

  Trying to contain his excitement, he turned his attention back to the monitor. He scrolled through her posts.

  Verbatim, one post read: I can't sleep. I have class in the morning, then work, but I can't sleep!! No!(´;ω;｀).

  Upon spotting the emoji at the end of the post, Ethan smiled and said, “That's cute, Emiko. It's so damn cute.”

  He scrolled down, then he stopped at another post.

  The post read: I love all of my friends, I really do. Thank you for your help. I miss home, though. I miss mom and dad... They miss me too and it hurts.