Geekhood (25 page)

IM:
Sarah!

“Actually, I’ve got to get off and see someone before it gets too late. Can I ring you tonight?”

“Sure.”

I leave Ravi and Matt to their Cokes. While the Fellowship might have temporarily disbanded, for me the Quest is still on.

Despite the ragged motions of my under-used and
over-exercised
legs, I am walking a fine line. I need to see Sarah and I’m hoping she’s headed for home after her tête-à-tête with that knuckle-dragger. But what am I going to say to her?

IM:
Marry me?

I’m in love. There’s no getting away from it. She’s the
Galadriel to my Frodo, Uhura to my Spock, Snow White to my seven dwarfs.

IM:
Happy, Dopey, Sleepy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Bashful and … Geeky?

And there’s the problem: I’m a Geek to my core. Like a stick of rock, I’ve got “Geek” printed all the way through me, probably in archaic runes. It’s who I am and I can’t get away from it. I’ve tried being something else and it just doesn’t work.

IM:
Or did it…?

Or did it? Maybe there’s more to this psychic alignment stuff than I first thought. Maybe going through that has helped me create a bond with Sarah that I couldn’t have done before. Maybe we are now psychically in tune with each other, to the point where I don’t need to do my affirmations every morning. Maybe I’ve turned into a man, finally worthy of someone as beautiful as she is?

IM:
Still think a moustache would cap it off
.

Maybe I’m finally beyond the world of moustaches and bras. Perhaps this is True Love, the sort that transcends facial hair and undies. I don’t think I’ll ever look at a Next catalogue again. It all makes sense: it’s not about my aura and my PS – they were just vehicles for me to finally, fully understand what it means to be In Love For The First Time.

Like that bit in
The Lord of the Rings
where Frodo uses the light given to him by the Queen of the Elves, I can feel this revelation taking hold and I know what I’m going to say to Sarah. It plays out in my head, underscored by a full orchestra.

I enter her room and, without saying a word, she perceives the difference in me immediately. Our eyes lock and everything else seems insignificant. She rises from her chair, dropping the picture she has just painted and walks towards me. We are both radiant with the spiritual light that shines from within us. As she crosses the room, she stumbles and trips, falling straight into my arms. I catch her and manage to scoop up the picture she has let fall. It’s a fairy, but not one of the sultry nymphs that adorn her walls. It’s me
.

*Music swells to a climactic crescendo.*

I smile at her and then our lips lock in a final confirmation of our psychic unity
.

IM:
These bloody jeans are too tight
.

Despite pausing to adjust my trouser furniture, I practically glide the rest of the way to Davenport Road, once again soaking up the mystical energies that seem to bleed out of every tree, every twitter of birdsong and the black and white cat that lounges in the late-afternoon sunshine outside number seventy-eight.

“Hello, Aslan.” The name suddenly seems
appropriate and I give the cat a reassuring stroke. “You knew all along, didn’t you?” Aslan offers his chin up for a scratch and purrs in agreement.

There’s no sense of foreboding, this time – no sense that I’m unworthy of what is to come. The Quest is finally reaching its end; like Aragorn, I have shed my earthly garb and transformed from a humble Ranger to a King, who is finally deserving of his Queen.

IM:
Jason Humphries isn’t going to like this
.

It doesn’t matter who doesn’t like it; Sarah and I will have each other: the psychic shield of our love will fend off all who seek to drive us apart. I open the gate and stride up the gravel path.

“Hello, Archie.” Sarah’s mum stands up from watering a rose bush, briefly affording me the opportunity of another view of her Misty Mountains. But I don’t take it. I am above such things and wouldn’t want to demean either her or myself with such thoughts.

“Hello, there. Is Sarah in?”

“Yes. She’s upstairs. How’s your eye?”

“Working perfectly, thanks,” I smile, a picture of confidence and spiritual alignment. I even throw a wink in, just to show how healed I am.

IM:
We seem to be having a malfunction here, folks. Please be patient
.

“Go-od,” she says, drawing the vowel sound out,
as though she’s distracted by something. Perhaps she’s already picked up on my transformation.

