13: Answer in the Form of a Question

Ginger

     I get up about 5:30 every morning, make a cup of coffee, and go sit on my front porch. I love the peacefulness before the world wakes up. It's just nature and me.

     One problem I have is that my coffee gets cold before I finish it because I get caught up in my thoughts. My job can get pretty boring sometimes, so I frequently let my mind wander into fantasyland. The problem is coming back out of it.

     I'm happy to be going to The Flamingo again tonight. Bryce is so cool for owning a bar and putting up with all of us showing up all the time, even if it's not a 'party.'

     I think about the last one. Desmond looked so silly in that outfit. 

     Actually, he looked kinda hot too. I stop rocking. Don't go there.

      I can't help but sigh. 

     I wonder how Bryce and that girl are doing? Pam said she came to dinner last night. That's a good sign. I wonder what her story is. Everybody has a story.

      With another sigh, I stand up to go get my butt to work.

     At work, I have to immediately get busy cleaning up the mess that some kids had made of the kid section. That wasn't very nice of Anika to do that -- to close up and leave that mess. I'll have to find some way to secretly get back at her.

     When I finish that, I get another cup of coffee and head over to check back in the returns. I have to pause doing that because my phone rings. Desmond! ...?

     "Hey, Desmond, what's up?" I ask into the phone. He only calls me when he needs something.

     "I need you to do me a favor," he says.   

     Big surprise, I think as I listen to him ask me to bring some reference book he needs for a case he's working on. I don't bother asking what it is (I have in the past) because he won't tell me anyway.

      "Sure, I can do that. When do you need it?" I ask and think, Probably now.

      "As soon as you can, please." He says 'please' like he has his mother standing above him wagging her finger and forcing him to be polite. He must have a client in the office with him.

      "Sure thing," I say in an overly-sweet voice just to get on his nerves. "Oh, and Desmond..." He hangs up. Jerk.

     Ages ago, we worked it out so that Desmond could check out books without actually coming to the library. So, I abandon Anika to run the place solo for a while while I hand deliver the book to his office. I don't know why he just doesn't buy a copy of all these books he needs. What would he do if someone already had it checked out? He could put another bookshelf in no sweat. Still, I do as requested and walk up to the building.

      It used to be a house, but he bought it and converted it into an office. I guess that works for him.

      His secretary/receptionist, Patricia, just smiles and waves me along while talking on the phone when I enter the waiting room. So, I knock on the door to his office.

     "Come in," he says.

     He always looks so intimidating sitting behind his desk like that. He looks like he's in a sour mood as well. Nothing new there. He barely glances in my direction as I walk in and lay the book on his desk. He wordlessly picks it up and places it on top of a short stack of books off to the side.

      "If you didn't need it right away, why did you ask me to hurry up and bring it?" I ask, irritated he didn't immediately crack it open to glean the knowledge he needed.

     "Because I thought I needed it right away. Now I think I have a different idea of how to approach this," he says, and I get irritated some more that he's being so cryptic. I almost think he's being this way on purpose just to get on my nerves. "I might need another book if you don't mind." He stares out the window, completely ignoring me, lost in his thoughts.

      I decide to interrupt those thoughts. "Then send Patricia by to pick it up," I say and head for the door. "I'm not your gopher."

      "But if I do that, I wouldn't get to see your pretty, smiling face," he says sardonically. He's the only person I know that can take a compliment and make it sound like an insult.

      I turn back around, fold my arms, and refuse to look at him as I say, "I had to leave work, my job, to hand deliver that book to you without so much as a thank you. Now you're starting to think that I need to run back and get yet another one for you! Why do you even have Patricia?"

     "She's busy doing other things," he says.

     What things? Do I even want to know? Wait, Patricia is seeing that guy that owns the diner.

     Forcing my mind to get back to the present moment, I say, "So. You think I'm just the bored librarian sitting around with nothing to do so let's give her something to do and help me in the process?"

      "Yes," he answers simply, waiting to see how I'll react.

      I'm incensed. "I'm not your gopher, Desmond. Why not hire one of those if you need all these errands done?"

     "Looking for another job?" he asks me, his voice curiously a little lower. "After all, you said you were bored."

     "You said I was bored."

     "No I didn't."

     "Yes you did! You said you agreed with me when I talked about how you thought I was just a bored librarian sitting around with nothing to do," I argue.

      "But the words came out of your mouth. I didn't say them," he points out calmly.

     I roll my eyes and say, "A technicality."

     "So you're not interested." He states the question.

     "Absolutely not. I like my job."

     "But you said you were bored."

     "I did not!" I say, my voice getting higher in pitch.

     I can tell he's trying not to smile. Oooo he makes me so mad!

     "What were you doing when I called?" he asks, serious once again.

