ROSETTA STONE (exerpts)

Mike bustled into my office hysterical and beaming with exuberance. We hello-ed and hi-ed as usual. He did a few circles around the office, rubbed his palms together and blew through his closed palms.

“You have no idea what I’ve just seen,” he said. The expression on his face said there was something weighing heavily on his heart. He went on to tell me that he’d just encountered the world’s most beautiful woman.

“And you know this for a fact because you’ve met all the women in the world, I presume?” I asked jokingly.

“Don’t be an ass,” Mike retorted angrily.

“I beg your pardon?”

“By God, I never imagined beauty like that existed,” he continued. He exhaled loudly and did a few more circles and covered his mouth with his right hand and shook his head.

“You should see her. Mon Dieu. She’s so beautiful, it is unnerving.” He paused. “I hate to say it; but I think I’m in love,” he said.

“Again?” I questioned. Sometimes my heart aches for him. Over the past three months he has professed similar sentiments for no less than a quarter-dozen girls. The outcome? Nothing. The closest he came to communicating to one of them was nodding and saying ‘hi’ to her when they walked past each other at the cafeteria and that was the end of the story. She walked on a few more feet and was met by a tall fat blonde fellow and they locked lips briefly. I admit, such a sight can quell any affection towards one’s beloved, and that’s exactly what happened. But good friends don’t normally pour cold water on each other’s excitement too quickly, so I obliged him with feigned curiosity.

“Where might this affection-evoking encounter have taken place?” I asked.

“At the Panera two blocks from here,” he replied. I conceded that that made sense. I loosened up a little. My doubt of his earlier proclamation was beginning to wane. That place definitely has a reputation for assembling the very finest of God’s handiwork, during lunchtime.

“I think she’s new. I haven’t seen her there before today.” That was obvious.

“She probably just started working there,” he continued with unrelenting excitement, “She smiled at me – the most heart-warming smile accompanied with the most resounding friendly ‘hi’. I think she also knows that we clicked.” The blabbering of an enamored young man should normally go unanswered, but I deemed it my duty to enable my friend appreciate the buffoonery in his ranting.

“Have you noticed that all customer service personnel do that? I believe they are trained to effect such smiles to attract customers,” I said, “just an observation.”

“Listen, you ass. They usually don’t smile beyond four seconds, or past the time you make your order. She breached the guidelines, I tell you. And the smile was sincere,” he said defensively. This was the first time I was made aware of any time limits on smiles. This guy was definitely serious. Most people don’t go about performing time analysis on smiles. The man’s heart was full to the brim. He had to let things out so I indulged him some more. This business seemed to be very close to his heart. If he required my audience, then he was going to have it one-hundred percent.

“Did you say anything to her? I mean anything besides ordering tomato soup.”

“Of course! I asked her her name,” he said with a contented smile.

It always seems to be the case that coffee shop personnel have their names attached to their aprons. This is just an observation I’ve made several times. So then, if my observations are correct then, either Mike had some inside information that the name tag this person of interest was sporting was a nom de plum or something else. Obviously, I inquired.

“Oh? She didn’t have a name tag?” I asked.

“She did. So what? I asked her anyway. What else did you expect me to say? Ask her her mother’s name or ask her to marry me right there?”

Aha! I thought. It was a classic case of a conversation block; you know the periods where you wish to make a good impression on the object of your infatuation only to find out that you grey cells have ceased to function? However, this was a very big step for Mike. Now, mind you, I am a gentleman, and a reserved one at that. I usually do not make disparaging comments about my cronies, but the truth is Mike is completely tactless in the company of the fairer sex; inquiring this damsel of her name was definitely a great achievement for him.

“She’s called row-ser-tta,” he said smiling foolishly at himself.

“Huh?”

“Rosetta, that’s her name. But you should hear the way she says it. Row-ser-tta,” he said.

“I see,” I said. Something wasn’t quite right. I had the disconcerting feeling that I’d heard that name before. Of course Rosetta is a fairly common name, but it was how it was said that got me thinking – Row-ser-tta. Anyway, the focus was Mike and not my memory so I let go.

“What’re you planning to do next?” I asked my hopelessly enamored friend.

“I’m in the process of devising a scheme to ask her if she’s available to be wooed,” he replied. I confirmed that that was a reasonable next step. He did a few more circles and decided to go do some work. I wished him luck and he was on his way.

