Page 111 of Something Tattered
When he didn't respond, I made a move to pull back further. But to my surprise, he didn't let go. In a quiet voice, he said, "You don't owe me anything."
I blinked. "What?"
"Forget what Derek said. It's bullshit."
I gave a confused shake of my head. "What are you talking about?" And then, my stomach sank as the realization hit home. "Oh, my God. You mean that thing about paying you with, uh…"
"Yeah."
Neither one of us said the word.
Pussy.
The word, still unspoken, echoed in my brain. I didn't know whether to be impressed by his chivalry or insulted by his assumption. Trying to sort things out, I pulled back again, now more forcefully. This time, he let go.
I stared up at him. "Let me get this straight. You think I was…" I paused, searching for the right way to say this. "…coming onto you as what? Some sort of payment?"
In front of me, Joel gave a loose shrug.
"Oh, my God. You did." I looked away, and a scoffing sound escaped my lips. "And just imagine how I pay the gas bill."
In a flash of insanity, it struck me that life would be a whole lot easier if Iwerethat kind of person. I wasn't bad-looking. And I had family fame on my side. No doubt, I could pay a lot more than my gas bill if I were willing to get down and dirty to make ends meet.
Joel's voice, softer now, broke into my thoughts. "That's not what I meant."
Sure, it wasn't.
And yet, the snarky response died on my lips. He wasn't some bill collector from the gas company. He was Joel, the guy who'd been coming to my rescue non-stop. And what was I doing? Getting all pissy, just because he'd wounded my dignity.
I took a deep breath and plastered on a smile. "You know what? I'm not being fair." Again, I considered my car. And my lawn. And the thing with my relatives. "You've been really wonderful, and you deserve more than…" I made a vague gesture with my hands. "….this, whatever it is."
"No," he said. "I don't."
I gave him a perplexed look. "What?"
"That's not what I’m saying."
"Then whatareyou saying?"
"That I don'tdeserveanything. That's my point."
In my frustration, I didn't know who to blame for all the confusion. Me, for throwing myself out there? Him, for sending mixed messages? Or Derek, for injecting the slow-working poison that was paralyzing everything.
And I had to wonder, did Joel truly believe that I was trying to repay one service with another? If so, he was out of his mind. And besides, with as much as he'd done, a single so-called service would never be enough. I'd need more than one night, and maybe some props, like heated massage oils or crotchless panties.
The thought was so ridiculous that I almost laughed, but not in a good way. "So tell me," I said, "do girlsnormallysleep with you when you do something nice for them?"
"No."
"Well, that's a relief." Was it? I didn't know. At this point, I hardly knew even what I was saying.
He asked, "And you wanna know why?"
"Why?"
"Because I don't do nice things."
That was a lie. It had to be. I'd only known Joel a short while, and already, he'd done too many nice things to count.
