One Week (9 page)

God, what a lame joke. But honestly, I’m so relieved to have someone to talk to that I’ll give it to him. “No,” I scoff. “It’s a tiny little room, like even tinier than rooms on trains usually are, apparently, but it’s private.” I look at him out of the corner of my eye to see if he’s going to give me any crap about being spoiled and getting a private room and not riding in coach like normal people. But he doesn’t.

“Sweet,” Jess says calmly. “Well, here are your choices.” He passes me the menu. “Overcooked pasta, scary chicken, and weird vegetable medley. I opted for the vegetables.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I hate eggplant. Why do vegetarian dishes always have to have eggplant?”

Jess shrugs. “Maybe because it’s kind of hearty?”

“This is why more people aren’t vegetarians,” I complain. “There are so many good vegetables in the world, but if you order the vegetarian dish, it always has weird-tasting slimy things like mushrooms and leeks and eggplant.”

“Were you planning on being a vegetarian, but then the threat of eggplant stopped you?”

I chuckle. “Not exactly. But my best friend Julia is a vegetarian and I have a lot of empathy for them. I have no choice, since she complains almost every day.”

“Does Julia know where you are?” Jess asks.

I shake my head. “She wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself. Nobody knows.”

“Hmm.”

“What hmmm?” I ask.

“Nothing,” Jess shrugs. “That’s kind of brave, that’s all. You know, completely cutting yourself off from everyone.”

I look at him suspiciously to see if he’s trying to make up for his rude and undeserved comments earlier.

“I’ve never been able to do that,” he continues. “You called me a mama’s boy—”

“I didn’t exactly say that…” I interrupt.

“I know, but that’s what you meant. And I got a lot of shit about it at school too, for calling home and checking in all the time. I felt like I had to—my mom has four more kids at home, and I’m the oldest and was always around to help out and stuff. It’s been hard on her having to do everything on her own, plus having to pay for my room and board.”

“You got a scholarship though, right?” I ask.

“Yeah. And I have…I guess,
had
a job, but it didn’t cover everything. So even before my giant fuckup, I called all the time. But maybe it wasn’t so much for my mom and my brothers and sisters as it was for me. Like maybe I couldn’t let go of them either.” Jess looks away from me, and I realize suddenly that most of the time he looks right at me when he’s talking to me.

I want to ask him what that must be like—to have family that you feel so close to that you
want
to talk to them, to help them out. But I don’t really know how to say it, and I feel like I’d sound all self-pitying if I tried. And then it’s too late, and the waiter comes with Jess’s mystery vegetable medley.

Jess looks at them and sniffs uncertainly.

“Would you like anything?” the waiter asks me.

“Um, I’ll have the pasta. Thank you.”

“That was probably the better choice,” Jess says as he stabs a piece of eggplant with his fork. “I’m not sure when these vegetables were last in the ground. Maybe a year ago.”

I smile at him uncertainly. Does this mean we’re cool now? Jess didn’t exactly take back what he’d said, or implied anyway, about me being a spoiled little rich girl.
But then again, I figure people don’t just go around
talking about their family and their problems with someone they don’t have any respect for. Or maybe they do. Maybe Jess does.
I
don’t, anyway.

“Want some?” Jess holds out his fork. I look at the grey, limp mushroom—at least, I think it’s a mushroom—and wrinkle my nose.

“No, thanks.”

I keep him company while he finishes his dinner, and then he keeps me company while I choke down mine.

“Uh, do you want to come hang out in the
roomette?” I ask hesitantly.

Jess grins. “I thought you’d never ask. Let me just swing by my seat and grab my bag.” He signals the waiter for the check, and then looks at me expectantly.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you think I could have the rest of my eighty bucks now? I’ll buy your pasta, but I need your money to do it.”

I dig into my purse for my wallet, blushing. I can’t believe I never paid him. I’m usually really good about stuff like that. I hand him the money, and insist on buying my own dinner.

 “You already bought me a cheeseburger,” I remind him. “In fact, I should take this one.”

 “No way,” Jess says firmly. “If you’re going to buy me dinner, it had better be something better than this.”

We end up splitting it, though Jess spends the hike back to the roomette speculating on which New York restaurant he should have me take him to when we finally get there. I do my best to ignore him.

