by Kate Messick
“I run to the door and open it,” Sandy yells.
“The door swings open easily,” I describe. “The witch turns her head to you and you feel a cold, clammy hand reach for yours.”
“I scream and push the two of us inside,” Sandy affirms.
“Do you all go through the door? Witch first?” I question.
“We don’t have a choice,” Zack spits, crossing his arms to Helm, staying in character.
“Then everyone rushes through the door,” I exclaim, excited. “And we will end there for this session.”
Lynda and Steven are already gathering their stuff. I’m cutting it close for their sitter. Things did not go quite as smoothly as I’d hoped, but I think everyone had fun. I try to catch Sandy’s eye, but she’s already offering Zack a ride home. Damn.
Chapter Forty-Six
Reality/Campaign, Poogses’ Country Estate, Room One
Like the previous rooms, Room One is some weird combination of sorcery and transportation. The stone basement room is cool, with concrete floors and walls. The ceiling is at least sixteen feet with wood beams that disappear into the low lighting.
Sandy Yuhi
Once again, my week flew by. Although the site is still three weeks behind, it hasn’t gotten worse. My stalemate with Amorino continues, though I have started noticing him welcoming himself into my personal space once again. I’m fast to call him on it, but it also feels so normal that sometimes I don’t notice until his hand is on my arm. It’s a little creepy, thinking about it after the fact. But they are just friendly touches, right? We were friends first – we can get back there, we have to. I won’t let him use me again.
Aurora keeps calling and messaging me. Why did I give Amorino’s wife my phone number? Such a bad idea. I feel guilty. She’s obviously struggling, although she’d confronted me with her suspicions, now she just seemed like another woman trying to be happy. Like me. Maybe not the exact same, but Amorino has hurt her, even if she doesn’t know it.
On the bright side, I made a girlfriend this week! I’m very proud of myself; it’s part of the new Sandy. Betty even accused me of being a stalker and I didn’t run, I apologized and explained my logic behind forcing our encounter at the paint-and-sip place. I had gone through her Facebook and noticed she’d signed up, so I signed up as well. Despite never having done anything like paint-and-sip, or really having any interest in it. It actually turned into a conversation about privacy with today's technology. Betty is a junior lawyer and though our interactions struggled at first, I enjoyed myself thoroughly by the end. I think she did too.
I’m careful to not be the first person to D&D this week. I think Joe is getting the message that I’m not interested, even though I’m, but I shouldn’t be, because things get complicated. The memory of our kiss brings heat to my face, but his friendship is more important to me. Right, I’m straightening things out in my mind so well.
“Are you ready for your fear room?” Dillon asks me.
I realize that I have been staring at Joe while I thought about him. I turn my attention to Dillon as he gets out his dice and sorts them into matching piles. I blush a little and feel a thrill go through me.
“I have been looking forward to this all week,” I declare instead. I sound as excited as Zack.
Nozomi (Sandy’s character)
As my eyes adjust to the lighting on the other side of the door, I find the room to be ringed with coffins. Not plain coffins, but fancy ones the wealthy get buried in. Padded interiors, glossy finishes. Each one more beautiful than the next. I recognize a glossy black coffin. Silver patterns embellish its edges, and I move toward it.
“My father’s coffin,” I say quietly. When I touch it, cold burns through my skin that turns into searing heat. I cry out as I feel my body and mind start to splinter. This is my room. My greatest fear is being trapped in a future. Being so locked into my choices that I can’t enjoy the moment. To become a true vampire that must live on blood and bend to my father. To become a true human that must bend to the laws of nature. Stuck on one path, one destiny. It terrifies me to my core. I want to live in motion, to go where I want, to feel what I want to feel.
I fear losing my freedom. I fear committing to a future.
The pain intensifies and then is suddenly gone, and I’m looking at myself. And looking at myself, I have split: human Nozomi and vampire Nozomi. We reach out to each other. Sparks fly where our fingers intertwine.
Only one Nozomi can exist outside the room, a voice whispers in my ear. I know the other Nozomi can hear the voice, but my friends cannot. The coffins surrounding the room suddenly burst open. Bats and vampires line the walls.
“There is a third Nozomi,” I state boldly. I feel her in my heart. She has been blooming and growing. Just like Nozomi’s creator. Me.
“I don’t think there is,” Joe states.
Sandy Yuhi
“I want to create one,” I say, my stomach sinking. Joe’s flat out refusal has caught me off guard. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but having Nozomi, the character I spent weeks thinking through and pouring my shitty life problems into, turned into black and white, feels terrible.
“Um, no? This is your fear room, you have to face your fear of your duality,” Joe affirms.
“My fear isn’t duality! My fear is losing my future, of losing my duality.”
“The encounter works either way.”
“It doesn’t,” I insist. “I don’t fear my two sides. I fear losing either of them. There is a third Nozomi. She’s complex.” I grab at my character sheet and hold it up to Joe, like that will change anything.
“I want to use my Ideal ‘freedom’ to create a third Nozomi,” I insist again. I don’t know why this is so important to me. It’s just a game, but at the same time, I don’t want to be black and white. I want friends who understand me. I’m trying to understand me.
