Page 9 of Outspoken

Then, I remembered the extremely tough skin that camming requires—though a lot of men are decent, there are always jerks who ruin the fun. There are so many haters all over the Internet, not just on porn sites, who love to tear others down to make themselves feel better. While I had plenty of great clients who were lonely and needed companionship and fun, I also dealt with lots of obnoxious incels and nasty men. Camming can be stressful and requires emotional resilience and a strong mind.

Right now, my mental health is hanging by a thread. Even if I didn’t have the bad habit of drinking and popping pills while camming, I’m still way too raw to deal with negative comments.

I grab the stack of depressing letters and stuff them in a drawer. Those damn letters are eating at my nerves. This empty home and all of its creaking sounds is eating at me.

I hug my waist and lean against the kitchen counter.Keep yourself together and focus on the positive.Late bills and not enough food aren't important now. What matters is that Brody woke up.

He finally opened his eyes two weeks ago, a few days after that embarrassing night with Miguel. Brody has been slowly getting better since then, and his doctor is hopeful they'll discharge him soon, maybe as early as next week.

I ignore my anxiety about an astronomical medical bill, which I pray isn't six digits, because…priorities.

My brother is awake. He's going to make it. As long as I keep my shit together, we'll fight our way through this.

Ugh. What a challenging, emotional, and extremely confusing month. I'll be so happy when it's over.

My phone vibrates and I pull it from my pocket.Talk about confusing.

The text from Miguel reads:You home?

I smile and unconsciously bite my bottom lip, then I force myself to cut it the fuck out. Every time he texts, my lips have a mind of their own. It’s so stupid. A hot guy doesn’t fit with my priorities, and he’s Brody’s friend, which automatically makes him off-limits.

I lower my phone without responding, glancing into the living room at the new beige couch, courtesy of Dustin. It wasn’t just his doing, though. Miguel was the middleman. He contacted Dustin and traded the couch for a game console that he bartered from a family member. It all happened so fast that it’s like he runs an underground used-item exchange ring.

I kind of instigated it—not on purpose. We had been texting here and there, and one evening we were lightheartedly talking about our days. He messaged:Working late again and I’m starving. I could use five sandwiches and a shower. I’ll even eat them IN the shower I’m so hungry.

I responded:Eww, soggy sandwiches? If you want dry sandwiches, I have those. Trade you for a couch lol.

I was completely joking, but the next day he sent a picture of a beautiful beige couch with a chaise.

Miguel:Like this one?

Me:Haha sure.

Miguel:K. Dustin will bring it by later.

Me:Wait. You’re serious? How much? I was kidding. I don’t really have money for a couch.

Miguel:It’s free. Dustin had it in his garage. He doesn’t use it, so I traded him.

Me:Thank you but that’s too much from both of you. Really. I’m sure if I scrub harder, I’ll get the stains out. Please don’t go out of your way for me.

Miguel:It’s for Brody too. He's been complaining his couch cushions are saggy. He’ll be stoked when he comes home and sees we hooked him up.

I couldn’t protest after that, and I felt stupid for being so self-centered. They’re Brody’s friends, so of course they want to help him—they’re good guys. And this is Brody’s home, so fixing it up is for him, not me. Someday soon, I need to get a life and move out.

After Dustin delivered the couch, Miguel offered to help with the carpet and broken ceiling fan. I couldn't say no, reminding myself that it was all for Brody. The next day, his cousin appeared with a brand new gray-and-cream pebbled carpet. He does construction and knew a business giving away excess. He even spent half the day installing it. Two days after that, a friend of a friend's cousin showed up with a ceiling fan she 'no longer needed' and installed it with her boyfriend.

I offered them all my pitiful amount of cash, but they refused, saying it was 'No big deal', 'Happy to help', or 'Miguel has it covered'.

It was hard for me to stand by and watch it all happen. I don’t want others to inconvenience themselves, and I have no idea what Miguel had to barter. Or maybe his family is just generous. Either way, I feel I need to pay him back once I get a job. I know Miguel is helping Brody, but I need to pull my weight too. I can't just stand around and let others fix everything for me.

I invited Miguel over for dinner to ease my guilt, but he's pretty busy and keeps telling me he'll take a rain check. I'm disappointed, yet irritated at myself for wanting to see him. He has his own life, and even though Brody says he's a flirt who comes on too strong with women, he hasn't been flirting over text. I wonder if he only did it in person to get me to smile and take my mind off everything.

Thinking about it makes me want to see him more, to at least cook him dinner orsomething. He’s been so considerate and helpful—such a sweet guy—that I hate how I listened to Brody’s stories about him. Especially since I hate how others judge me based on stories. Maybe Miguel can be clingy, but that’s not the version of him I met.

Still, we haven’t talked about the night he held me, which is good—I’m fine burying that moment of weakness in a box I'll never open. And he probably shouldn’t come over, even if I want it, since my thoughts about him are confusing.

I shove away from the kitchen counter. The house is too still, too quiet, so I turn on the TV for background noise. I sit at the table again and set my phone down, grabbing a black crayon. I draw swirls over the unicorn’s eyes as if it has hypnotic powers. Then I draw more random swirls and squiggles until the page is a jumble of shapes.

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