by Ava Zavora
How had she never heard of the term before? She hardly ever watched television so it was understandable that she never knew about the reality show. However, there was a famous hoax some months back that was all over mainstream news media, which she somehow missed, about a very handsome football player who was involved in an online relationship for four years with a woman he had never met. It turned out that the woman was actually a male acquaintance who had planned and executed an elaborate ruse to deceive him. Over and over, the same questions were asked - how could he fall in love with a woman he had never met? Why didn't he ever question that she was telling the truth? Was he merely naive or supremely stupid?
When she was too sickened to read anymore, Eden turned off the computer and sat in the dark. For how long, she didn't know. Everything ran through her mind, from the very first time Adam contacted her to the present. She forced herself to view the past three months without a distorted, sentimental filter.
Adam had approached her by appealing to her vanity while in a setting where she did not expect to be hit on. It wasn't like being friended on Facebook, where she was a fanatic about privacy and did not accept friend requests from anyone other than real-life acquaintances and family. His approach had been as different as sidling up to her at a bar or a club versus striking up a conversation with her while she browsed in a bookstore.
She had been guarded when he first contacted her, she knew. She had lobbied questions and deflected. He had called her "Miss Elision" because she had been so evasive. By answering all her questions then lamenting her suspicious, inquisitive nature, he had erected a false representation of their dynamic. He was being honest while she was being distrustful, narrow-minded.
The first tweet, the first e-mail, the first phone call - each step led to lowering her walls bit by bit until he could breach them.
Adam's intellect and mystery were a seductive combination. There had been no real resistance, she was forced to admit. She had wanted to get to know him, wanted to learn his secrets. He had cleverly sidestepped the issue of false identity by putting forth a persona of an intensely private man. He hinted of a dark past and spoke of danger if he sent pictures, if they had a video call. She had been gratified in thinking that he was letting her in, trusting her as he trusted no one else.
He had dealt with her requests to meet him just as efficiently, she realized. The minute he thought she was pulling back, the tone of his e-mails became panicked, and the very next day he had an accident. What if it wasn't a freak and unfortunate occurrence? As with everything he had told her, she had no proof that it really happened. The accident conveniently pushed back a meeting date for at least a couple of months while simultaneously bringing them closer together. How could she view him as a threat when he was injured, broken, and so vulnerable?
He was smart, probably the smartest man she had ever known, but the past three months would not have happened has she not allowed it to. He had created an illusion and she willingly believed in it. Just as she did when she had been married to Dante's father, she had been blind to every red flag and rushed headlong into a doomed relationship. Back then, even when the brutal truth had punched her in the face and landed her in the hospital, she told herself lies. That he didn't mean it, that he loved her. Yet eight years after leaving that marriage, she had reverted right back to that stupid, self-deluded woman. She was telling herself lies again.
She had worked so hard to make sure her and Dante’s lives were peaceful and safe after the divorce, yet here she was, having foolishly let a complete stranger into their home.
It didn't matter that she didn't know about catfishing. It didn't matter that it baffled her that anyone would pretend to be someone else online. The warning signs were all there. She willfully, stubbornly refused to see them.
Once while he was calling her on Skype, Adam had accidentally pressed the video call button. He had immediately hung up then called her back, this time using the voice call option. He had questioned her repeatedly, asking if she saw anything. Only when she reassured him multiple times that she had seen nothing because the call had ended too quickly did Adam calm down.
But she had lied to him. She did see something. Not his face, but the clear and unmistakable image of blue skies through a windowpane, lit by broad daylight. She didn't realize until later why it troubled her. If Adam had been calling from Sicily, then it would have been 10:00. At night.
When wanted to send him some books and other presents while he recuperated, Adam had told her he used a postal box in town because his house had lain empty for so long before he bought it that the postal office didn't make deliveries there any more. It sounded strange yet she had accepted it, attributing the inconvenience to the intricacies of foreign mail.
There were a hundred little details that by themselves would be eccentric or unusual, but put together they formed a damning picture. It was all smoke and mirrors, a fanciful masquerade. All Adam had to do was hint, provide a few details and she filled in the rest. She didn't want to ask more questions. She didn't want to probe deeper. Because deep down, she knew all the stories he told wouldn't bear the scrutiny. She wanted to believe the lies as badly as he did.
How did he even find her?
What made him think she would fall for it?
Why her?
The blog.
It was all her doing, she realized. She didn't need to post an online ad for the whole world to see stating that she was a romantic woman of suggestible imagination, yearning to fall in love with a fictional hero. The type of books she read, the little tidbits about her life she let drop, all her reviews indicated as much. For someone as perceptive as Adam, all he had to do was peruse her blog to figure out her vulnerabilities.
