“Loneliness is getting old.” Barely audible, Nixie dropped her head, hiding her face.
“I’m confused, do you mean getting older is lonely or loneliness itself is getting old?” Brant scratched his head, his eyes pleading for understanding. “I’m not trying to be dense. I truly don’t understand what you mean.”
“Ugh, men, boys, anything with a glied, how do you get by every day without self-destruction? Why did I think I could talk with you about…about anything? Next time, I’ll listen to my woman’s intuition and not talk.” Pulling her hair back away from her face, she roughly tied her long hair into a ponytail. “I’ve got work to do, I really don’t have time to sit and cry. What do we owe you for the cow shit?”
“Well, now you don’t have to insult me. You make it sound like something horrible when you say cow shit like that. I prefer to call it fertilizer.” Brant smoothed the front of his hopelessly wrinkled button down shirt. Scuffing his boots against a rock, he continued looking downward. “I’m more than just a shit slinger.” Almost mumbling, any point he attempted to make was lost in the translation of his tone.
“Stop being so sensitive.”
“You’re the one who started talking about loneliness. All I did was walk up to you. What’s a glied anyway?”
“Walking into the middle of someone else’s drama is a bad spot most of the time. I apologize. I wasn’t trying to insult you.” Pursing her lips, Nixie’s frustration greatly took away from the intended sentiment of her apology. “Glied is German for…” Holding back temporarily, she finally replied rapidly. “Penis.”
“Insult me for having a…having a…being a guy or for my job?” Speaking louder, although red-faced, he appeared emboldened by her sudden humility. “You said a whole lot for not putting out very many sentences.”
Tapping her toe, Nixie crossed her arms before she looked upward. Sighing loudly, she lowered her gaze to meet Brant’s. “Why do men act so full of themselves? Tell me that, please.”
“Ahh, okay, sounds like it’s not my job, thank goodness it’s only my humanity, the luck of the draw of chromosomes. Why don’t you tell me why women are so hard to understand? Why aren’t you straight shooters, say exactly what you want instead of hem hawing around?”
“I think this is a world-wide issue, because men are the same in Germany as they are in America.”
“You say men like you know what every single one of us are about. Do you truly know every man in America, or Germany either one?”
“I don’t need to know every man, I’ve met enough and they are the same. They only talk to me until I do what they want, then, they leave.” Quickly covering her mouth, Nixie stammered. “I don’t mean everything. I’m not an easy girl, if you understand me.”
“For a short conversation, we have a ton of miscommunication going on here.” Chuckling, Brant offered a smile. “I don’t think you’re some loose floozy. Then again, I don’t know you very well either.” Teasing tones uplifted the choice of his words.
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