Page 15 of Reel Love

Eleven points right out the gate.

Well played. I smile.

I feel like asking,Are you by any chance in either Bora Bora or the Caribbean?, but I obviously don’t.

I’m surprised at what appears next in the chat box next to our board.

I’m studying my tiles for my next move when SaturdayIsland Girl types,I want to ask you a personal question. Is that alright?

I temporarily abandon my thoughts about letter combinations.Maybe. What would you like to know?

Her response pops up immediately.Right. Of course. It’snothing too intrusive. I just realized my gamer tag reveals that I’m a woman. To level the playing field I wanted to know …

She pauses and her sentence stops at the three bouncing dots. I’ll spare her the suspense.

I chuckle and type,I’m a woman.

Oh. Good. Okay. That’s what I was wondering. Well, now I know.

I’m smiling, wondering if she thought I was a woman all along.

I’m kidding. I’m a man.

Seriously?

I am.

Now I have to wonder.

I was just joking around. I am a man.

Maybe I shouldn’t have joked. Now she can’t believe me. I was just having fun, the way we do.Short of offering to send her to a website where she could see a photo of me after I won an award for my field of work, there’s no way to assure her. And how would she know if the photo I sent her to check out was actually me? I could be one of those guys posing with a poodle, roses and a yacht. You just know the guy behind that kind of picture actually drives a beater car and has a beer gut. No. I have to think of something else. The board sits idle while I wrack my brain for proof.

My mom is blissfully painting in the corner of the porch, unaware of my self-inflicted predicament. Then I hit on the perfect thing to say, or at least the best I’ve got short of a video chat which would probably not be something SaturdayIslandGirl would agree to. Besides, could you imagine a video chat with my mom in the same room? No. Not happening.

Remember how I told you I thought my French tutor was cute?

Yes. I do.

Well, she was a grade older than me. A girl named Charise. She lived a few blocks over from us. My parents hired her because my grades in my French class were going to decimate my GPA. I didthink she was cute—had a serious crush on her. But she had a boyfriend. Does that give you enough proof?

SaturdayIslandGirl answers me. For this platform, short of you showing me a photo of yourself, which you could drag up from anywhere on the web and pretend is you anyway, I’ll have to take your word for it.

I thought of a photo, but you’re right. I could pull up any random picture and claim it’s me. Is the playing field level now?

Never. I’ve got a distinct advantage. Four points and growing.

She boasts as usual. Even when she’s losing, she’s got confidence to spare. I love that about her. It reminds me of Mitzi a little. But the unusual feelings I have about SaturdayIslandGirl are not the kind of affection I feel for my sister. It’s a problem, but not one I want to dwell on. We share this online space. It’s fun. I’ll enjoy it for what it is.

Advantage depends on what tiles you’re holding,I retort.

Maybe it’s not the tiles, but how you use them that matters.

She adds a winking emoji.

It’s the first time she’s virtually winked at me. Is this flirting? Will something change between us now that she believes I’m a man?

FIVE

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