Just Joe ~ Jen Luerssen

by Luerssen, Jen

  Me: Hey Bestie, you up?

  Three dots appear under my message, then disappear, then reappear.

  Me: When you start typing I can tell. You know that, right?

  Bestie: Yes, jerkface.

  Me: So, you are up?

  Bestie: Yes, ding dong. I woke up an hour ago. Thanks for the sandwich.

  Me: You’re welcome. I figured if you woke up, you’d be hungry but not motivated to go anywhere.

  Bestie: You are correct, sir.

  Me: It’s so cold and sad here.

  Bestie: I’m sure it’s not.

  Me: Jack is at Kel’s and there’s no Betsy in my bed or chair. You spoiled me, I blame you.

  Bestie: You’ll live.

  Me: I miss you.

  Bestie: You just saw me like two hours ago.

  Me: I know, forever.

  Bestie: It will be good for you.

  Me: I disagree, you will be good for me.

  Bestie: I thought we agreed to let this go.

  Me: I’m 100% sure I never agreed to any such thing.

  Bestie: Okay, well can we?

  Me: For now.

  Bestie: Good night, Joe.

  Me: Good night, beautiful.

  The next morning, I wake up early, feeling better than I have in a week. I go to the gym for an hour and although I’m not at full health, I get a good workout in. I shower and am at Betsy’s by 7:30, before everyone else. She’s not up yet so I go ahead and make coffee. We made her a little makeshift kitchen in the dining area. She has her coffee maker, microwave and a plastic bin to wash dishes in.

  I make a cup of coffee for her and head up to her room. Normally, I’d never do this for a client, but she’s more than that. She may be trying to push me away but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her. She clearly has feelings for me that are freaking her out. So, I’ll give her a tiny bit of distance, but I’ll still be here, trying.

  Her room is dark and she is in bed. I put the coffee on her stack of books and lean down to look at her. She is flushed and her hair is sweaty and matted to her forehead. Looks familiar. I place my hand on her cheek and she is really hot. I get up and head to the bathroom, I find her thermometer in her cabinet and come back to take her temp. It’s 104.5. I know that’s really high and potentially dangerous. I call Dr. Mononoke’s office and her nurse answers. I tell her that Betsy has a high fever, after taking care of Jack and me. She agrees it’s too high and encourages me to take her to urgent care.

  I rouse her and she is able to take some water and hold the cool washcloth I put on her head. “Hey, Bets. I need to take you to the hospital. Your fever is really high.”

  Her head lolls as she tries to nod. “‘Kay.” I help her get socks and shoes on, she is still in the clothes she was wearing last night. I bundle her up in a fleece and we head downstairs just as Don is walking in the front door.

  “Hey, Don. Bets has a bad fever so I’m taking her to urgent care. I’ll keep you posted,” I say and he helps me get her to the truck.

  “Just take care of her,” he says and goes back in the house.

  As I’m pulling out, I see Jeannette walking to her car. I roll down the window and call to her so she comes over.

  “Hey Joe, looking handsome today,” she says with a wink.

  “Thanks, Jeannette, just wanted to let you know Betsy is sick so I’m taking her to see someone and then I’m bringing her back home with me.”

  Her happy face turns to concern. “I see. Keep me updated.” I smile and nod.

  Betsy is snoring lightly next to me as I drive her and I feel a panicky dread. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but her fever is way higher than ours were, so I’m concerned.

  They take her right away because her fever is so high. I wait for a few hours, reading on my phone, dying for any information. A doctor finds me and he tells me they got her fever down but in addition to the flu, she also has a severe throat infection. About ten minutes later Betsy shuffles out to me.

  “Hey,” I say, taking her hand to pull her in so she can lean on me.

  “Hey,” she says in a barely audible scratchy voice.

  “Are you okay to walk to the truck or do you want me to go get it?” I ask.

  “Okay,” she whispers and I smile.