He had picked her from a dusty bookshelf and read her as easily as an open book.
Darling, I've tried calling you three times now. I'm worried. Are you alright?
Eden stared at Adam's text. She’d had one hour's turbulent sleep, having spent the rest of the night watching all the episodes from the first season of Catfish. She forced herself to endure every painful moment. There were no fairy tale endings in any of the filmed real-life situations. Each uncovered an elaborate deception. Each ended in emotional devastation.
She had done more Googling, trying to get tips on how to do her own investigation. Most of the suggestions, like dropping profile pictures on Google Image Search to see if they had been used in other online profiles, were not applicable. Finally, she found one easy to execute tip. She randomly picked 10 e-mails from Adam, found the IP addresses for the originating e-mail headers, then entered them one by one in an IP address website. None of the IP addresses returned to Sicily. All of Adam's e-mails she checked originated from the United States.
There was no need to keep going. She just had to face it, no matter how hard. Whatever she did from here on out, she may not ever know what Adam looked like or who he really was. But he had been unmasked, just the same. She now could not pretend otherwise.
I don’t feel well.
Oh, darling, I thought so. It's a testament to our closeness that I could tell something was wrong. If I were there, I would take care of you, bring you some hot tea, carry you to bed, and cradle you while you slept. In the future, when we’re together and you’re ill, I will do precisely that.
That is a lovely dream. You have no idea how much I’ve dreamt of us being together.
May I call you now?
I found a deal online for a round trip ticket to Palermo in early December. The doctor said you’ll be healed by then, right? It will be over three months since your accident. Shall I buy it now before the deal expires?
Darling that's wonderful but I'm afraid I have some bad news. I didn't want to burden you with it but I realised I shouldn't keep things from you. My Uncle, the man I told you about, is ill. As soon as the doctor clears me, I'll be flying to Spain to be with him. And while I want to see you more than anything, I don't want our first meeting to be tainted with t
his horrible situation.
I see.
May I call you now? I’m in a terrible state. I desperately need to hear your voice. You’re the only one who can calm me down.
Thank you for never keeping secrets from me. Thank you for always telling me the truth. Any hint of falseness or lies would make our entire relationship false.
I agree. That’s how I know we’re solid. When it comes to these pivotal issues, we’re always on the same page. Darling, is something wrong? I know you’re not feeling well at the moment, but you would tell me if there was anything on your mind, right?
Is your Skype on? I just tried calling you now and you didn’t pick up.
I’d rather message.
Are you unhappy with me?
I miss you so much.
I’m getting really scared. Why don’t you want to talk to me?
Have I done something wrong?
I don’t think I can go on with this charade.
What charade??
I want to believe everything you’ve said. But I think it’s time for me to just stop. I will ask you here and now to tell me the truth about you. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know where you live. You’re in no danger of me finding you. So I am begging you to please tell me the truth.
Where is this coming from? What has happened? I’ve always been honest with you. What do you think I’ve lied to you about??? Please, please, please pick up the phone so we can talk about this.
You never intended to meet me, did you? I don’t know where you thought all this would lead to. But I know now that once you “go” to Spain, you will tell me that your Uncle is seriously ill or has died and we would have to postpone meeting. Then after a few months something else will come up. And on and on. And we will have this same exact conversation and it will end in the same exact way. Us never meeting.
You think I’d say something as heinous as my Uncle being ill when he wasn’t? Just the thought of him in this condition pains me. Please, Edie, whatever you’re angry with me about, whatever you think I’ve done, let us be dignified and at least speak to each other about it. Text messaging about important issues like this is degrading to our relationship.
I saw the IP addresses on your e-mails, Adam. None of them were from Sicily. They were all from the US. WHO ARE YOU???
Eden, you know who I am.
What has happened?
I use proxy IP addresses for all my Internet communications and transactions. It's perfectly legal and costs a pittance. You know about my privacy concerns.
Please pick up the phone
please
You know well how I would react to your voice. You will have answers for everything and I will swallow them all then feel guilty for ever having questioned you.
I only have answers for the things that I can answer fairly and honestly. You are hurting me very much right now, but I am still willing to do whatever it takes to fix this. I am not like other men, Edie. I will always do what is right.
I have given you three months of chances to be honest with me and still I do not know the truth. I have no other choice. I feel so very sad and so very stupid. Goodbye Adam.
“This is Brad, how may I help you today, Miss Espinoza?” His voice was light and chipper.
“I would like my phone number changed as soon as possible please.”
“Alrighty,” Brad replied smoothly. “First, I need you to verify your account. Now, please punch in the last four digits of your Social Security number.”
