by Hart, Romi
“I like being friends too.”
“I think my family is impressed. Not by you, I mean. Not like you’re my girlfriend or anything. But I think my dad actually treated me differently tonight, you know?”
“Different how?”
“Like uh, …maybe he treated me with respect. You know, I think he’s always felt that my friends were punks, jackasses, and stupid kids. He didn’t like any of my friends. He thought they were bringing me down. Maybe he likes the idea of me hanging around classier people for a change.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. And I do trust that you will let him know we’re not a couple. Right?”
“Oh…”
“Seriously,” I say with a warning. “My job would be in jeopardy if there was even a doubt that I was taking advantage of my clients.”
“Ah, I understand. Okay, I’ll let him know.”
“Thank you.”
He remains quiet, a grateful smile still on his face. He’s not even being a jerk about it, for once. He could slap me back, suggesting that I should take him on as a therapist now that we’ve lied about it, but he doesn’t say a word.
Maybe he has finally learned some respect, if not for all women, then at least for a woman who he knows actually cares about him.
Having coffee and tea with mom, Eleanor Katt has reminded me of how important family is. She’s the one who always drinks tea and I drink coffee. But I treasure these moments. Little wonder then that I saw an emotional side of Byron two nights ago. We are both protective of our parents. I think he was honestly nervous about how his parents would receive me. He wanted to impress them, and he wanted to impress me.
And all in the spirit of Christmas, which of course, my mother loves. Holidays for us have always been emotional. The unity of family, even despite all our differences, Christmas trees and family dinners bring us together.
Maybe that’s why my night with Byron was so special. So, becoming of an actual friendship. It felt kind and emphasized the point of Christmas. Not the religious symbols or the commercial element, but the decency, the morality, of humankind coming together for at least one night to give thanks for what we have.
Of course, mom continues to be fixated on the surface, as she always does. She’s the one worried about buying everyone presents and sending every last associate of our family Christmas cards. But at least she understands the importance of the holidays.
“So…speaking of family,” she says with a smile. “Please tell me you’re interested in someone.”
I laugh out loud.
“I said interested,” she says. “I don’t want to hear about any one-night stands.”
“Mother, I don’t have one-night stands.”
“Oh? Is that a new thing?”
“It’s somewhat new. In the sense that I’m no longer a teenager! I’m a thirty-four year old woman.”
“Well, that’s good. But I really do think you should get serious about someone. And I’m not just saying that for selfish reasons.”
“Yeah, I suspect you want grandchildren. Just a vague suspicion, considering how you always hint at it when we talk.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that I read a story the other day, saying that if women don’t get married before forty, you know, they miss their chance.”
“Oh, give me a break! Have you been reading all those tabloids on Facebook again?”
“Well I don’t remember where I read it, but you have to admit they have a point. If you don’t get serious about finding someone now, when you’re still young, then you’re going to be a forty or fifty-year-old woman. And believe me, fifty-year-old men are nothing to write home about. They’re all alcoholic grumpy old men!”
I laugh again. “Well, I believe you there.”
“So? Not even looking?”
“Ah…I am looking.”
“Not that married guy you were telling me about?”
“NO, of course not. That was years ago, mother. And nothing ever happened, remember?”
“Then who is he?”
“Well, it’s not like we’re seriously dating. We just had one date.”
“And you liked him?”
“Sort of. I have mixed emotions about him. I mean, I’m not opposed to getting married, but I have high standards.”
“Well, that’s good. You shouldn’t settle. There are many men who would be happy to have a woman as successful and independent as you are.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what’s this guy like?”
“Umm, what is he like? He’s -”
“Successful? Mysterious? Tall, dark and handsome?”
“I don’t think mysterious is the right word to describe Byron.”
“Byron? Sounds like a king or a prince.”
“You could say that. His family is…uh…absurdly rich.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No. And before you say it, I am NOT looking for a rich guy.”
“I was just about to say! Those rich guys be careful of them. They all have secrets!”
“Well everyone has a few secrets. Even simple folk like us, right?”
“I don’t have any secrets,” mother says sipping her tea. “My life has always been an open book. Maybe that’s just our generation though.”
“I’m sure there are some things you wouldn’t tell me,” I say with a smile.
“I don’t know what.” She gives a condemning face. “Just be careful. He sounds mysterious and rich, and those guys are bad news.”
“Yeah like I said, I’m not interested seriously. But I am looking. And that’s a start, right?”
We finish the conversation on a happy note and go back to our tea and coffee.
Byron! Just when I think I’ve figured him out, and just when I think I’ve disqualified him for all the right reasons, he pulls a stunt like this. I call him on the phone while on my work break, not sure if I want to scream at him or slap him. Or just sit there and laugh at him for being such a silly goose.
“Yeah?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
He laughs, and I can’t help but mirror his jolly mood.
