Stones Unturned

The butterfly on the screen twirled slowly around, the light from the virtual room glinting off her wings. Other avatars floated past, birds, fish, humans, aliens, each with a name tag jutting out above its head, if there was a head to speak of. Howdy, Ted, BoomBoom, C-U-2, Sexxxy, they were called. They came from all over the United States and the world, logged into this Internet chat program to shoot the breeze, joke around, make lewd conversation. Sometimes the less sexually obsessed ones were fun to talk to, but right now they were a distraction. Leah, the butterfly, was unusual - something of an enigma, Australian, twenty-five, philosophical, quietly interesting. A student of some sort. She hadn't given him the usual "What, you're responsible for all those computerese manuals?" when she found out he was a technical documentation writer. He certainly didn't want to sit around in a crowd making the usual small talk with her.

Let's go find a private room somewhere. Leah suggested it first, opening a private channel between them. She had already turned and was heading for the room's portal. I found a secret maze yesterday.

Richard, alias Mr. Bear - his avatar was an orange teddy bear with a blue T-shirt and sunglasses - hurried to follow, careful not to lose her beyond the visibility limit that existed to avoid cluttering the screen. Wait up, I'm still not too good at navigating in here...

Walking along the shore at Torrey Pines beach. Children playing at the water's edge, their parents watching from a blanket littered with miniature shovels, buckets, magazines, ice cooler. Surfers silhouetted on the breaking waves by the setting sun. This was Richard's beach - even when he was courting Tina he didn't bring her here much. She didn't have the same affinity for the ocean that he did. Now he watched the children playing and sighed. Tina was great with the kids, but she would never think to take Tommy and Stephen to the beach. A young couple jogged past while he stood alone, watching the children scatter and regroup in front of the water's edge. Only a week ago, his last attempt at getting his family to do something "together." A picnic and afternoon at La Jolla Shores, where he hadn't been since his college days. But Tina wasn't interested, she had made other plans for the afternoon, the kids were going to a friend's anyway - like always, she just planned things and went off without telling him about any of it. They fought, the same words, the same arguments, he said he'd had enough. Finally. She said to consider moving out. A good idea, she said. She needed time to think. Why can't we ever talk, he asked. Never speak to each other anymore except to argue.

Do you ever wonder why we try so hard to explain everything? Like we're always afraid we're going to miss out on the most important answer. The flamingoes behind her seemed to dance on the walls as she moved.

What do you mean? Such a predictable answer. Oh well, maybe he was a predictable guy. Boring. Tina didn't find him worth the effort anymore, he'd grown too familiar.

If I answered that, I'd ruin this whole line of thought, wouldn't I? Can a butterfly shrug? Maybe it was interference from the flamingoes on the wall.

The secret maze seemed to go on forever. They had wandered down six different corridors and encountered only one other person, a toad on a toadstool who knew what a private conversation was and hopped away.

Don't you think life is more interesting when you leave a few stones, the pretty ones, unturned? Her words appeared before he could enter anything.

But what about the joy of discovery? he asked. People are driven to explore, they always will be. At least the ones you read about in National Geographic.

What do you find worth exploring? Leah asked some interesting questions.

A childhood memory popped into his head from nowhere. When I was little, my best friend and I used to dig huge pits in the sand at the beach and pretend we were exploring unknown caves.

What did you find?

The usual stuff - buried treasure, maps, old skeletons.

What about now? Are you a frustrated archaeologist?

No, not really. Umm... I don't think I could handle unearthing a real human skeleton. What about you? What do you like to explore?

I really don't know. It's not a tangible thing for me. People, relationships, things like that. I studied science and engineering once, but as nifty as some of it was (and a lot more of it was just plain awful...) I didn't find it satisfying.

What do you study now? You said you were a student.

She took longer than usual to reply. I... I don't really know, to be honest. It sounds strange... but I'll have to explain it some other time.

Richard made a note to remind her of that.

She continued before he could enter anything. Don't you ever wonder how people can devote their whole lives to studying things like physics or biology? I realise that a lot of good comes out of it, but sometimes I wonder if they push it too far sometimes.

