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“Let’s cut the bullshit for once,” Mr. Direct said, cutting me off. “The only reason you’re still saying things like I’m such an amazing doctor to work with,” he mocked my words with a silly voice, “is because we’ve hardly talked about anything real.”
“We talked about your insanely awesome yet intimidating family life,” I answered, getting back into bed. My sweats weren’t warm enough to stand in a cold tent while dealing with whatever John wanted from me tonight.
“That’s it. I only have one night alone with you to get to know you better, and that’s all we talk about, my fucking family?”
“I thought it was fascinating,” she shrugged. “The beer made me sleepy, and it seemed like you had a lot to work out internally with Skinny Santa’s wisdom, so I just left you to that.”
“No way,” he said. “I didn’t buy that 4Runner and all this camping gear just to reveal a little about my family’s history. Then, have you go to bed because you think I need to unpack some emotional bullshit from my life because Huckleberry Joe hit me with the secrets of life this afternoon.”
I covered up and piled two of the four pillows on my bed on the others to create something I could lean against.
“Well, I hoped you didn’t buy all this shit to get a piece of ass because that isn’t happening either.”
“My, oh my,” he grinned. “Perhaps for the first time in my life, I don’t want to get laid by a beautiful woman, and all I want to do is talk?”
Here we go again. I’m left trying to determine if he meant that or not.
“What would you like to talk about, then?” I said, sitting cross-legged and fanning my hands over the goose-down comforter. “Jobs? Job-related shit?”
“I want to get to know you better, and I mean it. I opened up to you about my family bullshit, so it’s only fair you open up some to me.”
He said it so sincerely that I had no other option but to believe John wasn’t teasing me.
“There’s not much to know, but let’s see,” I said. “Being up here reminds me of camping with my parents in the Smoky Mountains as a kid. It was beautiful, and I loved getting out and roughing it a bit.”
“So, that’s why we cooked hot dogs over the fire?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s hardly a family secret because everyone does it. They taste better that way, and that’s how you’re supposed to do it while camping, big shot,” I teased.
“Fair enough,” he said. “You know, when I saw you eating dinner with your family, I may be wrong, but I think I noticed you’re a daddy’s girl?”
This guy and his wild assumptions.
“What would make you think that?” I asked, truly curious.
“I just saw how he made you laugh, and I don’t know. You seemed so delighted by whatever he was saying.”
Dear God, sometimes I wonder if this poor guy’s parents hugged him when he was a child.
“Of course, I love my dad, and I suppose I was closer to him than my mother, so I guess you could say I’m a daddy’s girl. But I was closer to him because I was an athlete, and sports are his life.”
“What about your mother?” he questioned. “You look a lot like her.”
The energy certainly took a wild shift between us, and I liked this side of John. He reminded me of a curious little boy who was enamored with me for some reason. I had no idea what it was, but the cocky, arrogant, silly, goofy side of him wasn’t present. He seemed highly intrigued with me, which was funny because no one had ever been quite so interested in my relationship with my parents before.
“My mother and I butted heads a lot. She has a strong personality and expects nothing less than one hundred percent from her girls. If you messed that up, there was always hell to pay.”
“Sounds a lot like my mom.”
“Strict?” I questioned.
“You have no idea. How did you deal with the way your mom—” he paused, searching for words as he scooted up to lounge on the other side of the mattress, propping up on his elbow and turning to face me.
“Disciplined me?”
“Yeah.”
“Like any other kid would when their parent busted them for being out of line. I got pissed, didn’t talk to her for a while to prove some point, then got over it.”
