The Last Good Guy

We walked around the cathedral construction site. I met one of the security guards, Adam, and Reggie said to call Adam if I ever needed anything. Adam would handle it. I thought maybe I could tell Adam that Nick was getting more and more aggro, and maybe he could maybe get Nick to chill. Then I thought, don’t be a coward, girl, if Nick is dissing you, then get in his face yourself. Inside, he’s a sweet guy, but I frustrate him with the no-sex-until-next-year-when-I’m-fourteen thing. He’s all, what about handjobs? But I’m stubborn and have almost no interest in that with him and I don’t owe Nick anything. I carry my own weight, except he drives everywhere because I’m too young. Which in the papillon van gets us lots of laughs, but some business, too. Half of what we do I pay for, gas included. If Pen knew how much of my allowance I spend on Nick, she might not be too happy.

Pen made me promise no sex until I’m eighteen, but I renegotiated with myself in case I meet someone better than Nick. Someone who makes me feel more that way. I mean, I do feel that way, and if you judge menstruationally, then I’m all grown up. I mean, someone who makes me really, really feel that way. Like an authentic connection. Physical, yes. But a soul thing, too. Soul mates? I don’t know. Out loud it sounds so sappy and dumb.

Inside the construction trailer he showed me the drawings for his new church. We sat on a couch and he spread the plans across our laps. Arms touching. Hmm, I thought. I’d never been that close to him. The architect cost one hundred thousand dollars. It will look very modern, kind of a mash-up of glass and wood and steel with big cables connecting things. Reggie said the architecture was supposed to symbolize the fractionalized world and the cables are Jesus, holding everything together.

Gotta go now!