" A Roku Romance"

Chapter 1
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I sat frozen, afraid to talk, for fear of more rejection, and then feeling even lonelier than before. My visit from my case manager, Susan, only came twice a month, so I wanted to choose my words sparingly.

"It seems that I spend all my time trying to take care of myself. I never get anything done."

Susan smiled wryly, "Well, it's not a waste of time."

She was there for me. That was her job, to concentrate on and help me with my life. My diagnosis' were bipolar, schizo-affective disorder, and post-traumatic stress syndrome, which I suffered from greatly, but the problem now was isolation. You can say that boredom and loneliness were old time fr-enemies. And in a way, I considered Susan a fr-enemy as well, since the trust was not there. She got paid to spend time with me. Would she be there if she hadn't? Boundaries were certain, and I wasn't about to cross any of those. So most of the time, I just let it be all about me. And since I came from a place of such few friends or people in my life, of course, I always hesitated to open up and talk, and say what was on my mind. Thinking in the back of my mind the whole time, "Does she really care?". But, I could tell she cared about her job. That was enough for me. That day, we were getting me into bipolar support group meetings, for 'socialization'.

"I put that T.V. show on that you said you like. I couldn't understand a thing that was going on. What was that called?"

Laughing, she said, "Sons of Anarchy. You'd have to see it from the first episode."

“Do you have Netflix?"

"No. I'm poor." She justified herself for the last time. I think I had asked her that about three times before. Susan went to school for psychology, and ended up as a social worker. I had guessed that didn't pay well, but the job suited her just fine. She just purchased and moved into a new two-story, red brick house in Level-Green. So, she wasn't that bad off.

"Were you able to throw out a lot of stuff when you moved into your new house?"

"Uhhh....I threw out some stuff, but there is still so much more. I don't know what to do with it." She answered, twisting her long, straight brown hair around her finger. She had a habit of doing that. There went a question and answer that had a long history of two women complaining about being so chronically dis-organized, that it felt like lint and worms were crawling out of our walls, purses, and homes. We did not go there that day. We had no one else to help us. She worked full-time, parented two children, and I was disabled with bipolar and depression.

"What have you been doing?" She asked, checking up on me.

"I just sit here all day." I said, holding the remote, looking back at my high def Samsung T.V.

"We gotta get you out of the house, Liz."

After the appointment, she had me set up with a bipolar support group, meeting once a week, public swimming at the middle school, and a free crochet classes, amongst other extracurricular activities I wrote down in my big black appointment book. Susan left satisfied with helping someone. I always took the help. Always asked for help from my social workers. I hated when people said that they didn't need any help. More-so, when they refused to help themselves.
I chose carefully who I would ask for help, but I'd never deny that I needed it. The only problem was that I did not know how to help myself. Even with a library of self-help books, I felt helpless. Eventually, I gave up and stopped reading them, except for my recovery book that seemed to speak gently and directly to me. I got a hot cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee set up with my smokes and lighter on the table beside me, and hopped back in my "cage" -albeit- the rocking chair, took the remote in my hand, and sat back to watch my loyal friend. The thought of the support meetings was a distant hope that it would work out and give me something to look forward to. I didn't think much of it.

My Roku was buffering, on Live 365 Rediscover Radio. I had put on Cinema Classics, to hear the scores of all the good movies. I pulled out my Surface, played Bubble Birds, delaying the gratification of writing in my journal. Got sick of Bubble Birds and to my relief, opened up a word document, and started typing in my journal....

"Hi journal. I got Marc Shaiman-Main Title (North) playing now on the Roku. Not sure what movie this is a cinematic score to at all. But, as always, this will be cool for a while, while I write, until I need to hear some freaking VOICES!! Of course, you're sick of hearing it, journal, but I am bored as all heck again, lonely as ever, but in some magical way, I am still as happy as a bumble-bee. Why, you ask?? Cause I have the gift of faith in God, I don't have to work, and I am still financially secure enough to have this private hide-out apartment and stay awake all night and work on my writing, if I want to."

"It's awful out there. That weird world. Hardly a soul passing by would say one thing to you. But hey, get this. One person actually said one real thing to me tonight at Starbucks. Beth there, working on my 3rd large iced coffee, asked "Liz, how in the world are you going to get to sleep tonight?" I said, "I'm not Going to sleep tonight!" Made the crew laugh, which was the only laughs I'd see today. But, it's okay. I am set for the night, and when I feel I need laughs, I am going to put on 'America's Funniest Home Videos.' The dogs always make me laugh."

"This cinematic music is going in heights. Should I practice completing these kinds of things? Like, listening to it all the way through? I once had a friend tell me if I didn't practice completing things, I'd never gain any confidence. George. He was probably right. I wonder if I still have his email? Is he still out there? Oh God. Should I write him? He broke up with his girl-friend Amy, I heard on My Space. But, I wonder if he'd mind hearing from me? He used to be friends with my brother and I talked to him on the phone a lot of times. I also hate the saying, "It can't hurt." Well, hell, yeah! It can!" If he doesn't want to hear from me, it certainly would hurt. A lot. Whatever. I'm not going to worry about it for now."

