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I feel the scorn in his last statement.
“I’m a terrible boss,” I scathe myself.
“Your words, not mine.” He raises his hands in defense.
We both laugh over the line of conversation before the seriousness settles.
“I wouldn’t say you’re a bad boss. You were just tired. I mean. You’ve rested a little bit. Look at how lovely you are now.” He shrugs.
I’m lovely. He said I’m lovely…
“I wasn’t even a boss when Thomas treated me like the muck under your show that you scrape off on pavements.” I roll my eyes. “So, I’m sorry to disagree with you.”
“No, now, see, that was his doing. Not yours,” Jordan fires immediately. “Thomas treated you badly because he could never see the good in you…and if he couldn’t see the beauty in you, then, quite frankly, he must have a very sad life.”
“Mmmh…that I agree on. You should see him now. Senile and miserable.” I chuckle, thinking of the last time I saw him.
He was much worse than I am, covered in nice clothes, like mud shaped like a cake and covered in fondant.
“But at the same time, maybe I did something wrong…to trigger all those parts of him.” I stare into Jordan’s pitch-black eyes. It’s a void in there, but one I feel totally safe getting lost in.
“You might have…but think about it. Is getting shot in the foot a tenable punishment for stepping on someone’s toes?” he replies.
Well, you got to be kidding me. I never thought of it that way.
“Maybe you complained a tad bit too much…maybe you snored…or chewed too loud…maybe your heels grating against the marble was too much for him. Do you see any of those things as reason enough for what he put you through?”
I shake my head, but at the same time, think of those questions he’s asking. The heels, the complaining…
“Hold on. Do I snore?” I ask,
He smiles. “I think it’s cute.”
He must have stayed with me for a while to hear me snore…
I’m not supposed to be reading so much meaning into Jordan’s statements, but it has been a while since someone was nice with me in this way.
Skip Travis. Those were fake displays of affection.
I laugh and cover my mouth when a snort escapes with the laughter. “Oh, please. There’s no way snoring can be cute.”
Jordan positions himself to be more upright before replying. “Maybe that’s where I’m a bit of a weird mix. For me, it’s the little things that make us human that attract me.”
I find his position to be a little uncomfortable. Having to squat beside my bed, we might have a longer conversation than we did the last time, and I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable enough to make him roll his eyes at the promise of another “session”.
“Hey, why don’t you join me on the bed?” I ask, but immediately realize the implication of a question like that.
“That’s…not what I mean…” I pause.If it’s not, then, whatdoI mean?
I just want him to be comfortable.
Even explaining to him that I want him to be comfortable would still sound suspicious.
He doesn’t seem phased by any of my statements, though and instead, dutifully begins taking off his shoes.
Wow.I expected to have to do some convincing. I guess squatting for an extended period is just that bad a physical strain.
To put some formality to his movements, he goes to the edge of the bed before climbing in, rather than climbing over me, which would have initiated a much more intimate contact than even I would have been able to mentally explain away.
