My Pussy for Rent

Part 3

The great thing about having Sue as my best friend was that she gave me a lot of second chances. In fact, she gave me a lot more than I was willing to give myself.

For example... Back in high school, she got pregnant and, even though I managed to keep my mouth shut for as long as I needed, I screwed her up by not being a good best friend to her. Pressured by society — and by society, I meant my uber-Catholic, uber-popular surgeon of a doctor and his slew of conservative minded patients — I avoided her as much as I could. I didn't reply to her texts, didn't answer her calls... I even started waking up earlier and walked to school before she could pick me up with her car.

(Which then resulted in my dad buying me a car. But that's another story for later.)

That didn't mean I was sleeping well at nights. A part of my teenage, emo self felt like my best friend had betrayed me. After all, it was my boyfriend who impregnated her. Yup, the one and only: Noah Puckerman. Now you know why I called him Sir Brainless Balls.

The other part of me, however, couldn't care less about it. Puck didn't matter to me as much. He was just a warm body who was there for what else, but status. I might've been one of the captains of the cheerleader squad, but it was an unspoken (and as I grew older I realized that it was also illogical and completely shit) rule to have a hot football star by your side. It was like a guarantee for your status.

Anyway. I was angry. Then, somewhere along the way I realized that I was actually angry with myself.

I was angry with myself because had I been paying enough attention, I would've realized that the only reason Puck was my boyfriend (aside from my banging body and high school status of course) was that so he could be close to Sue. Had I been paying enough attention to realize that Sue's home life was breaking into pieces, she wouldn't have been drunk and stupidly let Puck take advantage of her. Had I been paying enough attention, Sue wouldn't have been kicked out of her house with her baby bump by her own cheating, asshole father.

It took me until the night Sue got into labor that I finally came to my senses. I had to learn from Puck — my ex-boyfriend and Sue's baby daddy — that she was giving up her baby and there was nothing he could do to change her mind. For a minute I was relieved because hey, in the end Puck came back to me and I could still retain my high school royalty status. But when he tried to have sex with me just to make himself feel better, I started yelling at him in Spanish because I started thinking how fucked up it was of him to leave Sue alone.

Sue. Alone. Without her baby, without her parents, without her baby daddy, and most importantly, without her best friend.

So I drove as fast as I could to the hospital (after kicking Puck in the balls. D'uh.) and snuck into Sue's room.

I remember the hospital lights being so bright that she looked so fragile, so small and so different than the strong and capable captain of the Cheers. I walked over to her bed and held her hand. Even when she was sleeping, she had to know that she wasn't alone and that I was sorry.

The second she opened her eyes (which was a couple of hours after that) she started crying. We started crying. But we were both glad that she wasn't crying alone.

I know, I know. That sounded so... girly and mushy and all that. But seeing her sick and stuffed up from the cat hair allergies made me think of all those things. She looked almost the same as that night in the hospital bed. Dark bags under her eyes and pale skin on her face. She must have been sneezing all through the night and it was all my fault.

Well, kind of.

(Hello? 1-800-BSPUSSY? Ring any bells?)

I texted Becky earlier to her private phone number that was written on the contract. I was going to call, but I figured I should text first in case she was still asleep. It was, after all, 6 AM. I told her that I was going to give Charity back to her because Sue was allergic, and she replied simply: