Encoding Love

HER VISION WAS BLURRED. She held out one hand before her. She knew it was her hand, but the shape and form was so unclear, she felt like she could be staring at anything. She looked up. Squinting her amber colored eyes, she couldn’t even see her reflection in the mirror.

Zorah replaced her black framed glasses onto the bridge of her nose. She blinked and her vision became unclouded. If she thought she could get away with walking around without glasses, she was surely mistaken. Her only chance to do so was if she invested in prescription contacts and she wasn’t thrilled with the idea.

Now that she was able to see, Zorah concentrated on her appearance in her apartment bathroom. She was notorious for her neat ponytails and makeup free look. After all, her face was covered by lenses at all times and a ponytail helped ensure chestnut strands of hair didn’t obscure her vision. Her look was practical and efficient, but it was also plain and dowdy.

Her wardrobe followed under the same categories. She needed a tutorial on how to dress for a date. She had in fact looked up a ‘how to’ on YouTube, but didn’t find any of the suggestions to her liking. They used words like flirty, trendy, sexy and Zorah was none of those things. She was hopeless in the world of fashion and beauty.

It took her half an hour to understand what LBD stood for and ten minutes of scouring through her closet to realize she didn’t own a little black dress. Magazine articles were excessive and complicating. There were so many rules on the right color dress, how much blush to wear, lipstick or gloss and the style of heels.

There was no quick solution for Zorah. She figured she couldn’t learn all about these things in a night and it wasn’t going to be easy for someone her age. At twenty-six, most of these things should have been second nature. But while most girls in their formative years where out experiencing boys and dating, Zorah was home refurbishing old computers.

She was a woman who understood framework and encoding, but not which purse matched her outfit.

Her last relationship had sort of fell together on its own, but they’re time together consisted of study dates at each other’s dorm room. Zorah was more interested in her school work than properly dating Jesse Newman. That was the basis of their impromptu break, but who had time for temporary boys when she was trying to build a permanent future for herself?

Decidedly, she figured she couldn’t recreate the looks given to her by internet searches and be completely at ease. Though she loved her ponytail, Zorah styled her hair into a super-straight and smooth look. She managed to piece together a nice pair of boots, dark washed jeans, and plain white t-shirt for a simple and comfortable ensemble. Makeup was a lost effort, but a little lip balm did her some justice.

The Wayland was a casual hang out spot on the corner of Ninth Street and Avenue C. Eric had wanted to take her to one of those refined restaurants around Time Square, but this was more her speed. It was and East Village low-key bar where one could enjoy a well-mixed, well-priced cocktail and live indie rock and bluegrass music.

The bar itself was only but a small room with large windows and whitewashed walls. There was nothing extravagant about the place, but the Wayland still managed to draw a young and attractive crowd who chatted about underground albums and independent films.

Zorah arrived promptly at eight, Saturday evening, feeling anxious beyond measure. She was in the mist of finding a vacant table when she heard her name being called. At a small table against the left wall she found Eric waving at her.

His eyes were as vibrant as emerald jewels, regarding her appreciatively while causing her cheeks to redden like poppies. He stood to greet her, wrapping her frame into a warm embrace. They had never shared a hug. It just didn’t seem appropriate for them to ever do so, but now they were taking their relationship a step further and Zorah wasn’t sure she could handle it.

“It’s good to see you,” he smiled at her.

She hadn’t seen Eric in a few days and she meant it when she expressed the same sentiment. “I’m so happy to see you. You look nice,” she confessed, settling into the seat across from the good-looking man.

Zorah was so accustomed to seeing him dressed smartly, she was a little overwhelmed by his causal appearance. Eric’s constantly neat golden blonde hair was disheveled, but handsomely so. His chest and his arms weren’t concealed by a blazer and she openly admired the way his dark sweater fitted around his torso. She like him in his hip-hugging jeans and desert boots, but in all honesty, she liked him anything.

They ordered a round of drinks and a tension-filled silence fell over them. They’ve sat down at tables together before and what they were doing now shouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking. Those times hadn’t been dates, Zorah rationalized. There was no pressure then, but now she felt the burden of trying to figure out if they were compatible for a relationship weighing heavily on her chest.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Eric said cordially. “As always, really.”

Bashfully, she smiled. Her cheeks were already burning and would probably remain as so until the end of the night.

