“Eggs?” I ask Jack trying to change the subject.
“Yes, please.”
We all sit and eat our food and chat about what we are doing today. Betsy is doing laundry, super happy to use our washer and dryer instead of going to the laundromat. Jack is going to school for a study group and yours truly is doing some yard work and then playing music and maybe reading.
“Can I buy you lunch?” Betsy asks me.
“Only if it’s Ichi for sushi,” I respond.
“Feeling like some raw fish, are ya?” she asks wryly.
“Yep, and I thought you’d maybe be interested in one of their hot dogs,” I say and waggle my eyebrows.
Just Lunch
ICHI IS ONE OF MY favorite restaurants in Bernal. They have delicious sushi but they also make the best Japanese style hot dogs, I know, it’s a weird combo but it works. I order one with noodles and kimchi, and Betsy goes for a pineapple teriyaki beef one. We also order some rolls. I’ve noticed that Betsy loves food, I’m glad we have that in common. I love to try new things and San Francisco is a treasure trove of food exploration.
“Would you consider yourself a culinary adventurer?” I ask.
She gives me a look. “Does that mean I like to eat all kinds of food?”
I nod and then take a huge bite of my hot dog.
“Wow, your deep throating skills are stellar,” she comments. “I’d say I’m pretty open to all kinds of food and am willing to try anything at least once.”
I try not to choke on my giant bite and take an inordinate amount of time chewing. She stares at me until I finish and it’s not awkward, it’s funny. “It takes a flexible and well-controlled tongue to be able to bite off more than most would be able to handle.”
“Dude, you are the weirdest and I love it,” she says with a laugh. “Have you recovered from my nudity this morning?”
I haven’t, and now that she mentions it my mind takes me back to the picture of her lovely curves burned into my memory. “I’ll never recover. It was the highlight of my month,” I say and it’s true, might be the highlight of my year, or longer. “Why so free with your lady bits?”
“Well, it’s not a long story, really. My mom and dad were very religious and very modest. I’ve rebelled against that since I can remember. I used to come home from school and immediately take all of my clothes off. It drove them nuts, but eventually, they just got over it and asked that I stay in my room if I was practicing my nudity. By the time they let it go, I was used to it and actually enjoyed being clothes free. Honestly, I find the human form fascinating and I have zero hang-ups about showing mine or seeing others.” I like her. The way she talks, her lack of pretentiousness. She is genuine, fresh, and fun.
“That makes sense. I wish I was that free of hang-ups,” I say and she narrows her eyes. I hold my hands up. “Yes, that was a joke. My parents were the opposite. They let Jack and I run around in all various versions of undress. My parents felt we should have ownership of our bodies and be proud of them. Obviously, I got more of that, but I tried to emulate their parenting style as much as could when dealing with Jack. He was easy, though, it could have been a lot worse, and a lot more challenging for me.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t all easy,” she says, and I nod. “Don’t downplay your part in his life as a parent. I can tell he is well adjusted and healthy. He is also well loved. That’s all you Joe.”
“Thanks. I was lost in the beginning but I had help, and I think it forced me to grow up in certain ways. I’m still a kid in my mind, even at 33, but there were things that needed taking care of, and I just sucked it up and rose to the occasion.” She takes a giant bite of her hot dog and I adjust my pants. “So you’re an expert too?”
After she finishes chewing, she answers me. “It takes a flexible and well-controlled gag-reflex to be able to bite off more than most would be able to handle.”
I choke on the avocado roll I just popped into my mouth and laugh. “Woman, you and I were made to be best friends. Why are you fighting it so hard?”
“I guess I’m fighting it less and less,” she says.
“Hmm. Have you recovered from my nudity this morning?” I ask.
She puts her hot dog down and taps her lips with her pointer finger. “You got nude too? I totally forgot. Must have been underwhelming.”
“You can pretend you weren’t blown away by my six pack and sad that you didn’t get a glimpse of my sculpted ass, but you’re not fooling me.”
