Backrubs

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When I got to the front door, my mom was there to greet me, which wasn't normal for her.

"How did dinner go, Grant?" I must have had some kind of look on my face, because she immediately suggested that we sit down and talk about it. She tried again. "What happened, Grant?"

"Umm, wow. I don't know if there are words to describe it." But I tried. Right from the drive to the restaurant, she started to look really worried. By the time I was done, she was shaking her head. She sat silent for a few seconds, and then said, "You know, our family has some history with Dr. Paulson."

"Huh? No, what do you mean?"

"I didn't make the connection until your dad got home and asked where you were. If I had, I would have talked to you beforehand. You know he's a doctor, of course. An ENT specialist."

"Yeah. He made fun of my psychology major. Apparently, it's not a hard enough science for him."

"Right, well, a few years ago, your dad was having some trouble with his hearing and went to see Dr. Paulson to try to get to the bottom of what was going on. He went to one appointment and never went back. There was a smell of alcohol on the doctor's breath."

"Oh, no way!"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. You can imagine my concern when I realized who he was and that he was driving you. After your description of his driving, I'm even more concerned. And thanking the Lord that you made it home safe. Did he drink over dinner?"

"Yeah, he ordered one when the waitress first came to give us the menus, and another with dinner."

"Jesus, Grant! What have I told you about getting in a car with someone who was drinking?! You should have called us! We'd have come to pick you up!"

"I know, I know! I mean, that makes sense now, but you've only ever mentioned that when I was going to a party with friends. I guess it just didn't occur to me when my girlfriend's dad was the driver."

"It makes absolutely no difference whatsoever who the driver is or how old the driver is. Only the combination of drinking and driving, do you understand me?"

"Yes, mom."

"And you won't be getting in a car again with him behind the wheel, right?"

"No, mom. In fact, I'm glad you said that. I'd have hesitated on my own to let him drive me if I was asked again, but now if it comes up, there's no question. I can say no and blame you."

"You're damned right you can, and if he has a problem with it, you have him call me, understood?"

"Yes, mom".

"Now come here and give me a hug."

I smiled, and with an exaggerated tone, said "YES mooommmm!".

We stood up, and she wrapped her arms around me tighter than I can ever remember. It reinforced the point that I scared the crap out of her just now.

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That night I called Nique from the phone in my room. She picked up and said, "Hello?"

"Nique, it's Grant."

"Ah, yeah, I thought it might be."

"What the ever-loving hell was THAT, tonight?"

She sighed, and said, "I'm so sorry! I told my dad what I thought of the way he treated you, and he sends his apologies as well. He had a bad day at work, apparently. He'd like to try again on Friday. Same arrangement. Would that be okay?"

"Maybe with some modifications. How about I pick you up and we meet him at the restaurant?"

"No, he was pretty clear. He said he'd pick us up at your place. Same time, different day. He wants a total do over."

"Then, no. Can't do it." And I told her about the conversation with my mom.

She was upset. "My dad does NOT have a drinking problem! Are you fucking kidding me with this? Grant, I need you and my dad to get along! You're the two most important men in my life, and you're not starting off on the right foot! He's offering an olive branch and I need you to take it!"

"Monique, if I got into a car with your dad driving, it wouldn't matter how well he and I got along. My mom would kill me when I got home. It's not going to happen."

All I heard was a click when she hung up the phone without another word. Shit. This was bad.

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The next day, Nique was clearly not happy with me, and her stress levels were showing. She barely said a word to me all day, and the ones she did say were clipped. She said she'd try to smooth things over with her dad but wasn't sure she'd be able to.

The day after that was worse. She wouldn't speak to me at all, except to say, "After work, we need to talk," before walking away. Those are never words that you want to hear from your girlfriend. But come on. There was no way that they meant what they did most of the times that a girl I was dating had said them to me. Nique and I were great together! And I knew it wasn't just me that felt it.

I was wrong. They meant exactly what they usually mean. Once all the kids were picked up from the church parking lot, she came over to me and said, "Grant, we have to break up."

"WHAT?!"

