5 days later, Brendon texts me as I'm lying on my bed reading that afternoon.

Brendon: Are you free tonight?  Want to meet up.  Not sex.  Just wanna talk.  If you're up to it.

I don't respond.  I'm not going anywhere unless I'm paid.

Brendon: I'll pay you

There we go.

Me: Time and place?

Wait, what am I doing?

He sends me a snapshot from Google Maps with the caption: 9:00 pm sound okay?

I know that area, that's the pier near the freeway.  For all I know, he's planning to drown me.

Me: Sure

Shit!

I slam my phone face down on my bed, rubbing my face in my hands.

God, I'm so stupid.  A walking oxymoron -- emphasis on the 'moron'.  Lord, give me strength... and forgive me for what I'm about to do.

I rise from my bed and head to the bathroom.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The water glistens in the moonlight.  It's a completely different scene than the one behind me with cars driving on the freeway.  No one else is here, well, who would be on a dark semi-warm evening 3 hours before midnight?

"Callie!"  That answers my question.

Brendon practically runs over to me with a smile on his face.  "Here," he hands me the money.

I could run away, but he's a grown man and could catch me... then kill me.

I just take it.

"I've always liked it here," he says gazing out at the water, and I do the same.  "Sarah and I would come out here for dates.  This is where I proposed."  He puts his hands in his large, middle hoodie pocket.

Now, he's going to tell me where it went wrong.

"You were right, that our marriage is failing, well, failed I guess is a better way to put it," he says with a low laugh.  "Within the first year, we already tallied around 3 fights every month over the smallest things.  Even contemplated divorce, but we fought over that too.  In the end, we just let it go.  Marriage isn't just difficult, it can be dangerous.  Or maybe it's not for us."  He goes silent for a bit.  "I like that you're quiet."

I make eye contact with him and his genuine grin.

"It's like you're there, but not there.   You're also not clingy."

No, just have no interest in people.  Is this why he brought me out here?  To vent and talk about his feelings?  I'm not a therapist.

"I know you're not a therapist, but it felt good to tell someone."

I'm sorry, is he reading my thoughts?

"I... wanted to tell you kind of why I picked you up at the bar last night.  And show that I'm more than... sex."

Okay, I guess when he texted me he meant 'not having sex', but talking about it was still permitted.  Who am I to judge?  I still had the option of refusing to come, yet here I am.  God, my arm itches.

"Sorry, I... feel like I need to ask... are you gay, Callie?"

Really?  The fact that I won't talk about how we fucked last night must mean I'm gay?

"No," I say casually.

Brendon nods, "Okay, good to know," and redirects his attention to the water.

So do I.

I shouldn't inquire about his question.   I won't.   This will not go further.  "Sorry, why is that good to know?"

Not only do I ask, I rotate my body, indicating that he has my full attention.

Nice going, Callie.

I rub my arm.

Clearly, Brendon's surprised by this.  Maybe this was his intention and is astounded that it worked.  "You know, I want you to be at ease."

Whether I am or not, I'm getting some form of compensation.  My feelings should be an afterthought to both of us.  I mean, it could be if I weren't deprived of sensation.

"Hey uh, call me a stalker, but I couldn't find you on any social media platform."

Stalker.

"Are you under an alias?"

I shake my head.

"Oh, okay.  You're under the radar.  That's fine.   You stay out of people's business."

I just don't do social media.  I think it's a waste of time.  People hide behind their screens to create perfect lives.   If anything, they're perfect lies.

"Hey, I know I'm paying you for this and all, but thanks for coming."

I nod, rubbing my arm again.

"You've been doing that a lot."

I stop, putting my hands in my pockets and read the expression of near - worry he's holding.

"You okay, Callie?"

I don't reply.

For starters, I don't understand how 'okay' is supposed to feel.  All I know is that what I did in my bathroom earlier today is coming back to bite me in the ass.

"Can I see your arm?"  His voice is soft and calm, almost sad.

I know my rights.  I'm legally an adult and he's not my family, so I don't have to show him anything.  Then again, if I don't, he'll probably bribe me into telling him, indicating more so that he doesn't care.  He's just nosy.   Whatever, it doesn't change the fact that what's done is done. Maybe it'll finally get him off my back.  Let's just get this over with.

I hold out my right arm.  Some part of me is hoping that he thinks I'm calling his bluff, but then he takes it and rolls up the sleeve, lips slightly parting in shock at the dried blood and indentations caused by my razor blade.

I don't know what I expected him to say, but it certainly wasn't nothing.  I guess he's finding the right words.

His lips purse.

Okay, this silence is too awkward, even for me. Say something. Anything!

"You know, life gives us enough scars.  You don't need to make your own."

Gently, I take my arm back, rolling the sleeve down.

"Why do you cut, Callie?"

I don't understand why he's determined to learn so much about me.  We already did what he wanted.  Why do I have to reciprocate?

I look toward the moonlit waves once again.

I can't believe I'm really doing this. "Emotions are... difficult for me, to say the least. It helps me feel."

"Feel what?"

I shrug. "Something. I'm not what you'd call... a sophrosyne individual."

"There's gotta be something else.   Anything at all?"  I meet his pupils that scream concern. "Anything," he emphasizes.

"The sex."

Brendon narrows his brows, glancing at his shoes, then holding all attention toward me again. "And... how does that make you feel?"

Now he's the therapist.

I think about it for a second. "I don't know. It sort of feels good.  The first time was a bit slow in the beginning... but then I got into it and... it felt good.  I was happy, but for the wrong reason."

"What's the wrong reason?"

I've told him a lot already.  I don't know how people talk literally all day. I already have these conversations with myself.

Brendon swallows a bit, nervously.  "I'm sorry that you're this way.  How you feel inside.  Must be hard."

I assume my idle position.

"There is more to life than cutting and sex," he starts, going quiet for a bit, presumably choosing his next words tenderly.  "But if sex makes you happy... it's better than the alternate."

I don't respond.

"I'm the first to know about this, aren't I?"

Only because it was a question, I nod.

"You're really... enigmatic," he says with a grin.  "Like you have other secrets, waiting to be uncovered.  Maybe we have some stuff in common.   Is that why you don't say much?"

Resurfacing repressed memories are the complete opposite of my intentions with... whatever this is.  "I wasn't conditioned to be this way, I just am."

His smile grows and he laughs a bit. "Can't wait to see what else comes into fruition, Callie."