Her laugh is bubbly and light, and I wish I could capture it in a cup and drink it. “You got me, you are a beautifully crafted human. I look forward to ‘accidentally’ seeing your ass soon.” She makes air quotes around accidentally and I’m already planning on letting a towel slip or just dropping trough in front of her. “I feel like this is a weird conversation for besties to have. Do you talk with Frank about your tongue agility and other body parts?”
I shrug. “Frank and I have been friends for a long time, he knows everything about me. Just recently he got a full view of my glorious form.”
“I need to hear that story.”
“It’s not very exciting. He walked in on me enjoying nakey-time eating some cherries. We were living together in Sonoma but he was out of town. To be fair, he didn’t tell me he was going to be home, so he couldn’t be angry he saw my man junk.” He wasn’t angry about seeing my sizable package, but he was a bit disturbed by me free-balling on the couch. “I’ve seen his Italian sausage several times changing in and out of a wetsuit so it’s all good.”
“I feel like this convo has ridden its course. Let’s talk renovations,” she says.
“Ugh, you want me to talk about work?” I ask and she nods. “Just kidding, I love talking about my job. Want to talk about your place?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m sure we will talk about it a lot. I want to know the most disgusting thing you’ve ever found in a home during demo.” My visible shudder makes her laugh. “Yes! There’s a story behind that.”
“To be clear, usually the most disgusting thing we find is mold or a dead mouse. There are rare times though that things get really gross. We worked on a house in the lower Haight where the woman who lived there died in the house she was born in. To say she was a hoarder is an understatement. I’ve never cleared out more junk in my life. In addition to junk, we found two corpses.” Betsy gasps. “Not human, thank goodness. One was a cat and the other was a bunny. They were flat and decomposed but you could say they added to the already lovely smell of the place. Her grandson said she thought the cat had run away about ten years earlier and that she told him she gave the bunny away. Her house was so full of crap, that she literally lost two pets.”
“That’s sad. How do people end up that way? The brain is such an interesting and disturbing place. I read a lot about mental disorders and am a big supporter of mental health awareness. I feel for these people. It’s a type of anxiety and only treated with therapy and the majority will not get the treatment they need because it’s costly, or they can’t leave their home.”
“It’s definitely a sickness and I’ve seen a lot of it in various degrees of severity. I mean, Jack and I deal with a good bit of clutter and I can see where it could get out of control. Especially when it comes to my parents’ items. When we started reno on the house, we had to let go of a lot of their things. It was hard, and we ended up keeping more than we should but I can relate when it comes to letting things go. Maybe not to the extreme, but I get it.” Jack and I did get rid of a lot but there’s a storage unit in South San Francisco that holds what we couldn’t bear to part with.
“I can’t imagine having to make those decisions,” she says and I decide to veer our conversation away from the depressing to the disgusting.
“So, the two pets were gross but even more disgusting was the pipe full of used condoms we found when working on the plumbing of a house out in the Sunset. I can’t describe the stench of over one hundred Trojans full of old jizz.” Betsy ga
gs and I join her. “It was foul. I never flushed another condom in my life.”
“Aaaand, I’m done with my meal,” she says pushing her plate away.
I join her and laugh. “Guess that was the appetite killer. My apologies.”
“No worries. So, you said you’re looking to start dating seriously. Any takers yet?” she asks and I’m thrown off, this is definitely dangerous friend talk.
“I’ve gone on a few dates. I’ve been using a dating app and it’s been interesting,” I say. It has been interesting but not in a good way. Dating in a city like San Francisco is odd. There are a lot of dudes in the area, tech being such a boom. So, you’d think that it would be hard to find available women. This has not been the case for me. I know, I’m a special kind of hot and charming so it’s natural that ladies would be flocking to me. The conversations I’ve had with single women in this town are full of complaints that it’s hard to find a guy here. I’m no expert but maybe the guys working in tech aren’t the outgoing type, out every weekend looking for love. “How about you? What kind of guy do you usually date?”
