He actually let out a soft chuckle at that. I was becoming unending entertainment for this guy and I was suddenly hit with a flash of irritation. He didn’t know me!
Although… he kind ofdidknow me. Or at least a lot of random facts about me and it was definitely weirding me out.
“Anyway, when you proved you had the buy-in, I decided to give you a chance. I mean, who was I to judge your methods of coping, am I right?” he asked and actually waited for my agreement.
“I guess so,” but an ugly foreboding feeling started to unfurl inside my chest and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“In fact, if you remember, I even advised you to hold back some since I didn’t want to see you lose everything at once.”
“And you advised me how?” I clarified, trying to piece this together. Except I wasn’t even sure what he was talking about. Buy-in? Game? None of this was making sense.
“Private message,” when I gave him a blank look, he continued, “online.”
“Online,” I repeated.
“Yes, online. But you didn’t listen to me. And then you got in way over your head, lost and now you owe me seven thousand dollars.” He finished arrogantly and I almost expected him to bow.
“I lost in a game of….” I prompted slowly, so afraid of the answer my hands had started to tremble.
“Five-Card-Stud.” When I continued to just stare at him, he finally added. “Poker. Online poker.”
“Oh my goodness,” I winced. Suddenly the puzzle was pieced together and in front of me. I was going to be sick. I was going to bereallysick. I reeled in a circle, desperately searching for a place to sit down, but all of my furniture was gone. Another wave of clarity rippled through me and my stomach actually lurched this time. I took off for the kitchen sink and gripped the stainless steel basin. I ignored the anal retentive voice inside me screaming about germs, not because I wasn’t worried about them, but because thinking about them was making it worse. I choked on a gag and then dropped my head forward so I could breathe in and out deeply through my nose.
“You’re not going to….? Are you going to be sick?” the guy asked from behind me. He didn’t sound concerned, just really grossed out.
I waved an aggravated hand behind me, hoping he would get the hint and justleave. He didn’t, or if he did he ignored it and instead walked over to the fridge and opened it. I heard him rummage through the practically empty appliance; my college sized budget didn’t cover much more than a value pack of Ramen Noodles. I heard the telltale sign of a pop can opening and then the fizzy bubbles of ginger ale were tickling my nose.
He placed the can to my lips and then tilted it back before I could protest. I took a small drink and then stood up before he could force anymore down my throat. The carbonated beverage settled in my stomach and coated the nausea with something soothing.
Ok, that felt alright.
I took the can from his hand, my fingers accidentally brushing over his before I took possession and then sipped another soothing drink.
“That wasn’t me,” I finally choked out, squeezing my eyes shut.
“What?” he asked and I jumped by how close he was.
I took a step back, opened my eyes to meet his and said slower, “That wasn’t me. I didn’t place the bet, or play the game or whatever. It was my roommate, she must have…. stolen my identity! I swear to you, not even an hour ago I found this note that said she had a gambling addiction and she was going to rehab. She owes me money too! “
A long, very still moment of silence stretched between us before he said, “She stole your identity?”
“Yes!” I squealed. Even I could tell how high pitched and annoying that was, but I couldn’t help it! “Andmy furniture,” I said with further emphasis.
“Iwasactually wondering about that,” he said pensively.
“So you see? It’s not me that owes you seven thousand dollars, it’s her.”
“But she’s gone? To rehab? With all of your furniture?” His phrases sounded like questions, but they didn’tfeellike them. It felt more like he was trying the words out, rolling them around on his tongue and deciding whether or not I was lying.
“Yes!” I answered anyway, hoping he would believe me.
“You can see why your version of what happened is hard to believe,” he sighed and if I didn’t know better, or if maybe I wouldn’t have slapped my hands over my eyes, I would have been able to assure myself there wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice, or the sound of him smiling. Those things were all products of my delusional imagination…..
“Yes, I could see why, but it’s the truth,” I promised, struggling to peek from behind my fingers.
“Regardless of what happened, your name is still signed on my contract,youstill owe me my money,” he stated finally.
“Contract?” I croaked.