I swiped my journal to the side of my Surface, and started hopping around on Roku. I could not get George out of my mind. E mail?? And what if e mail?? Just a hello? Hard for someone who likes to write. He liked being creative too, as I could remember. So, I thought I would brain-storm. I put the cinematic music back on, never recognizing the actual movie it was a score to. I had to come up with something for an e mail to George.
“Hi George. This is Liz. Remember me? You used to be friends with my brother, Aaron. Sure, I'm out of the blue, and saw on My Space, that Amy is out of the picture for you. Sorry to hear that. But, was wondering if you still thrived on creativity?? What have you been up to?? And do I have a slight chance of picking your brain through emails and phone calls?? I have a weakness for foreign films. Are you still a movie buff too? Please write back soon!”

Liz Albreight.

I just about died when I pressed send. Couldn't hurt? Right? I thought I should take my tranquilizer and go to sleep, try to forget about it. But, there was no way I could do that. Even if I had to journal a good part of the night. I'd sleep when my body caved in. No physical exercise to get me tired enough anyway. So, I resorted to "America's Funniest Home Videos", and played a game of word-search on my Surface. But, the writing bug kept bugging me. So, once again, I had to get back to my journal.

“I'm back. I just wrote and sent George an email. Oh my God. I can't look at it anymore. It came off as too immature or something. I'm not going to worry about it though, journal. I guess I will see if he writes me back, and you know for sure, that I'll be checking my e mails like a hawk. God forbid."

"I got on "America's Funniest Home Videos." Like I told you before, the dogs always make me laugh. Last night, I watched a sermon on Roku. The pastor kept saying he was going to tell us the whole purpose and meaning of life. So, I watched the whole thing practically, dying to hear what he had to say....then, I went to re-fill my coffee in the kitchen, and the sermon was over with, before I got the chance to hear the meaning of life. I was so screwed.
Oh no. This show is annoying me, and going to turn it off."

"’What to do? What to do?’ That always comes down to 'what to watch? And what to write?' We will see, I guess, journal. Thanks for listening to me, because no one else does. But, I don't care for now. Just wondering if he'll write back. I can't take it anymore. Conking myself over the head with a frying pan now."


Chapter 2---


It was the breaking news of the day. And for once, it wasn't on my T.V.

“Hey there Liz. Nice to hear from you. You were always one of those cool chicks. Yeah, Amy is history, but I'm o.k.
I'll always be okay. I've been working on some Carnegie Library spots. A twist for me, cause it's more positive than what I'm used to, albeit- political back-stabbing and jargon just ended in November. So, got some freed up time now. So you can pick my brain, as you say! Yeah, still thriving on creativity. Are you still writing?? Whatcha been writing about?? My cell number is 412-988-5451. Feel free to call anytime. Foreign films? I find them better than most American. The style, visual, and dialogue. Yeah, still a movie buff here too, but don't like much to watch them by myself. Since Amy's been gone, ( no regrets, mind you.) I haven't been watching much of anything. Maybe you'd like to show me one of your foreign films? Been a long time. And hey, it's been too long since I last talked to you.
Call me. your friend- miggles wiggleforth.”

“How nice of him”, I thought. “What a surprise that was!”, and with an anxiety that actually felt good for once, I did give George a call.
"Hello?"

"Hi George. It's Liz. Thanks a lot for writing me back."

"It's Czech Chick! How've you been Liz?"

"Hanging in there, George! Taking it day by day." I answered, shyly, and laughing. He always did make me laugh. "How've you been?"

"Okay, I guess. I'm searching e-bay now for guitars, but I can talk. How's your brother?"

"He's okay. He's still in his apartment, near Penn Hills. We play video games like Galaga sometimes. Either over there, or at my apartment. He's been good, though. He's still into astrology."

"Okay cool. Tell him I said hi. So, did you watch a foreign film lately?"

"Yeah. It was called El Bola. Spanish. Not much of a story there though. Just about a young boy being abused by his father, but there wasn't any plot, or interesting dialogue. They just droned on in the same tone of voice the whole time. Pretty boring. I wouldn't recommend it."

"What would you recommend?"

"Uhhh....how about me coming over there and getting all into your business sometime?." I joked but was serious about it. "I've just been so cooped up this whole winter, and want to see what you're up to."

"You can come over today, but I'm just looking up guitars. I can show you my basil plant that I just re-planted."

I laughed, as his sense of humor started coming back to me. "Oh cool! How exciting!"

"Do you still have my address in your GPS?"

"Yeah, I think so. It's been five years. I don't delete them though."

