matches.
She delighted in
understanding the finer machinations of what was to her a whole new
world, in getting to know the people, the politics, the gossip and
the game, and as 9.30 approached each evening – traditionally,
though not always, the start of whatever time she could call her
own – she started to will the hours, minutes away.
She went to work, made
meals, washed dishes, listened to accounts of her family members’
days, sympathised, empathised, hypothesised, all increasingly on
autopilot as her thoughts became lost in the combinations of
letters, the funny, complicated lives of her online playmates, and,
increasingly, her burgeoning friendship with Boyd_Cooper, with whom
she was spending more and more of her virtual time.
As WordGirl and
Boyd_Cooper, they were already becoming quite the fearsome duo. He
was by far the more skilled and experienced player, she knew, but
she was good, getting better, and their practice sessions were
beginning to help. They met in their private world every night at
9.45pm, and if the kids weren’t settled by then, she would feel
herself getting a little jittery and borderline tetchy, although
she tried hard to fight it. The window between him getting home
from work at 4.30 Arkansas time and his wife’s arrival an hour or
so later was short and she desperately needed his tuition in the
game.
Having taken her turn,
Megan, checked her messages, including one from Boyd: “Hey Wordy.
Same time, same place! Be there. ;)”
She beamed and headed
into the kitchen to prepare for the next wave of family chaos.
********************
“Hey WG.” The
message flashed up and simultaneously buzzed on Kik, one of the
preferred instant-messaging systems of the anonymous online. “You
busy?”
It was 9.33pm and
although Sam had long given up the fight and dropped off, and Grace
was doubtless lying face down on her bed up in the loft extension,
half-eaten packet of jelly beans to her left, phone in her right
hand, her middle girl, Becky, was wide awake and struggling. This
was totally out of character for a girl who, at ten, was all but
self-sufficient, as she had been (or so it seemed) since she left
the womb, but this evening she just couldn’t get to sleep.
The annual swimming
gala at school tomorrow – her last at primary – was troubling her.
She’d been put in the freestyle relay, which meant, in her overly
conscientious eyes at least, that she needed to be on top form, and
was unable to sleep precisely because she felt it was so vitally
important that she did.
“Be there soon, B_C.
Family life!” It was a joke between them that they’d never
compromise and stoop to text-speak, the shortening of their names
being the only exception.
“Here’s your glass of
water, Becks, but I think we’re reaching a point where it’s all
this drinking that’s actually keeping you awake and not just your
fretting,” she smiled, as she placed the drink on the bedside table
next to her wide-awake child. Her light was switched off, a small
fan purring softly beside her, for comforting white noise as much
as to move the air. A stifling heat had settled over the seaside
town as the school term drew to a close and the summer holidays
were within touching distance.
“Ah, whoso doth choose
to procreate not once but three times must payeth the price, I
guess. I’ll be here for another 90 minutes. My wife’s at a
conference out of town and not due home until late.”
Megan flopped down
into the large burgundy sofa that dominated her lounge, and tapped
away at the screen.
“Oh funny, haha.
You’ll be there some day and who’ll be laughing then? Hmmm.”
She paused before
pressing the enter key… did she know him well enough? What if their
childlessness hadn’t been a conscious decision but a
disappointment, one of life’s cruel jokes? Her finger slipped and
it was sent none the less, taking the choice from her hands.
“Ha yourself. I kind
of think that’s not on the cards right
She delighted in
understanding the finer machinations of what was to her a whole new
world, in getting to know the people, the politics, the gossip and
the game, and as 9.30 approached each evening – traditionally,
though not always, the start of whatever time she could call her
own – she started to will the hours, minutes away.
She went to work, made
meals, washed dishes, listened to accounts of her family members’
days, sympathised, empathised, hypothesised, all increasingly on
autopilot as her thoughts became lost in the combinations of
letters, the funny, complicated lives of her online playmates, and,
increasingly, her burgeoning friendship with Boyd_Cooper, with whom
she was spending more and more of her virtual time.
As WordGirl and
Boyd_Cooper, they were already becoming quite the fearsome duo. He
was by far the more skilled and experienced player, she knew, but
she was good, getting better, and their practice sessions were
beginning to help. They met in their private world every night at
9.45pm, and if the kids weren’t settled by then, she would feel
herself getting a little jittery and borderline tetchy, although
she tried hard to fight it. The window between him getting home
from work at 4.30 Arkansas time and his wife’s arrival an hour or
so later was short and she desperately needed his tuition in the
game.
Having taken her turn,
Megan, checked her messages, including one from Boyd: “Hey Wordy.
Same time, same place! Be there. ;)”
She beamed and headed
into the kitchen to prepare for the next wave of family chaos.
********************
“Hey WG.” The
message flashed up and simultaneously buzzed on Kik, one of the
preferred instant-messaging systems of the anonymous online. “You
busy?”
It was 9.33pm and
although Sam had long given up the fight and dropped off, and Grace
was doubtless lying face down on her bed up in the loft extension,
half-eaten packet of jelly beans to her left, phone in her right
hand, her middle girl, Becky, was wide awake and struggling. This
was totally out of character for a girl who, at ten, was all but
self-sufficient, as she had been (or so it seemed) since she left
the womb, but this evening she just couldn’t get to sleep.
The annual swimming
gala at school tomorrow – her last at primary – was troubling her.
She’d been put in the freestyle relay, which meant, in her overly
conscientious eyes at least, that she needed to be on top form, and
was unable to sleep precisely because she felt it was so vitally
important that she did.
“Be there soon, B_C.
Family life!” It was a joke between them that they’d never
compromise and stoop to text-speak, the shortening of their names
being the only exception.
“Here’s your glass of
water, Becks, but I think we’re reaching a point where it’s all
this drinking that’s actually keeping you awake and not just your
fretting,” she smiled, as she placed the drink on the bedside table
next to her wide-awake child. Her light was switched off, a small
fan purring softly beside her, for comforting white noise as much
as to move the air. A stifling heat had settled over the seaside
town as the school term drew to a close and the summer holidays
were within touching distance.
“Ah, whoso doth choose
to procreate not once but three times must payeth the price, I
guess. I’ll be here for another 90 minutes. My wife’s at a
conference out of town and not due home until late.”
Megan flopped down
into the large burgundy sofa that dominated her lounge, and tapped
away at the screen.
“Oh funny, haha.
You’ll be there some day and who’ll be laughing then? Hmmm.”
She paused before
pressing the enter key… did she know him well enough? What if their
childlessness hadn’t been a conscious decision but a
disappointment, one of life’s cruel jokes? Her finger slipped and
it was sent none the less, taking the choice from her hands.
“Ha yourself. I kind
of think that’s not on the cards right
Similar Books