I must confess, I do not consider myself a man with obsessive tendencies, but this “Rosetta” business was one that had to be resolved. Row-ser-tta. My desire to do any productive work had suddenly waxed cold. My mind was now preoccupied with this mystery. I ran down to the vending machine on the first-floor and obtained a can of “red bull.” It usually gives my gray cells some quickening jolt. I gulped down a few gobs; I could feel my brains beginning to respond. Row-ser-tta, Row-ser-tta. No go. I downed a few more swallows. I was back upstairs pacing the hallway like an expecting father. Luckily, my advisor was out on one of his long lunch “conferences,” with the department chair. This was good because it meant I could pace all I wanted without any foul interrogation. My mental faculties were churning vigorously. A party! Aha! That was it. I heard that name at a party. But which one? At this point I guess you could say that my limited social connectivity was helpful. I am invited to only a handful of parties per year. Ben’s party. That was the most recent party I’d been to that I knew less than one percent of the attendees. I started from there. Location? Maryland. Time? Four months ago. It was all coming together. I mentally scanned his living room where all the guest were mingling and making new acquaintances. I looked for Rosetta. Rosetta. I remembered Ben introducing me to some stranger. The face was gradually gaining definition. Row-ser-tta. There! I exclaimed. Xin Li, the Chinese girl in the office next door, stuck her head through her lab door and looked at me suspiciously. I assured her that everything was under control. She raised her eyebrows and ducked back inside. Rosetta! I finally got it. Rosetta Stone! I could clearly see her stretch her hand in anticipation of a connection with mine. “Row-ser-tta,” she said, “Rosetta Stone.” I could remember her face like she was standing before me now. Truly, I had to concur with Mike’s assessment of her looks.

Warm hearty smile. Check. Sweet resounding voice. Check. Agreeable countenance. Double check. I smiled at myself contentedly. The mystery was solved. I was about to get to work when I sensed that something still wasn’t quite right. I remember talking to her for a while longer; but why don’t I remember our parting comments? Normally I don’t wipe the faces of such astounding creatures off my mind, if we bond pretty well, that is; and our goodbyes are usually quite warm and engaging. That nagging ill-foreboding feeling was back. I stood with my back against the wall for a few moments, gulped down the rest of my “brain juice.” It was all coming back to me now. The doors to my memories were now opened. Too late. I couldn’t close them. I quivered. My mouth dried up instantly. I trembled! She’s here; two blocks away from me. The blunders that men commit hunt them down. This one was right on my tail. I tried to ease my mind. I chided myself for being so paranoid. What are the odds? There could be a million good-looking Rosettas, with enchanting smiles and resounding “hi’s” some of whom may even choose to call themselves Row-ser-tta. I tried hard to hammer this sound reasoning into my thick skull. No good. My fearfulness was getting the better of me. I laughed. I tried to laugh it off.

My cell phone buzzed a couple of times before I retrieved it from my pocket. It was Mike. “Guess what? Guess what?” he said, all excited like a fourteen-year old girl who’d just been kissed, “I’m making progress. I found out more info on her. She’s called Rosetta Stone. I got her name from someone so I googled her up. She played softball in college. She also likes figure skating. Awesome. I got to go now. Later man.” Click. Rosetta Stone! Still what are the odds?

I’m not very fond of unnecessary wishful thinking, but this was one time it was warranted. I find the possibility of time travel absurd and won’t discuss it, under normal circumstances. However, in my current pernicious situation, I wished I could do a few fast circles around the globe and go back four months to Ben’s party. Time travel never seemed so appealing as it did now. You see, sometimes I think it is a good idea if the authorities made it their duty to inform the citizens when an unwanted body was going to manifest itself within their proximity. If that were the case, I could have found myself a crevice to slither through or asked for an injunction barring R.S from entering town, and for that matter acquiring employment two blocks from my lab. I could clearly see her gaze. The last time she looked at me, just before I left the party, I could sense hidden messages of carnage and mayhem in her eyes. I am no fool. I wasn’t going to make her work easy. No more sandwiches from Panera. A few drops of some vile concoction on my veggie sandwich, and yours truly will be riding in the back of a black limousine, encased in wooden confinement with a mortician blissfully chauffeuring; if you know what I mean.

I called Fitz, the dispenser of sound judgment and left an S.O.S on his cell phone, requesting a short conference with him over noodles later that evening. If there were any guy around who knows how to disentangle himself from such foul situations it would be Fitz. I would be willing to bet all my money on him – I’m not a betting man though.

I met Fitz at Lulu’s a short while after seven in the PM. He was very concerned. We both ordered ginger beer, as was our ritual whenever we dined here. It seemed to brighten the prospects of a blissful evening.