“Wow,” Jess says after I unlock the door. “This is the smallest room that has ever existed. Except for maybe those pods in Tokyo.”

“It doesn’t even qualify as a room,” I agree.

“Which is why they call it a roomette, I guess.” Jess takes the seat opposite the one I’d spent the afternoon in, and immediately the roomette feels infinitely smaller than it already was. I have to squeeze past him to sit down, and since Jess is slouching down, there’s no way for me to sit without our knees touching.

Jess spots my book, and grabs it before I can stop him.

“Wow,” he laughs, looking up from the page I’d marked. “Delia sure has skills, for someone who…” He checks the back cover. “For someone who was raised by nuns in the south of France.”

“It’s what they sell at the newsstand,” I mutter, looking away. “There aren’t exactly a lot of options, and I was desperate.”

“I guess you must have been. What else did you get?” Jess leans over the side of his seat and digs around in my bag of purchases, and comes up with the deck of cards. “Good thinking,” he says. He opens the pack and begins shuffling. “What do you want to play?”

I shrug. “Whatever. What do you know?”

We start off with War because it’s likely to pass a lot of time. Which is true, but it’s so freaking mindless I wonder if it actually makes time slow down. Like maybe it would be more interesting to just stare at the wall. But then we start to get into this rhythm. We’re not talking at all, just slapping down cards and picking them up, and it’s comfortable and quiet. Like when you’re sitting in the pool, and you know you’ve stayed in the water too long and your fingers and toes have gotten all pruney, but you just want to float for a while longer anyway.

Eventually Jess wins and is disproportionately pleased by this—it’s not like it takes a lot of skill, I remind him. I take the deck, and give it a quick riffle shuffle, and place it on the table for him to cut. He does so, raising his eyebrows.

“Fancy,” he comments. “Something I should know?”

Only that it’s time to play something a little more interesting. “There are two bags of Skittles in the bag,” I say. “Would you grab them?”

We designate different values for the different flavors. Jess has more Skittles of higher value than I do, but I’m not worried. I deal for Texas Hold ’Em (we won’t bother with blinds since there are only two of us).

“Do you know how to play this?” I ask.

Jess rolls his eyes. “Don’t overplay it, Bee. I get it, you know how to play poker, but won’t it be humiliating for you when I beat you?”

I smile sweetly. “I’m sure it will be. Your bet.”

Jess sighs and looks at his cards. “Orange Skittle.”

Wimpy bet. But it is early. I put down my orange Skittle—Lord knows I have plenty to spare—and deal out the flop. Hmm. Not bad. While it’s likely that Jess has at least a pair of some kind, I’ve got a pair of kings, and could potentially work up to a flush.

Jess bets two yellows. A pair it is then, and not higher than tens. I raise him a purple Skittle. What the hell. And he calls. I deal the turn, and manage not to smile. I got my flush. Jess looks at his cards, because you know it’s really hard to keep track of two cards, and checks. I consider betting again, but it’ll probably just make him fold. I check, and deal the river.

Hmm.  Potential problem. Now we’ve got a pair of sevens down, and if that’s what Jess had as his pair, then we’re talking at least a three of a kind and possibly a full house. Three of a kind I can handle. Full house I can’t.

Jess bets two purples, which would be pretty conservative for a full house. Of course, he’s played conservatively the whole time. I raise him a red, just to see what he’ll do.  He hesitates, and then calls.

Yep, three sevens. I smile. I’d best remember to brush my teeth tonight, all the Skittles I’ll be eating.

The game continues pretty much like that. I do lose some hands—Jess is pretty stoic, so it’s not like it’s easy to read
him
, necessarily, just his bets. At one point I frown, confused by something.

“What were you going to do if I didn’t happen to show up in the dining car?” I ask.

“Huh?” Jess glances up mid-deal.

“You didn’t have any money,” I explain. “I hadn’t paid you back yet. How were you going to pay for your veggie delite?”

“Oh.” Jess looks embarrassed. “I, uh…well…”

“You weren’t going to do a dine and ditch, were you?” I say, scandalized. “It’s not like you have anywhere to run!”

“No, no,” Jess says hurriedly. “I…the truth is, I had a twenty in my bag. For emergencies,” he explains.