Eden did as she was told, trying not to panic as her iPhone started ringing. Adam was trying to call her. She turned off the ringer.
“I see you have an incoming call. I’d be happy to hold -”
“No!” Eden took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Please just proceed as quickly as you can.”
“Uh, yes, ma’am.” His tone was no longer chipper, but businesslike. “You want to change the number ending in 10 or the number ending in 74?”
“The number ending in 74.”
“Are you calling from another phone?”
“Yes, my land line.”
“Do you want to keep the same plan?”
“Yes.”
She heard him tapping on the keys.
“Now, I see that you barely use your minutes, may I suggest that you transfer to a smaller, more economical plan -”
“Brad, I appreciate your suggestion, but I just need my phone number changed immediately, please.”
“Sorry.” He sounded offended. “Uh, alright. It’s changed.”
“My old number doesn’t work anymore?”
“Correct. I am now sending you a text message to your new number and it should show up … right now.”
Her phone vibrated. It was a text message.
“Did you receive it?”
“Yes.”
“That is your new number and it is live and effective as of this second.”
“Thank you, Brad.”
“If you backed up all your old contacts through the Cloud, you can download -“
“Bye, Brad. Thanks again.”
Eden hurriedly hung up the phone without waiting for Brad to say goodbye. She could breathe a bit easier now, but she still had some fast work to do.
-----------
Subject: Goodbye
From: Eden E. -
Date: Sun, Nov 11, at 11:35 AM
To: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]
Dear Cassie, Alice, Micha, and Erin,
Please don’t be alarmed. I just wanted to tell you that I will be taking an indefinite break from the Internet. I will be deleting my Twitter, my Facebook page and Book Bohemian.
Although this is sudden, I want to assure you that nothing negative happened; I love blogging and I love all of you guys. You’ve made these past three years such an unbelievable joy. Even though we’ve never met, I feel so privileged that I got to know you through blogging and our shared love of books. Every time you visited Book Bohemian, every comment you’ve ever made has touched me so much. You’ve given me laughter and made me smile on too many occasions to count. Thank you.
Please feel free to forward this e-mail to anyone who asks. I don’t mean to exclude any of the other bloggers, but I just wanted to tell the four of you because you have been with me since the beginning.
Again, please don’t worry. This is just a lifestyle change. I wish you well.
Eden
Are you sure you want to permanently delete this account, including the associated blog, e-mail, and other products?
Eden blinked at the window that popped up. Deleting her Twitter and Facebook took seconds. Hardly any thought. But Book Bohemian was different. Three years of reviews. 517 posts. All her hard work. Her heart and soul were in it. Is this what she really wanted to do?
Her e-mail inbox was fast filling up. Adam had sent her 10 e-mails so far, each one coming every few minutes.
She had no choice. As much as she loved Book Bohemian, it was now ruined. Every time she looked at it, it would remind her of her foolishness. How could she go on knowing that Adam would read it? That because of her blog, she had made it possible for someone like Adam to find her, deceive her, and make her fall in love with an illusion? Even if she somehow found the desire to continue blogging, it would never be the same.
All she wanted to do was disappear from the world and hide so that no one could ever find her and hurt her again.
It was a ridiculously easy act of severing. She hit delete, and her blog was gone.
She sat in disbelief at what she had just done. In less than half an hour, she had left the man she was in love with and obliterated three years of her life. A black abyss now yawned before her.
Her iPhone started vibrating, startling her as she had not given her new number out to anyone yet. She looked at the screen and gasped in shock.
It was Adam.
She dropped her phone on th
e bed and backed away. The sudden, familiar panic began to engulf her. Trapped in a corner, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. No matter what she did, he would find her.
Her phone continued vibrating, then abruptly stopped. A moment later, it buzzed. A voice mail.
It took an hour of stupefied silence before she got the courage to listen to it.
Adam’s deep voice was heavy and sad.
“Please don’t be scared, Edie. After this, I won’t call you again. I just wanted to tell you that I can get your blog back for you if you wish. I didn’t mean ... I didn’t know ... I had no idea how self-destructive you were. I’m sorry I’ve driven you to this. I promise I won’t contact you anymore. I’m genuinely afraid of what else you might do. I want you to know, and maybe someday you’ll come to believe it, that whatever secrets I’ve kept, it was to protect you, not to hurt you. It’s plain that you think I’m some sort of monster. I suppose with the life I’ve led, I couldn’t expect someone like you to ever see me as anything else. I can’t believe I’m saying this to a machine. I wanted to say it to you in person. I shouldn’t have waited. I should have said it as soon as I knew it. I love you. I will miss you. Always. Something beautiful has died. Goodbye.”