“Have you spoken to Mike lately?” He asked

I sat there staring at him with such a shock that it looked as if he had just made some obscene comment.

“Is anything the problem?” He continued.

“Actually, this meeting is in part because of him,” I said.

“Ah. I see.”

There was a brief moment of silence. I was trying to figure out how to proceed, and he was probably wondering what the problem could be.

“Did he tell you about the girl he met?” Joe asked.

I sighed.

“She is the reason for my current state of distress.”

He covered his mouth in an expression of bewilderment.

“You don’t mean to say you’re also enamored by her, do you?”

I assured him that wasn’t the case. Even if it were, I would willingly sacrifice her for my friendship with Mike. Mike is good. We’ve known each other since we were still crawling and playing with dirt. He’s good people; as they say.

“Well then, what is it?” he asked impatiently.

“Bide your time old boy, I’ll spill it all out in due course.”

The waiter was now in the process of doling out our dinners, my pad thai and Fitz’s fried noodles. We waited till he vanished from our sight before I resumed.

“You remember the encounter I had at Ben’s party that I hinted to you a while ago?”

“Yup. Clear as daylight. But you didn’t give me the details though. You only scratched the surface and left me drooling for more. It was about some woman I believe. I remember you said you wouldn’t tell me her name because you’re a gentleman; and gentlemen do not go about bandying ladies’ names in their stories.”

“You’re right about that my dear friend,” I said. This chap has a fine memory. He’s always had. That’s why he’s on top of his class in Med. School.

“Yes I refused to divulge the lady’s name then. But I think it is time you got to know.”

He straightened up and cocked his ears, ready to suck down the details.

“What would you say If I told you her name is ‘Rosetta Stone’?”

He pondered for a while, then grinned.

“I’d say that is a pretty darn interesting coincidence,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because that’s the name of Mike’s new object of affection.”

“Aha. Now you see where that lands me. In a deep pile of you-know-what.”

“But I don’t see why,” he complained.

“The ‘why’ is that, I’m convinced that they are one and the same creature! And if she discovers that Mike maintains any form of association with me, she would fight tooth and nail to retract her smile and swallow her ‘hi’, if that were possible; scraping any prospect of a union with Mike. I’m also very much afraid of what Mike might do when he finds out that I’m to credit for the cold treatment being dished to him by the woman.”

“Was your folly that deep-searing?”

“More than you could ever imagine,” I said.

“You never told me what actually happened, you know. I think it’s time to come clean. I need all the facts if I am to offer any assistance.”

At this juncture, I thought another round of ginger beers would be in order, so we ordered the release of two more. I swallowed a few refreshing gobs and began to recount the episode:

“ It was at Ben’s party about four months ago. I was minding my own business getting acquainted with some lemonade and cheesecake. You know how it works: cheesecake, lemonade and I, we tend to bond pretty well. Anyway, I digress. So I was treating myself, or so it might have seemed to an observing second party. But in truth I was also hacking out a plan - a master plan to accost the tall mulatto nubile whom I had just spotted moments ago. I could only see her head towering over the others. The crowd around her was thick. BY the time I had garnered enough oomph to make my move I discovered that she had vanished into the crowd, as it always happens when you wait too long. I tiptoed, stretched, peeked, squeezed through bodies in a futile attempt to re-locate her. That went on for a while. It was in one of my tiptoeing moments when I felt a rather heavy tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Ben accompanied by a mysterious stranger, namely, the tall mulatto nubile. You would think that would be a welcomed surprise; but however, not if you were in the middle of chomping down a rather colossal piece of creamy cheesecake.

‘Hey Rob, let me introduce you to Rosetta,’ Ben said. I nodded. As is usually expected in any civil society, when two strangers are introduced to each other, we did the hand-shaking thing but I refrained from exchanging further civilities since my mouth was still housing a sizable amount of chewed pastry. I only nodded when she said ‘hi, nice to meet you-‘ the most resounding ‘hi’ ever said to a stranger, I tell you. Did Mike tell you of his experience with this ‘hi’?”

Fitz confirmed that, true, Mike had indeed mentioned the effect the ‘hi’ had on him. I continued with my story.

