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And then her face dropped. # “Hi Duckling1. Hmmm, this Norman guy sounds rather familiar.” Andrew leaned closer to the computer, surveying the words he'd just typed. He was alone in his house. Outside the open windows, he could hear the distant mutterings of guys out on the golf course. He didn’t have time for any of that. He stared at her above messages, at her screen name, her blank profile. He felt like the proverbial suitor standing under her bedroom window. He smiled and took a deep breath. Just a few words here and tomorrow could be very different. Maybe he could do more than just glance at her in passing. He reached down and struck keys. “Duckling1, I’ll bet he’s thinking about you right now. Wishing you were here with him. . . .” #
Dom knocked his chair over trying to get over to look over her shoulder. “What the Hell is this? Marjory, this guy is a sick pervert – all this junk about somebody’s abs and butt . . . . ” Marjory felt her face turn red and she scrolled down to hide the incriminating evidence. “I might have typed that part up. I was bored. And was trying to stir the air. I was going to use it in a 'Chastity before Marriage' sermon if anybody answered. I mean it.” Dom sat down with a thump, his face twisting up and down. Looked like he didn’t know to laugh or scold. He pointed at the last message where the guy babbled on and on about running his fingers through her hair and holding her hand. 9DZB46 used the line, “hold your hand” three times in the same paragraph. Clearly, there was some kind of hidden meaning. Marjory sat back and crossed her arms. She felt violated and weird. Why would anybody post something like that on the internet? He didn’t even know her and he wanted to get his goobery hands all over her. Gross. She stood up and let Dom take over the computer. She didn’t care if he went up and read her other postings. There was just the one embarrassing one about Andrew Kite, and her brother had already seen that. Dom stretched his long fingers out and started typing. He was an agonizingly slow typist and read each word aloud. “Who . . . are . . . you?” # Andrew caught his breath, the skin on his neck prickling with heat. Desire and confusion were in direct conflict. And fear. This was his leap over the falls. He had to trust she’d catch him before he hit the rocks. “You know who this is. Marjory, I’m Andrew Kite.” He caught his breath and then the feelings he’d felt building up inside of him for the past two years bubbled up and poured out in just three words. “I love you.” #
“He knows who you are.” Dom slammed his fist down on the table. “We have to call the police. This guy's a predator.” “No, wait!” Marjory had gone back to look over her brother’s shoulder and felt the air get choked out of her in horror. “He’s a predator.” Dom gestured up at her previous babbling posts. “You've been telling the world everything about you, right down to our home address. You ditz! I can’t wait to tell Mom and Dad when they get back from –” “No, Dom! Wait! You don’t understand.” Marjory sat down and rubbed her face. Both hands and face were shaking all over. She glanced back at all of the stuff he had typed about wanting to be with her, loving her, wanting to hold her hand. It was all incredibly sweet. “We have to set him straight.” Dom wiggled his fingers, a serious look crossing his face. "So what would make him stop –cop or coworker?" Marjory
scowled. "Just don't call the police on him. He didn't do
or say anything horrible." She pinched her brother's arm.
"Move over, I'll type a quick note." # Andrew refreshed the screen, breaking into a sweat while he waited. That last post sounded like she really didn’t know who he was. He refreshed again, wondering if he should just throw in the towel and quit his job. There were other sales jobs out there. He could move to the other side of the country and try to forget about her. A third refresh –this time, a message popped up. Andrew Kite felt the world tumbling down around his ears as he read. # Dom shut the computer down after blocking the website, presuming his sister was too stupid to figure out how to unblock the website and hop back on if she wanted to. Right now she wanted to. She felt horrible. “That was a bit cruel. And you'll have to see him at work tomorrow.” Dom shrugged. “Then again, he’s probably quit.” He tucked the notebook into its back and squinted up at Marjory. “Is there really a peephole in the wall?” Marjory gave him a sour look and yanked the computer away. # Andrew dragged his feet in to work the next morning. He slumped in his chair, half-heartedly setting up his notebook computer.
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