Cody
"What is this?" Thomas, the sys admin, stood over my desk like a disapproving parent, holding my copy of SQL for Dummies with obvious distaste.
"Reference material." I replied with a feigned expression of benign innocence. "Do you need to borrow it?"
"I don't need to borrow it; I need to trash it."
"Hey hey hey!" I dropped the act, and standing quickly, I grabbed my book. "I really do use this book."
"Have I taught you nothing? O'Reilly books have better information in a much less insulting format."
"Just call it a weakness, like your weakness for surfing MySpace. We all have our dirty secrets."
I guess I need to take a moment to explain the geek world to the non-geeks out there: it's competitive and ruthless. Not a place for sissies. Don't get me wrong -- it can be a lot of fun, full of creativity and wit, but you better have your ego firmly in place before you visit because they will kill the weak in the herd.
Not exactly the picture that remains in most people's minds of the ten kids meeting after school for Academic Decathlon.
As I sat down clutching my unsanctioned SQL book, Thomas began walking back to his desk across the room, defending MySpace as he went. "MySpace has all the up and coming indie bands."
I let it go. I found MySpace to be very similar to 133t: lots of fun for the under twenty crowd. I had no desire to spend ten hours formatting my MySpace page with the latest emo indie band jpeg to show how hip I was. I have LiveJournal for that.
Kathy's light-grey open cubicle desk was right next to my light-grey open cubicle desk. They differed only in paraphernalia. She looked up at me across the low-lying divider and said, "Hey, I'm sending you a link."
Trillian immediately went "bing" on my computer as her IM came through. It was a CafePress link. A man was selling mugs, t-shirts, mousepads, and messenger bags all plastered with a picture of him and his cat sharing a passionate French kiss. She found the weirdest things on the web and loved sharing them.
"Truth is stranger than fiction, eh?" she said with a smile.
"It could be Photoshopped," I said.
"It could be," she replied evenly and unconvinced.
Just then, we both heard the far door shut, and we looked over. Cody walked in and casually waved at us across the room as he walked over to Thomas' desk. I was immediately nervous.
Kathy gave me an evil grin, her eyes full of mischievous plans. "I believe that's Code." She looked over to Thomas' desk and then back at me. "It is Code."
"Let it go, Kathy. Just walk away."
"Are you kidding? Let's see, shall I surf CafePress or shall I torture you?"
"I don't know, maybe we could actually work." I knew I wouldn't be able to derail her, but I had to try.
"Who wants to work when Lover Boy is here?" She winked at me. Then she turned to Cody and hollered across the room, "Hey Code, come here."
Let me explain something about Cody. He's not particularly handsome nor does he have that raw sex appeal that makes women worry about their hair or how well their bra is showing off their breasts. What he is -- what he is the very symbol of -- is honesty, kindness, and generosity. He has absolutely no idea what affectation or cruelty is.
The first time I met him was several months ago at a party at Thomas' house. He was unassuming and quiet, so I didn't pay much attention to him. We were all lazing about on the back porch, drinking Shiner and discussing films. Austin is a very snobby town when it comes to cinema. It is the home of the original Alamo Drafthouse, Aint It Cool News, Richard Linklater, and Robert Rodriguez; we have a reputation to upkeep. Vapid popcorn blockbusters are slammed for the Hollywood merchandise churn mills that they are.
So there we all were, trying to figure out how Ben Affleck went from Kevin Smith to Armageddon, and Cody cheerfully says, "I loved Armageddon. That's the first DVD I ever bought."
Silence. None of us knew how to respond to such an out-of-the-closet opinion of Armageddon. And that was the first moment I felt myself drawn to Cody.
My attraction has grown into a full-blown high school crush over these past few months. I've only seen him a handful of times through dates with mutual friends. We would all go to the movies or go to dinner, and Cody would be there, his expression open and trusting and his conversation unpretentious and almost innocent.
Kathy stumbled upon my secret one day when her, Thomas, and I were discussing plans for the evening. He wanted us to come over to his house for dinner. He was cooking an absurd amount of grilled meat and had bought ingredients for margaritas. "Code is making the margaritas; somehow I manage to always screw them up."
At the mention of Cody's name, I blushed red and said that I would be there. Given my pale Northern European complexion, there was no hiding my red cheeks. Thomas being... well, Thomas, he didn't notice my reaction. But Kathy did. She had followed me back to my desk, and immediately started asking questions.
Kathy and I have been close since we first started working together a couple of years ago. We first bonded over our name; we're both named Katherine. But since you can shorten Katherine into about five different names, I have yet to meet a Katherine that has the same nickname as me.
"Why did you blush? Do you like Code?" Kathy was never one to beat around the bush.
"Well..." I hesitated and blushed again.
