by Nella Tyler
"Well, yeah, that is kind of on the creepy side, but he meant well, didn't he?"
"Yes, but that's beside the point, isn't it?"
"Look, Maggie, some guys are pretty dense. Obtuse. They don't think beyond their dicks, if you know what I mean."
"But that's just it, Savannah," I tried to explain. "While I appreciate the gesture, I'm not the kind of woman who can be bought with a fancy bangle, a box of chocolates, or even Egyptian sheets."
"I get where you're coming from, but why don’t you just enjoy the ride?"
"Here's the thing, Savannah. I already told him that I didn't want to get involved in another relationship. But the fact that he's going through all this, buying me all these things, just to ask me out for a dinner date? What do you make of that?"
“What do I make of that? I think he's crazy for you," she laughed. "In fact, I think it's quite awesome."
I said nothing for several moments, second-guessing my intention to commiserate my emotions was Savannah. I sensed her excitement over the phone and knew she was going to tell me to just go for it.
"You said you told him to have all the furniture and stuff replaced by the time you got home from your night shift tomorrow?"
"You bet I did," I said.
"I don't have to be on shift tomorrow ‘til three o'clock," she commented. "Can I come over before work, see your stuff before it's all carted away? Please?"
I had to laugh. "Savannah, you're nuts. But yes, you can come over tomorrow afternoon and look at the stuff. But it's all going back, from the Egyptian sheets to the espresso machine!"
"Espresso machine?" she gasped. "Oh, Maggie, are you sure about this? Seriously, if you're unhappy with any of these gifts, you can certainly send them my way," she joked. "In fact, I doubt Ben would even notice that a couple of items are missing."
I laughed. "Sorry, Savannah, every single one of these is going to be returned. I just hope he kept all the receipts!" She said nothing and I could sense her frowning disapproval even over the phone.
“Are you sure, Maggie?”
I felt that what I was doing was right, and I wouldn't change my mind. I nodded. "I've been never been more sure of anything in my life."
*
True to her word, Savannah had appeared at my door at two o'clock the following afternoon. She had spent half an hour oohing and ahhhing over all the nice things that Ben had purchased for me. She kept glancing at me and I wondered what she was thinking. Did she really think I was crazy wanting all these things returned? Was she envious? She didn't say anything, but she did turn to me and lift her eyebrows when she rubbed the fine fabric of the Egyptian cotton sheets between her fingers. She had admired the tapestry rug in my bedroom and had giggled with delight when she sank onto the sofa and looked at the changes in my living room. She admired the flat screen TV, the coffee table, and to say she loved the kitchen was an understatement. She kept looking at me, as if I was going to change my mind. When she saw the jewelry and the other gifts that had been boxed, she came right out and said it.
"You're crazy, Maggie," she said bluntly. "If I ever had a guy give me this much stuff, I'd give him anything…and I mean anything." She swept her arm around the apartment. "This stuff is gorgeous and I know that all of it is extremely expensive and of the highest quality."
I agreed, but once again emphasized that it wasn't my stuff, that I hadn't done anything to earn it, and I didn't want to feel obligated to Ben by keeping it. By the time she left my apartment a little while later, I got the distinct impression that she was slightly miffed with me for my "attitude." Still, even though I was expecting a little more support from my friend than I had actually received, I had to stick to my guns.
I was not a woman to be bought, bribed, or cajoled into anything, and the sooner that Ben realized that, the better. For now, I considered Ben a friend, and I wanted to continue doing so. As long as he didn't cross the boundaries, overstep like he had with the apartment, I looked forward to spending time with him. He was fun. He was sexy and charismatic, but if anything happened with this relationship, it was going to happen at the pace I set. Period.
"Is he putting any pressure on you to do anything?" Savannah asked, as she was getting ready to leave for her shift.
"No," I replied.
"Then I don't understand the problem," she said. "He obviously likes you.” She swept her arm around the apartment. "So, why exactly do you feel as if you'd be obligated to him for these things? It's not like you've been leading him along."
