The Best Babysitter in Town Vol. 2 Ch. 13

Gordy took me to a pizza place. We live in a college town, right? They’re ubiquitous and fall into three categories: good if you’re kinda drunk, family-friendly, and expensive. I have this one friend - okay, acquaintance - who makes no secret that she’s going to school to pursue Mrs. and would dump any boy who took her to a pizza place on a date, but I happen to be a pizza enthusiast. Yes, the best babysitter in town is that basic a bitch, I guess.

This place was family friendly. Sweaty kids racing back and forth from the game room and parents looking tired and glad to just be out of the house. If a parent wanted me to take their kids to one, I’d charge extra. Holy heck are they loud. Practically shouting across the booth at Gordy. It got so bad I switched to his side of the booth. To every person who happened to look over, we were now that couple. The same-side-of-the-booth couple. These are very polarizing couples.

“Is this okay,” I asked. “I couldn’t hear you from over there.”

“Y-yeah. I couldn’t either, not really. You were … What were we talking about?”

“If you’d been here before.”

“O, yeah. We come here all the time. The kids love it, ya know. And the pizza is pretty good.”

“Any good games in there?”

“I, uh, wouldn’t know. I mean, that’s kid stuff.”

“You do too know, ya big fibber. I bet they drag you in there every time. Little kids love it when their big brother plays with them.”

“I mean, yeah, for them I play and stuff.”

“I like games,” I said because I was pretty sure he was trying to be cool and thinks cool people obviously don’t like games because it’s 1998 or something.

“You do,” he asked in that only-Gordy-is-this-easily-surprised-by-something-so-mundane tone. He’s a very special boy.

“Yeah. I’ve chosen babysitter as my vocation. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have fun doing it. I play video games; I play board games; I play tag. You name it.”

We have lunch on campus at least once and often twice or even more a week, and it’s a pretty easy conversation to have. What was different about this meal? It was a date. And how are dates different? They just are. So how to break the ice? Well, maybe I was having an off evening, but I chose to break it with a sledgehammer cuz I was too tired to keep beating around the bush (or to do a better job mixing idioms).

“This your first date?” And he’s blushing again. Watch this - he’ll go ‘um’ and stutter next.

“Um, n-no. Of course not. I mean, w-we’re twenty, right? Who gets to be twenty without going on a date ever?”

“O yeah? I didn’t know you’d gone with anyone. Who was it?” Remember, we grew up together and went to the same school. We knew all the same people.

“This girl … at camp.”

Plausible. “You went to camp as a kid? I never got to go. What was it like?”

“Probably not the same kind of camp you’re thinking of.”

“Like space camp or something?”

“No. It was a camp for kids with disabilities. I didn’t like it; my parents made me go.”

“Why didn’t you like it? Just not into being away from home that long or just too extroverted or what?” Wow, I packed a lot of assumptions about Gordy into that question.

“I didn’t fit in. You know, it was for kids with disabilities, so pretty much all of them had a cognitive disability or a physical disability or both. I just, you know. I mean, a lot of the other ones did too. It’s not like I got teased about it. I just … kinda felt like I didn’t belong. Like, I knew what it was like to be different, but I couldn’t understand what it was like to be them … Actually felt kind of guilty that my being there meant some kid who needed the experience a lot more than me couldn’t be there.”

Gordy, my little artichoke; one layer after another, most of them fibrous and traumatic. I could imagine what he meant, the way he’d be kind of the odd one out in a camp for kids with more severe disabilities just like he was in a lot of ways the odd one out at home because of a minor disability that, to kids, is a major one. Kinda sad, not quite fitting in here or there.

“But you met someone and went on a date,” I said hopefully.

“Kind of. Not really. It was my last year there and one of the counselors went as my date to the last dance. So, yeah. Doesn’t really count.”

It is so hard not to pity Gordy, but he’s a tenacious little toaster. Gotta admire him for that.

“Well, for the record,” I said, “this is not that kind of date. This is a real one,” I assured him.

“Yeah…” he said skeptically.

“And just what does that mean, buster?”

“Nothing … Just that I … This whole thing, you … My stepmom hiring you to hang out with me all weekend.”

“Gordy, look at me. That’s not why we’re here.”

“I know … I mean, you said this afternoon … I just kinda … It’s kinda hard for me to know when people are being nice cuz they wanna be and not cuz they hafta be. I know you want to be, but … Everybody was nice to me growing up. Mostly because I have a disability, you know; everybody was nice to me growing up, but that wasn’t the same as having a lot of friends. I mean, you and I knew each other, but we weren’t really friends.”

“But we are now. And no matter what, we’ll be friends. I really do like you, Gordy. You’re probably the sweetest person I know.” The sweetest person I know despite an apparent inability to hide his eye rolls when informed he’s the sweetest person you know. “I mean it.”

“I know you do. It’s just … Being me … Sweet and everything else, whatever, gets you friend-zoned. Not that I’ve been friend-zoned a lot cuz I haven’t really tried, but kinda obvious how it would go if I did.”

“You haven’t met the right person.”

“That’s what Dad says.”

“He’s right. We’re twenty. It’s not like we’re all settling down and getting married next year.”

“But … I mean, yeah, but other people date at least. Hook up. Have fun. Last time I tried that …”

“Only cuz she’s a cunt.” His word, not mine; but I wholeheartedly agree.

“I just don’t think girls our age are interested in guys like me.”

“You’ve seen too many bad movies then. I mean, I don’t go chasing buff frat bros. They’re boring.”

“You don’t have to chase anyone.”

O. My. God. Presumptuous much? “You keep thinking that. I don’t know why.”

“Cuz you’re … I mean … It’s obvious!”