“And how does your idea of freedom create a third facet of your heritage?” he asks slowly and extra politely. “I’ll let you do it if you can justify it.”
“I didn’t think I was going to have to justify my choices, Joe,” I say angrily. The logical side of my brain can feel that Joe isn’t being unreasonable. But my emotions are caught up in it. I can feel my eyes looking for an exit.
“Here we go,” Steven mumbles loud enough for the table to pick up.
“Not here we go,” I spit back at him. “I spent weeks working on my fear, my stupid ideals, and bonds. What’s the point of creating all that if we just throw it out the window? And what spells are you using to split me into two people? That isn’t in 3.5 or 5E.”
“Sandy, calm down,” Joe says soothingly. “It’s homebrew. When you play it out, I promise, you will see the balance. Your sides don’t need to fight. Your two natures just linked hands, they don’t want to fight each other. But you fear losing them. Separate, they are vulnerable.”
“There is a third Nozomi,” I maintain and stand this time. I raise my voice to hide the waver. “Nozomi is not just a human and a vampire … she’s not black and white. She’s a creature of love. Of heart. She fears making choices that will force her into an unhappy future. It has nothing to do with duality. You’re ignoring your own rules. And I’m not staying here for it.”
I grab my keys and turn for the front door. I can feel tears prick my eyes. I’m not sure if I still am talking about Nozomi. Maybe my weeks of not resolving any of my issues are catching up with me. Nozomi’s internal conflict might be a problem, but It’s not her fear.
“Sandy,” Dillon calls.
If I turn or pause, they will see me crying. I skip my shoes and tear out of Joe’s front door. The ground is freezing, despite my thick winter socks. The cold helps ground me. I know it’s childish, but I just don’t have it in me to deal with this.
I almost get in two accidents driving home, my vision blurry from tears. My phone starts to go off part way through my drive, but I ignore it and turn it off completely once I’m parked. The echo of my d
oor locking rings in my ears as I change into my favorite PJ’s. Why do I do this to myself?
Chapter Forty-Seven
Reality, Sandy’s Studio Apartment
Romantic gestures look different in the twenty-first century. With so much information out there, we have found ourselves in a time with no guidelines. What offends one will undoubtedly make another laugh. And what turns on a person is anyone's guess.
Sandy Yuhi
The pounding on my door almost shakes my entire studio and cuts through my headphones. I pull them off and pause my movie. There is a large form visible through the thin white curtains.
“Sandy, it’s Joe, I can see the light from your laptop.” His voice is raised, but it doesn’t seem angry.
I haven’t looked in the mirror recently, but I can’t look good. My pjs have food stains on them and my eyes are raw from crying. I am not a pretty crier. I just want Joe to go away. I want everyone to go away. I’m a ball of nerves and hurt feelings. I almost called my mom, if you can believe that. That’s how much I’m hurting.
“Sandy, you left your coats and shoes and everything – just let me give them back to you.” His voice is calm, gentle.
That actually sounds reasonable. I slide myself off my bed and unlock the door. “Just throw them by the door,” I say, refusing to look at him. I hear a thud as he does so and I start to shut the door again.
“I didn’t mean to belittle Nozomi,” he apologies before I can close the door. “I messed up Dillon’s too. I even simplified Zack’s.”
“I thought Zack’s was your most effective one.” I shouldn’t be letting him draw me into conversation. I do still love his game. It’s not his fault I’m a mess.
“Fears are a peculiar thing,” Joe says, leaning into the doorframe. “I think some of us have thought about them more deeply than others.”
I feel tears again begin to trickle down my cheeks at his words. I’m embarrassed about the entire thing and that only makes it worse. I need to stop wallowing in self-pity; I either need to start opening up or I need to shut everyone out again. And I don’t really want the second, it’s just what I know I’m good at.
“Sandy, may I come in?” Joe asks softly.
“You can’t just show up at my house,” I say. I try to replace my emotions with simple anger … I’m good at anger.
“I just did.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have,” I respond. He’s the one that made my fear black and white. It might not be his fault, but he started this mudslide. I feel my ability to turn anything into anger begin to take over my emotions. It makes me feel good, more normal. “Clearly,” I add, scrubbing the last of my tears off my face with a vengeance.
“Damn it, Sandy,” he says with a loud exhalation. “I don’t even know what I did. I shouldn’t have pushed the issue but justifying your ideal of freedom is literally the mechanics of the game. I thought you loved that stuff.”
“I do.”
“You ruined the game for everyone,” he tells me with a slight frown. “Did you even think about anyone else in the group?”
“I obviously fucking didn’t, Joe,” I reply heatedly. “And if you’re here to just accuse me of cheating again, and making everyone’s lives miserable, then you can just fuck off.”
“I didn’t, that's not … I can’t say the right thing,” he laments.
“No, you can’t.” I cross my arms and we just look at each other. “You can’t say the right thing.”
Joe keeps his mouth shut as the stare-down continues.
Crisp cold Colorado air fills my nose and a shiver runs through me. “You’re letting all the heat out of my apartment … come in and close the door.”
