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The Literary Girlfriend: Identity Crisis, Part 2

January 12, 2014

Emma and Literary Girlfriend

It’s never easy for a guy to break bad financial news to a girlfriend, especially when the girlfriend expects the guy to pay all her bills.  A few weeks ago I had lent most of my savings account to my brother to pay some debts and maybe save his marriage.  Even though it was called a loan, I knew I’d never see that money again.  I wasn’t sure how Daniella would take the news.  She knew something was going on because she caught me using a credit card to buy a few novels at the bookstore in the mall.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Daniella asked as we strolled through the food court.  All she held was her giant bag/purse.  I carried the books we’d bought and her lingerie (even though she hadn’t let me go into the lingerie shop with her).  She was wearing her badass leather jacket, and I had my trench coat, which made me look not quite so skinny and intellectual as usual.

“Okay,” I said as we kept walking.  I looked straight ahead and tried to avoid eye contact.

“I lent my brother a lot of money.”  I explained my brother’s situation with the antique store and how I was the only person left who could help him out.  I told her how much money I lent him and that it was all I had.  Daniella’s face tightened up.  Her eyes got a little red.  She blew her lips out and rubbed her forehead, but she didn’t yell.

“You lent him that much?  When will he pay you back?”

I hesitated.  “I probably won’t ever get it back.”

Daniella rolled her eyes.  “You just gave him the money, and his wife is probably going to split anyway, you know.”

“Maybe, but I wanted to give him a chance.”

“But that was my… our… that was a lot of money.”

“It would have only lasted a few months,” I said.

“I wanted that few months.”  Then she paused.  “Were you really going to use credit cards for me?”

“For a while, yeah.”

“That’s sweet, but… you can’t do that,” she said.  She looked up.  “This really fu… this messes everything up.”

“So what if I use credit cards?” I said.  “I’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t want to be with somebody who needs to figure it out,” she said.

Ouch.  That was blunt, I thought.

“I know how credit cards can screw with you,” Daniella said.

“What do you care as long as I pay your bills?”  My question came out worse than it had sounded in my head when I was forming the words.

“Jesus Christ,” she said.  “I’m not a… Do you think I’m…?”

“No, no, no!” I really didn’t want her to finish that sentence.  “We’ve just never had this conversation.  We’ve kind of maneuvered around it, moved around…”

“I know what ‘maneuvered’ means!”

Egad, she was pissed, I thought, and I didn’t blame her.

“I just don’t know… why you’re with me,” I said.  “Is it only because I pay for everything for you?”

Daniella stopped walking.  “Why are YOU with me?” she asked, hands on her hips and her chest out.

She had me trapped.  When we had first started living in sin, it had been about the sin, but now it was… my mind was cloudy.  I wasn’t a quick thinker, and we were in public, and shoppers were looking at us funny, a gawky guy getting chewed out by a badass hot chick who was way out of his league, but it was selfish of me to worry about that.  I had just hurt Daniella’s feelings, had handled this in the worst way possible.  I knew I should have written a script for this conversation.

“Because you’re… incredible,” I said.  It wasn’t far from the truth.

She rolled her eyes and said, “You are full of…”  and then she stopped and looked past me.  The pervert photographer we had seen earlier was approaching Daniella and stood a few feet beside me.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he said, with a warm expressive voice that I could never mimic.  With his gelled up hair and green polo shirt, he kind of looked like me, but way more slick and polished.  This guy could schmooze, I was sure, but he might have been oblivious.  He seemed unaware that we were in the middle of a semi-argument, or it could have been that he didn’t care.  Either way, maybe, just maybe, I was being bailed out.

“Have you ever modeled before?” the photographer asked.

I stepped back.  Daniella was pissed, she was dressed as a badass, and she hated photographers, especially perverts who tried to take advantage of young, naïve girls.  I still almost felt sorry for him. Even though I thought she would explode at him, she widened her eyes, glanced at me, and then gave a wide-open smile to the photographer.

“Do you really think I could?” Daniella asked in a fake squeaky voice.  She clasped her hands in front of her and shook her hips a little as she talked.

“You have a perfect face,” he said.

“I’m not too short?” Daniella said, voice still artificially high.

“You?” the photographer said.  “The camera doesn’t care how tall you are.”

“Really?” Daniella said, even more bubbly.  “My butt’s not too big?”  The jacket hung over her rear, but her tight jeans gave everybody an idea about her proportions.

“Not an issue,” the photographer said.

“How come you don’t have a camera?” Daniella asked.

“I have a studio a couple blocks away,” the photographer said.  “I’m a professional.”

“Are you going to ask me to take my clothes off?” she asked sweetly.  She drawled out the question so hard, even the photographer seemed to wonder if she was putting him on.  Her voice didn’t match her appearance.

“No!” he said.  “My portfolio has…”

“What if I want to take my clothes off?” she said, and moved closer to him.

“We… sometimes… will if the model…”  The photographer stepped away and looked at me.

“How come you don’t have a camera with you?” Daniella asked again.

“I don’t take pictures here,” he said.  “I just… sometimes, I’ll see somebody…”

“Do you have a card?” Daniella said.

“Uh, sure,” the photographer said, reaching into a pocket.   He handed a card to her, and Daniella inspected it.  Then in a quick motion, she crumpled the card and flicked it into the guy’s face, bouncing it off his nose.

He flinched and rubbed his face with the side of his hand.  “What… why?”

“If you talk to me again,” Daniella said in her fake bubbly voice, “my boyfriend will kick your ass.”

The photographer looked at me and tensed up.

“Not me,” I said.  “I’m just here to pay her bills.”

Daniella turned toward me, her mouth hanging open.  “Fuck you!”

I laughed, and then realized she hadn’t used her fake bubbly voice and that she had said it to me.

“Wait,” I said panicking.  “That’s not what I meant.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Daniella said, her voice shaky but no longer squeaky high.

“I… I… I can’t believe you just said ‘Fuck you’ to me.”

“FUCK YOU!”

Dozens of people were watching us now.

“So, how did you like that?” Daniella said.  “You want me to say it again?  I will!”

The pervert photographer shook his head and stepped away.  My stupidity had just bailed him out.  He was backing away, and now he was enjoying the show.

“This isn’t the…”  I was stammering badly.

“It’s never the time, is it?” she said.  And she turned and stormed away from me.

“Where are you going?” I said in a near-shout.

Daniella kept walking and stuck a middle finger in the air without even looking at me.  She just hung that middle finger for the whole mall to see and kept it there.  It seemed like everybody at the mall was staring at one of us.  If there had been an official world record for keeping an extended middle finger up in the air, she might have broken it. I cursed for putting myself in this situation.  Daniella never would have acted like this if she’d been dressed like a librarian.  She was pissed about the money.  She was pissed about what I’d said.  I was certain she was pissed about other stuff I couldn’t think of.  The only good news… was that I had the car keys.

*****

To be continued in… The Literary Girlfriend: The Bombshell .

If you want to read “The Literary Girlfriend” from the beginning (it’s getting kind of long), start here.

7 Comments
  1. I hope they make it up, I’m enjoying this series. 🙂 I’ve had those moments, watching a girl storm off after I’ve said exactly the wrong thing. They usually come around. Usually.

  2. Man I really felt this and because it was common and still mysterious, it caught my eye. I am a lover, a sweetheart yet a man. I am sensitive to the love of muses and your muse got me in it’s clutches.

  3. enjoying this.
    hope she walks in front a bus!

    • Ha ha! That would end the story kind of quickly… or change the conflict. If Daniella didn’t have insurance, I would have had to pay for her hospital bills.

  4. I’m hooked.

  5. I love this! ❤

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