“Everyone at work misses you. Myself included,” he told her. “Even Helena seems out of sorts as if she can’t have a good day without you there for her to badger.”

Zorah laughed. “I can only imagine.”

“She takes it out on this poor intern, but I don’t think he’ll survive another week.”

“I think I might be a little crazy because a part of me actually misses, Helena too.” The disturbed expression on Eric’s face elicited more laughter. “She’s not too terrible, just rambunctious and self-entitled.”

“I guess you’re right. You have to work with the likes of Nathan Klein. Helena is fish bait compared to him,” he acknowledged.

Her mind conjured up the image of the elusive business magnate. She hardly knew a thing about him outside of his work as an inventor. Their brief encounters didn’t provide any information on who he was as simply Nathan and not Nathan Klein the CEO of the world’s largest technology company. Zorah was sure there was more to the aloof man than anyone suspected.

“He’s powerful and intimidating, but nothing I can’t handle,” she replied.

Afterwards, the conversation between them flowed naturally. They were already well acquainted and they didn’t need go through the whole awkward, getting-to-know-each-other portion of their date. She knew his birthday, most of his likes and dislikes, his taste in music, favorite films and books, and that he was obsessed with zombies and the Walking Dead.

In turn, he knew of Zorah’s love for technology, her ambitions, her fears about her father, her views on politics and religion, her aversion to gender roles, the kind of food she enjoyed and her preference between coffee or tea.

They knew a great deal about each other and their date only served as a means to bring to a deeper level of understanding.

Somehow, he managed to convince into a dance that was embarrassing yet fun for the both of them. Neither Eric or Zorah knew how to dance, but he said woman loved dancing and it was an excuse for him to hold her. She didn’t mind in the least bit because it was something they could learn to do together.

“I’m having a lot of fun tonight. I’m really glad we did this,” she said softly, when the night was winding down. It was almost midnight and the bar was slowly emptying out.

Zorah was stunned when he reached for her hand on the table. Her first reaction was to turn away, but Eric intertwined his fingers with hers causing her to face what was conspiring between them. His thumb sweetly caressed her skin and she softened at the notion.

His eyes were trained to her face as he spoke. “There’s no reason why we can’t do it again. Unless you really thought I was a lousy date,” Eric joked.

It was the first time that night the Zorah realized that he had been just as nervous as her about their date. He was merely teasing her but there was a glint in his eyes that told her how he truly felt. She was comforted in knowing she wasn’t the only one.

They paused then. Taking sips of their beverages and smiling foolishly at one another. Zorah was just enjoying her time, happy to actually be experiencing a real date with a decent man. She was truly happy to be here with Eric.

By the end of the night though, Zorah was still hesitant about taking their relationship further. There were so many ways things could go wrong and Eric has been her only truly friend the past few years. She wasn’t sure if a relationship was worth risking their friendship. She liked him and they had a natural chemistry. She thought he was handsome and someone her father would admire.

Was it enough to pursue more?

Outside Wayland, Eric hailed a taxi and together they rode in the backseat in comfortable silence. The dark streets of New York City past them in a blur. Their hands were interlocked once again as Zorah’s head laid on his shoulder.

It was there, in that moment, that she decided that things with Eric may actually work. Life with him would be simplistic. He understood so much about her that others would not get, like her fascination with technology. He was safe and comfortable. Those were things she needed in a relationship and that was what Eric had to offer. There was nothing more for her than what they had right now.

When the taxi stopped by the curbside of her high-rise apartment building, Zorah was a bundle of nerves. She knew enough about dates to know how the ended. Her fingers tightened around Eric’s hand as he lead her out the cab.

“I had fun. We can definitely do this again.”

The smile on his face was infectious. “I would really like that.”

Then Eric stepped closer while she titled her head back and shut her eyes. He was gentle as his lips pressed softly against hers. His arms wrapped securely around her waist, stationing her body against his chest. He was so careful and treated her so delicately that Zorah took it upon herself to cup her hands around his neck and deepen their kiss.

They parted, taking in a much needed breath. She looked up and found Eric had a look of complete and utter amazement. His lips were rosy in color and swollen from their kiss. Zorah was pleased by the sight and couldn’t help but brush her fingers across his warm cheeks.

“Goodnight, Eric,” she whispered tenderly.