Who We Are (25 page)

“Desire, I am not your mother. My real name is Sarah Jane Martin.” She paused, letting it sink in, and explored Desire’s eye for a reaction. She anticipated shock, disbelief and perhaps a little worry at hearing this statement, but instead Desire didn’t blink before gently whispering, “I know that.”

It was Mama who looked surprised. And although she was surprised, part of her felt relieved. She had been terrified ever since she decided to tell Desire the truth and feared that the girl would run to Papa and tell him how crazy she had gone. The consequences of that surely would have been a trip straight to Clinic, never to be seen again.

“How long have you known, dear?”

“Only a couple of days.” She looked into the eyes of this woman whom they both now knew would never be her mother again, even if it was just a twisted fantasy, and she saw a look of resignation and despair. She imagined that this is how someone would look if they had lost a child. In a sense, Mama had just lost her child. As she thought of this, a vision of a beautiful woman with long auburn hair and bright green eyes flashed into her mind’s eye. It was her real mother.

“Why did you bring me out here?” asked Desire.

“Well, I brought you out here to explain to you that things are not as they seem here. Changes will come at the Celebration of the New Year and I wanted to convince you to try to escape Hemac. I would miss you terribly, even though I am not really your mother, but I want you to know that I couldn’t love you any more than I already do if I was. ” She sighed heavily and Desire could see the anguish in her eyes.

“Please tell me everything you know, Mama. Start from the beginning.”

Mama took a deep breath, smoothed the hair around her face and then turned her head from side to side, as if looking for spies.

“I have lived here in Hemac for about five years, and was in treatment for about one year before I joined the community. My former existence is not something that I feel proud of. I grew up in a small rural town in Ohio and couldn’t wait to move to the big city once I turned 18 years old. My mother had me when she was only 14 years old. She had to go on welfare. She moved into a trailer park and basically did as little as possible for me. I got shuffled between my mother’s trailer and a string of crappy foster homes for most of my life. My mother turned into a hopeless alcoholic and she couldn’t seem to ever get it together, and most of the time, didn’t even try. We often went days without food, but she always seemed to have money for alcohol and cigarettes.

”She had a constant entourage of boyfriends come in and out of our lives. They stayed until they ran out of money and then my mom would kick them out to find the next chump who had a couple of bucks in his pocket. None of them paid much attention to me and I spent most of my childhood wandering around the trailer park.

”When I finally turned 18, I packed my bags and bid farewell to my drunk mother and the stepfather du jour. I am pretty sure they still haven’t even noticed I am gone. I bought a bus ticket to New York City and I dreamed about a new fabulous life. Visions of becoming an actress or model, living in a nice home and meeting my prince charming to sweep me off my feet filled me with hope and anticipation.

“When I arrived, I was famished from the long bus ride. I went into the first diner I saw. I thought I was all set to start a new life. I had $200 that I had stolen from my mom’s boyfriend while he was sleeping. Foolishly, I thought I had enough money to start a new life. Keep in mind, I grew up in a shitty trailer where we rarely had food and I got most of my clothes from lost and found bins around the city.

“Well, that was in 1992 and it wasn’t long before the City swallowed me up and spit me out. Little did I know that stupid girls like me from broken homes have an invisible sign on them that every scumbag in the city can see the minute you walk off that bus.

“Well the diner I went in had an all-day breakfast special for $0.99. That sounded good to me because I knew I would have to be careful to budget my money until I got a job. I sat at the counter, duffel bag under my stool and sipped on my coffee waiting for my breakfast. A few other people milled into the diner, including a very handsome man that sat right beside me. We chatted for a little bit and he told me how beautiful I was. He was so charming that by the time I finished my plate of breakfast, I had told him my whole miserable life story.

“He seemed so interested in what I had to say and kept inserting little compliments. At the time, I had never had anyone treat me like that and it felt good. He asked me if I was staying with friends and I told him I didn’t know anyone in the city and that I was hoping to find a cheap room to stay in. He laughed at that and told me a nice girl like me had no business staying in some cheap and dirty room. He pulled out his cell phone and made a quick call. He told me he had a friend who was looking for a room-mate and that he would be happy to introduce me. If I liked the place, he offered to help me with the rent until I got on my feet. I wondered why a total stranger would offer to help like he had, but he seemed so genuine that I did not want to offend him by questioning his motives. So I agreed.