Calmly, she replied, "My dad doesn't approve of our relationship, and he's threatening to withhold my tuition payments. I can't go against him on this, or it'll blow up the entire plan I have for my life."

"But I love you! And I think you love me too!"

The calm demeanor she was trying to put up dissolved into a mask of pain. "Now? NOW, Grant? NOW, you finally tell me you love me? When I have to break up with you? I've been waiting ever since we first slept together for you to say those words, asshole! For the record, I love you too, but it doesn't fucking matter. We're done!" I could see the tears starting to fall from her eyes as she turned on her heal and stormed off. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as well.

The next day, and the next and the next we didn't say a word to each other. She made excuses to Sam about having to skip the next D&D session. I tried to approach her about that the next day.

"Monique, why didn't you come to D&D yesterday?"

She glared at me, and said in a clipped tone, "Why do you think?"

"Because of what's going on with us? Nique, I don't want you to quit D&D! That's been something we've done with our friends since way before you and I started fucking."

"Jesus, Grant! Could you say that any louder? I don't think the head counselor over there heard you!"

"Don't change the subject! I know things are messed up with our romantic relationship, but you promised me right from the beginning that no matter what happened with that, we'd always be friends! D&D is a friend thing for us to do together, not a romantic thing. Why would you not show up for that?"

She stood there for a moment. It looked like she was struggling to find the right thing to say, but then I noticed her lip quiver, and her eyes start to well up. She wasn't struggling to find the right thing to say, she was struggling not to burst into tears and couldn't get her throat to unclench. Eventually, she managed to choke out, "It's too hard," before turning on her heel and walking as quickly as she could to the girls' bathroom. My heart broke all over again.

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The next two weeks were awful. We barely spoke, and never about anything that wasn't work related. She didn't show up for any D&D sessions. I was miserable, and I'm pretty sure she was too. This was exactly, and I mean EXACTLY what I was afraid of when we took our relationship to the next level. Not only did I lose my girlfriend. I'd lost my best friend too.

The following Thursday, she surprised me. After the last kid was gone at the end of the day, she came up to me, and in the same tone she'd used for work talk for the last two weeks, she said, "Fuck my dad. Pick me up tomorrow at 6:30. I want to go out and party." Then she turned on her heel the way she does, and walked away. You could have knocked me over with a feather. But a smile came to my face.

I tried to ask her what happened between her and her dad the next day, but all I got was, "Not at work. I'll tell you tonight." And otherwise, she was an iceberg, just as she had been since we broke up. The anticipation was killing me, not to mention the confusion from what felt like mixed messages.

At 6:30pm I buzzed her apartment. When she came down, I got a shock. She had gone totally goth on me. Fishnet stockings with holes in them. Thick black eye makeup. Some kind of powder on her face that made her look pale. Dark red lipstick. Short, short skirt.

"What's with the outfit, Nique?"

"Apparently I'm a bad girl, so I'm going to roll with it. You like it when I'm bad, right?"

Wellll, yeahh. She's right about that. I absolutely do like it when she's bad.

"I don't feel like talking," she continued, "Can we just go?"

"Your wish is my command. Olive Garden as usual?"

"Yes. Let's go."

In the car it became clear that her mood was as dark as her outfit. She turned on the radio without asking, and barely said a word to me. It was like that at dinner, too. I tried to strike up conversation several times, but all I got were terse answers. Eventually, I started to get frustrated, and by the end of the meal, I finally asked, very bluntly, "Monique, what the actual fuck is going on?"

"I'll tell you later. Tonight is about escaping the shit show that my life has become, and talking about it is contradictory to the goal. Can you take me to that dance club downtown by CSU? I want to party the night away!"

I suppressed my curiosity and took what I could get. I had my Nique back, or at least some strange version of her. It was enough to make me really happy for the first time in what seemed like forever. I managed to stay happy until we got to the club.

