Part: 1 The Floridian and His Tractor

I was surprised to see my fragrant London Aussie again, but he had contacted me, via his burner flip phone asking when I might be popping in. We coordinated, and he arrived right as I was walking into a half hour room with a man from Florida. I excused myself and ran over to London Aussie and let him know where I was so he wouldn’t wander off during my dance. I shook my mams in his face for good measure, then went back to the Floridian, a large man in every sense of the word. He was white with dark brown hair and a freshly pressed button shirt, tucked into khaki slacks. Initially he had rejected me, even after tipping $20 during my stage dances.

Him: I was nervous. I said “no,” because I didn’t think you wanted to spend time with me.

Me: I’m glad you got over your nervousness.

Him: You’re just fantastic, and I’m well, I’m nothing special.

I don’t entertain negative self-talk during my dances. It’s not my job to reassure someone of their value. I focus on the compliment directed at me, and ignore the part where they turn the compliment for me into a put-down for themselves.

Me: Thank you. I’m glad we’re here together.

I began my dance, staring out through the one way mirror to keep an eye on London Aussie, who was at that moment walking off to smoke a cigarette on the patio. I noticed one of my friends staring at herself in the one way mirror, critically. It looked like she was facing us, but I knew she couldn’t see us. Only I could see her and the scrutinizing expression on her face.

I turned back to the Floridian, who was diligently keeping his hands at his sides. I caressed his neck and traced the curve of his ample stomach when I came upon a strange protrusion right in the center above his belly button.

Me: What’s that?

Him: It’s my rib!

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and pulled up an image of an idyllic country road through a forest in autumn. It was so perfectly red and gold, I thought it was a screen saver.

Him: This is the road to my farm in South Carolina. I was driving my tractor out from the farm one day when it rolled. I was crushed— broke all my ribs, shattered my hips, and broke both my legs.

Me: All of your ribs?!

Him: Yep. I’m amazed I survived. It rolled on me once, then I rolled down the hill past it. Thank the lord I took off the rotary cutters the week before, I looked up and it was tilting over me, and I was trying to crawl out. I could hardly move. Suddenly, I see it pitch toward me, and it rolled on me again. That was when it broke my hips and legs. I heard everything crunch, but I didn’t feel any pain. Luckily, someone was driving by and saw me. They called for an ambulance, but we’re out in the country, and the cops showed up and looked at me and didn’t think I was gonna make it, so they sent for a helicopter, and that helicopter took forty minutes to find a spot to land. Meanwhile, I was still awake, joking with the emergency responders. One guy was like, “It’s always the big guys who get stuck at the bottom of a hill,” and I tell him to “just roll me back up the hill.”

Me: I can’t believe you were still awake through all that.

Him: Me too. Anyway, they flew me to the emergency room. I didn’t pass out until they started drilling into my legs— you know, to straighten my bones— with these drills like you get from the Home Depot. Then I was in a coma for seven days. I should have died that day, but I guess for some reason I was kept alive. Probably to take care of my son.

Me: How many children do you have?

Him: I have two grown daughters, and my adopted son who’s twelve now. He’s the best thing in my life, even though he kind of ruined my marriage, but it wasn’t his fault.

Me: What happened?

Him: At first it was my wife who wanted him. We knew his family, they were from Guatemala. They couldn’t care for him. He had behavioral problems and a learning disability, but he had been through so much, poor thing. He’d been abused for so long. We adopted him, but eventually it became too much for my wife. She couldn’t handle it, and I came to love him so much. Now I can’t imagine life without him, he’s my son. She moved out, into her own little condo, so now he and I live together in our home, and there’s a little guest house where my daughters can come and stay when they visit.

Me: You’re still married?

Him: I love my wife. I couldn’t imagine divorcing her. I understand that it’s hard—

Me: And you’ve been married for what, over twenty years? That’s such a long time!

Him: It is. Actually it’s been around thirty years now. And I’ve never cheated on her.

Me: Wow! Not even once?

Him: I never wanted to. I come to places like this sometimes, but it’s nothing serious. Sometimes it’s nice to just spend time with a beautiful young woman like you.

This is an interesting refrain I hear from many married men, that I tend to agree with. They are happily monogamous, but want a little break with someone they can pay to avoid any long term attachments to, who they can speak to and enjoy for just a moment.

Me: Does she know you do this?

Him: We don’t talk about it, but I think she does. She’s a smart woman.

Me: What’s your son like?

His eyes lit up and he smiled.

Him: Oh he’s a beautiful young man, very handsome and good at sports. He struggles to concentrate in school, but he’s gotten a lot better since when we first got him. He tries really hard, has a good heart.

I could see tears forming in his eyes. He blinked them away.

Me: Sounds like a good kid.

The floater knocked on our door, signaling the time was up. I hugged him and he pulled $300 from his wallet and handed it to me.

Him: Is this good?

Me: Of course. Thank you so much.

We walked out to the central area, then hugged again before he exited, waving to me on his way out.