"Oh my god!" She smiled as if it were Christmas. "I've never seen you actually like a guy. I mean, you go out with guys all the time, but that doesn't mean you like them."
"Look, Kathy... it's kind of... well..." I trailed off. I felt so awkward and transparent.
"This is great!" She was happier than me, and I was the one with the crush. "No, this is great, Kate. Code is a really good guy." Kathy was ridiculously happily married, and so she was always trying to help people find the Nirvana that she had already found. Ever since then, like a child with a new toy, she took every opportunity to bring Cody and I together. And today was no exception.
But today I felt particularly vulnerable and exposed. Last night had not been a good night. I had finally ended it with John, but, for some reason, the experience had left my wounds open. I was hurting and felt palpably alone. Under normal circumstances, I am very adept at hiding my feelings. I am a master of deception. But not today. Today I was naked. Today I was me.
So escape was the only choice. Bowing my head slightly, I dashed past Cody out into the hall. I went to a place of solitude and safety, a place I had used many times in the past for emotional emergencies: the Ladies' Room.
I wanted to cry. I was no good with extreme, unfettered emotion. I was no good at losing control. I was scared.
"What am I going to do?" I asked aloud to no one in particular, but of course my other self showed up to take care of the situation. She is always in control -- the calm, logical decision maker. She started searching through the old dialogue tapes in my head for the appropriate one to playback now. I had quit playing the "You're stupid and ugly; he'll never notice you" tape in my early 20s. I really wished my mind would just throw that one out, but I still hear it on occasion, playing softly in the background, almost like white noise. It's really annoying.
My other self found the "You don't need anyone; you're fine on your own" tape. "That doesn't really fit this situation," I told her aloud.
You don't need him, she said rather matter-of-factly.
"I may not need him, but my body -- or some part of me -- really desires him. That's the problem."
Hmmmmm... She was thinking.
The door to the Ladies' Room started to open. I quickly ran into one of the stalls and shut the door behind me. I could hear the clack-clack of high heels on the tile floor, and then the door to the stall next to me opened. I saw a very feminine, delicate pair of feet in cute strappie sandals and pink toenail polish walk into the stall, turn around and settle in. I looked down at my own sensible tennis shoes, scuffed, dirty, and old. I wiggled my toes around in them and then looked back at the feminine feet which had unmasked me.
"I suck as a girl," I thought to myself. "I'm the most unsuccessful girl I know." And then all my self-confidence and self-worth disappeared as if it had been nothing more than an illusion. And I could face Cody again. He would have no interest in me. No decent man would want such a boyish girl, such a dyke with girl tits -- the only feature that revealed my gender under all my man clothes and my man attitude.
You chose this path.
"Shut up," I replied in my head. "I really don't need a lecture during an identity crisis."
You were the one that wanted to be as strong as a man, to be able to protect yourself like a man, to never be hurt again.
"Really, I don't need this right now. Chastise my bad judgment later."
I waited until the other woman had left before I crawled out of my stall. I left my bathroom womb reluctantly and headed back to the office. I couldn't decide if I wanted Cody to be there or have already left. I came to the door of the office and wrapped my hand around the doorknob. It seemed heavy and cold and scary. I just stood there, feeling the cold doorknob in the palm of my hand.
Then the door swung open, nearly hitting me. It was Cody. He looked startled for a moment before reacting. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry."
I could feel myself starting to blush. I wish I could control that. "Yes... I mean no... I mean yes, I'm okay." It took until the end of the sentence to regain my composure.
"I'm really sorry."
"That's okay, I'm fine." I smiled, trying to use facial expressions to erase the fact that I had just seriously stuttered.
He smiled back. "How are you doing?"
"Fine." Pause pause pause pause, nervous awkward nothingness accompanied with deeply uncool and obvious fidgeting. Then I found my next sentence. "How are you?"
"I'm good." He was watching me and smiling. "I'm pretty excited about going to see Mister Sinus Theater tonight. I've been wanting to go for awhile. I've heard good things about it. Have you gone before?"
"Mister Sinus Theater? You mean at the Drafthouse?" It seemed a rather sudden introduction to a random topic.
"Yeah." He seemed confused. "I assumed you were going too. I mean, since we're meeting at your house."
Kathy. This had Kathy's handiwork written all over it. "Yes," I said with a nod. "Yes. What time are we meeting again?"
"Kathy told Thomas and I to be there at eight. She already gave me directions."
"Right."
"Well, listen, I have to go. I have some things to do before tonight." He smiled and briefly touched my shoulder before he started to walk away. "I'll see you later."
"See ya." I watched him leave. My shoulder still tingled where he had touched me. I wanted him so very very badly.
I could feel my other self on the move, building an offense to destroy these feelings. I stopped her, holding up my hand and saying, "Just let me feel this desire. Just let me have it for a moment. It's really..." I searched for the right word, "... pleasant."