“I’m serious.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
“I do?”
“Well, I was paying my bills today. And behold! I log into my account and discover that my car is paid off.”
“Really?”
“And my mortgage is paid off.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yeah that’s weird, isn’t it? Nice try. I asked who made the payment and they gave your family’s name and corporation. Coincidence? I think not.”
“Ah, I guess I left a trail behind, didn’t I? Damn, I’d make a lousy criminal.”
“Yeah. Let’s get back to the issue at hand. Why in the world did you do that?”
“Was that sexual harassment?”
“No, it was not. But it was a kindness I did not ask for.”
“So what? You complained that I never paid that insurance debt. So I paid you back what I owed you.”
“NO, one hundred grand is not what you owed me!”
“Eh, consider it uh…you know, a Christmas bonus.”
“A Christmas bonus? Are you paying off all of my major debts?”
“Don’t sweat it. Didn’t I always say, it was the principle and not the money?”
“Yeah but…” I laugh in disbelief.
“How many hours of sleep did you lose this month because you were worried about losing your house or losing your car? Not that a Honda Accord is a great car, kind of a cheap little thing.”
“Haw-haw!” I say sarcastically.
“I remembered what you said. Contrary to popular belief, not all men my age have ADHD. I remember everything people say to me, I take mental notes.”
“Yeah, and? You just spoil everybody you know with money they haven’t earned?”
“You know this about me, I throw money at things I like. Sometimes I jus
t do it out of laziness, sometimes because my conscience tells me I should.”
“Uh huh! And why did you do it with me? I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t even imply it.”
“Well, …you did accuse me of faking my whole billionaire status just because I took a bit longer to pay the insurance claim. Which I never did. Do you want me to pay that too?”
I laugh hard but am still mad at him. “I want you to pay my insurance claim and take back the hundred grand you just dumped on me.”
“Oh, come on. No one’s that crazy.”
“I’m not crazy, Byron. I just have high standards and I don’t like being in debt to people.”
“It’s not a debt.”
“Oh really? So, you didn’t give me that money with some expectation?”
He laughs this time. “Is that what you think? That I’m paying you for sex? Trying to bribe you into doing something you don’t want to do, would be like trying to make love to a brick wall. Believe me, I’m not that stupid.”
“So why did you do it?”
He inhales and thinks it over, “Because it’s just money. And because I really enjoyed our time at the Christmas family visit.”
“I enjoyed it too, Byron. But you didn’t owe me anything. We just had a good time.”
“Right. And I paid-off your debt because I felt like it. Nothing gained, nothing expected. The pleasure of paying off your debt made me smile.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Well maybe you’re just too damn cynical then,” he says with a snarky voice. “Accept the gift.”
“No.”
“Fine, then I’m going to start telling you how much I fantasize about you and make things really awkward. And our friendship experiment will be over. All because you wouldn’t just accept a compliment.”
“A compliment! Not an insane amount of money-”
“Oh come on!” he says tiredly. “You know, all my life I’ve seen rich old white men doing stupid things with their money. Investing in wars, bankrupting small businesses, bribing people to keep quiet, and what not. I once knew a guy that literally paid a hundred grand just to ruin his ex-wife’s life. All so he could spend another fifty grand on wooing some teenage bride that didn’t know any better. This is what people do with money.”
I listen closely.
“Well, why not do something practical with it? Something good. Something that someone else will really appreciate, something that actually means something. I could be like one of these rich douches and start my own private foundation because that’s was serious billionaires do, you know. Or I could just give the money to people who really need it.”
I sigh in frustration. It feels so wrong to accept the money. I’ll bet my mother would have a cow if I told her I was even thinking about doing it. But what he says makes sense. And oh God, I was just thinking I can’t afford the car payment this month.
This answers every prayer, every Christmas miracle, I hoped for. But it still feels wrong.
“I just…don’t want to take advantage of you, Byron,” I say softly, feeling bad for him. It’s like he always says, he throws money at people, at things, because he doesn’t know how else to deal with life.
“You’re not,” he says firmly. “I know I’m not buying sex from you. You’re not indebted to me. Just consider it a friendly gesture. You know, a reward from the universe for being a good person and giving a lonely boy a listening ear, okay?”
“All right,” I say quietly, a little ashamed but more than anything, just so eager to make him happy. How else do you make such an eccentric person happy than to let him be who he wants to be?
Maybe I don’t want to date Byron. Maybe there are multiple limits I would put on his friendship, because I know he’s going to try to overstep his boundaries. But I do want him in my life if he’s this eager to help. This interested in being my friend.
Besides, like I once told him, he sure as hell can afford it. And maybe it’s about time that the notoriously rich and despised Gallows family does some good for the world for a change.
“All right,” I say shyly. “I accept it…and I thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart.”
“You’re welcome,” he says happily.
“I don’t think I will ever be able to repay you. Or give you what you want.”
