Page 75 of Dizzy

He’s bringing up his ex? Now?

“She wasn’t so childish about it, but she did the same thing. She’d get mad, wouldn’t say why. I was supposed to guess. But I’m shit at guessin’.”

Oh. My shoulders slump. Thatiswhat I’m doing, I guess.

“You tell me what’s wrong, I’ll fix it. If what we’re doin’ is too much for you, we can slow down. If somethin’s happening that you don’t want, it stops.”

A lump swells in my throat.

That’s literally never been the way life has gone for meever. If something was wrong, I had to fix it myself or deal. If I didn’t like something, I could suck it up. There were a dozen other mouths to feed, and most were younger or sick or in a bad way.

Nothing in me believes him—that’s not the way the world works—but the words have such a wonderful ring to them. I want him to say it again, but I can’t think of how to get him to repeat himself. So I try the truth.

I glance up and meet his eyes. “I like it here. I don’t want to leave.”

His brow furrows. “I don’t want you to leave. Why are you thinkin’ about leaving?”

“Well, I can’t stay forever. I mean, I need a job. Stuff. My own place.”

His face falls. “Okay.” He stares at the stream trickling past, carrying tiny elm leaf boats. “What job do you want?”

“I don’t know. I worked at the Gas-and-Go where I’m from.”

“You want to work at a gas station?”

“No, I don’twantto work at a gas station. I mean, it was all right for what it was. Not many jobs in Dalton.”

He tries to run a hand through his hair, but it’s majorly tangled after the ride. “Okay. So what stuff do you need? You mean like makeup?”

“Yeah, I guess. And food and all the other things a person needs.”

“You’ve got all the food you need. You want something, we can stop by the grocery store on the way home.”

This conversation is getting stranger by the minute. It’s like a dubbed movie where the voiceover doesn’t quite match the actor’s lips.

“There’s enough food at the house. But I can’t live off you forever, right?”

“You ain’t livin’ off me.”

I roll my eyes. “I am. I don’t really have a choice—y’all didn’t give me one, either—but I am.”

“Is that why you’re letting me fuck you?” His body’s rigid. If I pushed him, he’d topple over. Timber. I’d never do it, though. Well, yeah I would. When we’re playing. But we’re not playing now.

“I like what we do. I want it.”

His shoulders lower, and his muscles relax.

“I have no idea what that says about me, but I don’t really care, either.”

Rylan Dorset and those other boys were more a chore than a good time. My sisters had me convinced I needed a boyfriend, and to get a boyfriend in Dalton, you have to put out. They were wrong on all accounts.

The spanking hurts, and that sucks. But everything else Ilove. The anticipation. The weird headspace after the tenth or eleventh smack. Afterwards, when he holds me and fusses over me. And I love that he wants it so bad.

Peoplealwayswant something from me. My nieces and nephews want a few bucks or a snack or help unscrewing something or finding a lost blankie. Mama and my sisters are pretty much the same. They need to borrow twenty bucks until the EBT deposit, or they need me to watch the kids, or they need to borrow my makeup or my high-heeled shoes.

It’s atakingkind of wanting.

Not a powerful kind of wanting.

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