You mean like runaway technology? Artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, stuff like that? Science is just a tool, he thought. The old saying. Human beings make the policy.

Not so much that. She might have read his mind. Some mad scientist going off and mis-using secret technology, X-files kind of stuff - that's not what I'm afraid of.

A long pause. Leah didn't strike him as the kind of person who was afraid of much. Just something about her manner, even over a computer chat line. What then?

Her wings seemed to glow, shimmer iridescently. We *attach* meaning to things everyday, that's not anything new. What I'm afraid of is, I think sometimes we seem to be *looking for* meaning in science, in black holes, in subatomic particles. We don't question whether the answers should be there in the first place. Why do we need proof of God's existence? Do we really need to know why two people love each other? Isn't it enough that they just do?

They had agreed to a trial separation. A change. Room to breathe, to think without having one's guard up constantly. Better for the kids to not see their parents fighting all the time. He'd take Tommy and Stephen to the beach next weekend.

Only a week, and he missed her already. But it wasn't the Tina he left that came into his thoughts - it was, he realized, the Tina he had been missing ever since their marriage became difficult. It was the Tina who could make him laugh, the Tina who always seemed to know what he was thinking. It was the woman who loved him. The woman who would bear his children. It was nine years ago, when he was just out of grad school and she was just starting, a pretty, flirtatious young thing who was always one step ahead of him. Only she delighted in watching him, delightfully puzzled, in his attempts to keep up. When was it that he lost the knack? She didn't wait for him anymore.

Richard took his computer with him to the new apartment. Just him, some clothes, an old set of pots and pans, his portable stereo, his CD collection. Nothing to do after work but log on and wait for Leah. The kitchen he hardly used, subsisting mostly on sandwiches and Chinese take-out.

He felt drawn to Leah somehow. Dangerous, he knew, stories of false identities and net relationships gone sordidly awry. But he found comfort in her earnestness, her questions made more meaningful by the fact that she seemed well-grounded, in a universe of flaky netizens.

Of course he wanted to know more. I really enjoy chatting with you, but I don't really know that much about you. Beyond your questions - you get pretty intense sometimes.

We don't have to get so deep all the time. I can joke around if you want. I don't know, I always end up philosophising too much.

I don't mind - it's a refreshing change from most of the "conversation" around here. But you haven't told me much about yourself. He remembered what she said about her indeterminate studies.

Actually, it's something I've been thinking about. There's something I need to tell you if we're going to be chatting a lot - I don't want to mislead you.

Oh, great. Mislead me? How?

It's kind of strange... I'm not really sure how to explain it.

Try. Richard honestly didn't know what to expect.

I'm a literary creation. A fictional character in a book.

A false identity! But a strange way to explain it. Which book?

The one my author is working on now.

Who is your author?

I can't tell you that. This is kind of an experiment. My author wants to know if I can be a believable character.

He had been chatting with a person who didn't exist? No, "Leah" was voicing her "author's" thoughts, surely. So Leah's not real then?

Excuse me, I am very real. You are talking to me, aren't you?

Is your name really Leah then?

*My* name is Leah. I can't tell you what my author's name is.

I am confused. Who am I really talking to?

Leah.

Then who is your author? Am I not talking to Leah's author?

My author is actually hitting the keys on the keyboard. But you are talking to me.

Huh??

Weird, for sure. Now you're confusing me more. Whoever you are, please stop playing games.

Please understand that it's not a game. You don't mean to, but you are trivialising my life. It was just given to me, and I'd like you to accept it as I have.

He was totally lost, or she was a mental case. Just tell me who you are.

Arrrgh!!! The whole reason I told you was because I don't want to deceive you. I am trying to explain exactly who, and what, I am...

There was a pause.

I am not physically real, in the sense that I can walk around, eat, break my arm, whatever. But I am real nonetheless. I have emotions, feelings, hopes, dreams.

Pause. Go on, he typed.