  * * *

  Betsy is in my bed. Her hair cascades across my pillow and I imagine she’s there because she wants to be, not because she’s delirious with fever. I stopped at the pharmacy and got her meds earlier and she took them a few hours ago. She’s hot again as I curl her shivering body into mine. It feels familiar and right that I’m the one to take care of her. My hand smooths her hair and keeps it from her face. Her breathing is heavy and she is snoring louder than usual. She is stunning.

  I get her to take her medicine and to eat a few spoonfuls of broth. “Sorry, we are back with soup again. The doctor said only liquids because of your throat.”

  She nods and slurps another spoonful. After she is done, I get her to lie on the chair so I can change the sheets. She falls asleep so I carry her back to the bed. She whispers something to me but I can’t make it out.

  “Don’t speak, B, doctor’s orders,” I say softly in her ear as I place her on the bed.

  I take the sick tray downstairs and clean up. Then I send Don a quick text.

  Me: B has flu and throat infection. I’ll be out for a few days.

  Don: You take care of that woman or I’ll fuck you up.

  Me: I know. Can you tell her neighbor, Jeannette?

  Don: That hot lady next door? Hell, yes.

  Me: She likes ladies. Behave yourself.

  Don: Ooh, a challenge.

  Me: Stop. Please.

  Upstairs I plug my phone in, take my pants off and get into bed with my Betsy. I’m not sure why it took the fucking plague for us to end up here, but I’ll take it. She snuggles into my shirt and I kiss her sweaty forehead.

  “I love you, Bets, you’re going to be okay and then we are going to talk about our feelings and you are going to admit you love me too. I know that sounds like a creeper thing to say, but I know in your heart you’re mine and I’m all yours,” I whisper to her. She snores in response.

  Just Love You

  BY THE END OF THE week, Betsy is feeling better but she is still unable to speak. This has been perfect for me because I’ve been bossing her around and pretending I don’t understand what she’s trying to gesture to me. At least she gave in to being in my room, in my bed. It’s been my pleasure to take care of her and I’ve gone overboard a few times, like trying to carry her everywhere. She did let me help her in the shower. I wore my boxer shorts but I’m sure they didn’t hide my giant erection.

  She’s too sick to work so she got an understudy to fill in for the whole weekend. On Saturday she is fever free and up and cooking pancakes in the morning for me and Jack.

  “Jack, can you bring Betsy to our show at the Boom Boom Room? We haven’t played there before and it’s our first stop on the tour,” I say.

  Betsy waves her hands in the air wildly.

  “Sure, I’ll drop her there around nine. You guys go on at ten?” he asks and I nod. It’s a 21 and over club so he can’t join in the fun.

  Betsy’s head is shaking and her hand is waving in front of Jack.

  “Thanks, bro,” I say and turn to Betsy. “I have a table reserved for you and have already ordered ice water with lemon to be in front of you at all times. Jack is going to take you for spicy noodles first and then you’ll be able to meet everyone and hear us play.”

  Her hands are on her hips as I say all this and she lets out a big sigh when I’m done. “Fine,” she says just barely.

  I put my hand over her mouth. “No talking, seriously, B. If you get tired or overwhelmed, you can text Jack and he will pick you up.”

  Jack nods. “I’ll be at your beck and call all night.” He and I had a long talk last night where I told him how I feel about Betsy and how I want to try to convince her to stay with us for the next few months
and date me. He is on board and said he thought we were already together, just keeping it from him. I asked him why he thought that and he said because we were always flirting and making fuck me eyes at each other and sleeping in the same bed. I was so happy he thought it was mutual. It gives me hope.

  She holds her hands up and makes an okay sign, then points to the upstairs, puts her hands together and then to the side of her face and closes her eyes.

  “I agree, a nap is in order,” I say and take her hand and walk her up to my room. When we are inside, she gets into the bed without argument. She hasn’t attempted to go to her room since I’ve brought her here on Wednesday. I don’t care what the reason is, as long as I can keep her close.

  I tuck her in and sit in the reading chair. She is facing me with a smile on her face when I hold up The Cask of Amontillado. I’ve been reading to her all week, not just Poe, but from The Fledgling by Octavia Butler, one of Betsy’s favorite authors. It’s a vampire book but not like Twilight. The book is fucked up. So fucked up that I need to take breaks and switch to Poe. Also fucked up but more of a normal fucked up.