I cross my arms over my chest. “You had a twenty in your bag. When you were screaming at me in the bus station in Santa Barbara, you had a twenty in your bag?”

“Uh, yeah.” He looks
really
embarrassed now. “But it really was—is—for emergencies. I have hypoglycemia, so I have to eat something every few hours, like clockwork, or I get sick. Seriously. And it’s not like twenty dollars would really have been enough to cover all that time anyway, but it….did kind of make my argument seem weaker, so I decided not to mention it.”

“Hypoglycemia,” I say skeptically.

“Right. It’s why I got so drunk so fast that day,” he explains. “If I ate all these Skittles,” he looks down at his diminished pile. “Well, I’d probably be fine. But if I ate
all
your
Skittles, an hour later I’d be shaky and
disoriented. It’s not pretty.”

I stare at him, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry,” he says humbly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I just get freaked out about not having food. It can get pretty bad. Really.”

“How have I not noticed anything about this, if it’s so terrible?”

“I don’t know,” Jess shrugs. “I snack a lot. I have peanuts and dried fruit and whatever. And you’re usually sleeping,” he points out.

I check the time on my cell phone. “It’s been three hours since dinner. Do you need a snack?”

“What, now you’re my mother?” Jess cracks, and then looks away when I don’t smile. “Uh, yeah. I guess I do.”

He fishes around in his duffel bag and pulls out a bag of peanuts. “Want some?”

The bag is nearly empty. “No thanks. Do you have any more of those?”

“I can get some more at the snack bar,” he says, and tosses back a handful.

I eye him doubtfully—if it’s as serious as he says, this seems a little cavalier to me—but I guess he knows how to deal with it. Not my problem, anyway.

“I can’t believe you lied to me about not having any money,” I complain.

“I really am sorry,” he says contritely. “I was tired and hung over and I hadn’t eaten in hours so, you know, I was having an episode, but it was a total dick move. I suck.”

“Yes,” I agree. “You do.” I nod at the cards. “Now deal. I’d best take all your Skittles so they don’t turn you into an asshole or something.”

Jess grins and finishes dealing. It occurs to me that had this conversation occurred yesterday, or even a few hours ago, we would both have been screaming at each other and Jess would have stormed off back to his coach seat and I would have sat here playing solitaire for the rest of the trip. Even after last night, we got into a fight over nothing when Jess was on the phone this morning. But now, he actually admitted he was wrong. And apologized. And I didn’t overreact and yell at him and say something mean that I’d regret. I wonder what changed?

I study him surreptitiously as we play. He’s not a bad guy, really, once you get to know him. Which is hard to do, since he’s got this electrified wall of Keep Away thing going on. But I guess if I’m honest, I have one of those too. They can be necessary, but they aren’t exactly easy to take down once you’re used to having them up.

But now that Jess has loosened up some, I don’t know…he’s not that bad. He’s different from what I thought at first, at least. He may yell a lot, but I have to admit he’s been pretty patient with me. And he’s kind of sweet when he’s talking about his mom and his family and all. He’s straightforward, and he’s honest, and I can’t say that I know too many people like that. It makes for a pleasant change.

I have to say, he’s also a lot cuter than I thought he was. I mean, the hair is terrible, there’s no getting around that, but he has a nice face. And his eyes—I duck my head quickly to avoid them as he looks up suddenly. They’re good eyes to have, is all I’m saying. They get all crinkly at the edges when he laughs, or when he’s talking about something he cares about.

I like Jess, I realize, and bite my lip. I like him a lot. I care what he thinks of me, and I can’t say that that’s true of many people. Or anybody, really, since nobody, including my father and Julia and everybody else who might be considered close to me, really knows who I am or has any sense of what I might be like outside of their own personal worldview. Jess isn’t like that. He—

“Hey, I thought you were supposed to be kicking my ass,” Jess says as he collects a large pile of skittles. “At this rate, you’ll have me bouncing off the walls, and this room is way too small for that.”

“A fluke,” I say, and resolve to pay more attention to the game. “Law of averages. You have to win sometimes.”

“Uh huh,” Jess smirks. “I’m sensing a comeback. I’ll just have to distribute my winnings among all the small fry on the train.”