Online Dating Scene
“I HAVE THE match!”
Eric announced holding up his phone as though it was a freshly killed stag’s head that he had decapitated mere seconds ago, Jillian looked up from her laptop – she had not slept in three days and in that time, Arthur had introduced the boisterous viking to the human online dating scene. At first Eric had no luck until he started taking scandalous or at least Jillian thought they were scandalous images of him pre, during and post workout – including a bathroom shot with a towel hanging off of his hips barely… he had to take it down after the company emailed Jillian stating that the image had crashed the application and had caused no amount of shock and panic over the human internet. Who were now hellbent on discovering Eric’s location – either to marry him or to get rid of him because of his physical appearance.
“I have THE MATCH.”
‘That makes nine hundred, did you forget the eight hundred and something other people you matched with?’
“THEY ARE all REAL people, YES?”
‘I doubt it, if any of them ask for your credit card details, you are not to answer.’
Jillian rubbed at her temples as Eric circled their tiny living room with glee; she didn’t even want to know who else had matched with him… she had seen his profile and apart from the images he had written three things: single father of a pre-teen daughter (she presumed that she was the daughter), Ikea enthusiast. This, it seemed to be the first thing people did not believe based off his physique and second that he was unemployed (as a result of being a professional viking. No one believed this one either, it bothered him immensely but he had no way of proving it unless he wanted to out himself and thus Jillian as non-humans).
“Perhaps I meet SOME of THEM? That IS THE POINT. NO?”
She logged off and shut her laptop down, her head really hurt and it didn’t help much that Eric was shouting at the top of his lungs and hooting whenever his phone told him he had made another match, Jillian partially wanted to skin Arthur and fill him full of rounds for introducing Eric to the infernal app. She climbed off the couch and plugged her laptop in before talking short strides to the kitchen; opening the fridge she took out one of the many boxes of pre-made meals that Eric had defrosted; these meals he made every Sunday evening and they lasted them the entire week, the only time they deviated was when Eric felt the itch to go back to Ikea or when Jillian was at work or as she mockingly called it “school.”
Placing it in the microwave, the plastic lid removed just slightly she input the correct number – Eric had written on the lids in bright pink sharpie how many minutes the meals needed to be heated to be delicious. As the artificial red head sat down, his finger swiping the screen like an iPad kid, Jillian reached up and tried to grab one of the wine glasses kept on the lowest possible shelf, when she wasn’t able she climbed atop the kitchen island and leapt onto the opposing bench, grabbing the wine glass she jumped back down just as the microwave dinged. Normally Eric would have scolded her but he was too busy gleefully seeing the number of his matches grow.
‘Want some?’
“Already ATE.”
‘Ok… wine?’ She uncorked a bottle, it came from Stasia’s larder.
“NO. WHAT is this UBER?”
‘It’s a ride sharing app.’
“Why would YOU SHARE app? WHAT is this RIDE?”
‘Like… cars and stuff, people pay other people to drive them around.’
“WASTE of MONEY, lazy HUMANS. They CAN WALK like I do.”
As she sat down to enjoy her meal as well as the excellent chardonnay, she read the label, she liked the French stuff just as much as Stasia despised it – why the blonde fashion designer felt the need to buy the stuff she detested because of the way they tasted confused Jillian; but she supposed that if Stasia wasn’t going to drink it: she would. She was barely through her first veggie patty when Eric seemed to get up from the couch and stomp towards his bedroom, there was the sound of him rummaging through his wardrobe and the sound of the shower being turned on.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
“I am GOING on a DATE.”
‘Now??’
“YES!” He shouted over the water.
She was going to need more wine, she barely heard him say that he was going to bring his date home. She nearly choked on the rich mushroom risotto, maybe glasses weren’t enough, she should just drink from the bottle she thought. As Eric came out of the bathroom and the bedroom, he dried his hair furiously with his towel and inspected himself in the lopsided, badly constructed mirror – the screws were too loose, Jillian felt.
“How do I look?”
For the first time, Eric sounded genuinely nervous, he could clean up nicely Jillian supposed for one of her lives, and at least he didn’t dress like a clown like Stasia did around DeVian. He had chosen a simple knitted black sweater, a pair of deep maroon chinos and sneakers; he began to gnaw at his lip when Jillian didn’t respond immediately. She wiped her mouth, took another swig of chardonnay and came up behind his large frame, she had to tilt her head fully up and he had to lower his head almost down to the ground in order to see her face rather than the top of her head; she wasn’t wearing her glasses he noticed… how long had she been without them?
“You look good Eric.”
“Do I?”
‘I half expected you to go to your date naked and screaming like a viking.’
