V

Matthew drums his fingers on the steering wheel a little restlessly as he lets his gaze wander. His attention is snagged by the picture of a strikingly beautiful girl at the head of a casket in a van near him. She looks vaguely familiar to him, but he immediately dismisses any notions that he might have known her on the grounds that he has never been good with faces.

“‘Beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm’,” he murmurs. “‘Philosophies fall away like sand, creeds follow one another, but what is beautiful is a joy for all season, a possession for all eternity’,” he quotes to nobody in particular. Then his vision unconsciously flits to the scrap of paper with the information he’d copied off his monitor last night: Chilipadi – Big Apple – 3pm.

Matthew has been conversing with a certain ‘Chilipadi’ on the popular Internet Relay Chat for the past couple of months or so and finds her a wonderful chat-mate. Intelligent and witty, she is also totally unlike the other females he is acquainted with, and that intrigues him. Although he worries that they may not get along as well as they had in cyberspace when they finally meet in real life, Matthew is anxious to finally put a face to this ‘Chilipadi’ whose sense of humor is as wickedly spicy as her nickname suggests.

He arrives at the Big Apple café with eight minutes to spare and selects an al fresco table. An effervescent young man in a long black apron appears by his side immediately and presents him the menu with a huge smile.

“A latte for now,” Matthew tells him, declining the menu.

“Sure,” his server chirps, “be right back.” He turns, then pauses, then turns back to Matthew. “I’m Seth, by the way,” he says, introducing himself, pointing with a perky grin to his lurid apple-shaped nametag.

Matthew, a little startled by Seth, smiles politely. Maybe the café requires its entire staff to be friendly and informal with the customers. “I’m Matthew,” Matthew responds when he realizes he is expected to.

Seth’s already very wide grin widens and he gives Matthew a quick nod before hurrying back into the café for Matthew’s latte.

Fifteen minutes and a latte later, Chilipadi still has yet to make her entrance. Matthew begins to wonder if he has been stood up when his vivacious server startles him again by flopping down onto the chair opposite him.

“You’re expecting Chilipadi,” Seth says without any preambles. “She won’t come.”

Matthew stares in bemusement at Seth for a long while until Seth raises an eyebrow in question.

“BoredMatte007?” Seth ventures.

Matthew frowns. “Um, yeah?”

Seth smiles tentatively at him. “You’re expecting a girl, Chilipadi?” Seth says, with a curious emphasis on ‘girl’ that Matthew does not quite catch at first. Seth sighs, “She won’t come, at least not how you’d expected her …”

When the lightning bolt of realization finally strikes … Oh my god, please don’t tell me … “You’re …” Matthew croaks, having suddenly discovered a family of frogs residing in back of his throat.

“Chilipadi – hi, pleased to finally meet you, Matteo,” Seth tells him with a cheerfulness that grows more forced every second. Matthew remembers to close his mouth as he stares dumbfounded at Seth.

“Give me a minute to clear things up before you land a punch on my fragile and un-insured nose,” Seth hurriedly continues, less confident and jolly now. “I’m really sorry I lied, the only defense I have is that we were both just one couple amidst many others in my buddy’s ‘experiment’ – or research, if you prefer – on cyber interaction between genders; it was an assignment from his course in sociolinguistics.”

Seth watches an unconscious cringe wrinkle Matthew’s otherwise blank face at the mention of couple and feels oddly disappointed. “Anyway,” he continues rather doggedly, “I’m sorry I had to lie that I’m a twenty-one year old single female, but - I think I should explain Alex’s – that’s my buddy – assignment first: Alex had to observe how differently males respond to chatters of both genders and how differently the conversation that may or may not ensue is being carried out.

“My part in this is to approach ten chatters as myself – a twenty-one year old single male - and another ten with a female persona. Yours was the first request I received for a private chat as a ‘female’, and after Alex’s requisite one hour, I found that I really like chatting with you; that was why I …” Seth trails off when Matthew stands up abruptly, tucks a ten dollar bill under the mug and walks away.

How should he react? Matthew finds himself in a rather pesky quandary as he drives aimlessly round. He is still dazed from what he has just learned. He should be murderously furious, he decides after awhile. He should have wrung the irritatingly perky grin off that Seth boy when he had the chance … but – Matthew tries to expel a sigh of aggravation but it comes out sounding half-hearted even to his ears – he cannot seem to quite muster enough energy for that kind of anger. How about cheated? Yeah, he has definitely been cheated and should feel cheated. Okay, cheated he can work with – that does not require a lot of effort; next up, a healthy serving of self-disgust …? Nah, he will have to pass – he definitely cannot stomach that. Embarrassment. Yes, embarrassment! Matthew definitely is embarrassed by what has just transpired, by Seth’s frank revelation and lack of embarrassment over the whole issue. But, most of all, Matthew is embarrassed by his own stupidity, his gullibility. When Matthew finally gets home, he has decided never to touch online chatting ever again – not even with a ten-foot pole.