He does just that. I flip on the small light in my little kitchen while he removes his shoes. I start to fill a pan with water.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m boiling water.”
“Why?”
“To make tea.”
“Do you even have any?” Joe asks with a quick smile.
It was a while ago that Joe was in my place at this point, but he must be remembering how barren my kitchen is.
I think about his question. “No,” I answer angrily. My brain is just not focusing. I look at the water, the little pre-boil bubbles forming at the edges of the little pan. A few flecks of dust disturb the surface; I should have rinsed it before I used it. When was the last time I used a pan? I start laughing and turn off the stove. My laughter gets louder and a little more hysterical as I turn around.
Joe chuckles awkwardly. His cropped hair sticks up like he has run his hands through it over and over again, the styling lost to his frustration. His fitted dark blue shirt pulls at his broad chest and is unevenly tucked into khaki pants. Slightly narrowed brown eyes study me, as if trying to figure out the best strategy to approach me. What fear will please the witch in this room? Will he be rewarded or end up terrified, back where he started? The comparison makes me laugh even harder.
I finally manage to choke down my hysteria. “Joe, why are you here, really?” I move to my bed and sit cross-legged in the middle, moving my pile of electronics and books to the far corner. I pat the spot next to me.
Joe takes the hint. He sits confidently on the edge and then lays back, his strong arms under his head, looking at my ceiling. The front of his shirt comes untucked at the waist and a line of yummy muscled skin appears.
“I don’t like it when you run away from me,” he admits.
I don’t say a thing and Joe doesn’t react as I situate myself so we’re lying next to each other. My ceiling is bland white stucco; the texturing looks like it could fall off at any moment, though it never has.
I don’t like it when I run away from my problems either. I don’t want to run at all anymore. But I don’t really know what else to do. I find Joe incredibly attractive. I know he wants a relationship, but I know I’m not ready for that. I do know, right now, he’s lying on my bed, hot as hell, attempting to make me feel better. Would he stay and cuddle like I always wanted Amorino to? Sex is comfortable – maybe this can be my first step to opening up.
Joe grunts and opens his mouth to insert his foot again.
“Just shut up, Joe” I say before he can speak. I roll over and come up with a knee on either side of his stomach and cover his lips with mine. Joe’s hands grasp my hips immediately, kissing back with a hunger that makes me shiver in anticipation.
I break the kiss before it goes any further. “You’re not secretly married, are you?”
Joe looks at me, very confused. “No.”
I run my hands under his shirt. I can feel every ridge of his abdominal muscle and it’s quite delightful. I pull his shirt off, continuing my exploration. I nibble lightly and then kiss my way down his neck and chest. When I get to his stomach, I widen my mouth and cover a flat expanse of skin with it and blow a raspberry. The farting noise echoes through my quiet apartment and I giggle. I’ve never been able to do anything like that with Amorino; in fact, Amorino was always in control of everything. Even when we were dating.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice conveying both humor and lust.
I look up, his arms are still behind his head, content to let me explore.
“Whatever I want.” I give him three more raspberries before my hands fiddle with his belt and slide it out of its loops.
“Sandy, I didn’t come here for this,” Joe says quietly.
I feel anger boil inside of me again … every time he opens his fucking mouth. “Shut up, Joe.” I kiss him again. Our tongues meet and duel. I break us apart and scoot my body down his. His erection drag against me through his pants as I stand. He groans with my motions.
“This is what I want, so if you don’t, then leave me to my invisible tea-making,” I hiss. I pick up his belt and throw it at him for good measure and move dramatically away from the bed.
One of Joe’s large hands captures my wrist and pulls me back onto the bed. I struggle against him
and he manages to capture both my wrists above my head and capture my lips in a bruising kiss. When we come up for air, he meets my eyes.
“That’s not what I meant.” Frustration is clear both in his voice and posture. He looks like he wants to say more and relaxes his grip on my hands. The minute I feel it, I slip them free and attempt to escape again; my anger mixes with exhilaration as we tussle on the bed. Joe ends up atop me once again, his knees keeping my hips pinned, his hands holding mine above my head.
I buck my hips suggestively and Joe begins kissing me – everywhere. He releases my hands so he can remove my shirt and bra. His mouth easily covers each of my small sensitive breasts before moving down to my stomach. His kisses leave tingles in their wake and I make frustrated little noises as he slowly removes all the clothing from my bottom half, and his as well. I sit up to watch as his pants and boxers drop to the floor. His legs are sculpted, though maybe not quite as rigid as the large length between his legs.
He sinks back onto the bed in front of me and guides me onto my back before running his hands down my sides and hardened nipples. He brings his mouth back to my stomach and blows a raspberry. The vibrations on my skin sloppy compared to the waves of pleasure his kisses had created.
I immediately wiggle away from him and the game is on again. Except our tussling is filled with kisses and touches, and this time ends with his length firm against my pulsing junction. I’m not sure when he grabbed the condom, but he releases me for just long enough to slip it on. I reach my arms around his back and curl my legs around his waist as we come together. My walls tighten as he slowly sheaths himself inside me. We move slowly at first, then gain speed. I feel my nails dig into his back as his every movement pressurizes my clit.