20 ~ Noah

Why is it easier to tell Steffi I love her than tell her about my writing, and about O-Zone?

I don’t have to think too hard about that. There wasn’t much risk of driving her away by declaring my love. O-Zone has been a secret I’ve put to one side and ignored. I should have been straight with her from the start. But I wasn’t, so that sort of thinking is pointless.

I log on but remain incognito. I’m not in the mood for chatting right now, but I want to make a shortlist of users who might like to act in administration and mediator roles if I’m not going to be around much. If I can’t find any suitable members, I’ll have to shut O-Zone down. I don’t want to do that. It serves a useful purpose and there aren’t a lot of places online these days that are predator and troll free.

After an hour, I’ve made up a shortlist and drafted a document with guidelines on how I expect O-Zone to run. Obviously, there are things going on behind the scenes that users aren’t aware of, and now I’m trying to cover every scenario I can think of. And always in the back of my mind is the thought that I have to get back downstairs and tell Steffi about the part of my life I’ve kept hidden from her. Even though, anonymously, she’s been part of it, too.

Steffi’s going to be furious.

Zer-O.

My chest tightens when the little indicator beside her name turns from red to green. Shit. Why is she online? She hasn’t logged in since that little farewell note from weeks ago. I can’t give her the opportunity to write anything because it will only amplify the way she’s bound to feel betrayed. I quickly open the admin panel, find her details and disable her account.

I log off, and take the stairs two at a time to her apartment.

Steffi’s on the sofa when I barge in, cross-legged, laptop open. She looks up at me, a frown crossing her face. “If you’ve come down to check on the wifi, mine has dropped, too,” she says.

“I logged you off.”

“Off the wifi? How did you manage to do that?”

“Off O-Zone.”

My heart batters at my chest wall as the color drains from Steffi’s face.

“I don’t understand—”

“I know. Let me explain. Fuck. There’s no way to soften this. I’m Doctor O. I own O-Zone.”

Her eyes grow larger. “And, you write those books.” It’s a realization rather than a question.

“Yeah.”

Seconds pass in silence. I’m trying to imagine what’s running through her head right now, but it’s impossible to tell from the stunned look on her face.

“Steffi, I’m going to explain—”

She holds up a finger to stop me. “You let me humiliate myself. I thought I was chatting to a stranger.”

“You were. I didn’t know it was you.”

I hate watching what I’m doing to her. Steffi’s face screws up and I think that for the first time in my life, I’m about to see her cry. I want to comfort her, tell her it’s fine. Nobody else knows. She’s safe. I step towards me but she raises her hands.

“Stop. Stop there. I don’t want you near me.”

“Come on, Steffi. It’s a shock. I know that. I was shocked, too, when I worked out you were Zer-O.”

There’s a shift to anger. “Who else knows?”

“Nobody. It’s a private, safe space.”

She makes a sound of disbelief. “How long have you known I was Zer-O?”

“Since the morning after the first night I stayed in your apartment. You gave me your kindle to read and it opened on one of my books. I know you had no idea I wrote those stories. When I logged into O-Zone later that morning, I discovered Zer-O had written a message to say she was signing off O-Zone because she’d found her Stroke Master. I was happy for her … you, as it turned out. Then you got back from your ride that afternoon and you called me your Stroke Master, and everything began to fall into place. I didn’t say anything immediately because I wasn’t completely certain.”

She stands and walks past me to the door. “So, you were just going to keep it a secret. I guess you thought it was hilarious—”

“I didn’t think that, ever.”

“You probably thought you could carry on with your dirty talk in O-Zone and I’d never find out.” She pulls the door open. “I’d like you to leave now, please. I need time to think.”

Fuck that. I’m not leaving her alone to think when she has only her shock and a smattering of facts to draw conclusions on. I turn my back on her and walk to one of the armchairs and sit down. “I’m not going anywhere, Steffi, until we’ve talked this through.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Fine, but you can listen. I’m not defending myself. This is a completely bizarre coincidence, or fate, or whatever. I want you to understand the evolution of O-Zone.”

She stands beside the window, her body language tight and closed off.

“I started writing those stories to pay my student debt. They’re super-sexy, some might say illicit, but there’s nothing illegal in publishing erotica. They sold well. Really well. And I managed to clear the student debt I’d racked up, and never went into debt again. Do you have any idea how freeing that is? I watched talented medical students break down under financial stress. Others left before they graduated, unable to afford to carry on. That’s the reality.”

Steffi nods. She’s not cutting me off so I keep going.

“I began getting a lot of mail from readers which I couldn’t keep up with.” My phone buzzes with the one sound I really don’t want to hear right now. “I started a Facebook group where we could all hang out, and to reduce the amount of mail I was getting, but somebody reported it for inappropriate content and it was closed down.” My phone buzzes again. “My roommate’s brother was this techie guy and he set up O-Zone for me. It was better than any public platform. It was private, safer. There were rules I could enforce. People were free to talk about issues surrounding their sexuality, without fear of judgment, or being preyed upon.” My phone buzzes for a third time and I pull it out of my pocket. “I’m sorry, Steffi, I have to check this.”

They need me at the medical center immediately. The small emergency department at the hospital is stretched after a string of accidents and they’ve asked us to take the less urgent cases at the clinic. It’s how small towns work.

“Emergency?” Steffi asks.

“Yeah. Listen. We’re going to be fine. I promise you, Steffi, there might have been a lot of joking around in O-Zone, but everyone was kind and supportive. We’ll keep talking about this.”

She shakes her head. “Why? So you can convince me I’ve no reason to feel betrayed and humiliated? This is tantamount to lying to me, Noah. I have deep trust issues around relationships with men. That last boyfriend I had talked about me all around town. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me to hold my head up and pretend I didn’t care when they called me frigid, the ice maiden?”

Her eyes are bright with tears, and my phone pings again.

“Go,” she says, flicking her hand at me. “They need you.”

She turns her back and leaves the room. I want to follow her and make sure she’s okay, but my phone won’t shut up. Fuck it. Being called away at the critical point of a discussion is what makes relationships so difficult. Sick and injured people need me, but Steffi’s hurting, badly, and I want to fix her before anything else.

Do no harm.

Those three words I use as my moral compass are supposed to stop me from becoming my father. I grew up thinking there was something monstrous inside me that allowed my mother to leave and not take me with her. That abandoned child still lives inside me, and as a teenager I decided she must have seen the same thing in me that she hated in my father.

From another room I hear Steffi blowing her nose. We’re not done, Steffi Paxton. My phone buzzes once more. I pull it out.

— On my way—

<send>

I switch to doctor mode and force my personal problems out of my mind. I need to turn up at the center with my A game, and then I need to return to Steffi and make sure she knows that I will never again hurt her.