Part 1, Owl - Chapter 1
Part 1, Owl - Chapter 1
My life is not really all that complicated.
I mean, I am a single forty-year-old male, who lives at home with my Dad.
I lost my mom to a genetic variation of COPD that took her from me.
I have no life, no girlfriend. That doesn’t mean I don’t have girl-friends. Just that they happen to be... well Lesbian, Bi, or otherwise unavailable on the dating scene.
I am pretty much the Sappho version of a GBF being a straight male friend to girls. Or otherwise known in Pop Culture as the character that shows up in a Japanese Anime surrounded by beautiful women who are not all that interested in him for sex.
Yeah... some biography, but considering that so-far I have been living a fairly quiet life in just taking care of things that need to be done.
It is not the fact that I don’t want to have sex.
I do want to get laid.
Oh by the Gods I want to get laid.
Just that all of the girls I know are pretty much off the table in one way or another.
But that doesn’t mean that I don’t listen to what women want.
That is probably why I am just a great friend to these girls.
Given time, I might meet the right girl.
It doesn’t hurt that I have another set of eyeballs helping me out scoping out the “other team” as it were.
For the most part I just do my best to get things done in my life and help those around me. Right now, I am just trying to chill after a long day at work.
“Typing on your tablet?” My dad calls out as I look over at him in his Captain’s chair. The old Computer desk that serves as the downstairs TV cabinet and we are sitting around it. The TV is on as he has it on some History based Cooking show. I don’t mind given that both of us are history buffs and fans of Dutch oven cooking. From what is taking place on the screen we have already seen this episode. Butter, Cream and Sheep Brains. Ah... Food Porn. Typically, I am trying to do research or write a few lines before we decide to head on out for a bite to eat. Though I am being distracted by other things on the social media front.
“Yeah I am.” I reply back. In actuality I am looking over the Twitter feed of two of my friends, Nekane and Karina. Mostly I am catching up on their trip and what is taking place in their lives. Nekane or Nikki as everyone calls her is the Bi girl of the bunch. While Karina states that she is: “Predominantly Lesbian with a touch of Bi” as she lists on her Facebook profile. They are my friends and I have been there for them as I have worked through some of the more trying times of my life.
I look back to my tablet to see that I got a notification telling me that my friend Will has posted another meme picture to his Facebook page. Will and his meme pictures from the local radio station he listens to and follows. I just wait for the notification to go away before continuing back to my social medial updating.
I look back at the picture that Nekane has posted to her Twitter feed.
I see Nekane and Karina in their bikini’s goofing off at a backyard pool. What catches my attention is the fact that Karina, who is a petite Albanian girl of the relationship, has her hand promptly shoved into one of the cups the Nekane’s bikini top. The caption reads: Girls having a great time in Alb-Q.
I just grin. I swear Karina is more Nymph than she is a Human just by the way she is acting in this picture. For a girl whose Facebook profile picture is her leaning at you upside down in a chair highlights that outside the box personality she has. Copping a feel of her girlfriend’s breast is her kinky way of saying I love you. That and she is a cuddling machine. If it is warm or has a warm pulse to it, she is within arm’s reach of it. Humans., dogs, cats, electric blankets, over charged cell phones, warm sunshine. Yeah, you get the picture. She is literally a Nymph despite living in the world of humans.
Nekane and Karina I had come to know when I was doing graduate work in the Communications department. Typically, I ran into them on my way to evening Graduate classes and the occasional office party. We really hit it off as friends after we both graduated.
She had gotten a job running multi-cultural/multi-species affairs on the campus. A job she likes.
Supernatural creatures tend to sense each other. Now Nekane and Karina were able to sense me only because of what I am. Magic is one thing, to some people like me, I glow.
But it was their Facebook page when they asked me to friend them is what helped make us friends. Largely I got asked where are some of the better places to eat in the local area are. Though I do get the occasional lowdown on the more social events taking place so I can get me and my Dad out of the house and some of the ruts we get into for being board.
