The God Who Stayed - Part 2
Glitches and Gut Feelings
Forgot where we began? That’s dangerous. Go back to part 1:
Katie looked up at Malik as her name faded in. “How does it know my name? I didn’t sign up.”
Malik shrugged. “Same thing happened to me too. I didn’t register or anything either.”
“Please don’t tell me this is some kind of malware stealing all our data,” Katie said. “I’m too busy to be a victim of identity theft.”
They both peered at her screen as if the app might explain its intrusion into their lives. However, the same completion date faded in at the bottom, accompanied by the same slow, spinning indicator.
“You know,” she said, watching the little circle swirl, “I should be glad that this is glitching. But not gonna to lie, I was expecting more. A lot more.”
As if summoned by her disappointment, her phone dinged, and they both jumped. The wine, of course, survived.
A text from someone named “SQ.”
“Who’s that?” Malik asked.
She waved him away with her glass. “This guy I met last month. He’s been texting me a lot recently.”
“You’ve been dating someone for a month, and you’re just now telling me?”
“Okay, calm your tits,” Katie said. “We are not dating. SQ stands for side quest. The only time we link up is when we want to get a little freaky.” She set her phone on the table. “Anyway, I’m here with you.”
“At least one of us is getting some,” Malik said.
“Don’t start. You could build a nation-state of men thirsting for you, but God forbid you swipe like the rest of us digital peasants.”
“There just have got to be other ways of meeting people besides these damn apps. I’m so sick of Grindr. The first thing some random guy wants—and by that, I mean some headless torso—is pics. They’re not even saying hello anymore.” Malik got up to escort the bottle over to the coffee table and flopped onto the couch. “What happened to the art of bumping into someone in real life, like at a museum? And he wears glasses, is sweet, and is about six foot a million. There’s conversation. Imagination. Flirting!”
“Alright, Jane Austen.” Katie put her hand over her glass to block Malik from filling it up. “Why don’t we go out then?”
Malik looked at her and sighed. “The gay bar is just a whole other set of problems.”
“You can’t have it both ways.”
He grumbled, “You win this round. But I’m only going out if we can be in bed by ten-ish.”
“A, it’s already nine-thirty. B, Rich’s doesn’t even open for another half hour. Midnight is the only real acceptable time.”
“Ten thirty,” Malik countered.
“Gross,” Katie sneered. “We’re coming back at eleven. And that’s only if we find someone for you. So, you better hit the ground starving and slaying.”
“Alright, alright. But I need to warm up my legs. I can’t just show up on the dance floor and scream on all fours like I could in my twenties.”
Katie’s phone dinged a couple of times, and she glanced at the lit screen. “SQ again.” She set it to vibrate and flipped it over. “We’ll deal with him later. First, the tunes.”
That was Malik’s cue to put on Robyn’s Dancing on My Own. And their fate was sealed. Because once those two got up to reenact all the dance moves from the music video, there was no other option but to go out and put on a show for others.
As Malik locked the door behind them, Katie’s phone buzzed. “Girl, SQ is blowing up your phone.”
No response.
When a sassy rebuttal didn’t sling back his way, he turned and found Katie staring at her screen, eyebrows running into one another.
“Everything okay?”
She turned the phone around to show him. The completion date had finally loaded: tomorrow.
“Crazy, huh?” Katie’s voice seemed far away. Blunted. Like it had taken a step back from her own body.
He, too, thought he would feel some kind of rush if the app actually worked—a jolt of awe from having orbited and made contact with some kind of secret knowledge. But this? This was sobering.
Quiet.
He started to ask if she wanted to stay in. At least, he meant to. Before the words came out, Katie turned and took the first step. But her footing was off.
She pitched forward.
Malik lunged, grabbed, and missed. Katie tumbled fast. The stairwell wood was so unforgiving, so rigid and unmalleable compared to her body.
It was bad. It looked bad as she plummeted forward.
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