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Birds. Now I remembered. Ornithology was the study of birds. “No kidding?” I said, trying once again to get into her good graces. “That sounds fascinating. I’d love to read the transcript sometime.”
“Bullshit! Even I was bored!”
There was no point in trying to pretend. “You’re right,” I said, conceding defeat. “It’s bullshit. But can you at least let me try to explain before you drive off and abandon me again?”
“Fine,” she said. “Explain. I can’t wait to hear your excuse for taking one look at me and assuming I was a hooker.”
CHAPTER 11
Clara
Where the hell didheget off being mad atme?
As he climbed into the passenger seat, I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I couldn’t wait to hear his attempt to justify himself.
“You said, and I quote, ‘They’re in way more danger of getting a disease from me than I am from them. One touch from my bare skin, and I could infect the entire population.’ Those were your exact words. What was I supposed to think?”
“You were supposed to think I was a doctoral candidate at Columbia University!”
“Based on what?” he said. “The fact that you have a bullet hole in your dashboard and woke up on a Saturday morning in a complete stranger’s car reeking of vodka, with torn stockings and lipstick smeared all over your face? Or that the first thing you said to me was ‘Did we have sex?’followed by ‘Thank you for not calling the police?’. I mean, you tell me, Clara, does that sound like an accurate description of a Columbia University student to you?”
“That’s the most accurate description of a Columbia University student I’ve ever heard in my life!” I yelled. “Didn’t you go to college?”
He didn’t answer. But he didn’t need to. We both knew he was right. I did wake up hungover in a complete stranger’s car. I didhave lipstick all over my face. I did ask him if we had sex, and then thanked him for not reporting me to the police. And to top it all off, when he handed me four hundred bucks, I accepted it without question. And now that I thought about it, I never even mentioned I was a student or an ornithologist. He asked me how I chose my “particular career path” as if he already knew, and I just started rambling on the way I always do whenever someone’s stupid enough to say, “tell me more.” If I were Ian, I would have been confused, too.I’d just bring a lawn chair to the beach and sit there and watch for hours.I’ve taken over a thousand pictures.Oh my God.
I swallowed. Both my saliva and my pride. The only thing I hated more than being wrong was having to admit it. And I sucked at apologies. So I decided to say I was sorry without saying sorry. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll drive you back to Manhattan.”
“I meant what I said about paying you.”
“Forget about it. Free ride for being such a loyal customer.”
“Really?” he said.
“Really. This one’s on the house.”
As I pulled back onto the interstate, I reran the last portion of our increasingly ridiculous conversation in my head.
Loyal customer.
This one’s on the house.
Free ride.
Goddammit.
I still sounded like a hooker.
CHAPTER 12
Ian
Since adolescence, I had one question I always asked myself when searching for the solution to a moral dilemma.What would Dad do?
And when my soul found the answer, I did the exact opposite.
So if Dad met a beautiful prostitute and treated her like shit for three hours straight, only to find out later that she was a brilliant doctoral candidate, what would he do to make up for it?
Easy question. Nothing. Not a goddamned thing. It would never even occur to him that he’d been hurtful or inappropriate. In fact, he’d be so busy staring at her breasts that he wouldn’t even hear “PhD.” All he would hear was the voice in his head reciting his favorite mantra.Boobs... boobs... boobs-boobs-boobs... boobs... boobs...
