Of course, there were differences. There were those who only wanted to talk about it, flirt with the idea, with absolutely no intention of doing anything drastic. They could come close to fooling you with it, too, into thinking they really wanted Him. Some there were who never gave me a second glance; I was nothing in the world but just another delivery boy as far as they were concerned. Some wanted it once, but then acted like it hadn't ever happened, no sir, not in a million years had they opened their legs to a delivery boy, no sir, not a fine lady like them.
I took them as they came. I smiled and talked and laughed, or I came and went as silent as the tomb, and maybe I had made their day brighter because I had come and gone, and maybe I hadn't. But I tried.
So you see, I ain't no stud. Ain't never been no stud. It's just that I can't help but know how it is with these old ladies. I can't help feeling sorry for their lonesomeness; if they need me to smile, or growl at them, or maybe even, once in a while, strike them with my hand . . . well, who am I to say them nay? There is such great emptiness in the life of a woman alone, all the losses and heartbreaks that I never knew the details of - or hardly ever - but that I could feel in them, because a lady has got to feel something deep and needful to cast a lustful eye on a sixteen-year-old delivery boy . . . eighteen, I mean, because I always told them that when they asked.
So I don't want nothing said against them. I won't hear it, no sir, because my old ladies were each and every one just the finest kind of women, not a bad one or a bitchy one in the lot, not if you understood their doings like I did. I didn't care about the money they gave me, because, not being no stud, I didn't' deal with them for the sake of the money. Didn't ever take money unless they had to give it out of something needful inside themselves, where the giving of the money would put their doings in such a light as they could live with, without feeling bad.
It's that I see. Like Billy, my twin brother, could see the prettiness of a Gulf Coast sunrise, or the way a full moon can make the water like silver. It was his talent to see beauty in this world. It is my talent to see beauty in an old lady, and answer to that beauty in the only way I've got to answer. Because any woman is beautiful, if you can just strike the right chord in them, just like every guitar can make music when it's turned right. So I was sometimes enabled to let them know their own beautifulness, no matter how much they might have let it get bruised and hurt and maybe even sometimes nearly lost forever. Which, to my mind, don't make a fellow no stud, no way you look at it.
Not even after I got to know the old lady named Charlotte Ainsley, and my entire life changed as a consequence. Or, maybe, only got showed the road that I was meant to take, anyway.
Charlotte Ainsley . . .
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