Chapter 5 Senssssational #3
“No problem,” I told him, “I worked in a gas station all year. I’m basically a millionaire. Whatever your normal rate is, I’ll double it. I mean, I loaned Ross two hundred bucks the other day, why would I leave you guys out?”
As soon as I’d said that, I knew it was a mistake. Will stared at me with a confused expression, and Naya acted outraged. “Are you crazy? You better make sure he gives it back to you. I don’t want to have to beat it out of him.”
“What on earth possessed you to lend him money?” Will said.
He sounded almost like he was accusing me of something.
I nodded slowly, and he stood. Naya tried to calm him down, but he ignored her, hissing, “Jenna, don’t give him shit!
If he needs money, he can go to the damn bank.
Do you know how much money he’s made off that movie already?
If he asked you for money, it was literally because he was too lazy or too fucked-up to go to the ATM. ”
I remembered him looking for his jacket like a lunatic.
Maybe he’d forgotten where his bank card was?
Will stalked out, and Naya and I hurried after him.
Mike jumped back when he saw us. He’d been stealing a pack of crackers from the cabinet, and he quickly hid it behind his back. Sue saw him but just sighed.
“What’s the big deal, Will?” I asked. “It’s my money, I thought I was helping.”
“Well, you weren’t!” he shouted. That scared everyone.
Will never got mad. It was almost as weird as Sue smiling or saying I love you.
He didn’t seem to care, though. He leaned his elbows on the counter and hid his face in his hands.
Naya stood there next to him, unsure of what to do.
I kept saying I was sorry, that I’d talk to Jack, that I’d get him to pay me back, that I’d…
“Just drop it!” he growled. “I’ll take care of it. You just mind your own business.”
The front door opened and Jack walked in. He had heard the end of Will’s exclamation, and was looking at us tensely. I was fidgeting, but when I saw he was watching me, I let my arms hang loose at my sides and tried to act relaxed. But it was too late. He knew we were arguing.
“What’s going on?” he asked Will.
Will smiled pretty convincingly and lied, “Roommate problems. You know how it goes.”
Jack looked perplexed. “What kind of roommate problems?”
“The usual,” Will responded. “Jenna, weren’t you on your way out?”
I knew what he was thinking: I had screwed things up, and it was time for me to butt out.
So I excused myself, saying I needed to get dressed.
I rushed, skipping my makeup, but a quick glance in the mirror was enough to reassure me.
I liked what I saw. I’d filled out in the past year, and I didn’t look like a little kid anymore.
I was a woman now—someone people would notice.
I walked past the living room and into the kitchen, where I found Will looking at his phone. I asked if he was sure he didn’t need me to stay. He wasn’t angry anymore, he just looked tired as he shook his head. “Go have fun. We’ll figure things out tomorrow.”
Figure out what things? I wasn’t sure, but I could tell he didn’t want me to push him. I grabbed my coat and purse and said a vague goodbye to no one in particular. Jack tried to ignore me. Naya, Sue, and Mike didn’t even need to try.
I did as Will said and forgot everything and had fun.
The beer Curtis got me at the bowling alley helped.
I couldn’t keep my ball out of the alley no matter how much I concentrated, so it didn’t really matter to my team if I got drunk, and pretty soon I’d decided to just sit it out and let others take my turn.
Curtis drove us to some random greasy spoon. The burgers there turned out to be awful. I reminisced about how good the place Jack had taken me to a year before was. I had brought him up so many times that everyone was starting to make fun of me for it, but in a nice way, so I didn’t mind.
For some reason, I’d decided to wear platform boots, and by the time Curtis drove me home, I’d taken them off because my feet were killing me. When we got out of the car, I stuffed them under my arm. Curtis rode up with me in the elevator and asked me if I was drunk.
“If I was drunk, you’d be carrying me,” I told him. “I’m happy, that’s all.”
Curtis reached out an arm to keep me standing as I walked toward the apartment, but I shrugged him off once we reached the door. We both leaned against the wall, and he said, “I’m glad you forced me to take you for a burger. Even if it was disgusting.”
“I’ve eaten worse,” I replied, making him laugh loud enough to alert Jack, who threw open the door with a grimace.
Curtis, chipper as ever, said, “Hey, hello again. I’ve been seeing a lot of you lately.”
I chuckled nervously as Jack stared me down, focusing on my clothes, my shoes in my hand, my coat on the floor. “Are you drunk?” he asked.
“Are you really the person to be asking me that?” I replied.
Jack tensed up, and Curtis raised his hands in a sign of surrender, interjecting, “Listen, this looks like a couples’ argument, and I’m not going to get in the middle of it. You two lovebirds have a good night!”
I waved. “See you, Curtis! You’re senssssational!”
