The Exact Opposite of Okay(48)

“I’d like that,” I smile back. [There’s been a lot of smiling and grinning in this scene, and I do apologize for the unimaginative descriptions. Turns out there aren’t that many synonyms for smiling and grinning. Blame Carson; he’s the one who’s always making me smile and grin.]

Strolling past the dusk-lit windows on Carson’s street, I catch our reflections in the glass.

I’ll give it to Annaliese – we do look kinda cute together. No wonder her eyes were twinkling.

Mine are too.


10.42 p.m.

Just received a Facebook message from Danny.

Hey, so I just found this cool Getting Into Screenwriting masterclass you can do online. It’s with some prolific writing duo I’ve heard you talk about before.

And he attaches the link. But before I can even click it, another message comes through.

I know you’ll probably freak out that it’s $120, but I don’t mind paying for it as a treat :)

The order of my reactions are as follows:


1. Heart-stopping nausea at the sight of the figure $120. I’ve had this knee-jerk reaction to large monetary values for as long as I can remember.

2. Disbelief that Danny would offer to pay.

3. Cautious gratitude.

4. Temptation to take him up on the offer.

5. Remembrance that Danny is in love with me.

6. Guilt.

7. Disconcerting feeling that he’s still trying to buy my affection.

8. Anger that he’s wielding his power as a wealthy middle-class dude to manipulate my emotions.

9. Concern that I’m thinking too much into it.



It just feels, yet again, like he has an ulterior motive. Up until super recently Danny never bought me a thing, and I liked it that way. It made me feel like we were equal. He never intentionally drew attention to the disparity in our situations. And now he highlights it regularly, buying me milkshakes and sweaters and flowers and Coldplay tickets and offering to fork out an eye-watering sum of money in order for me to advance my career.

Is it because he wants me to feel like I owe him something? Or is that too harsh a criticism?

He looks at my life and sees I don’t have much money, and he exploits that predicament to manipulate my emotions. Did he learn that from watching his dad buy his mom’s affection instead of earning it? The Lake Michigan lakehouse was bought right after the news of Mr Wells’ affair came out, back when Danny and I were still in grade school. I was too young to fully grasp what was going on, but looking back it seems like Danny’s dad used money to fix a grave mistake, rather than actually repairing the emotional damage.

I remember his comment back when he found out Vaughan liked me. ?What’s he trying to pull, asking a girl like you out.

A Girl Like Me. What does he even mean by that? He’s never made me feel like I’m any different, not once in our thirteen years of friendship. Until now.

Cautiously, for fear of angering the beast, I type out what I consider to be a diplomatic response.

Thanks for thinking of me! This sounds like a cool opportunity, but I’d never take money from you. I don’t want to feel like some kind of charity case, you know?

The three dots showing he’s typing a response appear almost immediately.

Wow, bitter much? You’re making me feel like a dick for offering to do a nice thing for you. I can’t win with you, can I?

Whoa. I’m about to start composing an anti-inflammatory answer when he sends another message:

You spend your whole life complaining about how unfair the movie industry is, how disadvantaged kids with no connections can’t get a foot in the door. And now you’re turning on me for offering to help? Like I say. Can’t win.

Why is this escalating so quickly? I know he’s dealing with some confusing feelings toward me, but man, this is too much.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I reply.

When I complain about how the movie industry prices poor people out, it doesn’t mean I want a rich person to buy me in. It means I wish the barrier to entry didn’t exist at all.

Two seconds later . . .

You’re exhausting.

I want to scream in frustration. He’s so damn transparent. He offered me money so that when I cried with gratitude and told him he was amazing, it’d massage his ego and make him feel good for helping a Girl Like Me.

It didn’t cost him anything, not really. His parents are rich. That money means nothing to him. But he knows it means everything to me, and he’s manipulating that imbalance with no shame.

I get why he’s lashing out. As a privileged white dude, he’s used to being able to buy whatever he wants. He lives in a country where even the presidency can be bought.

But he can’t buy my love. And that frustrates the hell out of him.


11.07 p.m.

Texting Carson. You know, an actual decent guy, who is nice to me at all times and has never once tried to bribe me into having sex with him. What a revelation!

He messages me first, which is nice, because although I don’t subscribe to the sexist notion that girls should wait for potential suitors to make the first move in a heterosexual relationship, it’s always nice to feel wanted.

Watching a documentary on the Fritzls. Inspired by you, obviously. This is so effed up.

I grin as I reply.

I don’t think they made a documentary about the Fritzls yet. Are you sure it’s not Keeping Up with the Kardashians?? I’ve never watched it, but understand they have a very similar dynamic.