The subsequent two weeks are terribly difficult for Matthew. Not having to log on punctually at eight o’clock every evening and savor the anticipation of a lively and highly engaging chat for the next four hours has left him feeling strangely empty; having to banish all emails with a chilipadi@lildevil.com return address to his cyber trash bin made him extraordinarily depressed. In fact … in fact, if he does not still feel so indignant and his ego still tender from the almighty god-awful mortification, he would have thought he is missing Chilipadi and her – (ouch) his – wicked sense of humor.

In the third week, Matthew finally gets around to being boiling mad, but his raging fury quelled after an hour of body-checking and chasing after a little frozen piece of rubber with the boys in the rink, and a good night’s sleep. In the fourth week, Matthew begins to think about putting the whole incident behind him; by the fifth, he has started reading Chilipadi’s emails, all of which begin with an “I’m sorry …” and end with an “I hope we can still be friends”.

The weekend of the sixth week finds Matthew driving back to a little café called The Big Apple; this time, ‘Chilipadi’ is perched anxiously on the edge of a chair, waiting for Matthew while gazing intensely at huge slice of chocolate fudge cake. Matthew squares his shoulders as he strides purposefully towards Seth, an image of confidence and resolve although his insides are somersaulting deliriously about and seemingly about to turn themselves inside out just for the hell of it. Seth smiles gratefully at Matthew as Matthew stiffly sits himself down, his face devoid of emotions.

“Hi,” Seth greets Matthew tentatively and pushes the cake towards Matthew. “Piece offering … pun intended, ha, ha …” he tries for lightheartedness. “Thanks for coming.”

When Matthew remains stubbornly silent, Seth starts to fidget uncomfortably.

“Listen, I just want to tell you face to face, I mean I just want you to know,” Seth begins, not quite being able to meet Matthew’s dreadfully empty stare, “I’m not just some young punk with too much time on his hands to conceive and carry out online pranks. I know I shouldn’t have continued our correspondence after the research was over, and I should’ve told you the truth when I chose to continue the correspondence but … Anyway, that’s about what I wanted to tell you – sorry, and that I really, sincerely, didn’t mean to deceive you or anything – and that this fudge cake is the best in town.”

Matthew’s gaze flickers to the cake then to Seth’s almost comical despondent countenance. “Got a fork?”

Thus Matthew finds himself playing mentor and big brother to a young man who reminds faintly him of an overgrown puppy. ‘Chilipadi’ is in real life, as Matthew gradually learns, a twenty-one year old freshman at a local university who shares Matthew’s interest in ice and street hockey and an appreciation of Tom Holt’s fanatically funny fantasies.

While the frequency and length of the entertaining online conversations and correspondences have increased, Matthew discovers that Seth also makes for a very agreeable buddy offline and a pure sniper of a left winger on the ice. If he is not instant messaging Seth or answering Seth’s emails in the office, then Matthew will be hanging out at the Big Apple café waiting for Seth to finish his shift so they can both go to the local ice hockey league games or to Matthew’s home and yell at delayed telecasts of NHL games. Online, Seth is Matthew’s tutor in the subtle art of witticisms; offline, Matthew drills Seth in the delicate skill of tact. On the ice, Matthew centers whatever line Seth is in, both feeding the puck to Seth and playing enforcer, making sure the shorter and slighter built Seth would not be pushed around too much; off the ice, Seth comes up with sly traps and stratagems to fell the opposing team. Had Matthew believed in best friends that would have been how he would describe his relationship with Seth.

“That was one hell of a game,” Seth comments as he dumps his skates and gear in Matthew’s car boot. Matthew grunts in reply as he closes the boot. Seth slides into the front seat, whistling idly and fidgets with the contents in Matthew’s glove compartment.

“Buckle up,” Matthew tells Seth as he buckles his own seatbelt.

Seth makes a face but complies. “Yes, mummy, can I have an ice cream too? I’ve been a goooood boy!” he sings out in falsetto then resumes his normal tone. “Where’re we going?”

Matthew shrugs. “I don’t know … where do you feel like going?”

Seth considers for a moment then mimics Matthew’s shrug and parrots, “I don’t know; where do you feel like going?