She joked, but her joke fell on deaf ears and she realised it made the male she adored as a big brother and paternal figure even more of a nervous wreck. Though she knew of every other life and their pairings, she had never known Eric’s and looking through his memories had felt like a violation of their close relationship; he had never shown any interest in romance and seemed content to be single, but now that she was watching him fidget she realised that Eric was in fact utterly alone and starting to worry that he’d never find his match again.
“Hey,” she spoke aloud and he looked at her through the fear and nerves.
“You’ll do great. I know you will. If anything happens, I’ll kick their ass and erase them from existence.”
Eric attempted a smile, and Jillian wrapped her arms around his tree trunk legs, the top of her head barely met his hips; once she was sure she had given him all of her confidence she stepped back and returned to her food.
“Do I bring them back here?” He whispered.
‘If you want, if you do. I’ll stay in my room. Ok?’
“Ok. I will be back tonight.”
‘Got it dad. Remember, you’ll do great.’ She teased.
Eric looked up and past the crowd of people, he had followed the directions laid out on this app called maps and was worried he might have gotten the address wrong when a short waif like woman who seemed to be swallowed up by the crowd jumped, her arms waving to catch his attention. Stepping away from the wall and tucking his phone into his pocket he brushed passed the humans and came to a stop just a few steps away from the female, she did not smell like a claimant; a human female would be his first encounter with romance since being brought back to life.
“Nice to meet you, I am Eric.” He told himself he had to modulate his voice and speak appropriately.
Her hair was not like the images she had taken in her own profile, rather than a luminous gold, he would compare it more to rusted bronze that had been neglected. He had liked her eyes when he had swiped on her, they had been this brilliant silver grey and maybe they were close to them but now that he saw her in person they were darker and more like storm clouds. The female smiled and offered her hand for him to shake; he had to be careful not to break her bones when he grasped her hand and shook it.
“Brylee.”
Her nose was accented by a piercing scar, perhaps she had removed it for the date? He allowed her to take the lead, and they began to walk in companionable silence; what was he supposed to say? What did the humans talk about nowadays? He flinched when she wrapped herself around one of his arms, she was cold to the touch, her heartbeat was hammering and he wondered if she was afraid? The crowds seem to get even thicker as they stepped into a roofed market; stalls were on either side with vendors shouting their fares.
“Busy right?”
“Yes.” His answer was short and to the point.
“Are you hungry?”
Perhaps she thought it would be easier for them to talk if they were sitting. He nodded despite the fact he was not in fact hungry at all and this made Brylee blush. She seemed to know the market better than he did, as she navigated them; her arms still wrapped his arm. Soon they were in a quieter part of the market and there sat a small soup stall attached to an even smaller bakery - if you could call it that. She asked him what he wanted and he told her that she could pick.
She ended up with cream of leek soup and had chosen a tomato based soup which he suspected was supposed to be some kind of minestrone but resembled watered down red tinted juice with poor quality ingredients - perhaps she didn’t want to embarrass him, especially if he could not afford it. At least the bread was better, artisanal with grains like sesame, pumpkin, poppy and barley. As they picked one of the small plastic tables to sit at, Eric partially wished that he had not given Brylee power over his choice of meal. He spooned the lukewarm liquid as she tucked into her own bowl.
“So, you have a kid?” She said after two spoonfuls.
“I do, Jillian.”
“Were you married once?”
How was he supposed to answer that? He reached into Jillian’s consciousness, she was watching a movie and was checking her emails; she sat up when she realised Eric was in the back of her mind prodding.
‘Everything alright?’
He relayed the message to her, biting into a slice of the bread to halt his response a little longer.
‘Just say you were widowed’
“Yes. I’m widowed.”
He repeated like a young child would copy their peers in school following a teacher’s lesson. As they ate in what felt like the longest silence, Eric decided to focus solely on the slices of bread in front of him than try to swallow down anymore of the putrid concoction. Brylee was not a talker it seemed, and as she ate Eric realised they were not going to get along if he would have to continue this act of falsehood; pretending to be someone he was not, perhaps this was why claimants chose not to date or marry humans, they were too simple minded and unable to see the truth around them.
“How’s the soup?” The business-owner asked.
Eric refused to answer verbally, shrugging his shoulders. Brylee gave the man a small smile and continued to down her soup as though she had been fasting. He tore into another slice of bread and inhaled, the smell of citrus alerted him to a fellow claimant; a waitress who was placing cups of coffee down for guests and chatting politely with passersby. He knew that she knew he was there, his scent of iron was unmistakable just as much as her’s was detectable.
“Are you finished?”