  Betsy falls asleep after about ten minutes of reading and I get in with her and spoon up. I pet her hair back and over her shoulder so I have access there. I kiss her neck, under her ear and she shivers. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” I say softly, hoping she didn’t wake up.

  She turns to me and smiles with a shrug. I pull her close and kiss the other side of her neck pushing my thigh to the apex of her legs. “I know you’ll be upset but I’m not going to kiss you until you are cleared from the doctor.” Her eyes roll and I kiss the tip of her nose. “No kisses on the lips, that is.” I kiss along her jawline while my hand slides up under her shirt over her bare back. As I do this she starts to lightly grind on my leg. Her skin is smooth and warm and she sighs as I lightly scratch along her spine. My hand moves to the front of her shirt and travels up to her tits, taking the shirt with it. I lean in and lightly kiss her navel and then up her stomach to right in between her perfect breasts. I back away and then pull her shirt back down, and I gaze at her. I hold her at her lower back and press her into me. Her gray eyes are hazy and I can tell she’s close to coming on my leg. I press my face into her neck again and we move together in lazy, slow grinds. Her low moan starts as she presses into me with full force. Her mouth is open in ecstasy and her eyes are closed. It’s a beautiful view.

  “I find you impossible to resist,” I say and she snuggles into my chest breathing heavily and I hold her close. Her snoring starts up and I loosen my grip a little, easing her back on her pillow. Her hands curl to my chest and cling to my shirt. It’s so cute and I love it. I love her. I just stare while she sleeps. She is wearing one of my white tanks and some shorts so I can see her tattoos. I trace them with my finger and follow the path of the snake. She barely moves. “I find you impossible not to love,” I whisper and close my eyes and drift off.

  * * *

  After a day of rest, food, and binge-watching Battlestar Galactica, we get ready for the show. I leave before they do so I step into the bathroom where Betsy is showering to tell her goodbye. When I enter the bathroom, I hear her whimpering and am immediately worried. Except she then moans long and loud and I know where those whimpers are coming from. My high-powered shower head. I stand just inside the bathroom and can barely make out her naked form, undulating against the pulsing spray. Her eyes must be closed because she doesn’t notice me as she comes as loudly as she can with her sore throat. I slip out and then knock on the door.

  “Hey, Bets, I’m out of here,” I call from the half-open door, not stepping in. “See you in an hour, beautiful.”

  “Okay,” she rasps out.

  The sounds of Betsy making herself come again stay with me the whole cab ride to the show, all of set up and sound check and most certainly when she shows up and plants her ass at her reserved table. Our set goes well and she is smiling ear to ear clapping when we are finished. I introduce her to Lia and Andrew and she gives Frank a big high five, knowing he’s not a hugger. Obviously, there’s not a lot of conversation since it’s loud and Betsy can’t use her voice. We make it work though for a bit until Betsy yawns and I take her home.

  We go to my room and I shower while she changes for bed. I return only wearing boxers, and although we are both exhibitionists, I’ve been trying to be respectful by wearing a shirt to bed. Plus, it’s not fair to her to have this chest and these abs in her face when she’s clearly ill and can’t take advantage. Today shifted things though. She is watching me as I walk toward the bed and I think I’m going with no shirt tonight.

  “Try not to drool on my sheets,” I tease her.

  “How do you look like that? You eat whatever you want and I’ve seen you go to the gym, like once.” Her voice is still scratchy and soft but she’s not straining.

  “I go to the gym every day, and if I skip, I usually try to do something strenuous at work that day, or run at lunch. I just wake up super early so you’ve never noticed,” I explain. “I don’t know what to tell you about my eating habits. I try not to overdo it but I guess I have good genes.”

  My hand runs over my bare torso and she blinks and then raises her gaze to me and then to the bed. I know exactly what she’s saying so I slide in and pull her to me. I’m on my back and she is laying on her side against me. Her hand hovers over me and I grab and rest it on my abdomen and flex. She giggles.

