The Lillith Affair

In the summer after I graduated college, I had a brief friendship with a girl I never met. Her name was Lily and we met on a message board that I had joined with my best friend, Holly, and her boyfriend at the time, Chris. I had joined the board that summer because of an incident in which the moderator--an exgirlfriend of Chris's--had half-read something Holly wrote and then attacked her viciously in sight of all. I was in the mood for a good fight most of that summer, and that wasn't a good fight--it was petty and juvenile and shouldn't have been worth my time--but it was the best I had around.

I stuck around the board for a while afterward. Long enough to get used to and disgusted with message board politics and have a little fun. At one point, I developed an alter ego for myself using an invented e-mail address and a name that clearly pointed to the fact that he was a fictional character (his name was Jimminy C and his screen name was Harvey Eightfoot). He disagreed with everything I wrote and was a lot of fun to combat.

Mostly I spent my time on the board continuing and supplementing debates between me and Chris. Chris loved to argue and so did I, so when we hung out, most of our time was spent debating some idea or other. Free will. Blake. Politics. You name it. And we carried our debates onto the board, filling out points too complicated and long-winded to make properly in face-to-face conversation.

The first time I spoke with Lily on the board was in the middle of a thread on politics, using the screen name Lillith Affair. It's been long enough that I forget the exact conversation we had, but I remember that in the course of it, I got the impression from her that she had lived a hard life. Homeless for a a lot of it and living in the back room of a bookstore where she worked two towns over. I liked her a lot. She was a little flaky, but she was clever and interesting and a tenacious debater, unwilling to let go of a point until it had been discussed away to her satisfaction. I remember some great conversations with her.

The way I finally got my chance to meet her began like this. I had told the board, in some thread or other, that I believed people who turn their heads away from an injustice are responsible for it themselves. That we are all responsible for the consequences of our actions, even if our actions are inactions. She asked where my responsibility was, knowing she was living in the back of a bookstore and not doing anything about it. And I had to admit, she had me there. So I told her I couldn't think of anything I could do for her, if she had anything she needed, I'd help out. A couple of days later, she told me to get in touch if I meant what I said, and since I did mean it, I e-mailed her.

In telling this story, it's hard not to sound like I was an idiot. Looking back on it, there's a thousand bits of better judgement screaming in my head and pointing at the enormous red flags raised around the situation. Which is more or less what my friends did at the time. Chris especially found the whole thing ridiculous. He and I would sit at coffee and when I brought up the situation, he would point out that she could be a serial killer, a robber, or even a forty-year-old man who pretends to be twenty-something women for kicks. And he was right, of course. The only thing I can say in my defense is that my mistake was that of a young man still willing to make himself believe that the person on the other side of the screen was exactly as funny and interesting and likeable as the impression she gave online. That she was who she said she was. That his cynical better judgement was wrong. It was the last bit of my childhood credulity hanging on for dear life.

She didn't need much from me. She was leaving the town where she lived and heading off to Atlanta or some such place where friends and a proper apartment awaited her. Along the way, she would have to stop off in Asheville and needed a place to sleep for the night. Did I have a sofa I could offer her? I did, so we made arrangements and a few afternoons later, I walked to Pack Square at the center of town and sat down to wait for her. I had been there about five minutes when Christopher walked up and sat down next to me. He told me Holly had sent him to wait with me and suggested the four of us get dinner after Lily got there.

While we waited, he pointed out a big balding man and said that could be her. I told him sure, but she could just as easily be that attractive redhead sauntering by. You just never know.

We sat in the square for a half hour, waiting, until Chris looked at me and said, "Matt, she's not coming."

"Probably not," I said, "but what if we leave and then she shows up?"

He said, and I will always remember this, "She won't. I'm Lily."

Chris was Lily. Holly confirmed it. He had created her as an alter ego to debate a point on Taoism with me through a kind of dialectic. He hadn't known or realized that I really liked her, but when I told her I was willing to help her, he decided to see if that was really true.

I should have been mad at Christopher for playing with my emotions like that, but I wasn't. The end of the whole thing was so strange and cathartic that I couldn't muster up any anger for it. Just a sense of release and longing for someone I never met.