You know when you watch a really good movie? Or read a really good book, for that matter.... you sometimes forget that the characters are fictional? You kind of grow with them, feel for them, even learn from them. They are real in every sense except physically. I am the same - only this is real-time. I am a character that has stepped out of a book. I can live in your world through this computer chat program.

Pause.

Does any of this make sense now?

It was an intriguing idea. I think so. But I assumed you were real before. Why bother telling me?

I want to be honest with people that I get to know well. I'm afraid of leading people on only to have them feel betrayed or cheated in some way. Besides, don't you think it's a nifty idea?

He was, in fact, interested in her. He could accept her claim, think of her as "Leah," only without the quotation marks. But he had a sneaking suspicion that the Leah he was talking to, in fact, bore a striking resemblance to her author.

Their conversations got more personal. Significantly, Leah never asked him, but Richard told her his real name, even gave her his e-mail address. She remained cryptic about her "author's" identity, and Richard stopped pressing her. Her fictionality became a non-issue, as he grew to think of her and her author as one in the same. If she was indeed a fictional creation, her author had done a remarkable job.

He didn't tell her about his troubled marriage. His day at the beach with Tommy and Stephen was "a beach barbeque with some friends." In fact it went quite well, and the kids spent most of the afternoon trying to dig a hole so deep they could stand in it without seeing over the edge. They succeeded with a little help from Dad. Something to tell Leah about, but he was afraid she would lose interest in him if she found out he was married.

He was torn. He dreamed about going back to Tina, back to the kids, and somehow making things right. As they were gathering their things to leave the beach, Tommy asked when he was coming home. What could he say? If he tried to answer, he wouldn't be able to explain the tears.

But during the long days at work, he dreamed of dropping everything and catching the next flight to Melbourne, on the other side of the world, chasing the mysterious Leah who made him feel alive, valued, trusted. Only the kids anchored him in the present, swinging between a dream of the past and a longing for the mysterious, the unattainable, which, by stretching the corners of his imagination, was just absurdly possible.

Tell me about the book. What is it about?

It's mainly about my life, over the past three years or so. Mostly about an experience I had in Japan.

What happened?

I guess you could call it my first love. But it was more - that was the beginning, or maybe the centre, of everything that happened. It was one of those experiences that changes your whole life. I know it might sound naive, but quite a bit happened to me. At least it feels that way.

Well, love could do that. What was he like? Was he Japanese?

No, he was another exchange student. It's kind of hard to describe him. The whole thing, actually. I remember everything I felt, all the changes I went through, but it's going to be hard to translate that into a good story. You'll have to understand if I'm vague at times - I haven't sorted everything out myself yet.

Richard had gotten used to it. Leah could be really fuzzy sometimes - whenever the conversation approached something that could link her to the "real" world. He was drawn to the restless nature of her mind and her heart, which came through very clearly online, but he hardly knew any concrete facts about her life.

Like, for instance, if she had a boyfriend. Are you still together with him?

Alas, no. I guess you could say I've been single ever since.

Why would she volunteer that? You haven't sworn off men, have you?

No, I haven't. Why do you ask?

Oops - was she reading his mind? No reason. :-) But a little flirting never hurt, said the smiley.

You're not flirting with me are you? :-)

Flirting. It was just flirting, he says. Whatever gave you that idea?

Oh, nothing. Just a hunch.

Well, she was a literary creation, or so she said. What did flirting mean then? But she seemed to welcome it. Real or not, it was something. But now he felt uneasy - real or not, she didn't know he was married.

"How are you?"

"Okay, I guess. I'm getting by."

"I miss you."

"Rick, don't. I'm not ready for that yet. We're taking this slow, remember? I still have a lot to think about."

"So do I." More than you'd realize, he thought. He wasn't going to insist this time. "I... I'm sorry, I just wanted to see if you were okay, see if maybe..."

Pause. Well, she didn't want to talk yet. "Nevermind. I'll see you when I pick the kids up on Friday."

"Fine."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"Rick -"

"Yeah?"

"I do realize that you're trying. You should know that."

"Thanks." But does it make a difference?