When we got there, she immediately got on the dance floor, ignoring me completely. She proceeded to dance with every guy who would let her, grinding up against them and generally giving the vibe of a total slut who would go home with whichever guy hit the lottery with her. Guys were offering to buy her drinks, some of which she accepted. I sat there and watched for a little while. Eventually I got up on the dance floor and tried to dance with her. She paid about as much attention to me as she did any other guy. I thought I'd make her jealous by trying to dance with some girls but struck out left and right. There weren't many people at the club yet, and the girls who were there either ignored me for their boyfriends or for the group of girls they'd arrived with. After an hour of this I'd had enough. I made my way over to Nique and said, "I'm leaving. Are you coming with me, or are you going to get a ride from one of these guys you seem to want to spend time more time with than you do with me?"

"No, I'm coming." She turned to the guys who had gathered around her and said, "Sorry boys, my ride is leaving!"

There was a groan from the crowd, and more than one "I'll give you a ride home!" She responded, "Yeah, I bet you would! And I'd make it worth your while too! Maybe next time!"

When we got in the car, my frustration started to boil a bit. "Monique, I'll ask again, what the actual fuck is going on? You're treating me like shit! What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's not you, it's me, and I still don't want to talk about it. Just take me home. Then you can do whatever you want to me. Grandma is out, not that she's a problem when she's there."

"Great. Whatever."

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On the ride back to her place, she raised the stakes again. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and lit one up.

"What the fuck? Nique, put that out, now! Do you know what'll happen if my mom smells that tomorrow when she gets in her car?!"

"I'll roll down the window and blow the smoke out. I need this to calm my nerves."

I was fuming at this point. Jesus, was she going to get it when we got back to her bedroom.

Then she raised the stakes yet again when the cigarette was done. She reached under her skirt, pulled off her panties said, "Hold these," leaned the seat back and started masturbating again. At this point I was so mad it wasn't even making me hard. I just stared at the road and ignored her. Eventually the writhing and heavy breathing next to me stopped. In a tone that was, what? Defiant? Triumphant? She said, "Oops. I came".

I didn't say a word. Not one word the rest of the car ride. I had fucking had it with her.

I walked her up to her apartment silently. I caught a few glances from her that I couldn't read. Maybe she was getting a little nervous that she'd pushed me too far? Perceptive of her if that was the case.

She opened the door and as we walked in she said, "So, loverboy. What next? Do I get what bad girls get?"

I closed my eyes and I could picture it. Dragging her back to her room. Bending her over her bed. Smacking her ass hard over and over. Watching it turn from pale to pink, to bright pink. And then to dark pink and even black and blue. I sure as hell was angry enough to beat her that hard. I could hear the sound of the smacks, and her cries of pain as I let out all the aggression from the way she hurt me, from the frustration and anger and pain I'd been feeling for the last three weeks, and the rage that I was feeling at the moment from her over the top display tonight. But then I imagined the look of pain on her face, and probably the tears, and I couldn't do it.

In a tone that did nothing to hide the seething rage I was feeling, I said, "No. I made you a promise that I would never spank you out of anger, and unlike you, I'm not going to break my promises. I'm out of here. We're done."

"What? No! Grant, p-p-please, NO!" She burst into tears and started pleading. "Don't go! Don't leave me!"

At the absolute top of my lungs I shouted in her face, "Give me ONE GOOD REASON WHY NOT!"

"B-because my life was already falling apart before I s-s-screwed everything up tonight. I c-c-c-can't lose you too!" Then she started sobbing so hard she dropped to her knees.

I honestly didn't know what to do. I had literally been about to reach for the doorknob to leave. But on the floor in front of me was my friend, my best friend, crying harder than I've ever seen anyone cry in my life. After a moment, which probably seemed like an eternity to Monique, the better angels of my nature won out. I kneeled down and put my arms around her. She immediately wrapped her arms around me too and pressed the side of her head against mine. It took her a minute to stop crying so hard that she couldn't speak, and managed to say, "I'm s-s-s-sorry! I'm so sorry! For everything! I love you so much!"

"Do you?" There was still an edge to my voice. I wasn't over the last couple of weeks quite so quickly. "Then I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me what the FUCK is going on!"

She broke the embrace and looked me in the eye. Hers were red and swollen, and her excessive black eye makeup was making tracks through the white makeup on her face, but she was starting to gain control of herself enough to put a full sentence together.