"Don't you find it a little bit creepy that he did this when I wasn’t home? That he finagled his way past the manager to get inside? That he managed to do all this while I was on shift? You know he didn't do it alone. He had people doing it for him," I commented, shaking my head. “How many men were in my apartment without my knowledge? Did they, or Ben, go through my stuff? Doesn't that make you just feel a little bit uncomfortable?"
She admitted that it did, but as far as Savannah was concerned, the number, quality, and expense of the gifts more than outweighed the fact that someone had entered her apartment without her permission.
I wasn't so sure, and after she left, I gazed around at the items she had lovingly caressed, felt, and sat upon. Was I being foolish? It was nice stuff. Then, I realized that was just being silly. I had to remember why I had told him to take it all back in the first place. I wouldn't be tempted, and I certainly wasn't going to take advantage of anyone, regardless of how rich they were!
By the time I clocked into work later that evening, I saw Ben already sitting at my Black jack table. As I changed out with the previous dealer, I glanced at him, but he didn't look my way. As the evening wore on, he maintained a cool demeanor and didn't say much to me at all other than pleasantries. I appreciated that, because I had begun to feel the pit bosses’ eyes on me more often than usual. Maybe he had sensed the same and realized that he'd better cool it.
Still, I was a little surprised when he cashed out and left the table sooner than he usually did. While I was a bit curious about it, I didn't get the impression he was upset or anything. He had been pleasant, friendly, and had laughed often with the other players at the table. He had been pleasant with me, just not overly attentive. I was more than happy about that. At least he was sticking to his word and not trying to flirt with me in front of the pit bosses or under the ever-watchful gaze of the cameras. I got the impression that he had gotten my message and wouldn't try to get any more out of me than I had already offered.
Maybe things will work out okay between us after all. I did want a friend. Perhaps having a friend of the male persuasion was just the thing to help me overcome the pain that my ex-husband had caused me. Maybe a male friend would help me to once again learn how to trust someone of the opposite sex. Perhaps Ben was the person who could help me overcome my past and learn to look at life with a different perspective.
Then, as I ended my shift and switched out with the next dealer, I shook my head. Wasn't I now doing the same thing that I had objected Ben doing with me? Placing expectations on him without regard to who he was or how he might feel about me? I couldn't use Ben any more than he could use me. I couldn't place my own expectations on him or what this relationship would do any more than I wanted him doing it to me.
As I left the casino that night, I felt like I had gained a greater understanding of myself. I was smiling as I made my way to my car, thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, things would work out okay, or at least, I hoped it would. I guess I still had a lot of growing to do, emotionally and mentally. There was no doubt in the world that I was flattered that someone like Ben was attracted to me, and was interested in me. The only problem was that I had no idea of his full intentions. Was this just a distraction, this game of cat and mouse that he was playing with me?
Or, was Ben serious about a relationship? While I certainly didn't expect the answer to that in a couple of dates, I did wonder about his motives. I decided that when we went out to dinner in a couple mor
e days, it was high time I learned something more about him. I needed to know more about his history. Most of all, I needed to know about his past relationships. Did he start a new relationship every week or was he a guy who was content to have one woman on his arm at a time? The fact I didn't know the answers to these questions made me more convinced than ever that I needed to go slow.
The last thing I needed was to become emotionally attached to a guy who had no intention of displaying any emotional attachment to me. Perhaps, and because he could afford it, the gifts didn't mean as much to him, or imply as much to him as they did to me. Time would tell.
Chapter 3
After work, I went home. I stood outside of my apartment door for several moments, wondering what I would see when I unlocked the door and entered. Had Ben done as he said he would, and taken out the stuff he had bought and put my stuff back in? Once again, I wished I could have kept all of it, really I did, but the bottom line was that neither my conscience nor my upbringing would let me. Okay, and my pride.
