Chapter 2
Iset the box gingerly on the coffee table as if it were fragile or alive. I took a step back and stared at it for a moment. Something had shifted in the room. There was a charge in the air. Expectation.
“Okay,” I murmured. “Let’s see what you can do.”
The velvet-wrapped package felt heavier than it should as I lifted it from the box and set it on the table. I peeled back the fabric, revealing the console underneath. It was sleek and dark, even more beautiful in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
When I picked it up to bring it to the entertainment center, energy hummed against my palms as though responding to my touch. Goosebumps spread up my arms.
“Probably just static electricity,” I told myself, though I'd never felt anything like that from a machine before. It was the only explanation that made sense.
Turning the console over in my hands, I searched for the usual ports: HDMI, power cord, USB. But there was nothing. No visible way to connect it to the TV. I set the console back down and looked through the box. A single instruction card slipped out.
Place the wireless charging mat near the TV.
Set the console on the charging mat, then turn on the TV and the console.
Set the TV to an unused HDMI source, and wait for the console to link to the TV.
Press the power button on the controller and listen for the beep. This indicates it is connected to the console.
That’s it! You are now ready to play.
It was surprising how user-friendly and minimalist everything was. Just a small card instead of an instruction manual, no complicated wires, and no additional steps. Nothing but a heart-shaped power button.
Just set it on the mat, and boom, that’s it? Seems like magic.
Following the instructions, I set up the charging mat and turned both the console and TV on. I reached back into the box to find the controller; it was the same smooth, silicone-like material as the console and was shaped differently than any controller I’d seen.
There were 2 different-sized handles on the controller.
The one on the left was long and thick and had a bulbous end; the one on the right was shorter and skinnier, like an index finger.
To the left of the longer handle was a joystick.
I had no idea how I would operate that joystick if my hand was holding the handle; my thumb would be facing the other way.
But I would figure it out later, so I put that thought on the back burner.
I pressed the power button on the controller, and everything flared to life. The console gave a soft hum, and my eyes darted to the TV.
The screen breathed.
Or, that’s what it looked like to me. There was a small ring of light surrounded by sparkles in the center that expanded out to the edges, like a mouth opening wide.
Then the ring constricted back to the center of the screen, the sparkles fading slowly until the screen went black and then switched to the menu.
“Nice,” I said, sitting cross-legged on the couch. “You’ve got flair.”
There was an icon that said ‘Game Store,’ so I clicked on that to find a game to play, but before I could explore further, someone knocked on the front door.
My heart jumped at the unexpected sound. “Seriously?”
The knock sounded again, a bit more forcefully. “Catia? I know you’re home; your car is here.”
I sighed and set the controller on the table, then stood, giving the console a longing look. “I’ll be back,” I muttered, then froze.
Why did I feel the need to talk to the thing? I laughed at myself for being ridiculous and opened the front door.
My best friend, Yasmin, barreled in without waiting for permission. Because of course she did. Her shoulder-length jet-black hair bounced around her face as she fanned herself. “It’s hotter than Satan’s balls out there.”
“Please come in,” I sneered.
“Oh, shut up.” She spun around and rolled her eyes at me. “Like we haven’t barged our way into each other’s houses our whole lives. Besides, I figured you would want some company on your first day kid-free.”
Twenty-six years of friendship meant Yasmin and I shared everything all the time.
From gossip to snacks, first periods to first heartbreaks.
We would spend entire weekends in our pajamas, playing with dolls, and then laughing about boys.
She was the sister I had chosen, so, on any other day, Yasmin showing up unannounced would've been a good thing.
It would have meant giant glasses of wine, trashy reality TV, and giggling until 2 AM.
But, right then, I just wanted her to leave.
“I’m fine, no problems being kid-free,” I said. “Actually, I’m kinda busy.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Busy? On your first night all alone?” She gave me a sly grin. “Do you have a man over?”
I chuckled; she would think that. “No, I got a new gaming console.”
“A gaming console?” she repeated, like I’d said I bought a crocodile. “Catia, honey, no. Absolutely not. You’re coming with me to Corks and Bottles. It’s karaoke night, and I need someone to cheer for me while I butcher good music.”
“I’d rather not,” I said, glancing at the TV. “I was kinda in the middle of something.”
Yasmin rolled her eyes and walked past me, stopping dead when she saw the console. “Is that it? I’ve never seen one like that. It looks like a spaceship. Or a weirdly sexy art piece.”
“Right? It hasn’t been released yet; I get to try it before it goes on the market.” I grabbed the controller and sat down to show her.
She turned and frowned at me sitting on the couch. “It’s cool that you get to try it before it’s in stores and all, but you don’t have to try it tonight. You need to get out. You need to have some fun. And you need to meet a new man. It’s been long enough since the divorce.”
“It’s only been four months. And we’re not even divorced yet.”
“Four months without a man is a long time.” Yasmin smirked.
“No, it isn’t. I just got the house back in order since he left. Why would you think I’d want to try to date again?”
“Even if you don’t.” Yasmin stuck out her hand to help me off the couch. “You still need to get out of this house and remember what fun is.”
Going to the bar would mean I would have to put on makeup. It would mean fending off unwanted touches, answering the 'Are you here alone, pretty lady?' questions, and shouting until my voice was raw just to order a drink. My entire body seized up as if it might vomit the concept away.
Meanwhile, across the room, the console sat in silence. If I stayed home with it, I wouldn’t have to deal with loud music or rude people.
“I just want to try it out first,” I said. “I want to see what games are on it.”
Yasmin groaned. “Games can wait! Hot bartenders can’t.” She shook her still-outstretched hand impatiently. “Come on. One drink. You can play when you get back.”
After a second's hesitation, I grabbed her hand and let her pull me up.