“That’s called the Christmas spirit!” he laughs, a little too sarcastically.
But before I can respond, he says goodbye.
What a tease, what a silly man he is. But hell! If every man, if every rich man were more like Byron and less like…well, all the rest of them, then the whole world would look a lot more like Christmas season.
Chapter 5
Byron
I know that I’ve only known Laura Katt for a couple months now, but I’m still smitten by her. Part of me thinks that what I feel for her has grown beyond the ’you want what you can’t have’ taboo.
I’m aware that she’s not available and I’ve discovered that I’m fine with it. She still brings out a side of me that I’m starting to like. Giving to poor people, being a classier, more respectable person. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do but never could seem to accomplish.
But when she’s accompanying me on a non-date or explaining my own neurosis in a non-clinical setting, it’s so easy to follow her lead. It’s like she explains everything so perfectly. When we chat via text, it feels cathartic. Not just a little naughty but also so comforting, like the release of tension. I confide in her what’s going on in my life and she gives me tiny little glimpses into her life. We trade information and we speak honestly to each other.
We’re kind, we’re funny and enthusiastic. But there’s always that respect, that bond that exists because I respect her wishes to not go beyond this platonic relationship. Whenever I call her, she answers, and we talk. It feels like the first day of middle school, that feeling of having made one friend in the midst of all those selfish bullies and pricks. She is a positive force of energy in my world, which to this day has been dark and sinister.
And I have to admit, part of me knows that I’m still trying to date her, even though I claim to be just her friend. She knows I want her, that’s for sure. But she also goes out of her way to tell me that we’re not a good match for each other or that we’re too different to actually make a relationship work.
And I listen, perhaps wondering if deep down, she ever thinks about it. Just the possibility of us giving this thing a try. She accepts my calls, she always answers me. Even when I gave her the chance to get rid of me once and for all, she kept our dialog going. I do believe she wants something from me, but I don’t know what.
Whenever we start broaching the subject of love or lust, she plays up the age difference. She says I’m young, silly and ‘entitled’, whatever that means. She, on the other hand, well she’s from some special world. She works hard, is fiercely independent and is always doing good for others.
A world I will never be a part of, though I can scarcely figure out why.
All I know is that I’m becoming addicted to these chats like a drug, like a rush, or a constant high. And usually she’s more than willing to humor me. If she was totally uninterested in me, wouldn’t she have something better to do at peak evening hours? I wonder.
I smile, already intoxicated with her voice, as I place another call to her cell phone. But to my surprise, no one’s answering.
I hope she’s okay. God, my mind goes to dark places. What if she was attacked? Or is she really sick? Or is she such a bad driver that she got into a fatal accident?
I call back. I text.
Nothing.
This is the first time she’s ever been unavailable. Relax. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe she’s at work, or really busy, or is with her family. That’s understandable. Maybe I should stop thinking worst case scenarios.
I text her again, but nothing. I call back. Nothing!
I start to put my hands through my hair, already feeling the shakes from no
t hearing her voice as per my normal routine. God, what is wrong with me? This doesn’t feel like a normal friendship, does it? It’s not like I start flipping out when Marcus or Jack don’t call me back. Maybe this is a little more than friendship.
She couldn’t be ignoring me on purpose, could she? How does that work? The nicer I am to her, the more she realizes I’m an asshole and she could do better?
You know what, fuck this. Maybe I’ll go out tonight. It’s obvious she’s going out and doing god knows what! Well, maybe that’s what I’ll do.
I squint my eyes in jealousy, as Laura FINALLY texts me back after taking hours of her sweet time to respond.
Sorry I’ve been busy. I went to see a friend tonight. Bill, we met at an APA psychology and therapy convention. It was nice catching up with him again. How have you been?
* * *
She answers the phone, already sounding tired. But I’ve barely begun.
“How big was Bill’s dick?”
“What?!”
“Well it’s obvious you’re dating him, right? Why?”
She pauses, then laughs cruelly. “What is wrong with you, Byron?”
“You went out with a friend? Bill, that’s his name?”
“So what? Whether I went out with a friend or a date, that is NONE of your business.”
“I thought you weren’t dating anyone. That’s what you said -”
“That is not what I said. I said I am not dating you. I said I enjoy being friends. So why are you pulling this stunt? This is not becoming of friendship, is it?”
“I am concerned for you, as a friend.”
She laughs. “Oh really? You’re concerned about me as a friend? Well as a friend, I assure you I am an adult, much older than you, and I can handle my ADULT relationships.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Something you apparently cannot do.”
“Just answer me this. Why?”
“Why, what?”
“What does he have that I don’t have?”
“Oh, for god’s sakes!”
“What? Is he rich? Is he funny? Is he badass and alpha? No, that couldn’t be it, because that’s ME. So, what does he have that I don’t have?”
