Page 27 of A Very No Strings Halloween
“It’ll be gorgeous once it’s cleared out and cleaned up,” I say, guiding her to look past the trash to what it could be.
Donna sighs, but this time it’s not stressed. It’s well on its way to relaxed. “I see it. I do.”
“Okay, last thing. Come down to the basement. I got somethin’ wicked awesome to show you.”
Donna rolls her eyes. “But I can see your penis so much better in this light.”
I laugh. “That’s not what I was gonna show you, but now that is definitely happening. Come on.”
I take her hand and lead her to the entrance down to the basement. Because we’re going down steep steps and even when the lights are on it’s dark down there. That’s why. It’s not like I’m some cheeseball who can’t stop touching her.
“There aren’t any birds or blood water or any other crazy-scary stuff down here, is there?” Donna asks, the tension creeping back into her voice.
“I promise there’s a good thing down here. And it’s just a house, Donna.” Most people think Boston is my native accent. It’s not. It’s Cocky. That’s my true native tongue. And that’s how I sound when I say it.
But that’s for her benefit. Because itwasstrange when I arrived at the house. The air always feels strange and the light never seems like it matches thetime of day. I wasn’t exactly excited to explore this basement by myself.
But holding her hand now, I don’t feel any of that. It’s just a basement that’s a little dark and not very airy, like any other basement.
“Billy, I can’t see,” Donna says, and I hear the panic rising in her voice.
“Babe, I got you.” I flip on the lights. “There.”
Donna squints and blinks her eyes a couple of times. It’s still not nearly as bright as upstairs, but when her eyes do adjust, I watch her clock what I wanted to show her. It makes me smile.
“What am I looking at? Is that a cage for a serial killer to keep the women he kidnaps in?”
My smile fades fast. “What? No, it’s a wine cellar.”
“Oh!” Donna says in a much more chipper tone than when she was probably thinking her late patient was a serial killer. She walks into the little space. The racks are completely empty and there are bars everywhere, so I can see why she thought it was a cage. She looks up and down and around, but I can’t read her expression.
I realize I don’t know if she loves wine. I know shelikesit. That’s what she drinks at her apartment. It’s what she asked for at the restaurant.
But what’s her favorite? Red or white? Italian, French, Napa Valley? Does she even have a favorite?
Our date was wonderful. A little too wonderful.I’ve never really opened up to a girl like that before. I always told my family there was this one girl but she couldn’t handle me because I was too mysterious, but I’ve never gotten close enough for there to be “one girl.” And it’s not that they wouldn’t want to be with me because I’m too mysterious—those girls have never been interested in me the way I am at home. The Billy that’s relaxed. They want the Billy that they think only exists between the hours of 10:00 p.m. and 4:00 a.m. During a full moon.
Like a werewolf.
So it felt good to tell Donna those things about myself. Even though it wasn’t a real date. I felt like I was really connecting with her. Which is not what I was supposed to feel. Which is why I jumped ship to the neighboring birthday party.
But it has made me curious about getting the same from her since the other night.
I want to know what makes Donna tick. But I’m not teachingherhow to date. And nowhere is it written in the bylaws of our no-strings agreement that we can get to know each other as people. So I hid by creating a scene.
I’ve always been good at that. What am I saying? I’m the fucking best at it.
Donna puts her head in her hands and sighs. It’s not theI’m so relaxed and happy that I discovered I’m now the proud owner of a wine cellarsigh. It’s the sigh ofsomeone so tired and stressed, they wouldn’t mind being in a basement cage with a serial killer and put out of their misery.
“So, I guess you aren’t a big fan of wine…” I say, because I don’t know what else I’m allowed to say to her right now.
Donna removes her hands from her face and shakes her head. “No. I love wine. I certainly could use a glass right now.” She places her hands on her hips and stares at the floor, a thousand miles into the Earth. “It was just a long day at work. Which made me late. I was even later because I was speeding.”
I narrow my eyes. “Well, you did it wrong, then.”
She gives me a look. “I mean I got pulled over. And I got a ticket. And I look at this wine cellar and I don’t think,Cool, I have a wine cellar. I think about all the money I don’t have to fill it with nice bottles of wine.”
I want so badly to offer to fill it. And I don’t mean that in the bad dirty joke way either.For realfor real. She could have all my money if it would turn that sad sigh into a smile. I know I can’t do that. I know she wouldn’t accept it.
