Chapter 1: Him
"Dude, I'm telling you, she's the one!"
"In your dreams man." I push my way around the office.
"Come on, Jack. She's gotta be! How many girls do you know who would give a description like that about a guy like you, without having known you yet?" He got right up in my face. "Huh? How many?"
"That's right." He backed off. "I'm telling you, you have to go after her. She's the one."
"Look, Thomas, just because she can give an accurate description of me without having a clue who I am doesn't mean that I will like her, or that she will fit the description of what I happen to be looking for. Has that occurred to you?" I get up and walk out.
"Yes, that thought had occurred to me!" he called after me as I went to get coffee.
Miss Eliza Rein was her name. She was a blogger, well known throughout New York for her snarky comments, gloomy and sarcastic sense of humor, and her ability to create the creepiest pictures with just a few questions. My dear friend Thomas is under the impression that she is the one for me. That she and I were made for each other, even though she doesn't even live in the same state as me. He said it was like a "Sleepless in Seattle" type thing. I think that's just nuts. Yes, I like her work, and I like the pictures she picks for her work to be displayed. But her? Who knows? She seems like a nice girl from the blogs she posts as her thought process, but I have no idea. For all I know she could be just like her blog: cute and frilly at first glance, but she might just be poison and spiders once you get reading.
Her first post ever was full of questions, haunting mystery and only about 2 pages long. Strange how something so small can leave such a mark. It left me scared to look at a train station and blink for almost a month. How she does it I don't know, but I am willing to bet her talent is a gift from God.
Yes, I believe in God. I'm just a simple paper-pusher in New York, hoping to make it big and someday rule the world just like everyone else. That girl is actually doing it. She's made a difference all over the country. I can see it. I have seen it in Thomas, in some of my friends around town. Even some of the coffee shops are talking about her. She's a great sensation. All because she was able to take what we know and see and understand, and present it in a way that we never could. She made what we understood but couldn't say, and say it in such a way that no one can avoid looking at it.
I've been Facebook stalking her. I want to know who this kid really is. I've looked through all her profile pictures, even tried to friend her. But she didn't respond. I'm sure she just friend's people she knows. I do too. It's such a mystery though, just how great she really is, or how great her profile makes her look. I wonder who she is in real life.
"Hello!" a hand is waving in my face. "Anyone home?" I hear a laugh as a face comes into focus. "You've been standing there for almost 5 minutes holding that coffee pot. You going to pour some, or are you just admiring the pretty crack in the wall?" Melissa grabs the pot from me, pours herself a cup and puts it back in my hand. She's used to my dozing off in here. Oh well.
I pour myself a cup, add 4 sugar cubes, a lot of creamer, and M&Ms, and then march back to my cubicle with Thomas grinning madly.
"Hey man, look at what she just posted!"
I can't hide my excitement as I sit right next to him, greedily reading what words the woman has said today.
"Some people have been pestering me to say something about myself in my blog. I'm here to say, 'What? My contact tab and basic description of myself aren't good enough for you?' But I suppose I must pamper the people who pay me to write this, since they do give me free range and all. So, here goes, my devoted readers. Very little ado about me.
"Some say I can't shut up, others say I need to speak more. I think we all talk far too much, and I just say most of what other people keep in their heads, out loud.
"Some say I am a dreamer, forever lost in another brilliant idea and completely incompetent as far as doing anything practical goes. To that I say, 'I'm making money, isn't that practical enough for you?' I make enough to live on, not so much that I turn greedy and I have to thank God for that.
"Which leads me to another statement about me. I'm a Christian. Yes, yes, I realize I just lost about half of my readers by just that statement, but oh well, it's true. I know a lot of bad labels come with the title, and I'm willing to live with that. I fight the labels, but frankly, some of them are very true. Yes, I like a rock band with good Christian lyrics, but for heaven's sake, that's not what Christianity is. Christians were "Christ Followers" and nothing more. They were His disciples and were not to be confused with anyone else. I believe it was the church in Ephesus that first coined the term, so we have them to blame. I am getting into a very messy can of worms I'm not going to open up right now, because I don't want to.
"I love rock and roll. Give me that old time rock and roll and I'm in a good mood. Power ballads are my favorites. Steve Taylor is my favorite artist and my favorite band changes from day to day.
"I can't stand drinking coffee. I can't even make it to where I like it. The same goes with Macaroni and Cheese. I'm not a very good cook, but that's fine because I live above a restaurant that I own, so all the food's on the house and I'm not taking care of burn marks on the ceiling for a week.
"Last, I'm a bookworm. I love books and the things that come from them end up here in the blog. There. Be happy."
"That's it. That's all?! That's hardly a description." I sat back, disgusted.
"You're the one stalking her all the time. You tell me, is all of that accurate?" Thomas had a loopy grin on his face.
"I didn't know any of this, besides that she was a Christian."
"There you go." He turned his hand, palm up towards me. "She can still surprise you."
"I have never met her!" I protested.
"Yeah, but you've been stalking her for what, 5 years now?"
"It's been 3, but yeah, I've been watching her for a long time."
"So this is good!" he laughed. "It's new information." He picked up today's paper, and flipped to a certain page. "There you go." He laughed again as he handed me the paper. "Your girl is coming to New York!"
I snatched it and tore through the words on the page. "You're joking." The title read, "Nationwide renowned blogger attends debate" and my heart nearly stopped.
"Hey man, you hear that?" Thomas had his head cocked as I looked up from the paper. "Coincidence that your song is playing?"
I cocked my head to listen to the radio that plays through the radio. "Every Breath You Take" by The Police was playing. It's always been my song related to Eliza. I watch her. "I'll be watching you" is one of the lines in the song. How true.
"I don't believe in coincidences, you know that."
He gave me a wicked grin. "Then go to that convention and go see her! Introduce yourself!"
I threw my hands up in the air. "Fine! But you are coming with me."
"Deal." And we shook on it.
Wonderful. I'm so excited!