Fiction / Creative

They met up in the chat room. Over a few months they’d got to know each other – rather well, you may add. How open, frank and candid people become when hiding under  the cloak of anonymity! Every secret, every day – in fact almost right through the day, and night. They were in touch. Cyber highway had brought them close – in spirit. Aerial had connected them. Almost as if fate had destined their meeting, that’s how both thought of their growing proximity – and romance.

He, an eligible thirty something, earning well, connected to high profiles – independent, too caught up in building his career graph to make time for flings, flirts or serious relationships – until he met with this girl. Twenty four, sprightly, cheerful and what a communicator – full of zest, zing and zap.

Each respected the other’s right to remain net-pals. No phone calls, no pics, no intermediaries – just friends on the internet. At least that’s how it was, till recently. Then they got closer, and more intimate. God, was is this love? His tingling anticipation as  logged in, typing passwords, the breathlessness, the edginess. Must be love, he sighed.  The high they got from frantic exchange of messages and later emails – it had to happen.

Why not meet up?

He was adult enough to know the score. Internet romances are fraught with deceptions and pitfalls. Yet, his nagging attraction to see, feel and be near was too overwhelming.

He waited at the airport, pacing the smooth shining tiled floor restlessly, waiting for the intercity flight to arrive: his stomach rumbled and contracted. His heart thudded.

A lady walks up to him, a simple cotton sari clad middle aged woman, forty at least, if not more? She looks anxious, as if searching for someone. She zeroes in on him as he stands, also scanning the arrivals.

Anchor?

He steps back.

No, no, not Anchor. His mind races to deal with the piquant situation. This wasn’t the  ‘Angel’ he knew on the net. Hell, what if she really was. He’d just presumed everything, and how wrong his assumptions were.

He had to extricate himself this self destruct scenario.

No ma’am, Anchor is caught up with a board meeting - he asked for me to pick you up.

She looks tense, as she mops her brow. Who are you? Do you know Anchor?

Sure, I am his son

Son? Yeah, he’s my dad?

Dad, how can….her voice trails off. She deserved this, her cover had blown. Her playing a young nubile charmer stood exposed. That cad, Anchor, he wasn’t thirty one. He must be fifty five at least to have a son of this age. Her mind is in a muddle. Her rising BP made her dizzy. She composed her nerves. She had to think fast, she had to get out of this self destruct drama she had found herself in.

The youngster picked up her valise. Anyway before driving you to the hotel room dad has booked for you – I just have to confirm this. You are Angel, aren’t you?

He, he, Angel? God have mercy!! Angel is my daughter. She sent me to check out this Anchor guy who she finds exciting, at least on the internet…..

You are Angel’s mum?

The strapping lad stood still dropping her valise on the floor. He felt hit by a sledge hammer.

It takes two to tango. She smiled to herself. If he was a con, she was one too. A veteran at that!!  

They just shook hands and parted. She feigned she was unwell. He, he just said, he had to rush back as he’d got a call from home.

She watched the young man, Anchor walk away from her life. And he saw her through the huge glass pane of the airport’s arrival lounge. She was busy mopping her brow, and tucking back a strand of grey hair her ear. He was certain she was Angel.

Phew, he mutters as he starts his car, narrow miss this!

She, Angel flew back – back to her cyber-world, someday, she’d find someone surely – no harm trying. Someone, young, rich and handsome – only now on, she’d pick on the less street smart kind: the ones who feel trapped in a no win situation, and maybe volunteer to buy their way out. Pay her a price.

He, Anchor never visited on a chat site again.