He found the Chromebook.
The secret Chromebook.
I’d bought the secret Chromebook a few weeks previous because I was becoming very paranoid that he’d installed a keyboard logger and/or some of that software that records all the internet sites visited by the user on my regular laptop.
It’s not that I had anything to hide. I wasn’t sneaking around or lying to him about anything. But you don’t have to be hiding anything to not want someone monitoring your private email accounts without permission. Nor did I want him reading this blog. Because it’s…well, nobody in my private life knows about it, and that’s just how I like it.
So, I went to BestBuy and bought a little Chromebook and paid for it in cash.
Then I went to The Strand bookshop and shopped until I found a hugeass hardcover book that was the right size for my purposes…and that book wasn’t cheap. Cost me $125.
I hollowed out the book with an X-Acto Knife and put the Chromebook inside, and then put the book in the bookshelf in my bedroom…and that is the computer I would use to check my private stuff on the internet when he was away, or to maintain my dream journal, or drafts of blog posts.
Well, I came back to his apartment and walked into my room…
…and found the book open on top of my bed, with the computer inside. There was no note, no nothing. Just the open book.
You can imagine my reaction: I froze in terror and felt all the strength draining from my legs. It was all I could do not to collapse on the floor. My face went numb.
I closed the book and put it back in the bookcase where I stored it. I couldn’t think of anything else to do with it. My hands were shaking.
Then I walked stiffly out of the room and sat down on the couch, trying to calm down…but calming down was impossible, because now I had to look forward to the inevitable confrontation when he got home from work…four long, long hours from now.
It was uglier than anything I could have anticipated.
To Be Continued….