“I don’t date too much. My life is busy and I’m very content. To add a guy to the mix might mess that up. I love sex as much as the next gal, but I don’t need a steady man to get my needs taken care of,” she says and shrugs like she’s a normal woman. She’s not. The women I spend time with are definitely open-minded and don’t need to be in a fully committed relationship to have a healthy sex life, but the majority want to meet someone to share their life with. Just because their life is a little different doesn’t mean they don’t want to get married or have a family. “I have a hard time seeing myself with one person, for the rest of my life. I’m not sure if I’m wired that way.”
“You’re wired for nudism, sex, and exotic dancing?” I ask.
“I sure am,” she answers.
Just Walls
THE REVELATION THAT NOT ONLY is Betsy not interested in any kind of relationship, but also doesn’t seem to want anything more than friendship with me is disheartening, to say the least. We return from lunch and she retreats to her room. I sit on the deck for a bit with my guitar and enjoy a beer and some solo time. I get a text from Lia that our show at Bix got moved to Friday and she wants to have a band meeting Monday at three. I’m a tiny bit bummed that Betsy won’t be able to come to our show now but we will have plenty of other opportunities for her to meet my other family.
The door slides open behind me and my brother plops down next to me in a huff. “Why is it so hard to date women?”
I laugh. “For you specifically or in general?”
“Probably the me specifically part.”
“Well, you are only 18 and barely know what to do with your dick,” I say and he flicks my ear. I continue, “which leads to the obvious conclusion you don’t know your way around a vagina.”
“Dude, I’m just trying to have coffee at this point.” He puts his head down in his folded arms and lets out a groan.
“Tell me the story, maybe I can help,” I say this as Betsy joins us, sitting across from us at the patio table.
“Ooh, am I seeing Joe’s parenting in action? This should be good,” she says folding her legs under her. She’s wearing a fluffy robe over some pj pants and a dark blue towel wrapped around her head. She is fresh and clean and I want to dirty her up.
I throw her a middle finger and turn to my brother. “Tell your story, but beware, this one is allergic to relationships.” I throw my thumb at her and she scoffs. “Did you forget the lunch we had like an hour ago?” She puts her hands up in surrender.
“Now I need the lunch story,” Jack says looking back and forth between us.
“The short version involves hot dogs, sashimi and confessions about how Betsy doesn’t need a man in her life,” I say, feeling Betsy’s eyes on me as I keep mine focused on Jack.
“Okay, that seems like a cop out, Bets, but you do you,” Jack says as he eyes her and she looks a tad uncomfortable which is a weird look on her. “We will talk about that later.”
“I’ll put it on my calendar. Can we get to your dilemma? I have a dinner date with my neighbor and then I have to get to work.” Betsy taps her wrist.
My brow furrows. “A date? You just told me you don’t date.” I’m confused.
“We went on a date this afternoon you ninny, and my date for tonight is Jeannette, my 72-year-old neighbor.” The sense of relief that floods through me is not good. I am way too attached to her already. It’s going to hurt, I can tell.
“Not to mention, she now has a date with me,” Jack chimes in. “Maybe I don’t need any help after all.”
The evil look I give him conveys all I want it to and he laughs.
“Jack, tell us your deal, time’s a-wasting,” Betsy says with a smile that lets me know she’s on to my jealousy.
“So, in my social justice class, there’s a woman who sits directly in front of me. She’s so smart, like her ideas and the way she sees the world, I can’t describe it because I’m not even close to her intellect. Instead of making small talk with her like a normal person, I ask to borrow her things and forget to return them so she can chastise me.” Betsy and I exchange a look that says, my brother is hopeless and also beautiful. “I know it sounds like I’m enjoying her berating me, but it’s not that. I have this need for her to feel like she has power over me. For her benefit. She shared a few weeks ago that she had cancer as a child and had part of her foot removed. She uses a crutch all the time for balance and she admitted that it makes her feel like she is powerless. So, I borrow her notes and then try to stuff her notebook into my bag. She yells and I play dumb. I’m almost 100% sure she knows my game and that’s why she hasn’t changed her seat or stopped lending me things. I feel like I’m in a weird rut though, I don’t want her to think I’m pitying her because that’s not it at all. She fascinates me and I want to get to know her better. How do I get out of this?”
