Chapter 19

MANHATTAN, Eugene watched a debate on CNN about the broadcast from a day before.

A woman from Texas, who had been happily reunited with her husband and her children with their father, fearfully shared her worries that their happiness would be taken away.

A man from Boston talked about how his teenage daughter spent all her time talking to a fellow student who died from a drug overdose. "She doesn't do her homework anymore. She refuses to do her chores. I can't count the times she's threatened to kill herself and join this boy."

A psychologist agreed with the old OS women. "Although we understand there may be benefits to communicating with the spirit-world, we have grave concerns about how it may affect society long-term. We also fear it may cause irreversible damage to impressionable young minds.

A futurist shared a more positive perspective, comparing the situation of today with people in the past who had to adjust to the online world. "And think of all the other enormous changes throughout history. The invention of cars, airplanes, television…."

"Chocolate covered bacon," another panelist joked with an Australian accent. He and his twin brother were the only representatives from the spirit world.

"I'm going to assume you support the communications," the host of the program said to the twins. 

Eugene didn’t hear their answer, because it was then that Anna threw her book, paper, and pen across the room and screamed. "I can't fucking take this anymore."

She stood up and screamed again.

 Eugene looked up at her. "Are you okay?"

 "No. I'm not fucking okay!" She burst into tears.

For one brief moment, he felt sad for her. Then he remembered he despised her. He went back to watching the debate.

Well, no.  Because there was a commercial break. Thanks to Anna, he had probably missed something important.

"I hope it works out for you," he said without taking his eyes from the commercial.

"If you want to know. I'm working on the seating chart."

"No, I didn't want to know." He knew he was being cruel. He didn’t really want to be that way, but he couldn’t help himself.

Anna started crying.

He tried to ignore her.

 She stopped crying long enough to say, "I hate you."

"Feeling’s mutual."

"I've never hated anyone more in my life."

"Thanks."

She sniffled, stood up, walked across the room, and picked up her pen and paper.

She started writing again. Or whatever the hell she was doing.

The debate came back on. He tried to concentrate on it, but he couldn’t. Now he was feeling….

Well, he was feeling something unpleasant.

 Guilt maybe.

Pity?

"Do you want me to help you?" he asked, waiting to get his head bit off.

She did just that. "No, I want you to just sit there and watch me do all the work."

"No need for sarcasm," he said. "Just tell me if you want my help or not."

"Fine," she said. "I need your help."

"Okay." He was surprised at the sound of his own voice. There was no spite. It was civil…almost gentle.

***

They work on the seating chart together.

Early on, in the work, Eugene began to understand Anna's frustration. It was like a massive math-logic problem. Each time they thought they had things right, they realized so and so didn’t like so and so. Or so and so would be upset that all her friends were at that table, while she was not. 

When they finally figured it out and checked and rechecked, they both sighed simultaneously with relief. Their eyes met for a brief moment. Then they both looked away.

Eugene wondered if such wedding work was more pleasant when you were in love with the person you were marrying. 

Probably.

Anna then said, "Hey, I know you didn't want to help with that, but you did. So I appreciate it."

"No worries," he said. "It's my wedding too." He decided to be nice and not remind her that this whole thing was her idea, not his.

"So, I feel I owe you. If you want to have sex, that's fine. We can do that tonight." 

What the fuck? What kind of demented offer was that? It was sick and insulting. It made him feel cheap. 

He wanted to say no and bitch her out for even asking. But suddenly he was very horny and didn't have the willpower to say no.

"Okay," he said.

*** 

The really sick thing: It was the best sex they've ever had. In fact, it might have been the best sex he ever had period.

He wondered if Anna felt the same way but didn’t ask her. He didn’t want to hear her answer, because he was sure it would be bitchy and wounding.

After he went to the bathroom to wash up, he got a text from Sebastian. I wish I hadn't had to watch that.

Eugene typed back. Who told you to watch? Don't blame me for your sick decisions.

He was about to press send but then he deleted the message. Instead he wrote, I wish you were still alive so I could strangle you.

He pressed send and smiled.

Continue to Chapter Twenty

Go Back to Chapter Eighteen

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