along
with one another, and make it a nice summer.” The room is silent.
Eerily silent, and I wait to hear her reply. Then I hear her
giggle. She giggles. She fucking giggles.
“She really said that?”
“I wouldn’t lie about something like that, trust
me.” And I wouldn’t. Morty is like a brother to me. “I’m not a bad
guy, really. I’m not once you get to know me. I’ll behave.”
“Ok. Fine. I have a few conditions.”
She turns around and motions for me to sit on
the bed. I do, but she remains standing, and I feel like I’m about
to be scolded. She paces in front of me, looking at the floor and
not at me.
“First things first. No more deck sex, please.
I’d like to enjoy the view from it without seeing you and your
flavor of the week engaging in sexual acts.”
“Ok, I can deal with that.”
“Second, when you are entertaining someone of
the female persuasion, please keep the noise down to a minimal
roar. I fully understand that this may be a difficult feat for you,
being the man-whore you are, but have some respect for the people
living next to you.”
Oh, God. Is she serious? How the hell am I
supposed to keep a chick I’m banging quiet? I mean, I get the deck
sex thing, but damn.
“Now wait just a minute, baby, how am I…”
Shit. If I could eat that word, I would, because
now I know what’s next. Just the look on her face says it all. She
crosses her arms and inches her way a bit closer to me, actually a
lot closer.
“And then there’s number three.” Her tone is
soft, but what she’s about to spew at me, I’m betting is not.
“At no time over the next ten weeks will you use
the term ‘baby’ when you address me.”
Air quotes are gestured around the word
baby.
“I cannot begin to depict how much I despise it.
I have a name. It’s Harlow, in case you have suddenly forgotten. It
means meadow of the hares. People with the name have a deep inner
need for quiet, and a desire to understand and analyze the world
they live in, and to learn the deeper truths. That’s me. It’s not
sweetheart, or darling, or cutie, and it’s certainly not baby.
Learn to address me correctly, or we are going to have a
problem.”
She leans in, hands flat on the bed beside my
body, arms stiff, her hair flows in the front of her shoulders,
towards her chest. I can feel her breath on my face, and I smell
her. It’s the same scent as on the scarf. Sugar cookie, maybe?
“Do I make myself clear, Officer?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, tasting the blood
from my teeth, and I nod. It’s all I can do at this point. She
doesn’t linger in front of me. She straightens up and crosses her
arms in front of me.
“Ok, fine, but why don’t you like anyone calling
you baby? What’s the deal?”
She stares at me, then moves to her suitcase and
begins to drag it across the room, back towards the bed. I grab it
from her and fling it back on the bed, but she still hasn’t
answered my question.
“So are you going to tell me why you don’t like
it, or do I have to guess?”
She unzips her suitcase and starts to pull
things out, still not making eye contact with me.
“I… I j-just don’t like it. It’s not cute. It’s
n-not sexy. It just makes me feel…” After stuttering her words, her
voice trails off, and I don’t hear the last thing she says. I’m not
sure what her deal is. I stand up, fishing some of her shoes out of
the suitcase, and I begin handing them to her. It’s a simple
gesture, and she looks confused by it. I shove a shoe in her hand,
rolling my eyes at her. She looks at it, then at me and places it
in the closet.
“Ya know. I’m not a monster. We can be friends,
if you want. Just because what happened between us last year,
happened, doesn’t mean we can’t get past it. We both know it’s
never going to happen again.”
I hand her another shoe, and a small smile shows
up on her face.
“True, and I guess we could be, as long as you
follow my list of demands. Especially
with one another, and make it a nice summer.” The room is silent.
Eerily silent, and I wait to hear her reply. Then I hear her
giggle. She giggles. She fucking giggles.
“She really said that?”
“I wouldn’t lie about something like that, trust
me.” And I wouldn’t. Morty is like a brother to me. “I’m not a bad
guy, really. I’m not once you get to know me. I’ll behave.”
“Ok. Fine. I have a few conditions.”
She turns around and motions for me to sit on
the bed. I do, but she remains standing, and I feel like I’m about
to be scolded. She paces in front of me, looking at the floor and
not at me.
“First things first. No more deck sex, please.
I’d like to enjoy the view from it without seeing you and your
flavor of the week engaging in sexual acts.”
“Ok, I can deal with that.”
“Second, when you are entertaining someone of
the female persuasion, please keep the noise down to a minimal
roar. I fully understand that this may be a difficult feat for you,
being the man-whore you are, but have some respect for the people
living next to you.”
Oh, God. Is she serious? How the hell am I
supposed to keep a chick I’m banging quiet? I mean, I get the deck
sex thing, but damn.
“Now wait just a minute, baby, how am I…”
Shit. If I could eat that word, I would, because
now I know what’s next. Just the look on her face says it all. She
crosses her arms and inches her way a bit closer to me, actually a
lot closer.
“And then there’s number three.” Her tone is
soft, but what she’s about to spew at me, I’m betting is not.
“At no time over the next ten weeks will you use
the term ‘baby’ when you address me.”
Air quotes are gestured around the word
baby.
“I cannot begin to depict how much I despise it.
I have a name. It’s Harlow, in case you have suddenly forgotten. It
means meadow of the hares. People with the name have a deep inner
need for quiet, and a desire to understand and analyze the world
they live in, and to learn the deeper truths. That’s me. It’s not
sweetheart, or darling, or cutie, and it’s certainly not baby.
Learn to address me correctly, or we are going to have a
problem.”
She leans in, hands flat on the bed beside my
body, arms stiff, her hair flows in the front of her shoulders,
towards her chest. I can feel her breath on my face, and I smell
her. It’s the same scent as on the scarf. Sugar cookie, maybe?
“Do I make myself clear, Officer?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, tasting the blood
from my teeth, and I nod. It’s all I can do at this point. She
doesn’t linger in front of me. She straightens up and crosses her
arms in front of me.
“Ok, fine, but why don’t you like anyone calling
you baby? What’s the deal?”
She stares at me, then moves to her suitcase and
begins to drag it across the room, back towards the bed. I grab it
from her and fling it back on the bed, but she still hasn’t
answered my question.
“So are you going to tell me why you don’t like
it, or do I have to guess?”
She unzips her suitcase and starts to pull
things out, still not making eye contact with me.
“I… I j-just don’t like it. It’s not cute. It’s
n-not sexy. It just makes me feel…” After stuttering her words, her
voice trails off, and I don’t hear the last thing she says. I’m not
sure what her deal is. I stand up, fishing some of her shoes out of
the suitcase, and I begin handing them to her. It’s a simple
gesture, and she looks confused by it. I shove a shoe in her hand,
rolling my eyes at her. She looks at it, then at me and places it
in the closet.
“Ya know. I’m not a monster. We can be friends,
if you want. Just because what happened between us last year,
happened, doesn’t mean we can’t get past it. We both know it’s
never going to happen again.”
I hand her another shoe, and a small smile shows
up on her face.
“True, and I guess we could be, as long as you
follow my list of demands. Especially
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