Page 8 of Reel Love

Tu parles français?Wordivore asks while our game board sits idle.

Of course my statement would prompt the question as to whether I speak French.

No.I answer with a falsehood.

I really don’t want to lie to Wordivore, even though we’ll never meet outside this game. The reality is, I’m better off not being open about anything personal. Any hint at who I am would ruin the anonymity I have here—this rare place I can come to be unknown and known at the same time.

Ah. Well, good guess as to what the French word for lightning is, then. And also at what my question meant.My opponent adds a winking emoji.And, also a surprisingly accurate use of the word oui. Though, I guess most Americans would know that word. But many wouldn’t know the spelling. Spelling French words threatenedto be the death of me in high school. Luckily, I had a cute tutor.

This is a conversation. Not merely comments on the game. A part of me thrills at the opportunity to learn more about Wordivore. For one thing, I’m sensing he’s a man, not that it matters. But maybe she’s a woman? For some reason that detail feels tantamount to all others. The winking emoji in the middle of the last comment feels like one Brigitte would give me when she says something particularly over the edge. Friend to friend, goofing off. But if he’s a man …

I wonder. What does he—or she—do all day? Do they work, are they married? Do they have pets? Children? What color is their hair, their eyes, their skin? Where do they live? What are their hobbies, passions, dreams, fears, concerns? All those questions are the very ones I’d rather not answer about myself, so it’s obvious I can’t ask them either.

Instead of continuing the conversation, I play off the N in FOUDROYANT. I lay down A-NEX and make the word ANNEX for twelve points, thanks to my X.

Great comeback,Wordivore types.Gotta love that X.

Thanks, I type, while watching my opponent add, -ATION to my ANNEX to gain five points plus my twelve, ending with an eight point lead over me in the process.

I can’t help but smile. There’s something satisfying in finding a worthy opponent.

It’s your lucky day, I goad.

Must be, Wordivore answers, and then adds,So now you believe in luck?

Touché.I smile. Wordivore remembers our brief conversation about strategy and mystery—one I’ve been pondering ever since.

More French,Wordivore types.

Maybe I know un peu, I admit.

Admitting I know a little isn’t like saying I know French. Besides, over three hundred million people speak French around the world. Finding me through that one clue would be needle-in-a-haystack level detective skills. I’ll simply be careful not to admit I also speak Spanish, German, Italian and enough of three Asian languages to get around in Japan, China and Vietnam, places I’ve been for extended movie shoots on location.

Well, big things often have small beginnings. Wordivore types.

I recognize the line immediately.

Lawrence of Arabia?I ask.

Maybe the quote is a coincidence. Wordivore may not know the origin.

A classic film.

I stare at those three words.

I know very well thatLawrence of Arabiais a classic film, starring Peter O’Toole as T. E. Lawrence. The plot is based on one man’s role in a war and the bookThe Seven Pillars of Wisdom. Will I admit my extensive knowledge about the film here? No. Not if I can help it. What modern person would know that much about movies, especially ones shot over sixty years ago? Maybe Wordivore is a senior citizen. Someone who could be my grandmother or grandfather.

Instead of disclosing my knowledge, I type,A classic. Yes. So I’ve heard.Again with the lies.

I’m a horrible liar. Not that I’d want to be a good one. You might think being an accomplished actress would mean I excel at deception. But acting isn’t deceiving, it’s portraying. I can embody a believable character in a riveting scene all day long. Lying, not so much.

You’ve barely heard of the movie you just named out of the blue after I quoted only one line? Incredible.

I laugh. I can almost feel the smile on Wordivore’s face. I don’t know if it’s a man’s face or a woman’s, young or old, but whomever it is, they’re smiling at my ridiculous attempt to conceal my identity.

I know the film.I admit, since it’s obvious.

Wordivore types the shocked face of a cat emoji.

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