Chapter 2 of Roku Romance book.

Chapter 2
Then, I got a text on my phone. “Liz, can you meet me at your apartment in 30? I’m in trouble.” It was from Cassie. She was an old, long-time friend. This, I could not ignore. The timing, though, I thought.
“George, I’m going to have to go. I’m sorry, but a girl-friend of mine is in trouble.”
“Oh no. Sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah. She just texted and asked me if I can meet her at my apartment in 30, so I have to leave now. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Well, I hope she’ll be okay.”
“I don’t even know what it is yet, but hope we can do this some other time. The timing sucks.”
“I know. But hey, shoot me an email. Let me know if things work out.”
“Okay. I will.” I said, grabbing my purse and key-chain, headed towards the door.
“See you soon.” He said. He looked like he wanted to kiss me, and I thought about my friend, “this better be good.”
Once I got in my car, I texted her back. “Be there in 30.”

The next day, my email to George read, “George. It was nothing. She thought she was pregnant. So, we went out and bought her a pregnancy test, and it turned out negative. Pirates of the Caribbean with you would have been a lot more fun! What are you working on today? More Carnegie Library spots? I’m doing laundry today. Lots of trudging up and down the stairs. What’cha up to?? “ Liz.
“Liz, yikes. Glad to hear everything’s okay. Doing some Techy stuff. Chat me if you want.”
I had already put the 4th load of laundry in the washer, and the 3rd load in the dryer. I did not want to seem too desperate to George, so I decided to write him that I was overwhelmed with stuff to do, and that I’d get back to him some other time. Well, it worked to my advantage, because I had a spark in me now to do all the chores I had been procrastinating about. So, I spent the day, cleaning, but looking forward to my night-time journaling, looking up at the dark sky.
“Hi Journal. It’s me, Liz. Got a guy now, that I can think of. But, I don’t want to get too wrapped up in him. I’m afraid I’d get into the love-trap I used to be in, when I was with Pete. Things don’t go over so well for me, when I get all caught up with a guy. They do their own thing. Then, I never get into my own things. So, going to purposely Not talk about him too much in here, if I can help myself. So, I guess back to the nightly grind of roku adventures. I got this cheap horror flick on now, about some isolated psycho. It’s just that I get such a kick out of these B-movies. And really, the actresses can look a lot more realistic than the ones in the good movies. They’re not so hyped-up with make-up and nice clothes. Which reminds me, I have to get the clothes out of the dryer for the night.”
I plugged my Surface in to charge, and dumped the fresh, dry clothes out on the closet floor. I was not about to start folding laundry now. My disability had taught me some short-cuts. I thought I’d stay up for the night, to write, so I sprayed my bathroom with cleaner to let it soak in and clean it later. Another time-saving tip I learned. I pulled my rocking chair near the window, and pulled the T.V. up super-close in front of me. The crack in the window let in a fresh, cold, winter breeze on my face, as I sat warmly underneath the electric blanket. The cats took their turns jumping up on me. And I set out to watch some news and write.
The day of my bipolar support group meeting came, finally. Eight other disabled people sat in an enclosed room with me. Suzanne, the leader of the group was a self-proclaimed recovered bipolar woman. She handed out the pamphlets. I recognized some from my book called “Living With and Without Manic Depression.” I was there to learn coping mechanisms, to deal with this illness, so I thought I would give everyone the benefit of a doubt, and see them as good people for trying to help themselves.
Suzanne looked over us, with compassion in her eyes, seeming gentle and approachable. I secretly wished for the day that I would have my life and act together just enough to be able to stand where she did that day. There were two heavy-set men, who talked a lot about electro-convulsive therapy. There was a girl, who brought up her military experience that she had to leave after five years, because of the onset of her illness. And the other four remained mostly quiet the whole time. I was just feeling it out, putting my tentacles out there, for the first meeting. My trust had been shattered before, so I was not about to start telling my life story to these people. I only mentioned a past friend I used to know that did E.S.T. (electric shock therapy). I told them that the memory gets bad, but it does work though, temporarily.
I wasn’t sure what to think about the group after I had left and gone home. It gave me some food for fodder for my journal. I read the pamphlets closely. The meetings were once a week, and my personal goal was to open up more at these groups. It did give me something to look forward to, even though the atmosphere seemed rather dismal. But, it was only the first time.
My thoughts went back to George. “I can’t have him be more of a handicap than bipolar already is,“ I thought to myself…”I’ve gone through this before.” If I had been paying any mind to what I secretly wished for in my support meeting that day, I might have had the sense to, gee whiz, study my illness, perhaps? But, it wasn’t happening, and it probably wasn’t going to happen. My sorest excuse was that I was a horrific speaker. And how in the world could I be leading a class, when I sounded like a stuttering fool whenever I opened my mouth? No. I might have to resort to writing, after-all, I thought. Well, I was pretty serious about my blog for two years by then, and already, I had twenty-two fans on my blog-site. My pen-name was cloudy9. You can guess I had filled them in on bipolar so far.
I was tired, but glad the groups held from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m., which was flexible to my night hours so I could sleep in too. That was a Tuesday. And I had finally got some sleep.