I process his story and feel a sting in my eyes. I’m proud of my brother. He’s a thoughtful dude. I go to say something but Betsy gets there first.
“Next time ask to borrow her phone and put your number in,” Betsy says.
“Or, ask to borrow her for a meal. Make it a funny way to get a date,” I add. “Humor and the Davis charm usually hit it out of the park for me.”
“I like it, Joe. If you do ask to borrow her make it clear you’ll return her, or else it will be a creepy kidnapping scenario.” Ugh, why does she have to be fascinating too?
“I’ll try the phone one first and see how it goes. I just feel like an asshole for digging myself into this hole to begin with,” he chides himself.
“Sometimes you get off on the wrong foot. Like Bets and I. She thought I was some idiot worker and not the boss. Now we are forever doomed for awkward friendship.”
“It wasn’t the gratuitous nudity from this morning that doomed you two?” Jack asks, laughing.
I shake my head. “No, that’s the moment of redemption. She’s been upset about that first mistake so it’s kept her from really committing to being my best friend forever. Now that we’ve both seen the goods, it’s all good.”
In the peripheral of my vision, I can see Betsy get up. Jack and I both turn to her as she drops the towel from her hair. I gasp as her now lavender hair cascades around her shoulders. Her face is unreadable. She slings the towel over her shoulder, walks to Jack and puts her hand on his head. “I’m sure she knows what you’re doing, we always do. That she continues to play along is a good indication that she likes you too. Even though you infuriate her as well.” She gives me a pointed look and saunters back inside.
My brother punches me and I turn to him, rubbing the spot. “Why?”
“Please follow her and get a clue,” he says and turns to his phone.
I take his advice even though I’m not sure I comprehend anything that’s happening right now. Things I do know—I like Betsy more than a friend, she doesn’t do long-term, and my brother is awesome. So,
I listen to him and follow Betsy to her room. She is blow drying her new hair and I lean on her open door frame, just watching her. She makes eye contact with me and her expression is blank. I watch her as she brushes her long hair and dries it into long loose tendrils down her back. When she finishes, she places the dryer down and swivels to face me.
She says nothing and I realize she’s waiting for me to start, I did follow her. “Hey,” I start, my voice cracking. “Can I borrow you? I promise to return you.”
I watch as she takes a deep breath. “Joe,” her voice barely a whisper but her tone is clear. “I—“
“Ugh,” I say rolling my eyes. “See? It doesn’t work. He was right to go with your idea,” I say covering my bumbling not very well. Betsy gives me a smile as I watch her walls build up around her. This is going to be hard. “Just wanted to tell you our Bix gig got moved to Friday. Sorry, you won’t be able to see us just yet.”
“That’s too bad. You play a lot though, so I’m sure I’ll get another chance,” she says, smile back in place on her lovely face. “Don’t wait too long to come see me dance, though. Just tell me when you want to come and I’ll get you guys on the list.” She turns back to the mirror and starts to braid her hair in an elaborate way. I take this as a dismissal and walk to my room. I know I’m down but I also feel possibilities I’ve never felt before. I’m determined to scale her walls, a brick at a time. I’m in construction for fuck’s sake, and they’re just walls—no match for my sledgehammer.
Just for Me
I SHOULDN’T BE HERE, ESPECIALLY alone like some creeper. Lady Marmalade is set up like an old-school night club. The tables look like they’re floating in the dark room, draped in white on the main floor with two to four chairs around each one. They are all filled with people out on a Saturday having a fun time drinking and being entertained by the beautiful women and men (I was surprised momentarily when I saw a dude dancing when I first got here—then not because it’s San Francisco, anything goes.) I’m up in the balcony area at a table tucked into a corner, barely visible from the stage. Am I hiding? Maybe. It’s silly really, I’ve already seen her dance a little and I’ve seen all of her goodies. She’s invited me to come see her more than once. Clearly, she is proud of what she does and would be jazzed to have a friend here.
Just Joe ~ Jen Luerssen Page 5