A Girl's Life Online (13 page)

Ashley and I spent much of the car ride to the hotel, which wasn't far, trying to imitate Texan accents. Ashley would say something like “Yee-Haaah,” and I'd shout, “Ride 'em, cowboy!” We probably sounded ridiculous.

We arrived at the Harvey Hotel around midafternoon. Our team filled the marble lobby in front of the counter. Other teams were also registering at the hotel, but I didn't recognize any of the girls. As our coaches and parents checked in, Ashley and I went to the gift shop, where we found a postcard picturing a man opening a trench coat in front of a busload of tourists. Written at the top were the words “Everything's big in Texas.” We laughed, and Ashley even bought one. You certainly didn't find postcards like that in Connecticut.

Mark wasn't supposed to arrive until around seven o'clock that evening. But as I walked through the hotel I wondered if any of the people in the lobby could be him. I had seen a picture of him, but I didn't think I would be able to recognize him in the crowd.

Ashley and I shared a room with two double beds. It was an average hotel room, except for the Bibles. There were four sitting in the nightstand. There were so many that at first I thought they were phone books. Then I thought that people in Texas must have an awful lot to pray about.

That night we were meeting downstairs for a quick meal before bed. I sat at a table with Ashley and Elizabeth. My mother, the coaches, and the rest of the parents sat away from us. I was so nervous I could hardly eat my pasta. When the waitress saw this, she teased me. “Are you sure you can't finish, Missy?” she said as she placed her hand on her hip. “You know your little body is going to need some more fuel than that.” That was impossible, but Ashley and Elizabeth both ordered ice cream. I was so anxious I couldn't even look at it.

After the waitress walked away I checked my watch and noticed that it was already a little after seven. It made me nervous knowing that at any time Mark could walk through, and my mother was sitting nearby. But I kept pretending nothing special was about to happen. It was simply a casual dinner, teammates loading up on pasta on the night before a meet.

As soon as the check was paid we went up to our rooms. I tried not to think about Mark's arrival. I tried to act normal so that the others wouldn't get suspicious. I began to think about whether I could really pull it off. Could a man fly halfway across the country and meet me in a strange hotel without anyone knowing? I quickly banished my doubts and focused instead on how I would do it.

In the hotel room I shared with Ashley I waited and waited without a word from Mark. I tried to watch TV to pass the time. I think it was a news show like
Dateline
, but I'm not sure now. I heard voices coming from the set and saw that there was some sort of picture, but that was all. I was lost in imagining Mark's voice, his words, and his face as the door to one of the hotel's rooms swung open.

By 8:45, which felt like 9:45 to me, I was convinced that he had changed his mind and was not coming. I was disappointed. I had thought about his arrival constantly for over twenty-four hours.

I was so sure that he wasn't coming that I decided to put on my pajamas and go to bed. Ashley wanted to go to sleep too, so we both got ready. While she went to the bathroom I changed into a white camisole, a white Gap T-shirt, and then my flannel polar bear pajamas. They were my favorite pajamas, a Christmas gift from my grandparents when I was in the fifth grade. Because I had worn them so much the flannel was rubbed smooth from wear, so smooth you couldn't even tell it was once flannel. There was a hole under one armpit and a hole in the left leg, but I still wore them. I loved them. Feeling cozy and safe in my familiar pajamas, I got under the covers, turned out the light, and rolled over to sleep. It was 9:15.

It was 9:37 when the phone rang. I mumbled a hello and the phone cord became tangled around my hand.

“Hello,” he said, with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“I thought you weren't coming, why were you late?” I talked softly since Ashley was awake and in the bathroom.

“I missed my connection. Actually, it was pretty close. I was running through the airport and got to the gate just as the plane was leaving. There wasn't another flight for a couple of hours.”

“Well, you're here now.”

I sat up from the bed and leaned forward to the phone. I dangled my feet and curled the phone cord as it moved over them.

“So when am I going to get to see you?” asked Mark. “Can you come down now?”

“I guess I can come down for a quick hello.”

“I'm on the ninth floor, room 938.”

“I'm on the eleventh.”

“Well, get yourself down here.”

“Okay.”

I hung up the phone, got out of bed, and stood there for a moment to think about what I was doing. I was in my pajamas. I knew I wouldn't look my best, but I didn't think he should care. We were friends. More than friends, actually. It shouldn't matter how I dressed.

An hour earlier my mother had left her raincoat in our room as she was going out to the grocery store to buy some breakfast food for the morning. Now that I was dashing out, I decided to grab the coat to cover my pajamas. As I did, Ashley came out of the bathroom.

“That was him, wasn't it?” said Ashley. “I knew he'd convince you to meet in person. He's here, isn't he?”

“We're just going to say hi. That's it.”

“Katie, I don't think . . .”

“He's in 938. If you get worried, you can call me down there.”

When I went to the door, Ashley jumped in front of me. I couldn't do anything else but laugh because I thought she was joking. But she insisted that I stay and braced herself with one hand on the door handle and the other pressed against the door frame.

