The New Leaf
Jaden Issue 2, Summer 2021
“So, your boss finding you asleep prompted this sudden drive to change?” the shrink asked, shooting a Nerf basketball into a net affixed above Larry’s head.
“Yeah,” Larry gnawed on the red licorice always in abundance on the coffee table. He didn’t even like them, a nervous habit, he couldn’t smoke at the shrink’s. “Maybe I’ll quit smoking,” he said, dreamily.
“I’d take things one small step at a time,” the shrink suggested.
Larry thought of his small bodily part and its large problem, a side effect of the meds. Mind blowing sex. That would be a cool change.
“Maybe I could just improve my attitude about work a bit?”
The shrink smiled. Larry reached for another licorice.
After leaving the shrink’s office, armed with the article they found online and printed out about how to add energy and enthusiasm to story times, Larry got a text from a workmate.
Hey. I might have a girl for you.
The romantic in Larry considered this a possible uncanny watershed moment.
The “girl,” Cheryl, lived in Philadelphia. She worked at a library once. A Catholic! Maybe she wouldn’t care about sex, Larry thought. Maybe they could read in bed, eat chocolates, watch movies, cuddle.
She already said it’s ok for you to contact her. Go for it!
The very next day, after scanning the library’s public services area from his desk, viewing no spies, and having all Cheryl’s contact information, Larry decided he would go the old- fashioned route and opened his Gmail.
Dear Cheryl, This is Larry Jones, Would you care to chat? Best regards, LJ.
He thought using his initials sounded manly. His heart raced as he clicked send.
Larry! It’s nice to “meet you”! LOL. I heard you work at a library. I loved my library job! What do you do there?
Thus began an intense email volley, full of half-truths, hyperbole, and, Larry hoped, charming self-deprecation that would go on day and night, for almost a month.
Larry’s story times went from uninspired to straight-up distracted, but he felt excited, and sometimes even, during and after the emails and texts from Cheryl, aroused. Day and night he tapped and clicked away on his keyboards, responding to Cheryl. Larry learned that Cheryl loved the color green, rode her bike to work, made really good pancakes, and talked to her sister every day. Larry told Cheryl true-enough stories about drinking with buddies in college, camping with his sister in Yosemite last summer, and his passion for fudge. Of course, he never mentioned his meds, shrink, or, God forbid, his smoking.
During the weeks of Cheryl, as he would always remember them, Larry thought constantly of skipping the shrink but feared if he did, the shrink would call his father, so he stuck to his usual appointment.
“Hey, you seem up, man, real up,” the shrink said, shaking Larry’s hand at his office door.
“I guess that article really helped my story times,” Larry said.
Cheryl said she thought it romantic that they had only written so far, and had never even talked on the phone. Larry, of course, agreed. But, she said, the time had come, it had been a whole month already. Cheryl wanted to meet. In person. No phone. No Facetime. The real deal. The excitement stirred in his lower regions, giving him hope for sustainability. He considered his problems:
1. Money (none)
2. Fears (many)
3. Erectile dysfunction (chronic)
4. Secrets (Shhhh)
5. Sleeping arrangements (see problem #3)
I’m a little short of cash this month, Larry wrote. Cheryl, also short of cash, suggested the Chinatown bus. A straight shot from DC Chinatown to Philly Chinatown for 20 bucks. She signed that email Love. Larry followed suit, almost giggling as he did so, looking up from his screen and closing his eyes, imagining taking Cheryl for dinner, making love to her.
But something about the Chinatown bus plan made Larry’s leaf turn again, his Cheryl-inspired arousal drooped to despair and lethargy. Larry’s default seemed to be autumn, despite his urge for spring. Overcome by drowsiness, those late night messages finally caught up with him. The week they were meant to meet, Larry reached for his phone, bowed his head to its small screen, and texted, simply, Goodbye, blocking Cheryl’s number, feeling the pressure building in his ears retract and fade.
