Page 20 of 518 Hope Ave
“I said I was going to pay,” I say when I can’t hold it in anymore.
“It’s OK. I really don’t mind.” She grins, and before I can explain that it made me feel like shit for her to swoop in and leave a big tip too, the attendant comes back with our order. "Here you go! I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. Come back any time."
"Thanks!" Quinn chirps. And I can't bring myself to say anything, so we walk away from the counter in silence.Does she go around giving young guys working shitty jobs big tips all the time? Was I always just some charity case to her?
The more my mind works, the worse my thoughts get. I’m fuming as we walk back toward my car, and we eat our hotdogs in a tense silence.
“Is everything OK?” she asks as I open the car door for her.
“Everything is fine, Quinn. I’m just really tired tonight,” I lie, struggling to keep the annoyance out of my voice. It may seem small to some, but to me, this is a big deal. She can’t just swoop in and ‘save’ me like I’m some damsel in distress. I can take care of me and mine on my own.
“Are you sure? You’ve been acting funny ever since we got the dogs.”
“Maybe that’s because you made me look foolish.”
“How? By paying?”
“That attendant probably thought I couldn’t pay for myself.”
“I think he was thinking about what he was gonna buy with his extra thirty-five bucks,” she says.
“And that’s another thing—why do you do that? Why tip bigger than anyone else would? Is that just what you do in life? Go around finding projects tofix?”
Her eyes go wide, and she takes a step back before inhaling a slow breath. “I think that maybe I’m gonna just take a cab home tonight. I’m sorry if I made you feel awkward, Ezra. That wasn’t my intention. I was trying to be nice.”
“To who? The next minimum wage worker you have your eye on, or me?”
She pulls her head back. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, Ezra.”
“I saw the way he looked at you.” I can hear the tone and the venom coming out of my mouth, but for some reason, I can’t stop myself. No matter how hard I work, or how hard I try, she’s always going to see me as the kid who couldn’t pay his bills. I don’t want to hurt her. I really, really don’t. But something has snapped inside me, and suddenly, nothing in this world seems fair. Not even my relationship with her.
“How about you go home and get a good night’s sleep and we’ll talk again in the morning?” she says instead of biting back and giving me the fight I want. “Thank you for the movie, and I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
“It won’t stop you though, will it? You’ll just keep swooping in, picking up the tab, and throwing your money around like that shit is easy to come by. Newsflash, Quinn, some of us live on Struggle Street. But that doesn’t mean we want to be rescued from it. In fact, I don’t want you to save me at all.”
She stares at me for a moment, that bright sunshiny smile that makes her, her, completely gone. “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way," she murmurs, the hurt in her expression driving a knife through my heart as she turns and walks in the opposite direction.
I stare after her, my heart in my throat as I watch the best thing that ever happened to me give up and walk away. I wish I could call her back right now and pull her into my arms, tell her I’m sorry and that it’s not her at all. I’m the ass. I’m proud, and I’m belligerent, and I just want to be the kind of man my dad would be proud of, the kind of man who works hard and takes care of the people I love. But I’m failing.
“Shit,” I hiss, slamming the passenger door shut with all my might.
I’m not a man at all.
I’m just some kid who can’t afford a hotdog.
17
Quinn
Iopen my swollen eyes to a new morning, and the first thing I do is remember—Ezra. My breathing stutters and I roll to my side, hitching the blanket up over my head—the memories of Friday night replay over and over in my mind. Everything was going perfectly until I paid for that damn hot dog and left a big tip. I was beingtooover the top…again. I try not to be, but I always do this, I never learn. I always give too much without thinking. I knew Ezra was a proud man even before we started dating. But I'm a giver by nature, and knowing I have more than enough while watching someone work themselves to exhaustion just so he can afford to pay for our dates, is hard for me. Especially when I know I can easily ease his burden. As a single woman with a full-time, well-paying job, picking up the tab for a movie and a meal is nothing to me. But how do I help where he needs it most without hurting his pride? Especially when his pride is hurting him. The man needs a minute to take a breath.
Although now that he’s no longer speaking to me, I guess he’s got plenty of time to do that again. Meanwhile, I can’t seem tofindmy breath. I roll over and sob into my pillow.I can’t believe we’re finished.
And that’s not me being dramatic either. This is me after spending the whole weekend staring at my cell while going through tissue box after tissue box, two pints ofBen & Jerry'sEdible Cookie Dough, and the entire season of Friends, because after our fight on Friday night, Ezra hasn’t called or visited, he hasn’t picked up his phone, and he hasn’t answered my texts either. I have no choice now but to accept that we are over, done,through. And my heart is just…broken. It hurts like abitch.
So now that it’s Monday morning and I’m still coming to terms with my lot in life, I’m finding it difficult to get out of bed. But I've never been tardy, and neither have I ever skipped out on work for no reason, so I pick myself up, go through the motions, and I get to work on time. Like a zombie, I sit at my desk and place my work bag lightly on the floor, just trying to keep breathing, keep going…in...and out…
Powering up my computer, I force my way through my to-dos, putting on a bright smile for the early morning parent visits then the tardy kids looking for late slips. But by the time I get to lunch, I'm struggling. And by the end of school, I’m just about ready to break down and cry again. Something that doesn’t escape Sarah’s notice.