“You can't go see this freak,” she said. “I won't let you.”

“He's not a freak. Let me out.”

I knew she was just ignorant, unable to understand a mature relationship. I looked at her and tugged on the door. She was not going to stop me, and she knew it, so she let go. Neither of us said anything as the door swung closed behind me.

I paced the hall as I waited for an elevator. I couldn't imagine what was taking so long. There were six of them, after all. Then I heard the chime, which was not so different, I guess, from the chime that announces “You've got mail” on AOL. The door opened. I got inside and pressed the button. Nine. The doors closed, and I took a deep breath.

I stood outside Mark's door for a minute, looking at the PRIVACY PLEASE sign on the knob, steadying myself. I was now about to meet the man I loved. He knew so much about me, but also very little. He knew my stories, my struggles, and my accomplishments. But he knew none of the thousands of little things that become clear when people meet in person—every gesture, turn of the head, change in the voice. I felt strange, almost disoriented, and extremely nervous. I lifted my hand and tapped gently on the door.

I was expecting to meet a trim man, based on his photo, but when Mark opened the door I was absolutely shocked by how short he was. Since I am short, I always expect that people are the same height as I am, or taller. Mark was tiny. And he was the scrawniest man I had ever seen.

Later Mark would say he hugged me at the door, but I can't remember that. It could have happened, but I wouldn't bet money either way. He walked over to the sofa and invited me to join him there. Instead, I went to the chair that was facing him. I sat down and looked at him more carefully.

He was wearing dark jeans, the kind of deep blue denim that you expect to see on a cowboy, and a shirt with vertical stripes of maroon and cream against a blue background—navy blue to match the jeans.

I would have stopped thinking about how he looked if it hadn't been for the shoes. They were hideous. They were white canvas with a chunky rubber heel, very feminine. They might have been somewhat stylish for a girl at the time, but I couldn't imagine a man wearing them. I couldn't stop staring at his shoes, even after he started talking

“How was your trip?”

“Okay, okay.” I couldn't think clearly enough to say anything more.

“God, I can't believe I missed that connecting flight. We were late taking off, and then they circled the airport for what seemed like forever. The pilot said they would hold the planes for people with connections, but of course they didn't.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I'm hungry. Are you hungry? I haven't had anything all day, really. Why don't you just go up and put on some jeans and we can go out?” he said.

Go out? It was close to ten o'clock. I had to wake up at dawn. And besides, I was fourteen years old. There was no way I could just leave the hotel without someone knowing.

“Mark, I ate, and besides, it's pretty late, don't you think?”

“But there's no room service after ten, and I'm really starving.”

I just looked at him and he finally gave in to the fact that I wouldn't go no matter what he said. I began to feel a little uncomfortable. Nervous.

“I've been in worse hotels,” he said, suddenly changing the topic. “But they're pretty cheap here. I mean, come with me and look at this bathroom.”

He got up, and so did I. He waited until I started moving and then placed his hand on my back to direct me. No one had ever steered me like that before. And with his touch I suddenly realized how uncomfortable I felt with him.

This wasn't at all what I had expected. We were such good friends—more than friends—on the Internet. No one had ever made me feel safer and more at ease. But here, in his presence, I was anxious and confused.

“Look at this,” Mark said once we were in the bathroom. “There's not even a soap dish, and the towels are so thin they might as well be made of paper.”

I couldn't look Mark in the eye; in fact, I couldn't look at him at all. I glanced into the large mirror that was behind the sink instead, and felt a shiver of surprise to see my reflection joined by his. Then I gazed down at all the toiletries on the counter. He had a large silver can of Gillette shaving cream, which seemed awkward to me. He also had a large bottle of cologne.

“Smell this,” he said. He picked it up and waved it under my nose.

“Yuck, Mark. I can't stand the smell of cologne.”

“Katie, just stand still,” he said. He put his hands on my shoulders and then looked past me into the mirror. “I thought you would be taller.”

I wanted to say to him that I thought he would be a lot taller himself. But I didn't. “Well, I told you I was short” was all I could mutter.

Mark wanted to show me a new watch that he had bought and he rushed out of the room to get it. I followed him and he gave it to me to hold. The weight and the quality made me think it was solid gold.

“Is it real, I mean, solid gold?”

“Of course. How could you even ask?”

He grabbed my hand to admire my own Seiko watch. As he did, he glimpsed my necklace. It was a fourteen-karat gold necklace with a piece of jade that was carved into the Buddha of laughter. He took the Buddha in his hand.

“This is beautiful, Katie. I really like it.”

“My grandmother gave it to me. She brought it back from Thailand.”

“I love your shoes, too.”

They were simple Birkenstocks, the most common style sold, in the most common color.

“And your eyes . . . so pretty.”

Mark stepped a little closer, looked into my eyes, and then gently touched my shoulders, my waist. No grown man had ever inspected me like this before, and it made me self-conscious. I was glad that my pajamas covered me so well. I nervously played with my necklace. He sat down on the sofa. I stood for a moment, then glanced at the television.