I Told You, Eli Oxley

Chapter Twenty-Two

I hesitated before answering the incoming video chat request from Kara. Would she want to do real-life computer sex? Was I going to use this moment to break it off with her? Menacing – that's the word I'm going to use here. Possible harm to myself was imminent. But I knew it was unavoidable. I had to answer.

It was worse than I feared.

She didn't want to cyber. She wanted to talk. To get to know each other.

Why is that bad? Because I didn't want to get to know her. I wanted her out of my life so I could move forward with Al, guiltless. If I found out more about Kara and her life, the deeper we got, the deeper I would get – deeper in a heaping pile of shit. I'm talking about Jurassic Park Triceratops shit. Why do/did I have to be such a people-pleaser and chicken-shit (pretty versatile word, right?) at the same time?

The point is, I didn't have the mettle to turn down Kara when she started getting personal. It also didn't help that I started having actual feelings for her over a series of video chats the next few evenings. When she opened up to me about her past, she became a real person to me, not just a sex-goddess. Details about her past? About what I saw in her? Just take my word for it, her story wasn't fairy-tale worthy. But the more she told me, and not just certain events that occurred but what those events meant to her, she became more well-rounded to me.

So I parallel-parked into the tightest of spots – right between two women, front and rear bumpers touching. I don't even know how I was able to get in there, but there I was. Stuck.

* * *

Let us fast forward a week or two when Al planned a Saturday outing for us. We had begun kissing each other every time we said goodbye, but they were barely more than pecks. I mean, they seemed to be getting longer each time, which was good, but you know what? I was perfectly content with us just being together together. Weird, I know, that we could control ourselves around each other seeing that there were a few years worth of pent up sexual frustration, but that's just the way it was.

Al took me to an assisted living center right outside Ringgold, GA (Chattanooga is right on the Georgia-Alabama-Tennessee border) called The Rosebud. It was right next door to a Zaxby's Chicken. It definitely wasn't the fun or romantic trip I thought we would take.

"One of the things you don't know about me, Eli, is that I volunteer here sometimes."

"You're right – I had no idea."

"I think it's very therapeutic for both the seniors and myself," Al said. "I hope it will be for you, too."

All I could think was that I hoped that we didn't have to bathe anyone or change their bedpans. "What sort of stuff do you usually do here?" I said.

"I do the usual – change bedpans and help change clothes and bathe the residents," Al said. "But I also come here to read literature to them."

"Of course."

"What?"

"Nothing. Read literature? That's . . . cool. What are we up to today?"

"I figured you can help me with Mr. Lloyd. He's . . . well, I can't change and wash him on my own. You'll see," Al said.

"Okay."

"Then we're gonna finish reading Mrs. Jacobson's favorite: Lolita," Al said.

"Never heard of it."

"I figured," Al said.

"What?"

"Eli, you and I both know you were sheltered as a child. Lolita would be on the banned books list in your house for sure."