Page 40 of Meeting Her Mate
The screen with the lewd woman disappeared, giving way to a vibrant display of a metropolis. And there, smack in the middle of the road, stood a bald guy with a rocket launcher.
“Oh, yes, that’s Trevor. You can press the weapon key and make him shoot those rocket launchers at cars and shit,” Maliha said.
“Like this?” I asked, pressing the key. Immediately, Trevor shot a rocket at an approaching sports car, blowing it into pieces.
“Well, what do you know? You’re a natural,” Maliha said, slapping my back.
At first, the absurdity of controlling a character overweighed any enjoyment that I was experiencing. But the more I controlled Trevor with my controller, the more I understood that this was just a simulation. None of this was real. I could go to town in this game and do whatever I wanted.
I did not know how long had passed. I really didn’t. All I knew was I had traveled across the fictional city of Los Santos, driving any car I wished to drive, shooting anyone who came in my way and outrunning the police helicopters as they chased me through the city. Now and then, Maliha quipped and let me know which key did what, guiding me on how to play the game. I turned around to see what she was doing. She was just propped up on a table, cross-legged, puffing out strawberry-scented smoke from an electronic cigarette.
I had never played a video game before. If this was how most video games were, I could grow to like them. The very notion that I could control a character in such an omniscient way was addicting.
I had lost all track of time. It didn’t help that Maliha’s apartment’s windows were boarded up, not letting a single sliver of light through. The more I played, the drunker I got, both on the Monster/whiskey combo drink and on the entrancing visuals of the game.
“Do you have any more games?”
“Honey, I have the entire Steam Library, the entire PlayStation collection, and an Xbox Game Pass that lets me play any game whenever I want. I’d be more than happy to show you more games if you want,” Maliha said.
“Why are you being nice to me like this?” I asked, finally putting away the controller and forcibly veering my gaze away from the screen.
“It’s cuz you’re fucking weird. Like me. I’m drawn to weird people. You, Alexis, me, we’re all just a bunch of fucking weirdos. Most people spend their whole lives trying to be anything but weird. They try to fit into the societal construct of normalcy. I don’t get that feeling from you. You’re different, marching to the rhythm of your own drum and whatnot,” she said.
“And you’re quite astute. Alexis is lucky to have a friend like you,” I said, half-solemnly, half in a drunken state. I did not realize that the drinks that she kept pouring for me could inebriate me this much. The Monster energy drink seemed to make the whiskey more potent. I could not have drunk more than three or four glasses of that bizarre cocktail. And yet, I could feel crossing the borders from tipsy to lightly drunk.
Speak of the devil, just as I had mentioned Alexis’s name, Maliha’s apartment door opened, and there she was, standing there looking at Maliha and me with the most puzzled expression on her face.
“What the hell’s going on here?”
“Your German friend seemed lost. You know I have a thing for strays. I couldn’t just let him stand there in the corridor,” Maliha said.
I was far too inebriated to give her a proper response. So, naturally, I said, “We drank a lot of alcohol, and I destroyed Los Santos.”
“Maliha, what’s he talking about?” Alexis asked during bursts of giggles.
“Oh, I was teaching him how to play GTA,” Maliha laughed.
“I took a rocket launcher and blew a police helicopter to kingdom come,” I said, barely managing to complete the sentence without slurring my speech.
“Will, what are you doing here? Are you okay?”
As drunk as I was, I had enough propriety to know that such matters could not be divulged in front of Maliha. I staggered and struggled hard to maintain my balance as I stood up from her wobbly chair with wheels and trudged to the apartment’s entrance.
“He’s all yours,” Maliha said, closing the door behind us.
“Will, what the hell?” Alexis grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard. At once, I felt intensely nauseous.
“I came to see you,” I said, unable to help myself in this compromised state. “I…we kissed…I didn’t sleep at night. I thought of y-you.”
“How much alcohol did Maliha give you? Did she freaking mix it with Monster? That’s worse than absinthe! Jesus Christ. Let me make you some coffee and sober you up,” Alexis said, dragging me by the shoulder to her apartment.
The world whirled around us as we walked, the floor swapping places with the roof and the walls shifting as if this were some mystical labyrinthine maze protected by a minotaur.
I saw with blurred vision as Alexis prepared some coffee. I needed to rest my head. The mattress looked really tempting. I collapsed on it face-first, feeling utterly goofy. My eyes were closed, and still, the world was spinning. But this state was deeply pleasing. I could not feel any of the pain of the mental baggage that I had been carrying. As much as I tried to fixate on it, it kept slipping away. And with it, I kept slipping away, barely able to stay awake.
“Here. It’s bitter and hot, but you need it.” Alexis handed me the pungent-smelling coffee and stood back as if expecting me to do something outrageous.
“I’m so drunk,” I whispered.