Page 21 of Baby Girl

“If you guys want to come, Timmy is playing here again on Saturday,” the waiter said as he handed us our drinks.

“Thank you,” I said. As he started to walk away, I silently mouthed the word “sorry” to him. He smiled and shook his head.

“You want to come watch that guy sing? Single or not, he’s really got a great voice, and the band has a good time playing together,” Heather asked.

“Well, Erik and I are supposed to do something, I will ask him if he wants to stop by. I will let you know. It does sound fun.”

“Well, I’d also like to see this guy in person. Who you say he is, and what I have heard from everyone else is two totally different things,” Heather said as she looked into her beer bottle with one eye.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“It tastes like water,” she said, still looking inside for some form of an answer.

“You’re freaking drunk, that’s probably part of the problem.”

“Maybe I am drunk, but I am not stupid. I know things. I know a lot of things. I know that I want a guy to treat me right. I know that I want someone to love me. I am not a bad person. I am so tired of guys using me. What have I ever done to deserve to be treated the way I am always treated, over and over and over? I just want a guy to fuck me and keep me for once. And I know that you need to tell Mr. Suck my dick in the movie theatre that you are going to Columbia at the end of the summer. Or you’re no better to him than the assholes are to me, Kelli,” Heather said as she finished her bottle of beer-water.

I thought about what she had said. Drunk or not, she had a point. I truly couldn’t remember if I had mentioned it to Erik or not. I realized, listening to her talk about it that I did need to tell Erik, but I didn’t really want to. Maybe I was afraid of what he may say, or that he may tell me he was done with me. I didn’t want this to end. This feeling that he gave me, this feeling of finding a home, finding someone that finally fit me. Erik and Erik’s ways of treating me made me feel that I was finally where I needed to be. I felt, for once in my life, as if I could stay somewhere forever. I liked this feeling.

When he called me baby girl, it made my heart feel like it was in my throat. When he told me he was proud of me, I felt full. I felt like I had actually accomplished something, something big. And when he told me that he was happy with something I had said or done, I felt complete. I felt like I had solved part of the mystery of life, the part that no one ever solves, and everyone wonders. The simple statements, you make me happy baby girl, or I’m so proud of you, baby girl, those were enough to make me melt.

And Erik didn’t say these things just to say them; he said them because he meant them. He convinced me by saying them that whatever it was that I had done or accomplished was something that he hoped that I would do, but that he wasn’t sure that I was able to do. I waited for the next time he would say them, and tried my hardest to make him happy, hoping for the next time to come. Making Erik proud of me was enough to make me conscious of everything I said or did, even if he was not in my presence. The thought of disappointing him, even a little bit, made me sick.

“Let’s drink these and go, Heather. I will talk to Erik, maybe we can meet here Saturday. I will find out and let you know.”

“I’m done. Mine was weird. It was like a bottle of water,” Heather reminded me, as she held her bottle up by the neck, rocking it back and forth like a pendulum on a Grandfather clock.

As I watched her belch, covering her mouth with the back her hand, I wondered. How many of Heather’s problems with men, how many of Heather’s one night stands could be attributed to alcohol consumption? I was not perfect by any means, but I had a one drink an hour limit, three drink maximum for a day. One day a week, I allowed myself to drink. Heather, on the other hand, drank almost daily.

“Let me get this, no arguments,” I said as I reached into my purse.

With her hand still covering her mouth, she nodded. I reached into my purse and got two twenty dollar bills and placed them on the table. We stood and began walking out together. As we walked across the floor of the bar, the waiter waved. I waved back, and pointed to the table. Heather hiccupped as we walked out the door into the parking lot.

“You alright to drive?” I asked with mild concern.

“Bitch, I’m fine to drive. Find me a boyfriend and let me know about Saturday.”

“I will,” I said as I hugged her.

Walking to the car, I checked my phone for messages. Disappointed that I had one from Erik, and had not realized it, I opened it.

ERIK EAD: Baby girl, I have a question. Who owns you?

I read it, and then read it again. Answering these questions was not only easy, for some reason it was extremely satisfying. As I typed my response I realized that I wasn’t simply answering a question. I smiled as I pressed the send button.

You do, sir. Every ounce of my being.

KELLI. Men had always provided me with sexual satisfaction. I have had a man in my life to fulfill a sexual satisfaction, and that was it. I had no need, desire, or feeling of necessity to have a man actually be in my life. The thought of having a man be a part of my life, prior to meeting Erik, made me want to abandon any male that tried to attach himself to me.

As I painted my nails, I wondered what Erik would say about them. He noticed things like this. He noticed everything. He not only noticed, but he commented. He commented on how I smelled, and if it was different. He commented on my skin tone, my nails, my clothes, shoes, watches, hair, hair color, attitude, the tone of my voice.

Everything that I did, I thought of him. He had consumed me. He has crawled inside of me and become part of me, part of my day-to-day life. Even when he is not in my presence, he is part of everything that I do. He is in my mind. He has infected me.

I paint my nails and I hope. I hope that he praises me. I hope that he smiles. I hope that when he says what he says, whatever it may be, that he ends it with those two words. Baby girl.

I am ruined.

ERIK. Broken People. I had completed the book, and immediately read it again. The parts about codependency and today’s youth were spot-on. I had never, however, looked at people as broken, only different. We are all different. Looking at humanity as broken was a different approach, and the attraction of broken people to broken people of a similar likeness was ingenious.