Page 160 of Something Tattered
From the look on his face, I wasn't so sure. Still, I felt myself nod.
"I think you're tired of slumming it, but you're too fucking nice to say so."
My stomach twisted. "That's not true."
"And you wanna know what else I think?"
"No," I murmured, "not really."
Ignoring me, he continued on. "I think that whole endowment thing was a crock. I think you pulled some strings to make me think I'm something I'm not."
"No. You've got it all wrong."
"Uh-huh. What'd you think? You could dress me up, put a paintbrush in my hand, and I'd be Mister Civilized?"
I stared up at him. "I don't even know what that means."
"Or maybe," he continued, "you were dumb enough to think my shitwasany good. And so, you're thinking that I'm gonna be somebody, and you're all into me. But when you find out you're wrong, you're thinking, "Shit, how do I get rid of this guy?'"
"Except I'mnottrying to get rid of you."
He gave me a hard look. "Aren't you?"
"No. Not at all." I glanced away. "But just think. If you took the place in Chicago for even six months, it would be a great opportunity."
Six months.By then, the suspended sentence would be officially over, and I could tell Derek to shove it. And then, Joel and I could start over, this time, without any interference.
Yeah, it totally sucked, but it was better than seeing Joel imprisoned or worse.
I gave him a pleading look. "I'd miss you like crazy, but you'd be so busy, the time would fly."
Maybe for him. But not for me.
Six long months – it felt like forever. Still, I summoned up a smile and continued. "You could paint, make connections, it's a really great opportunity."
As I rambled on, it suddenly struck me that Joel wasn't saying anything. Hoping that was a good sign, I kept going with my sorry sales pitch until I ran out of things to say.
When I finished, I gave him a hopeful look. "So, aren't you gonna say something?"
"Nope. I'm just waiting foryouto say it."
"Say what?"
"That you want me gone."
"Weren't you listening?" I said. "Idon'twant you gone. This is totally for you, not for me."
He gave a bitter laugh. "Right."
"What's so funny?"
"You," he said. "Trying not to hurt my feelings. It's funny. Gotta laugh, right?"
In spite of his words, there was no laughter in his eyes.
As for me, I felt like crying. "This isn't a joke."
"Could've fooled me." And with that, he turned away and began walking out of the room.