He hadn’t been paying attention and now Brylee was standing up and holding her hand out, what did she want? To hold his hand? Eric found himself honestly in a state of disinterest and annoyance - at least with claimants they knew what they wanted and didn’t ask so many meaningless questions. Eric was nice enough to help her clear their dishes and toss most of the terrible minestrone into the opened plastic bag; turns out he wasn’t the only one who had rejected the soup from their mouths or stomachs.
“So what did you do before you became a father?” Brylee asked
‘Just say you worked as a freelance boatman’.
“A boatman.” He supposed being a viking did come with being on boats a lot.
They walked side by side, she was still gripping his arm like a viper would it’s prey; in his mind his meeting had been a waste of time and honestly he could not wait to get away and back to the apartment… perhaps he should leave the online dating scene altogether; that could be done later, for now he had to find a way to get out of the situation… the predicament he had found himself in. She continues to chat, and he nodded and made short curt responses every single time the sentences ended in what sounded like a question; Jillian was listening in the entire time and providing answers and commentary; commentary that made this whole lacklustre experience just a little better.
By the time they had parted ways and he had thanked her for the date whilst letting her down gently that she would not see him again, he rushed back to the apartment – or at least he tried to, along the way he stopped by the grocers and picked up some ingredients for dinner; yes they had meals prepped and ready to go in the fridge but he was suddenly craving something other than his steak; he wanted duck; picking up a small butternut pumpkin; he’d make something with it for Jillian – who despite his begging and pleading remained a strict vegetarian; it nearly borderline on this new ‘vegan’ thing that she had mentioned.
He also picked up tubs of chocolate flavoured custard and a can of whipped cream; something in his gut told him that Jillian was about to have her menstrual cycle, he had asked her why she didn’t just get rid of it or switch it off like the rest of the people they knew who were claimants and who identified as female; her response had been that it was easier to blend in amongst the humans if she bled and had an excuse to flee places at a moment’s notice. Walking into the aisle where menstrual and reproductive products were held, he scanned the shelves and instinctively picked up the brick shaped containers – he didn’t know what all these mentions of wings and super and extra and sport meant but if Jillian used them and liked them; who was he to complain?
Another Attempt
So the first date had failed and sure that had put him off from trying again for a little while, but like an addict does at the first chance to relapse, he was back on the app and scrolling through his endless options again. Jillian had mentioned that she would be out of town for a few days, had several people to slay it seemed; so this was his chance to try and bring someone back to the apartment without the fear they would run away at the sight of Jillian sitting there on the couch. This next individual went by the name Summer, why anyone felt the need to name their daughter after the hottest parts of the year confounded Eric, but again he made no comment and met her at a jazz bar on a particularly cold and dreary evening, Jillian had told him that what he had worn to his first date was about the same thing that men his age wore to these bars, though she added he might want to add a button down shirt underneath whatever woollen or cashmere jumper he tossed on top.
He had been hopeful that this summer would be a claimant – but alas, she was a normal human, at least she looked more like her picture than Brylee had, she had arrived dressed in a violet turtleneck and a skirt so long and so thick in material that Eric was almost certain that if he were to lift it up he'd find a metal cage or a feral mink underneath it, her head was adorned with a beret and her nails were fake and sharp. She had ordered an espresso martini for herself and when it came time for him to pick his poison; he decided he would stick with water – part of him did not want to get drunk around humans, just in case like Lucas he would find himself atop a bar bench singing half naked about Amarjeet's eyes or breasts or something to that degree. The atmosphere of the place was not so bad, it was a bit dark for human eyesight and the music was only loud enough that you could still talk and still have enough privacy. She was not as touchy nor as chatty and he found himself having to put in active effort to listen to her. She was an a secretary during the day and an art critic by night. She owned three dogs – all Siberian huskies, male and very very vocal.
"Did you work for a specific company?"
"Yes, but I cannot say who. I signed a NDA."
He had never heard of these NDA things, were they supposed to be important? He wished Jillian were there to translate, but because she had closed her mind off to him and everyone of their other lives, he decided to ask Lucas instead.
'NDA? Non disclosure agreement, basically you talk you walk kinda thing. Must work for someone pretty important.'
"Do you enjoy the work?"
"Yes but my boss is a total maniac, well at least the boss of my boss. The lady I answer too is really quite nice. She's in her sixties I think and wears these adorable kitten heels. She's actually the assistant to the head of the company or the vice of the company... I'm not actually too sure."
Despite the fact that she had signed this NDA thing, she was still quite loose with the details, he nodded and as a plate of pita bread and a trio of dips was placed down in front of him, he was relieved to know that at least the food would be good, Summer adjusted on her stool and took a sip of her martini, he tore at a piece of the flat bread and dipped it into what he presume was spicy hummus. She popped an olive in her mouth and whilst she chewed he decided to change the subject of the conversation.