“He had a nice black Mustang and he drove me all through the city, showing me grand places like the Empire State Building and Times Square. It was so thrilling and the city was so big. Although it was intimidating, I felt comforted by the fact that I had made a new friend so quickly.

“Eventually he took me to meet his friend, Monique. She was very beautiful and wore lots of make-up and fancy clothes. She greeted me with a big smile and showed me around the apartment. It had a kitchen, a living room, two bedrooms and a washroom. Compared to the squalor I grew up in, Monique’s place seemed like a palace. The bedroom that I could have was fully furnished with a double bed covered with pink blankets and fluffy pillows, a dresser and a large vanity table with a heart shaped mirror. There were frilly pink curtains on the window. It was a bedroom meant for a princess, in my eyes.

“We sat on the couch in the living room and drank coffee while I retold my story to Monique. She smiled sweetly and nodded at my new friend. She then hugged me and welcomed me to my new home.

“To someone like you, this may be the part of the story where you inner voice screams at you to run and never look back. But to a poorly educated and hungry trailer-park girl who had been ignored most of her life, this was one of the best experiences of my life. That night, after taking a lavender bubble bath, I lay in the heavenly bed and dreamed of what my future was to be. Little did I know my dream would soon become a nightmare?

“I offered Monique my $200 to cover part of the rent. She laughed and gave it back to me. She told me not to worry, that my new friend, Mac, had covered it and he would settle up with me later.

“Early the next morning, I went to the newspaper stand at the corner and bought a paper. I poured over the want ads every day, but it quickly occurred to me that I really didn’t have any skills to offer an employer. After a week of pounding the street and applying to any ‘Help Wanted’ sign and job ad I could find, I was exhausted. I made my way back to the little diner I went to my first night I the city. I ordered the ninety-nine cent breakfast again. I started to cry as I drank my coffee. An older waitress with a name tag that said ‘Madge’ came over with a tissue in her hand. She handed it to me and refilled my coffee. She stood there with me for a minute and she must have seen the stack of want ads in on the counter beside me. We chatted for a minute and she had the kindest grey eyes I had ever seen.

“She told me she saw about a dozen girls like me every day. Coming to the Big City hopeful that all of our dreams would come true. She said that this city ate little girls like me up every day. Swallowed us up whole. She took a liking to me though and after our chat she told me to come back the next day. She was sure the boss was getting ready to hire new help and if she could convince him that she would train her, she might be able to get her a job.

“So I went back the next day and as I walked through the door, Madge saw me and gave me the thumbs up. I filled out some paperwork and, just like that, I had my first job. I had to start in the kitchen washing dishes and doing simple food prep. Once I mastered that, Madge would train me to be a waitress.

“When I got my first paycheck for two weeks’ worth of work, I felt ecstatic. After paying for my first uniform, I had a little over $300 dollars. When I ran home to show Monique, she laughed, but she was not laughing with me, she was laughing at me. She made a call and in a couple minutes, Mac arrived. He told me he felt proud of me, but also felt disappointed that I would not be able to pay him back after how much he had helped. I was a little confused, but he told me that my half of the rent was $900 and that didn’t include the phone bill, the cable bill or the groceries.

“He sat me down on the couch and asked me if I was interested in working with Monique. He told me that sometimes she could make $300 in a single hour. I was shocked, but that explained how she could afford all those beautiful clothes, shoes and make-up.

“Three hundred dollars in an hour? Of course, I was interested. I asked him what I would have to do. He said we could talk about it later, after he took Monique and me out on the town. Monique took me to a salon where they died my hair chocolate brown, cut and styled it. They applied my make-up, put on false nails and polished my toes. Then they waxed me head to toe, and I mean head to toe. At the time I didn’t understand why all this was necessary, but I didn’t feel compelled enough to ask questions.

“Back in the apartment, Monique gave me a sparkly green dress to wear that was very tight and very short, silken nude stockings and the highest heels I had ever seen. I had to practice walking in them for about an hour to be sure I wouldn’t fall flat on my face when we went out!