  “Why do you do that? The flexing,” she asks. “You know me well enough to know that I don’t care about that stuff.”

  I shrug. “It’s manly instinct I guess, a holdover from my Neanderthal ancestors. Every time a beautiful woman or Frank touches me, I flex.”

  “Oh my god, you flex for Frank?”

  “Sometimes he will ask me about my workouts and for advice about what he can do to make his abs more cut.” I’m about to tell her something no one knows but I feel totally safe trusting her. “There are few people I admire more than him. So, when he asks me for help or advice, it’s the best feeling. He gives me shit most of the time so if I have to flex when he shoves me or punches me in the pec in order to get some positive attention, I will. I realize how pathetic this sounds, but he and I have been friends a long time and I want his approval, his unconditional love.”

  She bites down on her lips, trying not to smile. “That’s the sweetest, most messed up thing ever and it’s perfect.”

  I pinch her arm. “If you ever tell him any of that I’ll deny it.”

  “To the grave,” she says making an x over her chest. “You are impressive, Joe.”

  My chest tightens and I get a warm feeling all over. “Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

  “It’s true. You have raised Jack on your own, built a kick-ass business and feed your creative side. It’s an impressive feat to build such a great life.”

  I hold her face in my hand and stare into her eyes. “Not as impressive when you don’t have someone to share it with,” I say and her eyes dart down and then back up. “I want to share it with you. Just you.” I stop short of telling her I love her.

  She has tears in her eyes and my heart sinks. “I’ll always share it with you, we are best friends forever, remember?” I nod. “That’s all I can do right now, Joe.”

  “I remember,” I say and I’m disappointed to be shot down again. “You’re wrong, but I’m an optimist so I believe you’ll realize how great we can be together.”

  Her soft lips touch mine and she retreats. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know how to be together without hurting you.” Her meaning is clear like she’s being careful not to bruise me too much, yet I’m all black and blue.

  Just Apart

  SATURDAY WAS THE LAST NIGHT Betsy slept in my bed. On Sunday, before lunch, she had Jack drive her back to her house. We both did our best to convince her to stay. Jack claimed he was more focused when she sat with him and worked, and that I was a shit video game player. I tried to use my knowledge that her house was going
to be a mess and not relaxing.

  Right before Jack is set to take her home I corner her in the laundry room where she’s grabbing some of her things she missed last week. “I hate that you feel like you have to distance yourself from me. I know you think you’ll hurt me, but how is this not hurting?”

  “Joe,” she says just above a whisper. “I can’t give you what you need.”

  I press her against the dryer and put my hands at the base of her throat, my head pressed to hers. Her lips part and I tilt my chin up and take her mouth. It’s not like the gentle, tentative kisses we’ve had this week. It’s similar to the one we shared before she moved out the last time. It occurs to me as she pulls away, that one didn’t work. I pull her back in and our kiss is languid and lazy and I sink in, trying to erase her doubt.

  We part again this time I keep my hands resting at her collarbones. “Bye, Bets,” I say.

  She pushes me so I take a step back. “Bye, Joe,” she says and then is gone.

  * * *

  I don’t see her over the next few days. I leave her notes around the house and they disappear, so I know she’s at least seeing them. It hurts that she’s ignoring me but I understand it. Wednesday night we head out on the first leg of our mini-coastal tour. First stop is San Diego, one of my favorite places, but I’m moping like a baby and driving Frank crazy. We are sitting in a coffee shop a few hours before our show and I can’t even enjoy the nice weather.

  “Joe, Lia asked you if you wanted to go check out the venue early,” Frank says and punches me in the chest. “Dude, I punched and you didn’t flex? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  I shrug. “Sure, we can go early, Li Li,” I say with zero enthusiasm.

  “Oh shit, who broke Joe?” Lia asks.

  “I think it might have been Betsy,” Frank says under his breath. “She moved out of their house on Sunday.”

  “Why is that bad?” Lia asks. “Doesn’t that mean you worked your magic on her money pit? Oh crap, that came out dirtier than I thought it would. You guys, this pregnancy is making me a total pervert.”