“Ah. Then you know exactly what I mean. Like Mike, I was also imbued with a new sense of confidence, and being desired. I didn’t have time to study her entirely. I had to dash off to the little boys’ room to reorganize myself. You know, to make sure my lips were free of cream and crumbs and my mouth thoroughly cleansed mouthwash. I stared in the mirror for a while and practiced my speech. During my journey back into the party area the old self brimming with confidence and hopes of good tidings. I scanned the room once more for her location and spotted her communing with a few other damsels. However, at this point I was able to examine her whole figure. Everything about her was natty and snazzy, well almost. I say almost because I noticed some peculiar excess about her midriff. It was very disturbing, I tell you. I mean with the hopes I had in mind, this observation particularly an agreeable one; moreover, she didn’t seem to be perturbed. So obviously I threw in the towel. My fantasies weren’t going to materialize. I was about to duck, change my course and console myself with the acquaintance of another willing dame, when our eyes met; I mean Rosetta’s and mine. She waved vigorously and effected one of those grins that suggests that one is eager to bask in your company or at least requires your audience. I grinned back and made a beeline towards her. I was met with another one of her hi’s and she started to introduce me to the crowd around her. It was obvious that at least four of them were mutual strangers with her, since she failed to recollect their names. Anyway, after the intros, I was left to fend for myself. She had made it a point to inform them that I was a Computer Engineering PhD student. You know how that tends to generate a couple of oohs and ahhs from certain damsels. Undoubtedly they had concluded, even without hearing a word from me that I was brainy and dorky. The former, I have no reserves about. With their expectant eyes guarding my every gesture, waiting anxiously for me to start some small talk, I had to perform. As you may be very well aware, in situations like this, your conversation skills seem to diminish and vanish without a trace. Such a psychological malady afflicted me – in the most acute form. I however, proceeded to do what any civilized individual in my situation would do after being introduced to a bevy of strangers. I started to make conversation. But before I started, I took another confirmatory glance at Rosetta’s midsection, just to solidify my suspicions. I sighed and looked at her. ‘So when are you due?’ I asked. She tilted her head and squinted. Naturally, I assumed she wasn’t familiar with that expression so I endeavored to speak in plain terms, ‘when do you expect the baby to arrive.’ Still confused, she queried me,

‘Which baby.’

‘Yours. The one you’re carrying.’

Man, you should have seen the faces of the people around. It was the kind of expression you would expect to see on the face of an elderly deacon if you uttered some blasphemous statement in the sanctuary. Two of them turned and slowly walked away. At this point even a village idiot would have noticed that something was amiss. I discerned that I had misinterpreted the excess volume of her midsection. There was no turning back my friend. No. Not this time. I had no ill intents, I swear on my honor. I was only being civil. I thought she was a few weeks pregnant, seeing her sport the belly about unperturbed and all. But I had erred grievously in my judgment. I guess the other people had also noticed the unusual distension but thought it prudent not to inquire. With this load of putrefied carcass hanging around my neck, I made several futile attempts to get an apology through. The crowd around us had gradually and steadily dispersed. Only Rosetta and I were left staring at each other. She clenched her teeth and I could see her eyes burning with fury.

I always deem it unhealthy and usually unwise to stand right across from a furious woman. I therefore, retreated and true to my convictions, my fear wasn’t unfounded. She swung the ceramic plate she was holding in the direction of my head. It missed it by no more that two inches.

That was the end of the party for me. According to Ben, she called me names and said things; things that my noble dispositions will not permit me to repeat.

So that’s my story.”

Fitz handed me a tissue to wipe sweat of my forehead. The episode still had enough potential to dissolve my resolve.

“Hmm.. You’re definitely deep in the substance,” Fitz confirmed.

“I know.”

“And Mike doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Not a clue,” I said.

“Well, he’s going to find out sooner or later. Which do you prefer?”

“Neither. I’d prefer the situation resolve itself as discreetly as possible,” I said.

“How?”

“I was thinking of two solutions. Either wipe her out of the picture or unite Mike with some other belle. I prefer option two though.”

“That’d be tough, you know how Mike is,” Fitz lamented. “Hey, for all you know she’s forgotten the incident and is moving on,” he continued.

That was my hope too. But the problem is, my presence usually seems to rekindle certain dying memories and this was one particular rekindling I wouldn’t care so much for.

TO BE CONTINUED ...

Rob, the main character, together with Fitz try to resolve the problem by hooking Mike up with someone else. But first, Rob has to avoid Rosetta, despite Mike’s (the enamored Friend) insistence on Rob meeting her and giving him his opinion. The story gets complicated when Rob discovers that Rosetta is mutual friends with Lucille (His hateful next door neighbor) and her savage boyfriend (Tom) after they meet again at yet another party in the neighborhood.

The “vile Trio” (Lucille, Tom, Rosetta) plot to “screw” Rob. Rob and Fitz have to convince Mike to forget about Rosetta and fall for Claire (the Belle of Resolution)

….. plot still in the process of refinement.