Geekus Interruptus Read Online Free

future together. Would he stay with
her? Would he agree to meet her girlfriends, family, ex-boyfriends? Would he
remember her birthday, the anniversary of their first meeting, her middle name?
Would he stay interested in her? Would he actually make a commitment?
    Jess said he had feelings for her too, but
those feelings mostly had to do with his work. Would she interfere with his
long hours and intense schedule? Would she place demands on him he didn’t want
to fulfill? Would she forgive him when he forgot her girlfriends, family,
ex-boyfriends, birthday, anniversary, middle name? If she could cope with his
idiosyncrasies, he would indeed remain interested in her. And, eventually, he
promised, he would offer to make a commitment to her.
    He was true to his word.
    Marcy loved her husband, but this was geek
love. Not her usual brand of wild, passionate, intensely sexual love. She’d assumed
theirs was a forever love. A committed, rational form of true love.
    A miscarriage earlier in the marriage had
led to a brief depression on her part, but otherwise their love for one another
had seemed to bring them both a contented sort of joy. She’d willingly given up
the untamed side of her nature, and she’d thought this was a kind of unspoken
guarantee. A promise their marriage would last. Because if she remained
faithful, she would have nothing to worry about. Geek love ensured fidelity. Or
so she had believed.
    Time danced on, and Marcy and Jess kept having
okay sex, and he made a giant pile of money with some accounting software he
designed. After he pulled in another truckload of dough on an investment
algorithm, they moved to the suburbs. The two of them picked out a stone house
hidden behind tall hedges. Lovely songbirds flitted overhead, darting from
maple tree to maple tree. Life was good, or at least good enough.

 
    ~~~

 
    When Marcy passed by the small sign for the
storefront she was seeking, she slowed the car. As soon as she could, she eased
into an open parking space. As she walked back to the Spyware Shop, located in
a squat brick building that also housed a high-end hairdresser’s and a label-only
vintage clothing place, she pondered what she would tell the clerk behind the
counter. Their suburb was small, wealthy, gossipy. If she admitted she wanted to
catch her husband in the act, the clerk might blab about it to someone who knew
them. She needed a reasonable excuse for purchasing miniature tape recorders
that looked like pens or key chains and a tiny video camera. Spy equipment for
personal use, miniature digital devices like the ones featured in the TV ad.
    The clerk turned out to be discreet,
apparently uninterested in her plans for the stealth products he had to offer.
A short, rotund fellow in an impeccable oxford shirt and pressed slacks, he
gave the impression he was there to serve her needs, not to interrogate her
about why she wanted to conduct undercover work. He led her to the recorder section,
where an array of small gadgets lined the glass display case.
    “We’ve got a sale going on today. You’re in
luck,” he told her without once checking out her breasts, which were now tucked
away under a fluffy sweater vest. “Voice-activated mobile recorder with forty
hours of audio recording power. Reception’s professional quality. On sale for
one ninety-five.”
    “Can you show me how it works?” Marcy
asked.
    Two hundred dollars to catch your spouse en
flagrante ? What a bargain.
    “It’s quite simple, really.” He
demonstrated by pressing two control buttons. “You set it up, turn it on like
this. When it’s on, his voice will activate the recording feature. As soon as
he stops talking, the file’s complete. You can use it under the driver’s seat of
a car. When he’s driving, the sound may be bad. But if he’s parked, you’ll hear
everything nice and clear.”
    Marcy felt like saying, Who says the
person I’m spying on is a man?
    But she knew it was silly to pretend. Why
else would