John Locke - Box

A close second was learning I’m not the first guy Trudy’s fence-kissed.

Worse, according to her own sister, Trudy’s blown other guys at the very same fence.

And here I thought I was special.

I come out of the shower, dejected.

Renee sees it. She can tell my mood has shifted.

“I’m here for you, Gideon,” she says.

I grab my clothes from the sink as I pass her, heading to the bed. I sit, put my socks on, then stand and finish dressing.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asks.

I raise a palm. “Why not?”

“What happened to your neck?”

Something in the way she asked the question makes me do a double-take.

I can’t explain how, but I do believe Renee knows her Daddy had something to do with the rope burn around my neck.

“You just noticed that?” I say.

“Of course not! I noticed it right off. I think you might have a permanent mark there.”

Now I have two lovely thoughts. The woman I love gives blowjobs at the dumpster, and her father gives permanent rope-burn tattoos.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Room service!” a voice calls out from the hall.

I notice Renee’s still naked from the waist down.

She backs into the bathroom and closes the door. I let him in, he sets up the food, and leaves. When Renee comes out I can tell she’s been crying.

“What’s wrong?”

“This is all going badly,” she says.

“What is?”

“Our date.”

I nod.

“It’s all because of her!” she says.

“Who?”

“Trudy.”

She’s right. But I say, “That’s not true. It’s just that I had a horrible time at the police station earlier.”

“Oh my God!” she says. “You’re right! I was so excited to see you, I never asked what happened!”

I wave her off.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Of course it is! You were a suspect in an armed robbery! I can’t believe I never asked about your experience. I’m a horrible girlfriend. Truly horrible!”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she says, walking around the bed. “You’ve got a fine dinner here. We’ll sit together, have some wine. You’ll tell me all about your afternoon at the police station, while enjoying your meal.”

She leans down, lifts her purse from the floor, places it on the bed in front of her.

I say, “Can I be honest, Renee?”

“Of course, darling.”

“You’re a sweet girl, and the last thing I want to do is offend you.”

“But?”

“I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite.”

She smiles. “Nonsense! You haven’t eaten all afternoon, you said so yourself. We’re going to have a nice quiet evening and you’re going to relax and enjoy your dinner.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood.”

She pulls a gun from her purse, points it at me, then cocks it.

“I insist,” she says.

Have you ever tried to eat dinner with a loaded gun pointed at your face? If so, was the person holding the gun chugging a bottle of wine? And if so, did you enjoy your meal? Reason I ask, I’m having trouble concentrating on the food.

“My Daddy gave you that rope burn, didn’t he?” she says.

I nod.

“How’d you escape?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’d love to hear it.”

“Can I tell you later?”

“Sure. Want to tell me about the police station first?”

“Maybe after dinner.”

“Okay,” she says, cheerfully.

“Would you consider putting the gun down?”

“Not really. Not yet.”

“When?”

“Well,” she says, “you were quite the eager beaver till the cops barged in. I thought we really had it going, sex-wise. I mean, you yelled a lot, and carried on like it meant something. But now you seem to have lost interest. I’m trying not to take it personally, but I don’t deal well with rejection.”

“If you’re not planning to get to the point, can you just go ahead and shoot me?”

She smiles. “I like you.”

“Don’t base too much on a first impression,” I say.

“You’re a saucy one, Dr. Box!”

I shrug.

The room phone rings.

“I should get that,” I say.

“I don’t think so.”

She lets it ring. Then picks up the phone, calls the front desk, tells them not to put any calls through. She hangs up the phone and says, “You know what I think?”

“I have no idea.”

She says, “I think I may have given it up too quickly. The sex, I mean.”

“Really?” I say. “Because it seems to me you held out nearly two minutes before taking your clothes off.”

“I don’t remember you complaining about that. And anyway, we had a history on the internet that gave me reason to believe you might be special. I haven’t given up that thought, by the way. But I’m afraid you don’t respect me like you should.”

“Why’s that?”

“You think I’m easy. A tramp…A slut…A whore…Feel free to interrupt me at any time.”

“You’re doing fine.”

She shakes her head and curls her lips into a strange smile and looks at me the way a giant snake might look at a wounded mouse. “I like saucy men,” she says. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“I can be saucy, too.”

“Oh, joy.”

“You know what your problem is?” she says.

“You?”

“No. Your problem is we haven’t spent any quality time together. As friends.”

“Is this how you treat your friends? By holding a gun on them?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you reciprocate?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever let your friends hold the gun on you?”

She smiles. “I like the way you word things. You’ve got a fine mind, Gideon. Ever thought about being a kindergarten teacher?”

“Every hour of every day.”

She laughs heartily. When it dies down she says, “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

“Tell me.”

“When you finish eating, we’re going to do what normal couples do.”

“What’s that?”

She fumbles around in her purse with one hand while holding the gun on me with the other. Eventually, she finds what she’s looking for, and places it on the table between us.

A bottle of nail polish.

“I don’t understand,” I say.

“You’re going to paint my toenails,” she says.

“You’re joking.”

“When we do good deeds for others, we feel good about ourselves.”

“We do?”

“It builds our self-esteem. And helps us flex our empathy muscles. It’s the first step toward being good neighbors. And you know what that helps you become?”

“Crazy?”

“A citizen of the world.”

“All this from painting your toenails? Who knew? We should call the United Nations immediately. Can peace be far behind?”

“Go ahead,” she says. “Make jokes.”

“What’s the point? You’ll only laugh.”

She laughs.

“See?”

She says. “I really do like you, Gideon. I can see why Trudy wants you. But that will never happen.”

“Why not?”

“She’s too young and pretty for you. And doesn’t know how to please a man.”

Renee’s way off base about Trudy’s ability to please a man. I think about the hand job in the car until I see Renee staring at my face.

“Something wrong?” I say.

“Looks like you were daydreaming about something pleasant. I mention Trudy, you get a goofy smile on your face. We’re going to have to work on that.”

“How?”

“By adjusting your focus. From her to me.”

“And you think painting your nails will accomplish that?”

“Yes. Because painting my nails is something you can do for me, to show you value me as a person. And when we show others we value them, we open ourselves up to wonderful possibilities. Like friendship. Is that something you’d be willing to do?”