IM:
All systems appear to be offline. We will attempt to repair the fault as quickly as possible. Please be patient. And avoid operating heavy machinery. Or talking
.

“Can I…?” I jerk my thumb to the front door, which is slightly ajar.

“Yes, yes, of course. Go on up. I’ll bring some drinks up in a minute.”

“Thanks.” With a final winning smile, I turn and walk into the house.

The smell of incense draws me like a charm up the stairs to Sarah’s room. Her door’s closed and I take a brief moment to run my fingers through my hair and take a final breath. I’m going to do it. I’m going to lean into the wind.

It’s Now or Never.

TWENTY-FOUR

“Come in.”

Sarah’s room is just as I remember and the air is thick with patchouli. It’s like a temple. Sarah is sitting on one of the cushions she has arranged on the floor, dressed in white jeans and a white T-shirt. She is Beauty itself.

“Oh, hi, Archie,” she beams, closing the book she was reading. “Mum told me you’d called and I tried to call you back, but your phone was off. Couldn’t stay away, huh?” She follows this question with a raise of one of her eyebrows and a laugh that makes my stomach want to melt.

“Something like that.” I smile and sit down on the cushion opposite her.

IM:
Good answer. It playfully confirms her coy suggestion. All systems online. We are now cruising at a comfortable speed
.

“How’s your eye?”

“Yeah, good. That arnica’s pretty good, isn’t it?”

IM:
Excellent work! By finishing your answer with a question, she’ll be forced to elaborate and the dance can begin
.

“Yeah.”

IM:
D’oh!

The conversation threatens to die, but Sarah offers it mouth to mouth.

“How’re you doing with the psychic stuff?”

IM:
Perfect! A foothold! Start climbing!

However, I think I’ve just discovered I’ve got vertigo; my heart starts playing a drum roll and my palms start to sweat, causing me to rub them together like I’m trying to set them alight.

IM:
Slowly does it
.

“Yeah… I … uh… That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“OK.” Another tinkle of laughter and another flip of my stomach.

“Yeah…”

IM:
Come on! Pull it together!

“…Yeah. This psychic stuff. I have noticed a change.”

Sarah nods; she’s all anticipation and wide eyes, like a puppy that’s just seen a bone for the first time. I think about what I want to say, but the reality is much more terrifying than the fantasy. Talking to my parents was easier than this, but it’s time to take the plunge.

“Yeah. I feel that I’m making important connections with people close to me.” The words are slow and clumsy, like they’re the wrong shape for my mouth and I can’t
seem to get them out right.

“That’s great, isn’t it? That’s just what you wanted?”

I have another go.

“Yeah. It’s great. But I’m receiving connections too. From other people. People like me.”

“Everyone is born with psychic abilities, but we forget how to use them. All you’ve got to do is take some time to concentrate on what you want out of life and those around you, and you’ll be surprised how quickly things change. Suddenly, people become clearer to you.”

IM:
This could be a hint
.

IM:
It might not be
.

IM:
But it might
.

Christ, this is difficult. But it’s a way in. My EMopts for extra sweat and to remove all the blood from my face – probably to stop me blushing at any point. Unfortunately, I probably look like a sweaty bag of flour.

“That’s what I mean. It’s like I can
see
people better now. I can see what they are afraid of.”

“Like what?”

“Like saying what they really mean.” I try to give this statement some significance by leaning forward and staring into her eyes, but I’m quickly conscious that I might look like some sort of serial killer, so I pretend I’ve got something in my eye and rub at it with my finger. This isn’t going quite like I’d planned.

“Most people never say what they really mean.”

IM:
Could be a hint!

IM:
But, then again…

“I know! And I wish people would just be honest with me! I mean – if you had something to say to me…” Here my heart rate accelerates beyond the speed of sound. “…you’d be honest with me, wouldn’t you?”

IM:
Good call! Ball in her court! A touch cowardly, perhaps – but there’s nothing wrong with that
.

Sarah contemplates my question with all the grace of a swan. Her eyes search the ceiling, as though the answer will come to her from the ether, and I find myself entranced by the delicate curves of her neck. Not that she’s like E.T. or anything. After a moment or two, her psychic antennae obviously tune in to the right frequency.

