“How’m I gonna make it to Friday?” he asked me in a quieter voice. “The house is dry.”
I let out a sigh. So that was what this was really about. Honestly, I was surprised he had put up so much of a fight; not even Occum fought to keep me. I reached into my bra and pulled out a twenty. “You gotta make this last until the end of the week. That’s all I got till then.”
He examined it with a frown and grunted. “I don’t know.”
Next to me, Gretchen took a step forward. He pocketed the cash and walked quickly back up the stairs. “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll see you Friday with more.”
“That man still needs a whoopin’,” Mrs. Albensi grumbled as she went back into the house.
Daddy swore something about the flammability of cats as he walked back inside. Gretchen tossed her bat into the backseat and got in the car. I did too.
We didn’t speak as she drove the winding road toward the city. She didn’t seem bothered by the silence between us and bobbed her head to the country station. For whatever reason, I couldn’t handle the idea of her thinking Daddy was just a mean drunk.
“He’s usually more weepy than angry. He’s just mad cause I’m leaving for a few weeks.”
She held up her hands for a hot second before putting them back on the wheel. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’ve had my fair share of drunks.”
I frowned.
“I don’t mean anything by it. This part of the country, most people are either drunk or high to beat the boredom. He'll be fine when he sleeps it off.”
“Right,” I said. He will sleep it off. Until the next time.
“So you headed to classes?” She pointed to the map on her phone attached to the dashboard.
“No.” I laughed.
“That’s UT ain’t it? Go Vols!” She made a hand gesture that may or may not have been offensive.
“Yeah, but no, I’m not a student.” I snorted.
She turned the music down. “Why’s that funny?”
“Not a person ‘round here thinks I’m smart enough for school.”
“I don’t give a fuck what other people think. I didn’t ask them,” she said.
I smiled because, to be honest, she reminded me of a sassier version of myself—which I hadn’t even thought possible.
“You don’t have to tell me though,” she said when I took too long to answer. “I was just making conversation.” She turned up the radio.
I wasn’t sure how to talk about it. I wasn’t used to talking to people at all, especially not women. The sad fact was the only people I talked to were lonely men who wanted to use me as a therapist. Even with the other dancers, it was just about routines or tips to help with calluses and such.
“I’m just gonna try living with this guy for a little bit. It’s sort of complicated,” I finally settled on.
She glanced over and turned the radio back down. “Isn’t it always. Well, you don’t owe me or anybody else an explanation.”
I bit back another smile. “You’re making it hard for me to hate you. And I really want to hate you for those sunglasses and your hair.”
She laughed a quick, “Ha! That’s great. Because normally I have the opposite effect on people.”
“Me too.” I couldn’t help but smile with her.
We fell into silence again and I wished I were the type of person who made friends easily. Not everybody wants to hang around after they learn what I do for a living. If she knew, she’d not be so chatty. After a few more minutes of silence, Gretchen spoke up again.
“You ever just get so sick of how people talk?” She asked out of nowhere. “Hearing the same damn stories over and over? Like some people are just video game characters and only have so many lines of pre-programmed dialogue.”
I thought about her question, random as cluck as it was. She glanced over at me again.
