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The accusation hangs in the air, and the argument intensifies.
Breanna is accusing me of lacking compassion, which may be somewhat true, but it’s not something I want to admit. The atmosphere in the room becomes charged with escalating tension as we both try to act like calm adults with Jaxon watching. I feel a surge of frustration, not only about the financial matter but also at the implication that I'm heartless.
"You're making this personal when it's about a professional agreement," I retort, my voice sharpening. "I have responsibilities too, Breanna, and changing the terms of our arrangement without a valid reason isn't fair to me or Jaxon."
Breanna's eyes narrow, her frustration evident. "Harrison, sometimes life happens. People face emergencies. I thought we could work together as a team and show a little understanding."
I shake my head, my patience wearing thin. "This isn't about lacking understanding. It's about sticking to the terms we agreed upon. If you have financial difficulties, we can discuss it, but expecting me to alter our entire agreement because of your brother's situation is unreasonable."
She crosses her arms, a defiant stance. "Unreasonable? You know what's unreasonable? Prioritizing paperwork over helping someone in need, especially when you have more than enough money. That waitress said that you just go handing money out to women half the time when you like them enough."
“What?” This accusation has come out of nowhere, and I’m really confused. What is she talking about?
“At Flemings!” Breanna says like that should clear things up.
“What are you talking about?”
“The waitress said that when you spend time there, sometimes, someone walks away with a stack of bills. You give your money away to strangers, but not to someone you know who actually needs it.”
“Let’s calm down!” Jaxon suggests, standing on his chair.
We both ignore him. “You are making this up. I have never given my money away. How would I be able to build the future I now have set up for Jaxon and I if I just gave my money away.”
“But she said…”
I suddenly look at the ground, and it makes sense. I’ve received an uptick in people asking for favors or little loans. And it’s always happened at Fleming’s. I’ve considered going somewhere else because of it.
Has this waitress been spreading rumors about me? I don’t know why she would do that, but it makes sense. I suddenly view Breanna as less of a gold-digger. If someone told her that I gave money to people sometimes, then why wouldn’t she ask for some, especially if her brother’s situation is this urgent.
“You know what? Never mind,” Breanna suddenly says. “I’ll find another way to deal with it. You’re clearly heartless, and…”
I feel the heat of anger rising within me. "I am not heartless, Breanna. I've got bills, responsibilities, and a job that demands my time and energy. We can't just throw our commitments out the window whenever it's convenient." Even as I speak rationally and calmly, I’m still turning over this bit of information about the waitress at Fleming’s.
The initial annoyance of her asking has transformed into a clash of values, with both of us digging our heels in deeper. I’m not paying her now just because I don’t want to. I know I’m being an asshole, but I honestly don’t care.
“Jaxon, I need to go to sleep now. I worked a long night last night. You play with Miss Breanna, okay?”
“Are you mad at her?” Jaxon asks, and I see the worry in his eyes. Even though I tried to keep our conversation calm, it has still worried him.
“No, I’m not mad. We just had a misunderstanding. I’m really tired now, so go play, okay?”
Jaxon runs off to play, and I head up the stairs to my room, the frustration from another fruitless discussion still running through my head.
Chapter eleven
Breanna
After breakfast, I lead Jaxon over to the living room where there are a series of activity books we are supposed to complete every day. The teacher side of me comes out as I suggest Jaxon hops as he practices counting to twenty.
Jaxon happily plays along. Then, he counts to twenty again as he kicks a small ball. As he’s doing these mostly independent activities, my mind turns back to what happened this morning before Jaxon woke up.
I remember how it felt to have Harrison’s fingers on me, his breath on my neck. The truth is that I want more, and that annoys me. I don’t want to want him. It’s inconvenient to want him.
It’s clear that we made a one-time mistake.
I need this job, and I can’t do anything that would mess it up. That includes, no, not just include, that requires that I don’t sleep with the boss or give him any reason to be angry with me.
I think about how he coldly refused to pay me early even when I made up an imaginary brother needing help. I imagine for a moment what it would be like to even have a brother who shares the burden my parents left behind.