Given that the semester was staring in the next few weeks we would be encountering each other again on the campus and the social world would be playing back into our lives again.
This is when I get a IM from Nekane that pops up across the top of my tablet.
“Shane... can you talk?” I move and tap on the notification and let the messaging app take up priority on the screen.
“Sure...” I type with my thumbs. What happens next gets my attention.
“Are you in town?” Nekane types as I see the three dots indicating she is typing more for another message.
“I live in Clovis.” I type.
“Okay... That is good, I don’t want to drive all the way through Portales in an Uber.”
“What’s going on?” I write.
“Karina and I got in a fight...” More dots take place to signal she is typing. Then the response comes up a second later: “We broke up.”
“Are you driving while typing this?” I write concerned thinking of the time stamp on the photo I was looking at moments ago. I know the car the two girls have... well Karina has, Karina’s Hyundai. A car that I wouldn’t want to be in without a towel to sit on. The black light incident just came to mind when it came to tracking down that auto fluid leak.
The SPOTS....
Then realizing that Nekane was writing more as signaled dots of the messenger moving up and down states she was still alive. Then her response came through.
“No... I am on a bus.” I breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing I need is to lose a friend while they are texting and driving at the same time. Something that is also illegal in the state of New Mexico.
“How bad was it?” I write on my tablet realizing that she was safely sitting on a bus.
“You know I accepted that Karina was Polyamorous and all that brings with it.” Nekane typed as she paused.
“Yeah... Bisexual with more benefits.” I write before I add: “Another girl?”
“Another Girl, with another girl, and another guy... and he was diving into her...” The words she uses next to describe what she had seen I wince at. No wonder she had a fight with Karina.
“You walked in on her in an orgy...” I wait before the message come up.
“Understatement...” I wince. “It is bad when you partner likes other people, but to be cut out of the loop the way she did... Arrrug. She sexiled me!!!! SHE... She... Cheated on me en masse in a scene that would make a porn movie look tame.”
“Was it in the room you were sharing while on your trip?” The previous message I typed showed up blow as the response went through as she explained the situation after the orgy statement and the words “Understatement.”
“Yeap... that...” This is when Nekane swapped to her native Basque Spanish, which is the Spain’s version and do mean the Spain as in the country version of a Yankee accent, and not the Spanglish, or Mexicali Spanish which is spoken here in New Mexico for her insults. We are talking... the type of Spanish that even with Google Translate is a mess to work through if you don’t swap the “tz” and “tl” in certain words. That mother of a language. Think Southern French meets Northern Spain. Aka... Latin Love meets French Passion. Aka... “Them they there are fighting words” and “I am pissed!!!” Type of wounded heart that delivers this type of passion.
I catch a few references to the words: whore, witch, bitch, and a few slang terms of um... Quentin Tarantino grade upset of: “I don’t like this girl anymore.” Any more upset and I would be searching the news for recent hotel homicides.
I just let Nekane vent as phrases start spewing forth over my device that would make the film Raid, the Redemption look like an episode of The Teletubbies.
No wonder she doesn’t want to head back to Portales. She is afraid of going and torching the place to the ground.
“Are you going to be at the Greyhound station in Portales or the one here in Clovis?” I write after Nekane calms down.
“Let me check...” After a moment she responds. “Watering Hole Porch.” Nekane writes using the translated Spanish name of Portales.
“How far out are you?”
“Fort Sumner.” I quickly go and hit Google maps and pick a random spot in Fort Sumner to measure the distance from here to there for the travel time.
“About an Hour and a Half out.” I write back. “Meet you at the bus stop across from the Subway.”
“Alright. Nos vemos allí, mi amigo. Viaje seguro.” See you there, my friend. Safe journey. The app translates when I tell it to.
This is when I turn to speak to my Dad and give him a rough update on what is up with my friend. I leave out some of the messier details before I start to straighten up the place before I leave to pick up Nekane.