Inhaling and then exhaling sharply, I twisted the key in the lock and pushed open my door. A brief, very brief instant of disappointment met my gaze, but then I felt a greater sense of relief when I saw that everything was back the way it had been. My stuff. My crappy, worn-out, secondhand stuff. I smiled. It wasn't that I didn't feel as if I deserved nice things. Someday, I was sure of it, I would have nice things again. I was determined that I wouldn't live paycheck to paycheck for the rest of my life. One of these days, I would go back to school, get a degree, maybe in education, become a teacher, something that was steady.
At any rate, I knew that it hadn’t just been the gifts themselves that had bothered me, but the secrecy with which Ben had accomplished everything. He didn't need to sneak around behind my back. I didn't want him to.
As I sank down onto my well-used sofa with a sigh, I recalled what Savannah had said to me the night before. As I had tried to explain to her why I couldn't keep any of the gifts that Ben had given me, she had grown frustrated with me. She had glumly commented that my problem wasn't in accepting gifts, but in accepting men. Any men whatsoever. While I appreciated her candor, she didn't understand. Just because she had superficial relationships and never had her heart broken didn't mean that she could somehow make me feel the same way.
Savannah had scoffed and said I was blaming Ben for my ex-husband's mistakes and was taking out my anger with my past failed relationship on him. Was I? To a certain degree, I had to admit I was. There was no doubt about it. I was gun-shy. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. That was the saying, wasn't it?
I didn't want to be hurt like that again. Could anyone blame me for guarding myself against that kind of pain? No, Ben had said nothing about a long-term relationship. It wasn't as though he had proposed to me or anything. Still, I wasn't sure if I even wanted to encourage a man's attentions, especially when I felt so suspicious and wary of them. In a way, Savannah was right. I distrusted all men. Wasn't that normal?
I wasn't blaming Ben for my ex-husband's mistakes. Ben and I had no agreement between us. As far as I was concerned, he had the right and the freedom, to date or even sleep with anyone he wanted. Even me. But that's why I didn't really want a repeat of our night together. It wasn't just about protecting myself emotionally, but physically, as well. When I had said as much to Savannah, she had rolled her eyes and practically laughed.
"Honey, there are such a thing as condoms you know, and as long as you use protection, you don't have to worry about STDs!"
I had stared at her, somewhat shocked. "Do you mean to tell me that as long as the guys you go out with wear a condom, you don’t care who they’ve been out with, how often, or anything?" I found it hard to believe that anyone could have such a callous attitude about sex.
She had shrugged. "Until someone slips a ring on my finger, it's none of my business, is it?"
I had said nothing after that, thinking that Savannah and I, while we were good friends, had vastly different attitudes and opinions about sex. Still, I saw her point. During the past two years since my divorce, I had probably gone out maybe five times, and that was only because some of my friends had begun to tease me, telling me that I was going to end up a shriveled-up, dried-up fruit of an old maid. I shouldn't even have allowed them to talk me into that corner, because going out on blind dates set up by well-meaning friends was certainly not my idea of a good time.
Just for the record, I had been miserable each and every time I had gone out on one of those blind dates. In fact, since my divorce, Ben was only guy that I had agreed to go out with a second time. To be honest, I only agreed to that second date so that he would stop trying to buy my affections.
I had only been home a few minutes when my cell phone rang. I snatched it out of my purse, looked at the screen, and saw that it was Savannah. With a sigh, I answered.
"Is it all gone?" she asked bluntly.
"Yes," I replied. I stood and made my way to the bedroom, just to make sure he’d gotten everything. He had.
"Are you happy now?"
She didn't sound mad, just resigned. "Actually, I am. But let's not talk about that anymore, okay?"
"Fine with me," she sighed. "You want to get together tomorrow afternoon, hang out a while before we need to go to work?"
I thought about it. "Sure," I said. Savannah and I hadn't had a chance to hang out in the past week or so because our schedules conflicted and she had picked up a couple of extra shifts.
