"My mom would leave me with the neighbor every night and go to work. For the longest time, I didn't know what she did. She never showed me that we were struggling in any way financially. She always made sure I was taken care off. I never saw the landlady complaining about rent, we always had food in the fridge and I always had what I needed for school.
"She never brought a man into the house, and once I asked her about my dad. She told me he was a scumbag that I should never ask about again. And I didn't.
"She never spoke about her job either. She always filled 'self-employed' on my school forms. And every night, she would pack her bag and leave me with Ms. Smith – our neighbor. In the morning, Ms. Smith would be gone. It would be mom waking me up. She would make me breakfast and walk me to the school's bus stop.
"She would be cleaning by the time I got back from school, and I always wondered why she always chose to sleep instead of clean in the mornings. That's what she did every morning, even on the weekends. She would sleep until 12:00 or later.
"I think I was around 15 when I finally asked her what she did for a living. 'You shouldn't ask unless you're ready for the truth.' That's what she told me. I told her I'm a big girl. Of course, I can handle the truth. She didn't bother sugarcoating it. She just told me straight, 'I'm a stripper. I work at the club down the street.'
"I didn't believe her at first. I didn't want to believe her. She was my mom. She was proper. She couldn't be... you know. Trashy like those girls. But then one day when she was packing her bag, I went into her room. She asked me why I was staring at her, and I asked her, 'Are you really a stripper mom?' She said, 'Yes and I clearly shouldn't have told you 'cause it seems you can handle the truth.' I said, 'Of course, I can mom. It's just taking a while to let it sink in.' Then she showed me what she was packing. All of it. The dance bottoms, the condoms for accidental hookups, and the pocket knife. She said she carried that in case any one of them got violent with her.
"Part of me wanted to be angry with her. How could she do something so trashy? Why didn't she get a normal job like all the other moms? Then even though I didn't ask her anything, she asked me, 'Do you really think we would be able to afford this life on minimum wage? At least I'm leaving some proper jobs for other people, you know.'
"What can I say? I loved my mom. And I wanted to know more about what she did so I could come to terms with it and support her. A couple of weeks later, when she was done cleaning one afternoon, I asked her if she could teach me how to dance like she does in the clubs. She said, 'Don't you want to be better than me?' And I told her, 'That's impossible. You're the best mother I could ever wish for. You didn't care about being considered a decent human being. You just did what's best for me." Stacy's voice trailed off. She wiped off a tear and continued. "I told her, I want to be just as great as you, mom.
"She got me a dancing pole, and from then on, whenever she was free, she would show me a couple of moves. And I would practice in the afternoons and on the weekends. I feel like we bonded so much during those dancing days.
"Then, just when I was two weeks away from graduating high school, there was a shooting at the club she worked at. Someone was too high on some drug and began shooting at everyone. She was one of the ones shot. Didn't survive." Stacy had to stop again to wipe away the tears.
"I'm sorry," Cynthia said as she put her hand on Stacy's.
"It was all so sudden. I didn't know what to do. We hadn't kept in contact with any family members, so I didn't know them or know how to contact them. I didn't know anything about arranging a funeral. Ms. Smith had moved by that time. I didn't know what to do. I just felt so numb. I went to see her body, but I didn't know where to take it or what to do.
"Someone called me a few days later and said they were going to bury her so I should go see her one last time. She had done everything for me and I couldn't help her even in her death. I felt horrible. I couldn't even give her a decent burial. Had to leave it to the hands of strangers."
Cynthia handed Stacy a tissue, "You were only 18. You couldn't have. Don't blame yourself, Stacy."
"I just wish I could have done more. I've thought of those days so many times, and the ways I could have done better. I couldn't get myself to go to school in the days that followed. I didn't go to my graduation, I couldn't.
"Then the landlord came. He didn't care about what happened, he just wanted his rent. I had no money. In the house, I just had old furniture and a couple of canned vegetables for food. I begged him to give me just two weeks to figure something out. He told me if I couldn't pay in two weeks, I had to pack up.
"One evening, as I was racking my brain for something to do, I took a walk down the street. I don't remember what made me do it, but somehow, I ended up at the club where mom worked. I went inside and started talking to one of the girls. I told her about Mom, and she said she had known her. And she asked me how I was coping without her. I told her about rent.
"The manager found us talking. He told me my mom was one of his best dancers. Then he asked me if the apple didn't fall far from the tree.
"I guess I was just desperate. I told him I can show him and he would judge for himself. Then he told Cookie, the girl I was talking to, to get me dressed up. I danced for the first time that day. He was impressed, and so I started working for him.
"I managed to pay the rent in time and buy food for myself. I was supposed to go to a college nearby in a couple of months. I had been accepted for fashion design. At first, I planned to go because I would only have to work in the evenings. I reckoned I could afford it. But just before the registration started, I was sold off.
"One day, I went to work with no idea about what would happen. Then my manager told me that a certain pimp fancied me and so he had sold me off. And he said I had to go with this new pimp because there was no longer a job for me at the club.
"My new pimp worked in a different town so I had to cancel my lease and move up with him. I soon found out that this was a different job than the previous one. Here, I had to do more than just stripping." Stacy sighed.
"A lot happened in between to get me where I am now, but I think that's enough to take in for today, isn't it?" Then Stacy chuckled suddenly, startling Cynthia.
They continued to talk for a little while, about lighter matters. They both felt their burdens halved by sharing them. They both felt known, loved, and connected.
Then they lunched with the kids. Mary again was stuck to Stacy's lap. Little Sam was like a dart in the house, dashing from one place to another.
Soon, it was time for Stacy to leave. She didn't want a rude introduction to Andrew yet. Cynthia drove her back to her apartment, and after ten minutes of lingering chatter in the car, Stacy had to go up, to wave goodbye to her friend and return to her solitude upstairs.
YOU ARE READING
Friends With A Prostitute
ChickLit(Highest ranking: #253 in Chicklit - 3 October 2017) Cynthia finds lipstick on her husband's shirt and it isn't her shade. She goes out for a walk trying to process the shocking news of her husband's infidelity, and that's when she finds Stacy, a wo...