"I was over at my mom's house last weekend to pick up my mail. I had a couple of envelopes from Miami. They didn't have good news in them. Apparently, my dad hasn't been paying the tuition bills and they're on the verge of refusing to admit me for the fall semester." The tears started flowing again, but she took a few deep breaths and continued. "I called my dad to see what the problem was, and he told me that he'd decided that Miami was too far away from home. If I want him to pay for college, I need to find something in town." She sobbed again and looked at the floor between us.

"I don't know what I did to deserve this! My dad has always treated me like his special little girl. He's always told me how proud he was of me, including when I got into the best school in the state. And into the f-f-fucking honors college! Even when I was in trouble and he punished me, he was always loving about it. I j-j-just don't . . . understand!" She dissolved into tears again.

Jesus fucking Christ. No wonder she was such a mess. I wrapped my arms around her and let her cry on my shoulder again. And I stroked her back gently, the way she always strokes mine. Backrubs can soothe a lot of hurt away, in my experience. While I was holding her, my mind was racing. Was the fact that I was at Miami part of the problem? Did I contribute to this mess, even indirectly?

No. No, that's crap. This was all on her dad. And every bit of anger I'd been feeling toward Monique was redirected to him. He wanted to control her the way he wanted to control everyone in his life, near as I could tell. And she'd always let him do it up until now. But now? Now she was trying to spread her wings, like any high school graduate should, and he was fucking CLIPPING them. My blood was boiling, and I had to think hard about what to say next. I didn't want to go off on her dad. Well, I did want to go off on him, to tell her exactly what I thought of him, but it wasn't the right play to make. She always, ALWAYS defends him when I do that. Daddy's little girl to the max. Maybe it was time to start figuring out how to climb out of this mess.

"So, Monique, what are you going to do about this?"

"Huh? There's nothing I CAN do!"

"Bullshit. You are probably the smartest, most determined person I've ever met. You got into the damned honors college at the best fucking school in the state. You decided you wanted me to be your boyfriend, and you managed to get close to me, and to get through my thick skull that the relationship I had in mind wasn't what you had in mind. You can move the earth when you want to. So, what are you going to do about this?"

"Well, I don't have the money for this semester, even with the scholarship that comes with the honors college admission. My mom sure doesn't have the money, and I shouldn't have to ask. This is something that my doctor of a father has done for all his kids, in part because it was something he and my mom agreed to. Her executive assistant salary doesn't compare to his. Not even close."

She chuckled and said, "There's one silver lining to this huge fucking mess. My mom and I are speaking again. If you want to redirect her anger to something other than you, having her ex-husband "attack" one of her babies is a great way to do it. She actually asked if I wanted to move back home, if you can believe that. I told her I wasn't ready to think about that, but we're definitely on the same side where daddy dearest is concerned. She's going to talk to her lawyer about this, but even if she can force daddy to open up his wallet, it will take forever. I don't think there's a damned thing I can do about fall semester."

"Okay, what about spring?"

I could see that the way I was directing the conversation was bringing her back from the depths of misery that she was in just a couple minutes earlier. The wheels were spinning in her head, and a determined look was starting to form on her face.

"I guess I could look into student loans."

"Now you're talking! And maybe take some community college classes this fall, which hopefully your dad will pay for, so that you don't fall behind?"

"Yeah, yeah, I could probably do that. Even if daddy doesn't pay for it at first, mom could probably cover tuition. Rent and food are covered here at grandma's. I could get a job to cover books and other stuff. And if mom wins in court, we could all get paid back."

"See? Smart and determined, just like I said." That brought a smile to her face.

I changed the subject a bit. "So, what the fuck was that performance tonight? What did I do to deserve that?"

"Nothing! You did absolutely nothing to deserve that, and I am SO sorry! I mean it! I was so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn't see the effect I was having on you. I feel like I'm going to be making that up to you for a long time. I don't know what I was thinking. Well, I mean, I kind of do. This whole mess has been fucking with my head, you know? I can't understand why daddy would treat me like this! I guess I figured if I was going to be punished, I might as well enjoy being a bad girl. And I was angling for a spanking from you as part of the deal, followed by the make-up cuddling that I desperately needed."