But there were still many stones stacked one on top of another...........I'm not an idiot. However, I did start to trust him a little, and I thought it was time to stop the bitch game. Only time would erode the inner sanctum, the Holy of Holies, that surrounded my heart..............This boy wouldn't be able to do it in less than a week, but he had a good start..... Heck, look what had happened already. I suspected that someone was trying to tell me something, and I needed to listen. Who knows what would have happened next if I hadn't? I already had a sprained ankle...What would God do next to make me slow down and take notice? I decided that I needed to pay attention.
Bart did all the necessary things that someone would expect in the situation: elevated my ankle (( with three of those ugly sofa cushions stacked on the edge of my full-sized bed )), iced it, called work for me and told them of my accident, then he put me in his Trans-Am and hauled me to the ER............and stayed with me. BUT, those were the things that anyone would suppose a normal person would do; the gay world was much different. Most gays might have helped me to the bed, and then they would have wished me well, and I never would have seen them again. SO, I still doubted whether he was gay or not....
After looking at my X-rays, the doctor said it wasn't that bad, but he did give me a few pain pills and prescribed bed rest, ice followed by moist heat and no work for at least a week, and he wrapped it in an ace bandage (( which I could have borrowed from a lesbian and saved the 600.00...........))
I figured Bart would be gone after the hospital visit, but I had greatly underestimated him. He had a Samaritan heart. The pain pills -- which he'd filled at the pharmacy and purchased for me against my protests -- made me loopy and sleepy. I don't recall exactly how long I slept, but it was awhile, cuz when I woke up, I could smell something cooking....Now, I knew damn well what was in my cabinets and Fridge, and it wasn't much...Heck, I worked all the time and mainly ate at work. I only had bits and pieces of junk food along with some broccoli, yogurt, ketchup and Dr. Pepper in the refrigerator.........I also noticed several shirts -- which weren't mine -- hanging in my open closet and a plethora of text books lying near the door.....So, this boy had had time to drive back to Arkadelphia, retrieve some clothes and his school books, stop by the grocery story, return here and start cooking dinner.............Well, the best I could say was that at least he wasn't lying about school, and the worst is that I wasn't a lesbian and I didn't take a Uhaul on the first date.......er...Was this a date?
"Bart?," I yelled from the bed.
He suddenly appeared at my bedroom door. He'd changed his clothes, and he was looking pretty spiffy in his red Polo shirt and jeans. I thought I even smelled cologne over the culinary breeze coming from the kitchen. "Yeah?" he asked.
"Are you moving in?" I asked rather sarcastically as I motioned toward his shirts in the closet....I probably wouldn't have noticed if the closet door had been closed, but his multiple shirts really stuck out. All of them were on wire hangers, and I only used thick, white, plastic hangers because wire hangers sometimes left creases in the top of my shirts.
"No," he said, and I could hear a tinge of hurt in his voice as he continued to explain. "I thought you'd need me for a few days, and your shirts wouldn't really fit me. Do you mind?"
"No, I don't mind. Thanks, " I said, and I got kind of choked up.
I still couldn't understand why he was being so damn nice to me. What could he possibly want from me? He was the All-American preppy boy with a great face and body. He could have done Calvin Klein underwear ads. I certainly was not a match for him physically.
AND, I was a nearly broke waiter who literally lived from day to day. Yeah, I made decent money, but I paid bills with it. There wasn't much left over. He knew that I couldn't be a sugar daddy for him -- and I wasn't even old enough for that.
Heck, I wasn't even really nice to him. I'd made him sleep on the couch the night before, and I'd even suggested the floor when he complained about his back problems. I felt a little guilty because of my insensitivity. Now, this boy who was way out of my league was cooking me dinner and waiting on me hand and foot. Where did this angel come from?
"I didn't wake you up did I? I tried to be quiet," he said.
"No, you didn't wake me up. How long have I been asleep?" I asked as he moved from the doorway and sat on the edge of the bed.
"I don't know. I left after you fell asleep. I didn't want to wake you up, so I left you that note," he motioned to a piece of paper on the bed.
I looked at the note, but I didn't pick it up.
"How long ago was that?" I asked.
"About 6 and a half hours ago," he said as he glanced at his watch then added, "I rehung your shower curtain. I hope it looks okay...Now, let me get this set up in here, so we can eat. I hope you like steak." he said as he brushed my hair out of my eyes, then rose from the edge of the mattress.
He carried in two of the Naugahyde kitchen chairs and stood them side by side at the side of the bed near me. Then he carried in two burgandy pillar candles on saucers and lit them with my cigarette lighter, and turned off the lights. He walked back into the kitchen, and I suddenly heard Barbra Streisand coming from my boom box singing "All in Love is Fair" from her "The Way We Were" album. I thought to myself that he just must have chosen one of my tapes willy-nilly because there was no way that this former football player with the Calvin Klein model body would even know who Barbra Streisand was....but he was definitely setting a mood. Suddenly, he was back in the door again....
"Do you need me to help you sit up?" he asked so gentlemanly.
"No, I can do it, but thanks," and truthfully, I was feeling a little self-conscious. Heck, I'd been asleep all day because of the pain pills. I knew I had to look like death-warmed-over, and he still looked like a Greek god. He disappeared back into the kitchen while I adjusted myself as best I could, and it hurt to move my leg..but not as bad as it had that morning. I finally got myself propped up against the retro-plasti-wood headboard, and tried my best to finger-comb my hair into something resembling decency when he returned with a glass of red wine.
"I hope you like Pinot Noir, " he said as I took the glass from him..........Okay, I thought to myself, this had to be a dream. Pinot Noir was my favorite.......How could he know that? Those pain pills were really making me have some sweet dreams was my first thought...but it wasn't a dream. It was really happening...........He returned to the kitchen again and re-appeared with a plastic plate in his hands.
"I noticed you didn't have any regular plates in your cupboards, so I bought some of these. I hope it's okay....and I cut up your steak for you," he said as he handed my plate to me.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked him in disbelief.
"Aren't you worth it?" he asked as he disappeared into the kitchen for the last time. I contemplated his question for the brief seconds that he was gone. To tell the truth, I didn't know how to answer it, so I left it unanswered.....................He returned with his own glass of wine in one hand and his plate of food in another. He perched himself next to me on the bed and looked me in the eye.
"I need to tell you that I'm sorry," he said and then continued. "I've never really dated a guy, so I didn't know how to do it. I thought you were like the others, and I was wrong about you. Will you let me start over and try to do this right?"
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