"So, why jazz?"
"Well this place is the only decent place that actually doesn't rip you off for the nibbles. We probably won't get full off the food or the drinks."
"I see. It is quite nice, the hummus is lovely."
"So tell me about your kid, I mean I'm a dog parent myself so I kinda get the stress and all."
"There's not much to say, being a single father is nice. Not as hard as people make it out to be. Jillian is a good girl, she studies hard and is popular at school."
'Jillian tell you to say that?' Lucas commented.
These were all lies of course. He could not tell this woman that his 'daughter' was in fact a sharp shooting assassin. He cleared his throat as he picked up another piece of pita; this time he chose to dip it in the eggplant. Summer gave him a soft smile and turned her head towards the stage as another group of musicians climbed up onto the small stage with their brass and drums and began to play a lively tune; accompanied by a woman who was shaking a Tamborine and singing.
Eric and Summer ended up leaving the bar after the dips and bread were finished, they decided to walk along the quiet streets of the city, it turned out that she had also brought a trench coat with her to wear and so was independently walking alongside him, her boots clicked against the pavement and they joked about the weather and how they both thought that the dating app that had allowed them to meet was in fact used entirely for hookups rather than finding true love, as they rounded another street corner, they spotted a small French bistro that was still open, there were only a few tables taken and Summer gave him a look.
"Do you like French food?"
"I do." He didn't mind it but it was not as good as other food.
"This place does snails, are you against that?"
"No, not at all. Lead the way." He gestured to her and she giggled, walking hastily towards the front door of the establishment.
They were both placed near the back in a small candle lit booth, the menus were laminated and aged, the actual food items were simple and Eric decided he would allow Summer to dictate what they would eat, he had noticed after they had left the Jazz bar that she had a slight accent; perhaps this was why she wanted to eat French food, perhaps she was French? As she looked over the menu and played with a curl of her charcoal black hair, he looked at the wine list; it was extensive and would pair well with anything Summer decided on, perhaps he should bring Jillian here, she'd like the food and the wine.
The first course were as Summer promised was a dish called les escargots à la bourguignonne or snails covered in rich house made butter, freshly grown garlic and parsley; they were served six in total so three each, they were slightly chewy but overall enjoyable and Eric partially wished they had been served with bread rolls so that he could soak up all that butter. Wiping his mouth and taking a sip of a pinot noir dry rose labelled as Cupio – this was definitely more of a Lucas drink and he could feel the Frenchmen internally moan in delight.
The second course had been two dishes, the first was ratatouille which Eric personally ate less of, the vegetables were all seasonal and he supposed it was decent, the other main was where he put most of his attention; a richly stewed beef bourguignon and that Summer had decided was to be served alongside a bottle of merlot that came from Australia, and was named after someone; probably another human. Eric had been pleasantly surprised that Summer was so informed about food and even better she didn't seem to mind eating a good amount, an amount that Eric thought was more than appropriate and like his own; just as he thought the meal was over, Summer asked for the menu again.
"How much of a sweet tooth do you have?"
"So-so."
Summer chuckled and ordered something that he didn't quite hear as inside the kitchen the sound of glass being dropped on the floor and a flurry of curses in both French and Spanish caught his attention, as the waiters cleared their table and prepared them for dessert – Summer would be taking their leftovers home he noticed, she placed her hand on the table and he almost felt compelled to grasp it in his own but was unsure of her intentions. Deciding to take the chance he placed his own far larger right hand upon her own and she ended up changing the position so that she could squeeze it.
"Tonight has been amazing." She purred.
"It has, I have enjoyed it."
"Shall we go back to yours or mine?"
"How far away is your place?"
"Not too far, a block away perhaps."
With that sorted, the waiters placed a singular plate of cherry clafoutis down between them, mounded on top was a generous serving of vanilla ice cream which began to melt the freshly baked tart. Stabbing at it with his fork, Eric allowed Summer to eat most of it, she seemed to enjoy it more than he did – he was grateful it was not overly sweet like some other French desserts like creme brûlée or éclair or profiteroles. He had been the one to settle the bill as Summer had excused herself and was in the bathroom freshening up, and once she was ready to leave, he allowed her to lead the way back to her apartment. Eric had not at all had any intention of sleeping with his dates, he just wanted companionship he didn't really need the physical release that most of his other lives needed – well that release was usually taken care of by Jillian's assassinations, Lucas and AJ's bedroom imagination and Stasia's relentless hours spent hand sewing her creations together. As they climbed the steps up towards the front door, Summer pulled him in, tilting her head up on her toes she placed a kiss on his lips as the door swung open and they half stumbled into the dark hallway.