     I look at him evenly now and answer, "Checking in the dropped off books." I refuse to think how sometimes my job is boring. I can't let him win.

     "Thrilling."

     "I like organizing them afterwards," I say lamely.

     "Whatever," he says, obviously bored with the conversation now.

     I actually like bringing these books to him, but I'll never let him know that. It breaks up the monotony... even if he successfully pisses me off in one way or another every time.

      My voice is laced with sarcasm as I momentarily act like an employee and say, "Will that be all, Mr. Lumpkin?"

     I watch his jaw clench for a second, probably in anger, before he says, "Yes." Then he picks up the book I brought him and opens it to the table of contents. I grab the doorknob and swing it open real fast as I spin around. Just before I nearly slam it closed, I hear him say, "Thank you" in a voice that sounds like he's trying not to laugh.

     After work, I head home real quick to change into something else that I wouldn't feel right wearing to work. Then I head off to Bryce's bar.

     I see that Desmond is already here when I arrive. I guess that makes sense since his office is right next door. 

 

      I don't get to take three steps once I climb up the few stairs before he walks right up to me.

     "You changed," he says after looking me up and down real fast.

    "Don't you know guys aren't supposed to notice that?" I accuse him, almost teasing, almost irritated.

     "Oh, right. Fine. I'll go back to pretending I don't notice," he says with a look of mild annoyance.

     I turn around a little and see Bryce and Erin have arrived.

      I'm determined to steal her from Bryce for a little bit.

      "Hey Erin!" I exclaim, probably a little too enthusiastically. I can't help it. I just know we'd make great friends. "Oh, hey Bryce," I say, probably a little too casually.

     "Hi," she says simply and somewhat quietly. I figured out last time that she's a little shy. However, I'm not about to let her get away with being shy tonight.

      I'm not really sure what's coming out of my mouth. Sometimes, I get like this. At least I convince her to head over and sit down somewhere so we can talk.

     "So, tell me why you moved here," I ask straight away. I feel like getting directly to the point.

     "Um, I was engaged, but I broke it off. Things just didn't work out," she says slowly.

     "Wow. That must've been rough to make you want to move somewhere completely new," I say in what I hope is an understanding kind of voice.

      "I like that I'm getting a fresh start. And if I'm going to choose somewhere new anyway, why not this beautiful place?" she asks and brightens visibly.

      I can't help but smile back as I say, "You did pick a good one for a fresh start! And what a great fresh start with a new boyfriend and everything. I hope things work out between the two of you. I've lived here three years, and I've never seen Bryce with a serious girlfriend." 

     I smile and watch her expression fall. Oh no. Me and my big mouth. I blush when I realize how that sounded -- that Bryce is a ladies' man. Uh... um... Oh crap! I speak really quickly again as I blurt out, "That's not saying he doesn't know how to be serious. It's just... well, ever since his ex-wife left him I've heard that he tried to deal with it by not being serious with anyone. You know, so he wouldn't get hurt. I wonder if he even knows how easy he is to read. It's the only Bryce I've known, but Pamela told me how he used to be, and even I can tell that there's something different about him with you." 

     I take a few deep breaths. I think I fixed that okay. "I'm so excited because sometimes I'd catch him looking really, really sad, and I don't want him to be that way anymore." I work at controlling my anxiety that I just did an open mouth insert foot. My mother used to say 'a closed mouth gathers no foot,' but she never could keep her mouth shut either. That's probably why she ended up convicted of killing Daddy. She blabbed on the stand. Well, I've got her gift of gab. I don't plan on killing anybody though, so other than being an ass like just now, it's something I can live with.

     "I'm happy he has friends that care so much for him, and you're right. I'll bet he doesn't know he's easy to read. However, I'm still learning, so he's not so easy for me," she says, acting like she understands that I couldn't control my outburst. I'll bet she already knew all that that I told her anyway. Oh yeah that's right, Pam told me he told her. 

      I take another deep breath, glad I didn't just screw up royally.

     Suddenly, I notice Desmond has walked up right beside me. What is his deal today? Leave me alone. He speaks, "Hey Ginger, wanna dance?"

     Why do people ask me to dance all the time? I mean everybody. The everybody makes me think of Jesse, and I wonder where he is tonight. I agree to dance with Desmond. I like to dance after all. Besides, Erin has a look like she needs to recover from me or something.

       I almost trip when I see Desmond smiling a real smile. I can count the number of times on one hand that I've seen this. Usually he wears a look of disdain or a cynical expression.

     "What is it?" he asks, probably wondering why I'm looking at him like he's grown another head.

      "Nothing," I answer because I'm not able to tell him what I'm thinking. It would just piss him off anyway.