“Mac took us out to a fancy dinner and then to a club. He kept buying me cocktails and as the night wore on, I realized that I was a little drunk. Mac hovered over me all night feeding me drinks and compliments. Once again, I felt like a princess. Then he kissed me and it was magical. He was gentle and kind. Toward the end of the night, he leaned over and whispered in my ear to ask me if I was virgin. I blushed and nodded. He seemed pleased with my answer and, before I knew it, we were leaving the club and he was hailing a taxi cab. Monique stayed at the club. He took me to his upper west-side condo, which was huge and luxurious. That night, he took my virginity. The next night, he took my innocence.

“After a passionate night of lovemaking, we sat at his dining table eating breakfast when he started to tell me about sex. He told me that there were many ways to have sex. He told me that when it was with someone you cared about, like me and him, it was making love. But he then told me that sex was a good way to make money. He told me there were many lonely men who didn’t have anybody to love, but willing to pay women to have sex with them. He told me that a girl could make a lot of money doing this and if I was interested, he could help me. He talked about my job at the diner and that if I couldn’t pay my way, he couldn’t afford to continue helping me. But if I was interested in working with Monique, I could make a lot of easy money and buy everything my heart desired.

“Well Desire, as shameful as it is, I felt I had no choice. I owed Mac a lot of money and, frankly, I wanted the pretty clothes and shoes. I wanted a nice apartment and visits to the salon. What I didn’t know what that Monique wasn’t a whore at all, she was sort of a front man. All the little girls coming in to the big city that Mac charmed went through pretty much the same routine I went through. Monique’s apartment was a brief stopover before entering hell on earth.

“Once I agreed to try it, I soon learned that the men that buy sex are not lonely or looking for love. Most of them are perverts looking for something disgusting that they don’t ask their wives or girlfriends to do. After I turned my first couple of tricks, I wanted to quit, but by then Mac had gone out and bought me a whole new wardrobe, more makeup, shoes, purses and all the things a really good prostitute needs to attract customers. I was in so deep and didn’t have anywhere to go. Mac managed all my money so I couldn’t even squirrel any away. I briefly thought about maybe shorting him at the end of the night, after all how could he keep track of all the business I did? Would he notice if I kept back twenty or fifty bucks here and there?

It didn’t take me long to learn that he knew everything. Another one of his girls, Robyn, held back fifty bucks one night and I have no idea how he knew. Robyn used to work the same block as me, but one night she didn’t show up. That was unusual because we hardly ever got to take a night off. At first I thought maybe she was sick, but after a couple of days I asked one of the other girls if they had seen Robyn. She laughed and told me that Robyn had held back money from Mac and she was probably lying in a hospital bed for doing so. That girl told me if I knew what was good for me I would hold back money. I never saw Robyn again and never asked about her anymore.

“I decided that I would put all my effort into being a good employee, making lots of money and not pissing off Mac. So for the next three years, I was Mac’s best earner and I was rewarded handsomely. Fancy clothes, a bigger apartment, regular salon visits and spa treatments. On special occasions, Mac would give me the night off and treat me to a fancy dinner or a show on Broadway. As much as I hated being a whore, I was actually living a pretty good life, for the most part.

“One day, I went for a walk in Central Park and I bought myself a coffee and muffin and sat on a bench to enjoy the sunshine. I watched people walking by. I saw joggers and bikers. I watched business men and women walking through the park, having a bite for lunch. I saw folks walking dogs and countless nannies looking after many children. They were picnicking, laughing, running and eating ice cream. All of a sudden, I felt like I was an intruder. Here I was, a street walking whore with nothing more to show for my existence other than a closet full of stilettos and dresses designed to attract all the scumbags who wanted to pay for kinky, perverted, dirty sex. I had no friends to walk through the park with, no skills, no hobbies and no one who loved me. I mean, Mac loved me in so much as I kept earning him money, but as I sat there on that bench, watching the little chubby toddlers running around with their nannies or mothers, I started to cry. As I sat there sobbing, I felt someone sit down beside me and when I looked up, it was Mac. He put his arm around me and hushed me. When I composed myself, he took my hand and we went to his car.