Chapter 3
Wednesday arrived, along with the bright shining sun. Was I ever glad to see the sun shining so brilliantly. The past four days had been rainy and over-cast, which can be a deathly blow for someone with seasonal depression and insomnia, as well. I wasn’t all that crazy about the two inches of snow on the ground, but the sun was up, the cats were on the window-sill, and I had the day ahead of me, if I could keep my mind off George. Which I could not. So, with much resistance, I caved into my weakness, and emailed him.
“Hiya George. Not doing much today. Was wondering if you had some time to catch up? Are you working on anything, and can I come over and bother you again? I’ll make it worth your while with some laughs. Ha ha.” Liz.
Within minutes I got a reply from him. “Hey there Liz. I would like it if you did come over. I’m working on a project here, and it’s been way too quiet. Getting kind of lonely here. Come on over, chick. Let’s catch up. Your rooster, georgey.”
I analyzed his signed name, ‘your rooster, georgey.’ There was no figuring it out. I had thought I’d give more thought to him in my journals, but nothing much had been said as of yet. I couldn’t go there. I had to be ‘strong’ for myself for a while. What was I trying to prove? I was a hopeless romantic, and couldn’t get him out of my mind. So, now was the time to go ahead and give in to my weak spot, I had guessed. I drove over to his house, excited and anxious, and knocked on his door.
After a minute, he answered, apologizing for the wait. “Sorry, I’m working on this project. God damn, woman! What did you do to your hair?” He mused.
“This is my Pippy Longstocking look.” I said, assuredly, waltzing in, my second time, knowing I was welcome there for sure.
“You pulled that off pretty well.” He said, following me. “You want a coke?” He went over to the fridge and pulled one out for me.
“Thanks.” I said, taking it. “What are you working on?”
He sighed a deep sigh. “Just a little something here. I need to take a break anyway. Here,” he motioned, “Take a seat. Tell me what’s been going on in Liz’s world!” He sat down.
“An inclusive life, I guess.” I joked, amusing myself.
“What do you mean inclusive? What’s inclusive about it?”
“That I don’t have one.” I laughed, embarrassed but saddened.
“What else do you want?” He asked, non-suspecting.
I couldn’t help it. I just said, “You.”
“Awwww…,” he said, standing up to sit down next to me, “You have me.” He said, putting his hands on my arm and shoulder. “What else is it you want?” He paused, staring in my eyes, with shimmers of hope in his. “This?” He reached over and kissed me on my mouth gently, as I felt my body shiver. “Yeah,” I whispered, kissing him back more forcibly. A force like no other blew threw me. “Oh my god. You’re a dream,” I said, my voice full of aching and desire, as I let go of my grip. He said, “So are you.” His soft, hot breath and tone went through my ears, and down, heating up other parts of my body.
He led me into his bedroom, and the ethereal existence I had started with him about a week ago, in my head, all came into existence for me that night. He had spooned my body with his, after our love-making session was over with. Most of my distracting day-dreams about him had come true. But, I was still waiting to hear it. Those three words every girl needs to hear. I shut my eyes, wanting…needing. And albeit, karma or chemistry…they came to me…
“I love you.” He whispered softly.
“I love you too.” I whispered back, feeling tears of joy come to my eyes. I wiped them away, discreetly, and to my surprise, he said out of the blue, “Do you want a cheese-burger?”
I let out a laugh, “Yes!”
We took a ride in his Suburu Forester and got a cheese-burger and coke at the Sonic drive-thru. We made some fun, creative talk on the way there, poking fun of the signs we saw along the way. By the time we got back, it was almost 2 a.m. I knew he might want to work on his project the next day, so I told him I’d let him go, and get some sleep.
He walked me to the door, “Be careful driving, Liz.” He said. He leaned over, giving me a gentlemanly kiss. I could tell he liked me this time around, saying good-bye.
“I love you.” I couldn’t help but say it again. I figured it wouldn’t hurt at this point. And, I needed to hear him say it again.
“I love you too. Be good.”
“I will. Get some sleep.” His eyes were fierce as I pulled mine away from them.
And tomorrow, he would be there for me. I drove home finally happy, and found myself, at times, even laughing.

Chapter 4
“I got fired from Ryan Seacrest!” Was George’s email to me the next day. So, I called him, without hesitation.
“Hello?”
“Hello. You got fired from Ryan Seacrest? What in the world does that mean?” I asked.
“Well, let me first say that last night with you was incredibly amazing. And I can’t stop thinking about it. You’re just a very beautiful woman.”
“Thank you. I can’t stop thinking of it either.” I said in reply.
“And, I got fired from Ryan Seacrest today!” He said laughing.
It seemed like George that he wouldn’t linger too long on the romantic details of our night. So be it. I was just so happy to have woken up hearing the man’s voice who told me he loved me last night.
“What happened?”
He was laughing hysterically as he tried to explain. “Ryan Seacrest didn’t like my voice on the voice-over work I did for Coke. So, he fired my ass!”
I joined in the humor, laughing too. “Okay! Why not? You have the perfect voice for Coke. He’s an idiot.”
Well, sparks flew through the air waves, during our first “couple” phone call. It turned into a full hour of sharp laughs, jabbing this generic celebrity, who got his fame hosting American Idol, and some interesting talk about the ins and outs of his work doing commercial spots. We agreed on me sitting in on a session to watch him work, sometime the following week. I had an appointment with my peer specialist, Susan, that day, so I had to get off the phone, while he went into his still unknown world. I had no idea what he would be doing all day, except for his sound-work. He called himself a “sound-sculpter.” I thought the idea of doing sound effects would be cool, plus the music, and sound. We had talked about so much of his stuff, so I had lots to shake off my head to get ready for my appointment with Susan. But time stopped me. As I sat in my chair, waiting for Susan to arrive, I wondered to myself, “He’s all that I have.” “What if I lose him now? What will happen to me?” And I was scared.