     The smile leaves his face, and I'm a little sad to see it go. It looks like it's gotten replaced with a look of contempt as he says, "Fine, don't tell me then."

      Baited, I snap, "Okay. I was just surprised you were actually smiling." So there!

      He gives me a mild glare. "I smile. Sometimes. ...When there's a reason to."

      "Then you need to find more reasons," I blurt out. For the briefest of seconds I can see what I said hurt him a little.

      "Then what would you suggest, oh girl that smiles probably too much?" he grumbles.

      I snap my head to his face and stop dancing to say, "How can a person smile too much? So what if things make me happy?"

     "Why do you never give a direct answer?! You answered my question with a question," he snaps, and I realize I've already forgotten his question.

      Then I remember, "How should I know? You're the only you, and only you can really know what would make you smile. I'm just saying you should do it more." I get in his face and say, "How's that for a direct answer? Happy now?!"

      "No, because you still threw in questions at the beginning and end," he growls.

      "Sorry if I'm trying to figure out what you mean," I groan in exasperation and stomp on his toe, hard.

     "Ow," he says in an irritated way.

     "Sorry," I mumble and look away. "I'm going to go take a walk for a minute," I say all of a sudden and head out the back staircase towards the lagoon.

      As I approach the water, my mind whirls in anger. How does he do that? How does he always find a way to piss me off? Why does he have to be such an ass? I wasn't accusing him of never smiling. I just said he needed to do it more. He has a nice smile, and he should show it more. What is his problem anyway? And why am I letting him get to me again?

      Sometimes I think he pisses me off on purpose. If he doesn't, then he has a real talent for it. 

      Behind me, I hear the voice of my tormentor, and I turn around as he starts griping at me.

      "Why do you always do that? Do you hate me so much that merely talking to me sets you off?" he asks in as hurt a tone as I suppose he can have.

      "Why would you think I hate you? You just piss me off is all. I was trying to tell you you should smile more."

      He rolls his eyes. "I smile plenty!" he throws at me in a very defensive tone.

      "When? You're like Grumpy in Snow White."

      "Oh gee, thanks, Ginger," he snarls. "You see?! There you go again!"

    "There I go what again? You're the one that's jumping down my throat." He's not making any sense, and I'm having trouble figuring out what exactly he's talking about. He really is a grump. I have no idea why we keep him around. I guess it's because he just keeps showing up and most of us are too nice to tell him to buzz off.

      "You get along with everybody. What is it about me that sets you off?! So I'm not as happy as some people. It's not like I'm trying to dump my problems on everyone! Then you telling me I should smile more?"

      I hold my hands up in surrender. "I try to get along with you, but then you wind up griping about something or other that just pisses me off." I take a breath. "You know what? I give up. I'm sorry I accused you of not smiling." But you have to admit it's true. "I just thought I'd try to help."

      "You think I look like I need help? Have I asked for help?"

      "Yes, you did actually. You asked me what would I suggest." That sounds like asking for help to me.

      "Then you proceeded to answer the question with another fucking question."

      "You want a straight answer?" I ask, realizing I just answered with a question again. He looks like he's ready to scream in frustration. "I kinda gave you one already. Only you can do that. You have to find something that means something to you. You can't go around acting like nothing matters all the time. Nobody likes being around you when you're like that," I say and watch the blank, uncaring face he wears get put back on.

      "Nice," he says in an even tone. "You think nothing matters to me."

      "I said that's how you acted. You never look at anything without finding a flaw, and if it doesn't have one, then you immediately dismiss it and say it's false. What am I supposed to think?" I take a breath and continue, "I guess that may make you a great lawyer, but it makes a you a terrible friend."

      "All right. Fine. I guess I'll just go home now then," he says stiffly and walks in the direction of his office and, I guess, his car.

      I feel terrible for what I said as I make my way back to the bar and claim an empty stool. 

      He just makes me so mad! Everything I said was true, but I did it again. I pulled an 'open mouth, insert foot' again.

     

      The bartender that everyone just calls Jones asks me if he can get me anything. I decide on a little comfort food and order some nachos. My stomach will hate me later, but that's okay. I hate myself too right now.

     While Jones fixes up my nachos, I take a look around at my friends and notice they're paired up. Of course, it is just friends that happen to be couples, but I feel left out. I'll have to wait until I get home and call Pam to tell her what happened because she and Simon look to be having fun dancing together. Bryce and Erin are just talking, but from the look on Bryce's face, it doesn't look like a conversation where I can just jump in. Plus, I just don't feel like talking for once.

      I am totally bummed out, and it's all Desmond's fault. I let him get to me again... twice in one day even. I'm leaving to head home early once I finish these nachos. All of a sudden I feel like cuddling up on my couch with my teddy bear and watching sappy chick flicks all night.