We talked for a few minutes and then disconnected the call. I walked into my bedroom, peeled off my clothes, and stepped into the shower. Then, I climbed between my sheets, not nearly as buttery soft as the ones that Ben had purchased, but they were familiar, and for the first time in a couple of days, I slept like a baby.
*
Savannah and I got together and met at the local mall early the following afternoon. We both had to work tonight, but for now, it would be fun just to hang out, talk, and have our lunch. Of course, our lunch was most people's dinner, but since we worked most nights, our eating schedules were pretty erratic. Besides, like most casino towns, breakfast, lunch, and dinner menus were interchangeable. Only in some places where they didn't have a round-the-clock staff were food options limited based on time of day.
We went window-shopping for a while; Savannah looking for a new top while I was just along for the ride, basically. I didn't need any new clothes, and my taste when I was at home ran more to T-shirts and loungewear, while she always dressed like she was going out on a date. As we walked through the racks of clothes, I had to touch and feel the fabric of some of them that appealed to me at least in color and style. Savannah caught me doing it again and laughed.
"What is it with you touching everything? Why do you have to feel everything?"
I shrugged. “I don't know. I'm just tactile, I guess."
"Tactile?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Touchy-feely," I laughed. "I don't care how nice something looks; if it doesn't feel right, I don't like it."
"Did you get all touchy-feely with the stuff bought for your apartment?"
I glanced at Savannah but she was focused on a glittered top that she had found and was looking for her size. "The bed was comfortable, like new mattresses always are, aren't they? And I have to admit that the Egyptian sheets were very soft, and the only way I can think to describe them is that they felt like melted butter."
She glanced at me. I caught a sense of disapproval. "Look, Savannah, I don't really want to go over it again. You know why I couldn't keep all that stuff."
"But it was nice stuff, wasn't it?" she asked, smiling.
I had to agree. “Yes, and the sofa was comfortable, as well. You saw it, one of those faux leather-naugahyde deals…the cushions were plump, but not like you sank into it and had trouble getting out, you know, like you do with some couches?" Again I saw look pass over her features. "Mine might be a little lumpier and a little older, but to be honest, Savannah,
I didn't much care for the fabric."
“How can you not much care for a leather and naugahyde vinyl blend for a couch? The smell itself is enough to make me smile."
"Yes, it did smell nice, but can you imagine how sweaty it would be in the summertime? Why, I'd be sitting in a puddle. I'd end up throwing an Afghan or a tapestry blanket over it anyway, so it doesn't really matter what it looked like, did it?”
She smiled at me, as if to take the edge off some of her comments. "I hear you, Maggie, no doubt about it. And I'm not turning my nose up to your stuff. You have a nice apartment. Though things might not be brand-new, you've made everything very comfortable and cozy." She frowned, as if in thought, and then nodded. "Come to think of it, I think I like your apartment better than mine. It's warm, friendly. You may have pieced it together, but I like the way you use the afghans, the throws, and the pillows. You've made your apartment look…homey."
I was silent for several moments while Savannah put the glittered top back on the rack and continued on her hunt, frowning with concentration. I knew she had grown up poor, in a family who didn't seem to care where she was or what she was doing. Her apartment was priced about like mine, but because she'd gotten a credit card from IKEA, she had decorated it in a relatively eclectic style. Opposite of me, she was into appearances. She did judge books by their covers. She judged men the same way. Maybe that's why she had been so enthralled with what Ben had done. Did his actions show that he cared? Maybe in Savannah’s world, but not in mine.
At any rate, we shopped for a little while and finally, she found two tops that she was happy with. Then, we decided to stop at one of the many diners that lined the street, thinking that a good meal would help perk us up and give us energy to get through a night shift at the casino. One of these days, I swore to myself, I was going to get a bank-hour job, work nine to five or something like that, but for now, I had to deal with the cards I had been dealt.
