Page 48 of Touch of Class

Gillian snorted. “I don’t know. How much would that cost?”

Daphne winced as the barb landed right in her chest. She’d left herself open to attack, and Gillian had lunged for a soft spot, but before she had a chance to decide if she wanted to scream or cry, Gillian jumped forward.

“I’m sorry.”

Daphne held up a hand.

“I’m sorry.” Gillian said again, almost breathless, as if the comment had hit her as hard as it had Daphne. “That was shitty.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Gillian said emphatically.

“It’s what you think of me.”

“It’s not.” Gillian dropped her bag to the floor and stepped closer. “It’s what I want to think of you, but it was … I don’t know. I guess you’re not the only one pushing buttons.”

“You found quite a tender one.”

“I’m sorry.” Gillian hung her head. “I guess you got your answer to what happens if you push me hard enough to crack, but it’s not a reflection of what I think of you. Not really. I can’t figure out what to think, and if we’re being honest, I hate that. I hate how reasonable you sound sometimes. I hate how you make things I find uncomfortable seem almost logical. I hate that sometimes you’re serious about things I find laughable, and then you laugh at things I find serious. And I never know which way is up with you, so when you said something serious, I didn’t trust it to be real, and I lashed out because I don’t trust you to be real, either.”

“You don’t trust me to be real?” Daphne used her hands to vaguely gesture to her unruly hair and comfy clothes and the unmade bed. “This? Me?”

“Yes, you,” Gillian nearly shouted, then gritted her teeth so hard Daphne could hear them grinding. “You show up here, laughing and throwing around mattresses one second, then talk about the fundamental human need for touch and cite cardiac studies the next. You act like you’re over here doing the Lord’s work to ease pain and stigma, but then you’re having dance parties and alluding to prom night while you interweave logical arguments with potshots at me personally.”

Daphne wanted to argue, to defend herself, but against what she wasn’t quite sure. She had done all those things, but she didn’t think any of them constituted a crime.

“And it doesn’t make sense to talk so openly about the essential importance of affection one second, then commodify it the next, then causally offer me a hug when you don’t even like me.”

Daphne blew out a heavy breath.

“Which is it, Daphne?”

“All of it,” she said. “Every last bit of it’s true.”

“It can’t all be true.”

“Affection in all its forms is essential to healthy human development, and yes, I provide it for a price to some people, and not to others. And yes, you can make an argument that it’s not great to commodify something every human needs to live a full life, but that’s true of a lot of things. Have you ever heard of capitalism?”

Gillian rolled her eyes. “I’m familiar.”

“Then you know people charge for all kinds of things that should be basic human rights, healthcare, shelter, food. Hell, people pay for clean water when they shouldn’t have to, but that doesn’t mean the people who ensure the water stays safe and flowing through our pipes don’t deserve to be compensated.”

Gillian glanced away. “We keep going around and around about this.”

“We do.” Daphne gave into her own exasperation. “And if you weren’t so freaking judgy, I wouldn’t even mind, because I grapple with these things, too. I’d love to be out of a job. I’d love to live in a world where every human being could be touched with care and gentleness, patience and a sense of humor.”

“Yeah,” Gillian nodded, and, for a second, it looked like she might be swallowing something hard.

“But we don’t live in a perfect world,” Daphne continued. “Some people—good, kind, loving, and hurt people—have to either live in a constant state of deprivation from one of their most foundational needs, or they can be brave enough and vulnerable enough to seek help.”

“And that’s where you meet them?” Gillian asked softly.

“I try to,” Daphne said softly.

“Is that where you tried to meet me tonight?”

“Maybe not at first, but I got there.”