“I’m not,” I scoffed. “You just think I’m that hot because you’ve got a crush on me. And even if I had boys chasing me, that would be because of what they want, not because they’re my type. I mean, I’m pretty sure a lot of my classmates think I’m a single mom.”

“What? Why would they think that?”

“Once I had to bring a kid to class with me because his dad had a last-minute thing. And I know for sure one of my professors thinks I am cuz she pulled me aside this one time and said she was on the board of the campus daycare and asked me if I knew about their financial aid package for students.”

“Ha! What did you say?”

“I just said thank you.”

“You didn’t correct her?”

“I didn’t think to. I was so caught off guard.”

Our pizza arrived. I give it three-and-a-half our of five stars, which makes it pretty good for a family place. Gordy was sucking down coke, and I remembered not to tell him to take it easy; I did once, right before remembering he’s incontinent and will wake up wet no matter what he drinks before bed, and he got buddy (maybe I deserved that a little) and told me it’s cuz he can’t sleep if he drinks caffeine I after eight. Drinking a liter with dinner kinda defeats the purpose.

“I thought don’t drink so much caffeine in the evening,” I ventured.

“O, yeah.”

“I didn’t say stop. You can drink as much as you want. Just an observation.”

“Guess I’m just thirsty.”

“How are you pants holding up? Guess I should’ve check you before we left.”

He looked around like someone could possibly have heard me. Much too much loud for that. “I … I’m fine … You don’t have to …”

“Sorry. Force of habit.” He turned red and his shoulders slumped forward. Crap. “I … Tell ya what, I will try to stop doing that if you try to stop getting all quiet when I slip up or you get embarrassed. I know you can’t help getting embarrassed, but if it helps at all, I’ll tell you again that all this extra stuff has no impact at all on how I feel about you.”

“It’s just hard.”

“I’m sure it is. You’ve probably internalized a belief about how the world perceives you.”

“That psychology class you’re taking gets really annoying sometimes,” he said; sounded a little irritated but not very. And yes, I’ve definitely been the college student who takes a psych course and starts analyzing people. It’s very cringe, and I hope to grow out of it soon.

“Can I tell you something else,” I said to change the subject and push the conversation (way) forward. “You blush a lot, and I think it’s super cute.” There; I said it. Finally! “Like the way you’re blushing right now.” And so was I.

“I, uh, heh.” And he’s smiling!

“Like right now.” Okay, I’m not saying I giggled like a school girl on purpose, but I definitely did. Also, I may have put my hand on his knee. “I like cute. I like cute a lot more than I like buff. I like that you have a crush on me but don’t hit on me. I like that you’re not after anything except my company. I like the way you don’t try to impress me.”

There I go, continuing my streak of saying more to Gordy than I meant to, but I’m not sorry I did. I figured out a while back the only way to get anything from Gordy is to push for it because he won’t. Kinda the point, in a way; if he were the type to push for what he wants, or even just ask for it, he’d probably would’ve been hitting on me and trying to impress me and all that.

It’s not like I dislike assertive boys. Just that I don’t like pushy boys, and I do like submissive boys. Not that I knew that until the very first time I smacked Gordy on his butt and propelled him into the corner.

I felt this ethical dilemma though. The whole being his babysitter thing is totally fake … Well, not fake, but artificial. So set that aside. I was more worried that Gordy being Gordy, it would be taking advantage of him if I were to be too … what would my grandma call it? - forward with him. Which seems really weird to say given the baths-with-happy-endings I’d given him.

“How does that make you feel,” I asked.

“Uh, I’m … Glad.”

I didn’t mean to scoff, but I did. In a gentle way, but still. “You’re so bashful, and I have no idea why that’s so appealing to me but it is. I don’t know; is that bad,” I asked.

“Um, no. It’s not bad. It’s … huh.”

“I don’t want to …” I don’t even know how to say it. Everybody is shaped by their experiences and so many of Gordy’s experiences have been traumatic; I don’t know how much of Gordy’s idiosyncrasies are caused by his trauma, and I hate to think that I’m fetishizing the aftermath of his messed up home life. That would be assuming his shyness has something to do with that, which maybe it does and maybe it doesn’t. “It’s just that sometimes it seems like some of the things you don’t like about yourself are some of the things I do like about you. I hope that’s okay.”

Who knows - maybe it will even make some of the traits he doesn’t like into things he does.

“I actually haven’t really thought about those things about myself very much. It doesn’t bother me, I guess.”

Phew! “And I don’t do it on purpose. I don’t say stuff to make you all blushy.” Okay, between you and me, that’s a fib at least some of the time.

“I didn’t think you did. I figured you just … It doesn’t exactly make it better, knowing you say stuff like that cuz you slip into babysitter mode around me.”

“Maybe we should think of it as slipping into friend-helping-a-friend mode.”

“We should get a box and a check, I guess,” he said.

“We can hang out a little longer if you want.”

“I, um, didn’t bring a change.”

And he thinks he doesn’t need friend-helping-a-friend? He had to have some seriously soggy britches.

“Maybe I should start keeping a bag for you in my car since we’re spending so much time together.“

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. In fact, stop being sorry.” I gave him a peck on the cheek without thinking much about it. It went straight to his head, and not the one on top his shoulders.

“So,” he ventured, “one thing I was thinking about … Later tonight, I thought I’d take a bath.” All that was missing were his eyebrows bobbing up and down. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had literally said ‘hint hint.’

“What, just because you bought me dinner? Well, I’m sorry but I’m gonna need a little kissing first.”

“R-really?”

He’s heccin adorable. I swear.

“Yeah. I’ll teach you how.”

Educating inexperienced boys apparently being yet another turn on I’m discovering the more time I spend with Gordy. “But not until you’re in something dry.”