I belonged to another man. I was in the home of another man. I was in the bedroom of another man. And yet, there I was, my lips pressed to someone else.
I made my way over to the ratty old couch, sitting with my feet to the side, the old woolen blanket still draped over my shoulders. Having already been there for two hours, it was getting late, and I was hopelessly bored. Joe and I had spent the time in silence; him reading a newspaper behind his desk, and myself staring out at the aggressive falling snow. I checked his phone repeatedly, but I received no returned calls from Will.
"Demi," I heard Joe say. I tore my gaze from the icy window and looked at him.
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"Yeah?" I responded, yawning.
Joe smiled at me. "You seem awful tired there."
"I am," I said, running my fingers through my hair. "But I've got a lot on my mind. I'm not sure if sleeping is gonna happen for me tonight." That was only half true. If I were being completely honest, I couldn't imagine sleeping anywhere that wasn't my king bed.
"Anything you wanna talk about?" Joe said, obvious concern on his face.
"I'm not sure you'd want to hear it."
"Try me." He folded up his newspaper and stood, dragging his chair to a position directly in front of the couch. He then sat across from me, close enough that I could reach out and touch him, and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his interlocked fingers. He smiled again, "I'm all ears."
I almost didn't want to take this guy seriously. What man actually wanted to listen to a woman's problems? I began to reason that Joe just might be a freak of nature, but quickly decided that he could have just as easily been as bored as I was.
"Well," I began, watching his hazel eyes intently. "There's this guy-,"
"Of course," Joe interrupted, catching me off guard. My eyebrows pulled together, I was already defensive.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I said, my tone irritated. He couldn't possibly have thought that he knew me. We'd just met.
He chuckled, sitting up and placing his hands on his knees. "I apologize if I offended, Miss Demi, but you're a very beautiful woman. I'd find it odd if there weren't a guy. But please, continue."
I was surprised at this comment, as it was not at all what I had expected him to say. I could feel myself beginning to smile, and completely ignored his request for me to continue my story.
"You think I'm beautiful?" I said, tucking my bottom lip beneath my top teeth.
"This can't be news to you. I'm sure I'm not alone in that." Of course I had been told this before, but something about the way he said it made it seem like he was just stating facts.
Fire is hot.
Boston is cold.
Oxygen is important.
Demi is beautiful.
He wasn't flirtatious, I presumed, he was just honest. An old soul. I had completely forgotten that I was even in the middle of a conversation, as my mind was whirring with thoughts. What was so different about this man? Why was he the way that he was?
"Please," Joe began, returning to his original sitting position in his chair, "Don't let me ruin your train of thought. What's on your mind?" I smiled. He genuinely wanted to know.
I met Joe's eyes again, "Wilmer is . . . he's a lot like a ton of other guys I've dated and, yet . . . he's a lot different. I'm crazy about him but . . . at the same time . . . I don't know, I guess I feel a little controlled. And I'm not sure if he wants the same things I want, so I'm afraid to hold on to him."
I was surprised at how comfortable I was to release all of my emotions to this man; this man I'd just met only hours before. But he listened so closely, hanging on to each word.
And I was intrigued.
"What is it you want that Wilmer doesn't?" Joe asked, maintaining eye contact.
"That's the problem," I began, shifting my position on the couch to face him. "I don't know."
"Why not?"
"Excuse me?"
Joe sat up straight. "Why don't you know what you want?"
I truly had to think about that one. I had never even asked myself that question.
"I guess because . . . ," I sighed, taking a deep breath and looking down at the torn leather on the couch. "No one has ever stopped to ask me. Everything has just always happened for me, so I've never had to think about it."
"And so, " Joe began, his eyes twinkling in thought. " I suppose it's easiest to assume that, since your life has always been this way, what you want is typically the same thing as what everyone else decides?"
Huh. Maybe so.
"I guess," I replied, looking back up at Joe. He stood then and came close to me.
"May I?" He asked, gesturing to the empty space beside me on the couch. I nodded.
Joe took a seat next to me and turned to face me head-on. His voice became quieter as he was nearer to me, but his tone remained respectful, as if he were about to give me some quality advice.
"Miss Demi, it seems to me that you have been sheltered." He waited for me to nod, and then continued, "There's nothing wrong with that, of course; until you are on your own. That's when you are forced to decide where your life goes. Because it is yours, after all."
"I see what you mean," I said, taking in all of his words. He had a sort of hypnotizing quality about him, and I didn't know why, but I was enamored.
Caught in his trance.
"Maybe," Joe began again, maintaining my stare, "The reason you're so unsure about this man that is so much like the others, is because you at least know what you don't want: to be controlled. You want to fend for you, and that's just fine."
Absorbing all of this new-found advice he'd provided me, I felt my heart begin to ponder my thoughts. Joe had a point, and it was incredibly valid. Still, he smiled at me again, and I couldn't get enough of it. It had to be the nicest, most sincere smile I had ever seen on a man.
"Thank you, Joseph," I grinned. "You've got a face for a smile, you know?"
Joe chuckled at my compliment and stood. "I very much appreciate that, Demi. I could say the very same about you."
He stretched then, yawning. "I think we're gonna be sleeping here tonight. Will you be comfortable there?" He gestured toward the couch beneath me. I stretched my body across the leather cushions, the heaviness in my eyes coming on suddenly.
"I think so. But what about you?" As I scanned the lobby of the shop, I realized that I had occupied the most comfortable space, which was likely where Joe would have slept had I not been there.
"Don't you worry about me," he said, his lips curling upward kindly. "You go ahead and get some rest. I'm sure your day was much harder than mine."
I couldn't tell if Joe had said anything after that, and I had never seen where he chose to lay his head for the night, because by the time he'd begun to say goodnight, I had already drifted off.