I wondered if that was overdoing it. Jack sighed, took my boots from my hands, and bent down to pick up my coat, which I’d dropped. He guided me in gently, set my things down, and looked me in the eyes with an expression so tense I asked, “What’s up, Ross? Did you have a bad night?”
“Not at all. What about you? Did you have fun with your friends?”
“I did,” I responded defiantly. “It’s been forever since I’ve laughed so much.”
He turned and walked off, muttering curses, and started struggling with the sandwich press.
He had apparently been trying to make dinner before I arrived.
It was weird that he was up and dressed that late, but I didn’t ask myself why.
I was too entertained at the sight of him attempting to cook something.
It was clear that he hadn’t gotten any better in the kitchen in the year I’d been away.
He banged on the machine’s lid and murmured, “If you had so much fun, how come you came back so early?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I was just hanging out with a couple of friends.”
“Friends…” he repeated. “Old Curtis, he’s just the best, isn’t he…”
“He’s a good guy, Ross.”
“He certainly makes you laugh a lot.”
“Not like you,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
He looked up at me, and I blushed all over. Was it a mistake, being so sincere with him? I didn’t know, but I came around the counter, looked quizzically at the sandwich maker, and said, “Let me lend you a hand…”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s not plugged in,” I told him. As he blinked and stared at the machine, I proposed, “Why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll take care of this for you.”
“Aren’t you a little tipsy to be playing Gordon Ramsey?”
“Tipsy or not, I can do a better job than you. Now get out of my kitchen!” I grabbed a wooden spoon and raised it, and he smiled and ducked.
I scraped out his first attempt at a sandwich—he’d squashed it flat banging on the lid—and grabbed the white bread, turning around to see him staring at me.
My eyes swelled, and he scurried off to the sofa.
He was right, I was a little drunk, and it took me forever to get out the cheese and turkey.
I got mustard all over my fingers and nearly sliced my palm open cutting off the crust, but after ten minutes, I had two decent-looking sandwiches on two plates.
Jack looked relaxed as I sat next to him and set one of the dishes down on his lap. “I thought you went to dinner,” he said.
“I did. It was disgusting.”
I leaned into his shoulder and looked at the screen, where he was watching a show about people trying to fix their god-awful tattoos.
“I’m not surprised,” Jack responded. “Not everybody knows where to get a good burger in this town.”
“Don’t blow your own horn.”
“I can if I’m right.”
“Fine, you’re right. Are you happy?”
“I am,” he said, devouring his sandwich while I tore mine into little pieces, nibbling them but leaving half of the sandwich.
As soon as he saw I wouldn’t eat it, he reached over for it, and in a matter of seconds it was gone.
I didn’t complain. I was tipsy, drowsy, and cold, and I got up for a blanket to cover us.
I felt pleasant and warm next to him, and he didn’t try to get away from me when I leaned into him.
He even wrapped his arm around me so I’d be more comfortable.
That made me smile, and I know he noticed.
I could feel his eyes on me for a few seconds.
Neither of us said anything. I guess we didn’t want to ruin the moment.
After a while, I yawned, cuddled up closer, and said, “This is so comfortable.” When Jack didn’t respond, I glanced up at him.
He was gawking at the screen with dilated pupils.
That reminded me of my conversation with Will.
But if he was high, what was I going to do about it?
I decided just to try and take care of him.
“Why don’t you put on your pajamas?” I asked.
If I got him to stay home, he wouldn’t do any more drugs, would he?
Didn’t people usually buy them and take them on the spot, at a crack house or something?
I wasn’t sure. I didn’t have any experience with that kind of thing, but I had an intuition that if I could keep him there until he slept, he’d be out of danger.
“How come?” he asked.
“It’s bedtime, isn’t it?”
He waited almost an entire minute before responding. “Does that mean you, uh…that you want me to stay here tonight?”
Maybe it was the cowardly way out, but I gave him a vague answer: “I don’t want you to go.”
I was happy to notice he didn’t pull away. And after a moment, he said softly, “OK. I guess… I guess I’ll stay then.”
I grinned more broadly than I probably should have and said, “Cool!”
His hands were on top of the blanket, and he was tapping his fingers compulsively.
I could tell he wanted to ask me something, but I didn’t know what.
The silence was painful, and I was trying to think of some way to break it when he asked me in a strained voice, “Hey, Jen? That money you loaned me, it’s in my jacket. Go ahead and grab it.”
Why was he so tense? I thought about asking, thought about asking him if everything was OK, thought about asking him to open up to me and so much more.
But he’d turned cold, and when I didn’t move, he said, “Go on, please.” I stood and did as he said, and the money was there, but the bills were dirty and wrinkled.
As I counted it out, I asked, “Jack, do you want to talk, maybe?”
Instead of saying anything, he just stood. His whole body was tense as he snatched his jacket away and picked up his cigarettes and lighter. He walked out, and a few seconds later, I heard his steps on the fire escape.