"Well, then! Get over here girl! You can search for a movie you like, and maybe we’ll watch it. What do you say?”
I laughed yet again, and teased, "Thanks Miggles. I'll be over in about an hour. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. Cool. I get to see what kind of woman Liz turned into!”
“Oh God. See ya soon!”
“Bye.” We hung up laughing. Just as I had remembered him.
I hurried to change into my blue and white Saber-toothed tiger T-shirt and blue-striped jeans. I pulled my long, chestnut-golden brown hair into a pony-tail and barrettes, and got my stuff. I went out the door thinking "Do I actually have someone to talk to and visit now?".

I drove carefully to his house, not letting myself miss the tricky back-road turns. I remembered his road, Calenstine Road. It was way out in the boon-docks, and I'd have been screwed if it wasn't for my GPS. I finally arrived at the top of his driveway, within the hour, and knocked on the door.

He had cut his dark brown hair short. He looked good. "Oh my God!" I said delighted to see him again.

His smile went straight through me. Was there something called “love at second sight”? Someone was happy to see me. His Greek eyes, were romantic, round and so dark. "Whoa. You've grown up!" He said.

"I’m getting old, George. I’m almost 41.”

"You don’t look it.” “Look at you. You were always

my friend's little sister, which kind of made you off limits."

His forwardness scared me, because I had forgotten how much I used to like him.
"Let me in!"

I followed him inside his trailer.

"That's a good one!" He said.

"A good what?"

"Foreign film! Let me in. Did you ever see it?"

"No."

"You have to watch that sometime. It's about vampires. But, it's really good. It's Norwegian."

"O.k." I strolled through his kitchen, looking around. Actually, I was looking around for any remnants of "Amy." But found none. She didn't seem 'there', like her ghost would haunt me or anything. I got excited when I saw his instruments, and guitars.

"Oh. Do you still collect guitars?"

"What I'm looking for now. Yes. I found this one called a Kay. Not sure if I'm going to buy it though."

"Oh o.k. These are nice." I said, looking at his display.

"Yeah, thanks. Got to get one from the 50's though."

"Is that your T.V.?"

He laughed. "What do you mean? Is that my T.V.? What does it look like?"

I cracked up at my silliness. "It's just that it's like 100 inches wide! It's like a movie theater in here!"

"That's why you got to come over, and watch some with me. This is the place to be. George's theater."

"You're funny signing your name Miggles Wiggleforth. Are you still writing those short-stories with those wacky character names and those jazz bands?"

"No. Hey. I have to look at this for a second. Hold on." He sat on his couch, staring blindly into the computer, as I took a seat waiting. My God. Was he ever handsome. This was like a first date. No one could ever tell me that journaling wasn't a good idea, after this. It's what made me think of him in the first place. And then, there I was, at his house, with him, finally.

"Okay. I think I'm going to buy this. The auction ends at 9:15."

"Okay. I'll remind you. Do you remember telling me years ago, that if I don't complete things, that I wouldn't gain any confidence?"

"Yes. I do. Did you ever complete anything after that?"

Embarrassed, I answered, "Only a couple short stories. Nothing else was all that important to me."

"Well, there you have it. That's fine. So, you're still writing?"

"Everyday."

"What do you write about?"

"I have a blog. Just post my thoughts on there. Usually about what I see on T.V. or my Roku. Do you know what a Roku is?"

He pointed.

"Oh my god! You have one too! I swear, no one knows what a Roku is, and they're the most entertaining things!"

"Lots of free stuff on there. I find some cool movies and music on it.”

"Yeah." I said. I wanted to stop my nonsensical babble and just kiss him. I couldn't tell if he felt the same way. "So, can I search for something on this for us to watch?"

"Yeah! Have fun. Here look." He walked to his basil plant, and pulled up the dying leaves. "They're not doing so well. I'm trying to save them. They got some bacterial disease."

I laughed a little. "Oh. Awww. I'm sorry. They might make it."

"Yeah. I hope so." He said, a little like a child. I adored him. I didn't want to leave. But, I knew I'd have more thoughts for my journal later on.

"Yeah. Make yourself at home. Do you want any coke?”
"Sure. Thanks." I had found a "safe" friend. I knew him from before, and had followed his posts on MySpace, all these years, so I knew of some stuff about him.

He walked over with my coke. "Go ahead. Find something. I have to look at this now." He sat back down. "Oh. I'll set you up." He turned on the Roku, and handed me the remote.

So, I silenced myself, and took it. Would this be my new hang out? I didn’t care at all. I was happy to have made a new friend in him. I was pretty nervous, but it was more excitement. I hadn't remembered feeling excited in the waking life for a long, long time. Only in my vivid, lucid flying dreams, which I had a lot of. And I was thinking that from now on, hopefully, he'd be in my dreams.

He was already in my day-dreams as I sat there going through the movies. Already, we had kissed. He had told me he loved me.

I tried to distract myself, with the Roku, wondering if these images had occurred to him as well?