The Prostitute And The Player (Watty Awards 2011)

Chapter Eighteen

“Stop fidgetting, Allie.” Jake attempts to calm me, but nothing seemed to be working whatsoever. I was squirming around and couldn’t see straight. Not to mention my stomach was doing flips and whenever Jake turned the car I freaked and almost puked all over the car floor. Jake’s cool hand is intertwined with my own in between the seats as he keeps the car in control with one hand on the wheel.

“Sorry, I don’t think I’m ready for this, Jake.” I turn his way with a worried expression on my face. His eyes have concern in them, but he attempts to cover it up with a fake smile from ear to ear. “Jake, please. You don’t have to be happy about this…it’s probably not-”

Jake hits the steering wheel with his hand that he‘s taken out of my own tangle of fingers, his knuckles glowering red from the sudden impact. “Damn it, Allie! Stop saying that it probably isn’t mine! We have a chance at least, don’t we?” He turned fully in his seat, facing me with a pleading look in his eyes. He really did want me to understand.

Frowning, I just cant get a grasp on this. Even though I’d been what I’d been, why would God go and do this to me? I hadn’t been prostituting since that night when I needed money for the spaghetti sauce. And that was only because I wanted to be independent, and keep the one thing I had left, my pride. I would never ask Jake for money like that.

Before I realize it, we’re at the doctor’s office parking lot. It’s a small clinic for girls my around my age group who one, don’t want their parents find out or want to keep it confidential, and obviously I came for the second one, like my dad cared if I got knocked up or not. It sounded sluttish, but who was I kidding? Or two, they just wanted it to be less expensive and you didn’t even have to call in for an appointment. Good thing Jake didn’t know what a cheapo place this was, or he’d flip and take me to get signed up with a family doctor.

“Uh, Allie, are you sure this is where you wanna go?” Jake asked, cocking an eyebrow, frowning at the place in disapproval already by the advertisement underneath their name.

‘Knocked up? Prices knocked down.’

“Yeah, I go here for all of my…appointments.” I explain, struggling to open my car door with the cast on my arm. Fumbling with the handle, no less than two seconds later Jake is at my door, opening it up for me like a true gentlemen.

“Now, your sure you don’t want the wheel chair?” He persuades. I already know he prefers me using the wheel chair rather than the crutches, but I felt better with them; not like a complete dud who couldn’t handle doing anything on her own.

“Yes,” I say, grabbing the crutches with my good hand from his firm grasp, “go on, go play some football with your buddies or something.” I say, shooing him away with my hand like one might shoo away a fly off of their shoulder when they just won’t quit following you. I loved Jake more than anything, but sometimes, he cared too much for a girl who wasn’t used to having anyone care whether she had two shoes on her feet or a shirt on her back.

“Come on, please, can I go with you?” Jake leaned up against the car while I depended completely on my crutches, giving me puppy dog eyes. I huff and give him a flat look.

Biting my bottom lip, I reluctantly utter a response. “No.” I say, turning around and beginning to crutch away.

“Please?” Jake whined, louder as I crutched away.

“No way, Jose!” I say with a slight giggle.

“Since when am I Mexican?” Jake joked back.

“Since your making me tacos tonight!” I call, “Pick me up at four-thirty!” I call to him before I fully enter the clinic. Shoo, it was really tough saying no to the person you loved. Guess that’s the concept of tough love.