Imagine life without Tina. Not just living apart, but gone for good. Would theirs be an emotional parting? He couldn't know if she still felt anything. Maybe for her, they already said goodbye. But the kids, how could he leave the kids? Stare at the breaking waves. Wind in his hair, calling him to freedom. What was freedom? The waves were endless, no answers. Running to Leah wasn't a smart thing to do, it was an act of a desperate man trapped by fate. Or was it?

Tell me, what did you love about Alex?

He wondered what Leah's face really looked like as she recalled memories of her love in Tokyo. He pictured her: sandy brown hair framing an easy smile, bright eyes, clear and honest. When asked, she had said that she was average looking. But Richard saw a simple, down-to-earth beauty. The kind where you don't notice unless you stop and look closer. Come on, Richard, he thought. How much of this is real?

He had a quietness about him, like he kept most of himself hidden in some inner world of his. Sometimes bits would escape, the best parts, and the "real" Alex would make himself known in the outside world. At least that's what I like to think. Unless you really knew him, you'd have a hard time explaining it. But it was beautiful, like a ray of sunshine. I fell in love with him when one of those rays shone on me.

I think I understand. The difference between real and imaginary was perhaps only a reflection of the hidden aspects of ourselves. Who was Leah, for instance? And who was he to her? Certainly not the same person that Tina knew. He never talked about things like this to Tina. Seven years ago he could have, but that was before life had taught him seven years' worth of lessons.

Well, he still entertained his idea of escape. Do you think you could fall in love again, the way you did with Alex?

Everybody is different. It wouldn't be in the same way. But I do believe I will fall in love again. What about you? Have you ever been in love, really in love?

Ouch. Well, if he was going to talk about it with anyone, Leah was the right person. He just felt that way. She really cared, he could tell. Or he just believed, which was good enough - if the things Leah philosophized about were true.

Here goes. I have been in love. It seems like a very long time ago. Her name was Tina, and she was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. It was the happiest time of my life.

This sounds like a real story.

It is, believe me. How much time do you have? :-)

I would love to hear everything you feel like telling me. But please don't feel pressured - I understand if you don't want to get too personal.

When was the last time he really opened up to someone? Don't worry. I want to share this with you.

Well then, please go on...

So Richard began the story of his life with Tina. From how they met in Croce's Bar on Fifth Street downtown (funny, he actually met her in a bar - he never thought himself the type to pick up a girl in a bar), to the way he chased her as she led him around all of her haunts in the city, to the moment he finally realized he had fallen for her (it was when his brother's family came to visit from Seattle and she hit it off instantly with the twins, who were six years old and normally shy around strange adults). He knew then that he wanted to marry her and raise a family together.

It made him sad to recall such early, happy days. Leah was amazingly compassionate, considering that they were separated by two computers so many thousands of miles apart. They chatted for hours that night, until he realized he had to work the next day, and then for hours again the next night. He lingered on his days of courting Tina, painting a picture of her that he hadn't seen in years. He married a wonderful, warm, playful, intelligent woman. It wasn't until the third day that he touched on the reason it was such a sad story.

It all sounds a bit storybook, doesn't it? Maybe I'm looking through rose colored lenses at the past.

Were you really that happy together?

I have tears in my eyes remembering all of this. I'm sorry, maybe I overdid it a bit.

Not at all! One thing I can tell, is that you haven't made anything up. Funny that I of all people should say that, but I can sense the sincerity of your emotions.

Don't you want to know how it ended?

I've been killing myself trying to keep from asking. :-)

It hasn't. We're still married, and we have two beautiful young sons.

Was he imagining silence? How was Leah supposed to react to that?

Tell me why you're sad.

No reaction at all? You don't think any differently of me, knowing that? I never told you about my marriage or my kids before.

I never asked. Should it make a difference to me?

I don't know. I thought it might.

I suppose if you finished your story, I might be able to let you know. But somehow I doubt it will.

What did she feel for him? A married man, running and confiding in someone he met in a chat program? He really wished he could see her face. Well, I won't hold my breath... don't be afraid of hurting my feelings. Okay?

Tell me why you're sad. I think it might help me, and help you, if I understood more.