Matthew rolls his eyes at Seth. “Come on, I asked first.”
Seth sticks his tongue out Matthew and complains, “You’re so childish.”

Matthew snorts as he pauses at a red light. “So says the pot.”

A Harley rumbles to a stop beside his car and Seth scrambles to sit up for a better look, gazing in curious amazement.

“Hey Matteo.” Seth tugs on Matthew’s sleeve.

Matthew turns and looks. “Yeah?”

“Cool, huh,” Seth breathes, with a wistful longing, making Matthew raise a brow.

“The Harley or the female bikers?” Matthew asks. “I’m not really a bike person myself.”

“Yeah?” Seth suddenly stills, hunching into the seat.

“Now what?” Matthew sighs, without even looking at Seth. Seth fidgets and squirms in an unexpectedly awkward silence. “What?” Matthew rolls his eyes. Seth does seem inclined towards theatrical demonstrations of emotions.

“Are you a female person then?” Seth blurts out.

Matthew chuckles in amusement. “Is that a serious question? Are you no longer 20/20? Does this mean you’ll miss the empty net on a three on one breakaway? Or have I suddenly morphed into a female anatomy?” Matthew cocks an eyebrow at Seth, expecting Seth to make his usual barbwire retort.

Instead, Seth turns back towards the Harley and mutters, “Green light.”

Matthew glances briefly in surprise at Seth as he drives off. “What, no smart-ass comeback? Matt: one; Seth: five hundred and thirty-nine?”

Seth shrugs vaguely. Matthew reckons this must be the first time the two of them encounters even a scion of a second of taut silence in a conversation.

“You know, Matteo …” Seth suddenly begins, sounding unusually hesitant. “If you discount the rather unusual way we hooked up …” he trails off uncertainly.

“Yeah?” Matthew raises a brow. When Seth remains silent, he reaches over and ruffles Seth’s hair. “What’s with you? Speak up, man.”

Seth gazes out of the car window, craning his neck to see if the Harley is anywhere near. “What I’m trying to say is - we’re good friends, right?”

Matthew snorts. “If my company ever finds out the amount of company time I’m using to chat with you or ICQ you, my butt will be so fired in half a second.”

“Yeah, okay … so we talk a lot.” Seth nervously wets his lips. “Erm, best friends, would you say?”

Matthew takes a moment to consider. “I don’t believe in best friends,” he says finally. He shrugs and glances over at Seth. “Where’re we going with this?” he asks as he slows down to a stop at another red light.

Seth takes a fortifying breath, and then the plunge. “I like you, Matt.”

“Aw, don’t get all mushy on me, man,” Matthew mock-groans. He reaches across and gently punches Seth’s shoulder with a grin. “I like you too, buddy, even if you’re too tactless and talkative sometimes, and a complete pest all the time.”

Matthew watches as Seth’s Adam’s apple jerk in a nervous manner; Seth finds himself unable to look at Matthew as he whispers, “No, I like-you like you - as in Byron poetry and Puccini operas.”

The pause and silence seem to stretch for an eternity.

“Say what?” Matthew finally asks as he passes Seth a strange and incredulous look.

Seth swallows then bravely turns to face Matthew. “Which part? Just kidding … I said, I like you,” he announces with false bravado. “Not in the buddy-buddy, slapping at each other’s ass after a couple of beers or post-victory-group-hug kind of way. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Matthew focuses his vision on the car in front of him and tentatively clears his throat as he tries to digest what Seth said. “You’re gay? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying I like you.” Seth exhales noisily. “So I guess I must be … gay.”

“I’m not,” Matthew blurts out immediately. “I’m straight.”

“Right.” Seth turns back to the window. “Then just – please – just forget about what I said.”

The Harley rumbles up beside them again; Matthew watches Seth gaze at the two riders dejectedly. The pillion rider wraps her arms more tightly around the rider, leaning her cheek onto her partner’s denim-jacketed back. She notices Seth’s gaze and smiles, giving him sleepy, friendly wink, which Matthew catches.

When the traffic light gives the go-ahead, the Harley speeds off, the pillion rider snuggling deeper onto her partner, giving Seth a little wave goodbye.

Matthew exhales, surprising himself with his decision, feeling inexplicably lighter and happier. He smiles as he reaches out and grasps the hand of a surprised Seth. A look of pure joy gradually replaces Seth’s puzzled gaze. Matthew winks, steps on the accelerator and takes off.

“But then again, what is ‘straight’? ‘A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh no, it’s curved like a road through the mountains.’”