“If I thought you could handle it, yes. Yes, I would. If it was something serious.”

IM:
GO! GO! GO!

“And is it?”

“What?”

“Serious?”

“What?”

“What you want to tell me.”

IM:
GENIUS!

Sarah blinks at me. Like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

IM:
But that won’t wash with you – the Master Mind Reader!

“I haven’t got anything I want to tell you, Archie.”

Now
I
start blinking. I think I’m sending out an SOS with my eyelids.

“Haven’t you?” I don’t mean to sound quite so shocked. But I think I do.

“No!” Sarah laughs and frowns at the same time. “Like what?”

“Like…”

“Li-ike…?” She repeats my words, coercing the thought out of my mouth. I decide to try another tack. I don’t think she quite gets what I’m trying to say. Brutal truth should do it.

“Like I love you.”

Ear-splitting silence.

“What?” Disbelieving laughter. “What?”

IM:
You, sir, are an arsehole
.

“I’m in love with you.” I am fully aware that this is not going to have the result I thought it was going to, but for some reason, my mouth won’t stop working. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

“
Ar-chie
!” Her eyes are wide with shock/horror/disgust – pick one. It doesn’t matter now. I can feel the supporting structures in my head crack and splinter as she utters her next words: “But we’re friends!”

Friends. There can be no more desolate a word. Friends means barriers. Friends means that your dreams will remain just that. Friends means that your hand will go for ever unheld, that your lips will for ever remain unkissed. Friends means that you should have known your place and stuck to it.

“But I thought…” I wish my mouth would shut up.

Sarah’s face softens into a portrait of concern.

“Archie… I’m really sorry, but … I don’t feel that way.”

My EM responds with a series of silent nods. Sarah looks at me; she’s so beautiful it hurts to look.

“Archie… When did this happen? How long have you…?” The question hangs like a highwayman. And now I’m expected to cut the corpse down and dissect it in front of her. The sad thing is that I’m prepared to do this, just in case pity will change her mind.

“When I saw you in the shop.”

More disbelief.

“I’m so sorry…”

IM:
Scalpel
.

“No. It’s fine.”

IM:
First incision
.

“And then what?”

IM:
Bone saw
.

“I just thought…You liked the Game…” Brilliant stuff.

IM:
Rib dividers
.

“And then?”

IM:
Major organs intact
.

“After the fight… You invited me round here…”

IM:
Hang on…!

“I thought I could help, Archie!”

IM:
This man’s heart appears to have been ripped out!

“But you kissed me!”

Sarah’s voice softens even further.

“On the cheek, Archie! You were a friend. You were having a bad time.”

I fall into a deep, still silence. There’s nothing like watching your hopes swirl down the plughole and into the drain to take the fight out of you.

“Is it Jason?” It’s a low card, but I play it anyway.

“What?”

“Jason. Are you in love with him?” I’m amazed at how childish I sound.

“Why would I be in love with him?”

IM:
Not an outright denial, eh?

“I saw you in town together.”

With this statement, I’ve given Sarah the entitlement to Righteous Indignation, which she takes with both of her beautiful, treacherous hands.

“You were spying on me?”

My silence is all the confirmation she needs.

IM:
Shit
.

“For your information, Archie, I was trying to make sure that he didn’t try and beat the crap out of you! I met up with him and took him to Manisha to choose some incense for a reading! I’m going to read his aura!”

The supporting structures in my head finally give way with a resounding crash and I revert back to my hideous, Geeky self.

“He’s only letting you read it because he wants to go out with you!”

“Isn’t that what you did?”

“I’ve brought some biscuits as well!” Sarah’s mum announces, pushing the door open with her backside and lowering the tray on to Sarah’s dresser. I can’t even be bothered to look down her front.

“Mu-um!”

“Sorry, love – have I interrupted something?”

I stand up, balancing on weak and wobbly legs.

“No, it’s OK. I ought to get going.” I manage a feeble sketch of a smile. “See you.”

“See you, Archie.” I can hear the “not in this lifetime” connotations attached to this statement.

“Thanks for the biscuits,” I say stupidly to Sarah’s mum, and leave.

IM:
Nice going, Romeo
.