Before I go any further, I want you to know that you are one of the most wonderful people I have ever met.

Thank you. Really, you have no idea how much that means to me. I could never have asked for this experience to be so rewarding. Oh, there I go getting all mushy... :-)

Well, I started it. And I meant it.

Don't feel bad about keeping things secret. I'm sure this is a new experience for both of us. And you haven't finished your story...

So on he went, past the good times and into the lean years. Where did things go wrong? He couldn't tell. It just faded. Tommy was a difficult first child, he had to switch jobs, they had to move out of state for a couple of years and Tina had to suspend her graduate studies. Then when they moved back, it was with a new baby. His new job was too demanding and she had to deal with the kids alone most of the time. She said she wasn't forced to give up her Master's degree, but he knew she regretted the decision in spite of how much she loved Tommy and Stephen. It just went on and on. And never seemed to change for the better. His job, never that interesting, had become a chore. Tina talked about going back to school but never acted on it, no matter how supportive he tried to be. The only bright spots were his sons. Yet five years later here he was, living alone while his kids slept without a father near. And no way of knowing if there was anything left between him and his wife.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning when he decided that there was no more to tell.

So is that what you expected? Pretty grim, huh?

I didn't know what to expect, I guess. It's a terribly sad story. I wish there was something I could do.

You're helping me a lot just by listening. It's good to let it out - I feel trapped sometimes, and talking about it really helps.

Are you really trapped?

It certainly felt like it. To be honest, I have thought about getting away from all this, just a break, somewhere far away. Australia, maybe. If it wasn't for the kids, I'd leave tomorrow.

Why Australia?

To meet you. I've been thinking a lot about it.

Uh-oh. Hold on. You do remember what I am, don't you?

Yes, but I know so much more about you now. I really want to meet you.

But you can't. You must know that.

Why not? You don't really live in Melbourne?

I do. But not physically, I told you I'm a character from a book.

I guess I assumed that I was really talking to your author. I mean, since we started having really close conversations. Aren't I? It doesn't seem fair otherwise.

Wait a minute, I never made any bargains. I told you honestly what I was, and you accepted it. Or at least that's what I thought.

She couldn't have made everything up! So you've been pretending this whole time? That really seems unfair.

Pretending? As far as I'm concerned, I am real. My interest and my emotions and my *intentions* have all been honest. Please don't accuse me otherwise. I really do care, and I really do value your friendship.

All this time I have been more and more interested in knowing your author, who I think is really you.

Oh dear, oh dear... let me think...

Pause.

Let who think? You or your author?

You know, we're treading on dangerous ground here. I never expected it to go this far, honestly. I really don't know what to do.

You could tell me who you really are.

I can't. I mean, you know who I am. But my author... I can't. I want to, but you have to accept that I just can't. I'm sorry.

Even if I came all the way to Australia to meet you?

Please don't do something foolish like that! I mean, if you need to get away, do it for yourself, don't come here to meet me.

What would you do if I told you I already bought a ticket?

You didn't. Tell me you didn't.

What would you do?

Another pause.

Please don't make me feel guilty for not telling you who my author is. Remember that anything you do is your choice. I want to be here as your friend, but I can't make you do anything, and I don't want to be responsible, I can't be responsible.

Okay, I haven't bought a ticket yet.

You know, I'm beginning to think I went too far with this. Maybe it would be better if we stopped.

If you do that, then what harm does it do to tell me who your author is? You said you wanted to.

Did I? Oh yes, I did, didn't I... No, it's just not a good idea. I can't. I'm sorry.

Just do it, Leah! Then you can stop. Let your author take over.

No. Some things are better left alone. If my author goes online you'll never know who it is. Anyway, remember about looking too hard for answers? They might not belong where you want to find them. I think this has to stop. I won't be logging in again.

Are you serious?

Yes.

Just like that?

How else? I think it's time anyway. I've learned what I wanted to find out. All I can see now is ending up like this again, if not with you then with someone else. I really don't want people falling for me.

How could she just leave, after all he told her? Surely she wasn't just using him for her "experiment?" I won't say I really understand, because I don't. It hurts. I consider you a close friend.