She let out a little squeal. “Yes! I knew you'd come around.”
I set the controller back down on the coffee table and turned the TV off. The console’s silver lines glowed faintly. Just for a heartbeat. Then it turned itself off.
I told myself that it was as disappointed as I was.
Still, I went to my room to change clothes and put on some makeup. There was no point arguing with her; I had learned that the hard way many years ago.
Fighting Yasmin was like fighting the signs of aging on your face; it can be slowed, but it can’t be stopped.
She would eventually wear me down, and we would end up doing what she wanted.
The same as it had been our entire lives, I would want to spend the weekend playing my new game; she would insist I needed to get out of the house... so, I got out of the house.
I was always grateful for it later, but this time I didn’t think I would be.
NOISE AND THE SMELL of spilled beer hit me the second we walked in: people shouting over each other, laughter, and the clatter of bottles and glasses filled the air. Bad karaoke blared from somewhere in the back.
The place was packed with people who had to be over the legal drinking age to be allowed in but looked like teenagers to me.
Yasmin grabbed my hand and shoved her way to a table next to the karaoke stage. There, a guy wearing a dog collar and chains belted out an off-key rendition of one of my favorite songs. Though, his enthusiasm and dance moves almost made up for the way he massacred the notes.
After taking a quick glance at the menu, Yasmin flagged a waiter as he walked by. “Two Sex on the Beaches and loaded nachos with extra jalapenos.”
The waiter, who looked college-aged and like he had been up for two days, nodded and escaped before she could ask for anything else.
“I can't believe you made me come here,” I mumbled, picking at a sticky spot on the table.
“Hey,” she said, pointing a finger at me. “You need this. But, more importantly, I need this. You have no idea the day I've had.” She dropped her head into her hands with a dramatic groan. “John from payroll sent out a company-wide email about an error I made on a spreadsheet.”
At my ‘so what’ look, she raised her voice. “An email, Catia. He didn’t call me or send a private message. He sent out an all-company broadcast about a misplaced decimal point.”
“A decimal point?” I couldn't help but smile.
“It was a very important decimal point!” she insisted, looking up. “It affected the quarterly projections. For everyone. My boss called me into the office, and I thought I was getting fired. He made me stay an hour late fixing it and gave me a speech about attention to detail. It was humiliating.”
“An hour late?” I snorted. “That's it? I thought you were going to say you spent all night redoing reports.”
“Don't diminish my suffering,” she whined, but a smile played at the corners of her lips.
When the waiter returned with our order, she leaned in and touched his arm. “You have great definition. Do you work out?”
“Sometimes,” he said as he set the nachos down. “Anything else?”
“Your number?” She batted her eyelashes.
His smile looked genuinely flattered. “Enjoy your evening, ladies.”
She watched him retreat, then turned to me. “Ten years ago, that would've worked.”
“Ten years ago, he was in middle school.”
“Rude. Also accurate.” She put her straw in her mouth and looked toward the dance floor, on the hunt again.
Not having any luck finding someone to flirt with, Yasmin turned back to me.
“Why don’t you just go up to them?” I offered. “Instead of waiting for one to notice you.”
“Umm, because that’s not how this works.” She rolled her eyes. “The man is supposed to show interest.”
“Says who?”
“Says everyone. That’s how it’s been since the dawn of time.”
“One, no, it isn’t,” I laughed. “Two, this is the twenty-first century. And three, we’re in our thirties now; I think it’s safe to break that antiquated 'rule.'” I made air quotes with my fingers. “Also, how would that work for same-sex couples? It’s time to stop with that line of thinking.”
“You know what? You’re right,” Yasmin said. “I’m gonna expand my horizons.”
Hours later, when we finally left the bar, I was exhausted and wanted to get the smell of stale beer and men’s cologne off me.
Yasmin had pulled me onto the dance floor, twirling and twerking around me, using our ‘girls dancing together’ energy to attract attention.
And it worked. The thing was, every guy who noticed her also noticed me.
Apparently dancing with your friend was universal code for ‘open invitation for any man to come cop a feel.’
Hands found my waist. My hips. My arms. I said, “No, thank you,” “I'm good,” and “Please don't touch me” more times than I could count before Yasmin noticed my discomfort and decided we should call it a night.
She apologized on the way home. I couldn’t be mad at her; she had been having fun.
The taxi dropped Yasmin off at her house first, so I was left with the fare; she’d be paying me back later.
The silence that met me at the door was a relief after the chaos. I leaned against the door and let it settle around me for a moment. This time, the quiet didn’t feel hollow; I had something to look forward to. Something that wouldn’t have to be taught what boundaries are.
I dropped my purse on the hall table and headed straight for the bathroom. A hot shower couldn't come fast enough.
The water was a balm, washing away the taint of spilled drinks and unwanted touching. I scrubbed harder than necessary, like I could erase the whole night if I just used enough soap.
Going to bars in your thirties was just exhausting. At twenty-one the noise and chaos had been exciting. Now it just felt... draining.
I turned off the water and dried off, pulling on a nightgown. My whole body ached. My feet were sore from dancing, and my muscles were tight from tensing every time someone got too close. I suddenly couldn’t wait to get in bed.
As I walked past the living room, my eyes landed on the console.
I ran a hand along the silicone-like surface of the Lux-1 System. I could feel that faint rhythmic hum again, like it had been waiting for me all night. I wanted to press the power button and see what it could do. But I was too exhausted.
I sighed, brushing my damp hair out of my face. “Not tonight,” I whispered. “Tomorrow, I promise. After I get some sleep.”
My head hit the pillow, and I was asleep within minutes. But even in sleep, the console invaded my mind. The sleek curves and humming vibrations lingered in my dreams.