Jules

“Carrie? Hello?”

“Keer-ee-eh,” I said, emphasizing the middle vowel.  Normally, I don’t care if people mispronounce my name, unusual as it is, but I was annoyed at the distraction.

“Like the song?”

Turning, I leveled a glare at my interrupter.  Not very good of me, customer-service wise, but I was not feeling myself. “Yes, I was named after the pop song,” I said. “Exactly.”

“Why would your mom do that?”

Because when you’re eighteen and pregnant and unmarried and homeless and that song comes on the radio, it holds a lot of spiritual and emotional meaning to your immature and overwhelmed little self.  But I didn’t say that.  Instead I shrugged. “Lots of parents name their kids after songs.”
― Genevieve Pearson, Revelations

“Maybe he used to like me, but I doubt he does anymore, now that I’ve insulted his bird fetish.”

Peter smiled.   “He’s not going to stop liking you over one little argument.   I don’t think he’s the type to just fall for someone and then hate them the next day.   We don’t live in that kind of world anymore, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”  

“Well, when there were thousands of possible mates to choose from, it was like being a huge candy store with a billion types of sugary things to choose from.   You could sample one of everything and not worry about whether you’d like it much or whatever, because there was always another jar of candy nearby.   But now, there’s no candy store.   There’s a single jawbreaker that you found in the gutter.   And there are no more jawbreaker factories.   No more candy stores.   No more refined sugar.   That one jawbreaker you found could be the only one you’ll ever have again.   You aren’t going to just eat it and say goodbye.”

His analogy wasn’t perfect but I saw where he was going with it.   “So I’m like a jawbreaker.   A dirty one you find in the gutter.”

“Yeah.   And he likes that candy.   It’s his favorite.   So he doesn’t care that it has smelly feet.”

I scowled at him.   “How do you know he likes jawbreakers so much?”

“I just know.   I can tell a good match when I see one.   He needs someone spunky and tough, someone different than other girls.   That’s you.”

I smiled, liking how Peter had described me.   “But what if he just decides to eat it real quick and then move on?   I mean, there are other jawbreakers out there.   They’re just more rare.”

“That’s not how he is.   He’s methodical.   A thinking person.   He’s not rash. And he knows his odds of finding a jawbreaker of this flavor?   Are pretty slim.”

“I’ve seen him do some stupid, rash things … like going after the candy at the Cracker Barrel.”

“That was all a very carefully-crafted way of making sure he had a good grip on his jawbreaker.   He wants to keep the candy happy.   Keep it sweet.”

I rolled my eyes.   “Ugh.   Your analogy is making me want to eye gouge you right now.”
― Elle Casey, Kahayatle

“Buster went bananas, running over to Paci and jumping up on his legs, begging for attention.   Paci didn’t disappoint him, either.   He bent down and baby-talked with Buster, like he was an old hand at it.  

I smiled in amusement.   Paci was no wimp.   He was almost as big as Bodo and ripped to the max.   He had zero body fat, so Peter and I were able to admire his every muscle, which I noticed Peter was doing with unabashed curiosity.   I caught his attention and raised my eyebrows at him in a conspiratorial message of mutual admiration.   He smiled in return, giving me a pitiful wink that made him look like he had something stuck in both eyes.   It made me laugh.

Paci looked up at me.   “Something strike you as funny?”

“Yeah.   You baby-talking to a nude poodle.”
― Elle Casey, Warpaint

“I think he likes you.”

I watched Paci join the others, noticing that he was still glancing at me occasionally, and watching other guys who were looking over at Peter and me.  

“Really?”

“Yeah.   He keeps watching you.   Once he heard Bodo wasn’t your boyfriend, he was all over that.”

I sighed.   “Shit.”

“Yeah.   Exactly.   You’d better not go around advertising you’re single.   There’s not a hell of a lot of available jawbreakers if you know what I mean.”

My mind raced with the implications.   It was stupid of me not to have been thinking about all this stuff before.   I guess I was so wrapped up in finding food to eat, a place to live, and companions who wouldn’t eat me, I hadn’t much considered the other human needs, other than on the most basic level.   God, I hope there are no rapists in this group.   The last thing I wanted to do was kill a guy in the swamp.”
― Elle Casey, Warpaint