I know. I'm sorry, God I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I hope you can believe that.

I'll try. I think I need some time to think about it.

If it helps, I'd like you to know that I'm losing a friend too.

It doesn't really help, but thank you anyway.

I just hope you're not angry with me.

Angry? No, I don't think I could be angry. You really have helped me. I just don't understand why you have to go, and why you can't tell me who you really are.

I can't explain it any more so I won't try.

Silence. Richard honestly didn't know what to say, to make her change her mind. She was really leaving.

I really don't want you to go.

I have to.

Please?

Really.

Well, he wasn't going to beg. All that time spent getting to know each other, gone. Back to square one.

I guess I'd better accept this and say goodbye, huh? Or we'll be here all night.

If you do accept that I have to go then it would make me feel better about leaving.

I don't have a choice, do I? You could just log off.

I won't. I want to say goodbye properly. It's been an experience I won't forget. My only regret is that ending it will hurt you.

She meant it, he knew. Well, I must say that I don't regret it at all. I've learned a lot from talking to you. Even if you won't tell me who your author is, I'm really sorry you have to go.

I'm sorry too. I want you to know that you are and always will be important to me. You have taught me that my life is as real as I could hope or imagine it to be. I have learned more than I ever hoped to through our friendship, and if I have hurt you I am truly sorry.

I know.

Pause.

I guess this is goodbye then.

She was going, forever. Not even a chance meeting somewhere on the net? Are you really going to swear off chatting for good?

I think so. I need to think much harder about the consequences of what I do. Maybe this was a one-in-a-million adventure. But I don't want to hurt anyone else.

What about going online as yourself? I mean, as your author?

That's an entirely different question. But like I said, if my author was online you'd never know it was my author.

Silence. Richard wondered what she was really feeling. Of course, now he would never truly know. Well, I guess this is goodbye then.

There is one last thing I would like to say, if you want to hear it.

Please.

I don't think I ever could have provided you with the answers you want. Perhaps there are others you should think about talking to, and telling everything that you feel. As you have told me. You are a good, honest, caring person, and your children know that. You shouldn't worry about it. Just be who you feel you are, who you want to be. It's worth the effort. Take care of yourself.

<<Leah has left the conversation>> said the computer screen.

For a long time afterwards, Richard sat in front of the blank screen. Scared, hurt, bewildered. Who had he really fallen for? Was he so easily fooled? Well, he wanted to be fooled - Leah had been honest the whole time. But was it her own naivet� that did it? She said she never expected to go so far with her experiment, and he believed that. It was true, she should have known better. She knew that already. But he couldn't fault her for her curious mind - and her curious heart. One could say that she could afford to be detached, hiding behind the computer and her fictional character, but "Leah" could get hurt - if only by realizing that she had hurt someone else in her innocence. Richard knew there was a woman somewhere in Australia, sitting in front of her computer with a lot to think about.

Three days later, Leah's last words to him were still fresh in his mind. It was amazing how much you could learn from really reaching out to another person. And she was right - he wanted answers she didn't have. He was just on the verge of realizing the questions himself anyway. There was more than he had tried to see in the past - he wasn't trapped, really. It wasn't exactly life and death. It was, well, life, and he still had a lot to find out about it. And he couldn't expect anyone else to teach him, or show him, or respond in the ways that he thought they should. It wasn't fair to himself, to his children, or to Tina.

Tina. He needed to talk to Tina. He knew what to say to her this time.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's me."

"Hi. What's up?"

"Can we meet for an afternoon? There's something I want to tell you, and ask you. I won't pester you, or pull any emotional tricks. I just want to share one afternoon with you, and share something very important with you. After I'm done, you can do whatever you want, and I won't try and stop you. Really."

There was a short pause.

"I must admit, you have me intrigued. I'll meet you, but you have to pay for the babysitter."

It didn't matter what Tina thought, really. It could be her, but if it wasn't, then it wasn't. The reason wasn't that important anymore. His children would always be his children. For the first time since he could remember, Richard's hopes didn't rest on Tina's answers.