Dastardly

by Lorraine Ray

Here I am later that same night chewing on my fingernails! Only a year ago I finally cured myself of chewing my nails. Me, an adult man, chewing my nails because I screwed up royally and screwed up a kid and I know it! That is what I’m beating myself up about. I do care! It’s like all this time I’ve been doing something screwy like letting them be a part of my life! What the fuck was I thinking by doing that! It was ridonkulous. All I’ve done is complicate my life and the last thing I like is a fucking complicated situation. I like things simple. Me, myself and I, doing our own things in the world, beholden to no one and no one beholden to me. I want independence. I value that highly, dammit.

  But do I? How can I value independence and go right out and get myself dependent? What makes a person more dependent than taking money from someone? Why that ties you to them and you can’t escape until you pay off the debt. But who am I fucking kidding? I took the fucking money from her? If I want to be so damn independent why did I take the money? That is not independent. I know I can get another short term job and borrow for a few weeks only, the horrible second job I dread so, but Marsha lent me this money four weeks ago. I’m fooling myself with a bunch of crap arguments and there is nothing stupider than fooling yourself. You can fool anyone in the world, but don’t ever fool yourself if you can help it. Sure, if I hadn’t taken any money from Marsha I would not be required to help her now, but I had taken her money so the situation is different. I couldn’t even pretend I hadn’t taken the money. If I were half the jerk I pretend to be, even to myself, I wouldn’t give a shit about the fact I’d taken her savings. I try to pretend that for an hour or so, but it doesn’t work. The truth keeps popping up and I cannot keep it down. I took the money and I can’t pretend I hadn’t. And giving her the savings back isn’t going to be enough, most likely. That is an additional point which preoccupies me suddenly. The expense of moving front teeth from the roof of her mouth to the front was going to be high, real high. Maybe…what? Five thousand? I lay awake trying to figure out about how much it would cost Marsha. Getting that kind of braces work done early would be about that much without dental insurance, and she never purchased any. Maybe more. It made me sad to realize I’d taken Marsha’s thousand for my rent for a month and living expenses so I could get ahead and breathe easier about the next month’s rent and food and here she was worrying about something real for a real person who I had screwed by my thieving greedy fucking behavior, and here she is believing I’m unable to pick up any money extra because I am ill and had been in the hospital when that was total bullshit. Why did I tell that stupid lie to her? I supposed I had morals that were telling me I wasn’t going to and I did not feel good or righteous about screwing with a eight-year-old’s future. That was seriously messed up. I guess I drew the line there for sure. I am not willing to do something crappy to a little kid.

  “Listen Vig,” Marsha had said, “I don’t want you to worry about the money. I can tell by the look on your face that’s exactly what you’re planning and I’m not happy about it. I didn’t mean for you to find out, but I’m going to see about a loan at the bank and Bailey had to tell you. She thinks she’s going to have vampire teeth, hell; she thought you’d be really interested in those! I don’t want you to think you have to worry about us. We’ll be fine. If the loan idea doesn’t pan out, I can get a cash advance from my credit card and pay it off slowly. The orthodontist might decrease the amount he wants as a deposit. I’ve got lots of ideas for what I can do. You needed that money because pneumonia is serious and you had to get well; you couldn’t work for a few weeks. I don’t want you to feel you have to give me back a dime. We’ll let things be as they are and I am perfectly fine with it. Believe me. You are more than welcome to the money. You’ve babysat for me lots of times and you never asked for a dime. If I paid you shit wages that thousand wouldn’t begin to repay you for the time you spent babysitting Bailey. And you’ve been a good friend.”

  I protested against all that. I was getting a turn-around in my thinking toward her, and the whole thing hit me about as hard as a person could be hit. I guess I was waking up to the cold Caca Cocktail reality of what I’d screwed up for them. “Listen, Marsha, I haven’t been a good friend at all. I’ve got stuff I have to tell you. I’m no good to you. You’ve got everything about me wrong, Marsha. I have to get the thousand back if it’s the last thing I do. I do worry about the money because I know you can’t afford it now. How can I not worry? I know I took the money when you needed it.” I chew aggressively on my index finger nail.

  “Now I wish Bailey hadn’t told you. You’ve gone nuts.”

  “Why? I’m glad she did. This kinda nuts is good.”

  “You aren’t about to do something crazy are you? You aren’t planning a dangerous thing or something. I’m getting some vibes from you which you haven’t given off before.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. Weird stuff.”

  “Ignore it.” Shit. Shit.

  “Tell me you aren’t doing something crazy.”

  “I am not doing anything crazy.”

  “I’m not convinced.”

  “Let me do what I have to.”

  “Tell me you’re not going to sell your car.”

  “Psh. That’s easy. Not gonna. It’s a pile of crap anyway. No one would buy it.”

  “I can’t think of any other asset you have, so you’re planning something crazy?”

  “Yeah…no.”

  “Oh, Vig.”

  And she put her arms around me, which was the first time we had hugged in all the years we’ve known each other. We didn’t kiss or make out or anything and it wasn’t sexual, but it felt good though to me, and it almost made me cry for a moment but it also made me feel sort of terrible given I was a big liar about the pneumonia and hospital crap and I was about to tell her the whole horrible truth about myself, but I couldn’t get the words out in time before she released me.

  “Vig, you’re a good friend to a nervous-wreck mother.”

  “I try,” was all I could respond. “Oh Marsha. No, wait. Don’t let go.”

  “What’s this?”

  “Don’t—”

  We hugged a few seconds longer.

  I love remembering it now.

  But how can I make up the thousand or get any more so I can put myself right with Marsha and Bailey? My job at the rodeo museum is paying shit wages and there aren’t any more hours available. I don’t have any other prospects. A second job would take a while to return much, and I don’t relish the idea of giving up my writing time any more than Marsha would have. I’m too cowardly to do crimes, so that was out of the question and I don’t have family or friends to borrow from. Rodney and Pablo will not lend me money; I’d already tried before.

  I know I have to do something to make things whole with Marsha and perhaps contribute to the tooth work. At the least, I need to repay the thousand I’d taken so happily, so merrily, without thinking. So the opportunity has fallen in my lap, golden opportunity, and I think of it as a chance for me, but now I think of it definitely in terms of a chance to do good for Marsha and Bailey, too. I’m not comfortable about including them in my plans, even inside my head, (I had no idea of telling them what I was going to do) but include them I must. Things have to work out well for me, too much is riding on it now.