Linda found her stride and had finally grown as thick a shell as she was able to at work; she reminded herself that it was worthy and even valuable work. It allowed for freedom from financial difficulties, but also presented her with new barriers in life. She couldn’t imagine having sex ever again, just for the sake of sex; it would always be something she did for a man, not something that she did with a man. And so she came to terms with remaining solitary, except for her children. The two opposing jobs she did seemed to be in direct conflict with each other, motherhood and hooking. But yet, the one job helped her to be better at the other in the grand scheme of things.
It didn’t take long for her to pay off all her debts, and by the time summer arrived that first year — bringing with it warmth and forcing out the frigid cold — she was finally able to have the luxury of affording as much heat as she could ever want, just in time for all the windows to be cracked open to fill the house with a renewed freshness. The kids seemed happy enough and adjusted to the new routine, although she wished for the hours between after school and suppertime to be hers with them again, like they used to be. But she surrendered those hours to provide for them instead.
And provide she did; she was able to pay in cash and in full for both kids’ summer camps and activities. As promised, Ben was enrolled in sailing camp and Kaitlin in riding camp. Linda felt tremendous relief in the financial ability to do this, and prided herself in being able to take them both shopping before their last day of school for new clothes and gear. She had been given the list of things that the children would need for their respective camps, and wondered how anyone could ever afford to ensure their children had these rich experiences and opportunities on a less than average income. She knew if not for the job she had, which turned out to be far more lucrative than she ever expected, that she would never have been able to provide the extras.
Her own childhood had been one of privilege, but had been dramatically and swiftly altered in a short period of time. Her mother, who unknown to anyone — including her father — had been suffering in silence with crippling depression, eventually attempted suicide. Linda had found her in the bathtub, filled with dark, red blood, after school one Friday when she was supposed to be at her friend Jennifer’s for a sleepover — a sleepover that got cancelled when Jennifer’s father found out they had skipped school that very afternoon. She was twelve. The image stayed with Linda and would remain for a lifetime. Her mother was institutionalized and she rarely saw her. Weekend trips home didn’t last long after Mother attempted suicide for the second time.
On holidays and certain occasions Linda would make the trip to the institution with her father. They would try and have a nice time of it, visiting on the grounds and sharing a picnic lunch in the gazebo or on a blanket on the lawn. Linda’s mother tried hard to engage in the forced conversation, but started and stopped in midsentence too often. She stared instead, at something in the distance only she could see, with a faraway, glazed-over look in her eyes; vacant, broken, gone. A look without hope was what Linda eventually could call it.
Before Linda was to start grade nine, awkward and scared of a new school and neighbourhood, she appealed to her mother for help. Linda cried, saying she wanted her mom to please just stop it and come home.
Her mother seemed to consider it briefly, took in a deep breath of air, and locked her brilliant green eyes with Linda’s, saying calmly, “Linda, dear; we all have windows we can never close, no matter how we try. We all have windows we can never close,” and then she looked past her young girl and fell silent again for the remainder of the visit. Linda stopped visiting her mother. When high school began, she told people her mother was dead so she didn’t have to explain the abandonment.
Linda got along with almost all the girls at work, and was fascinated by their stories and lives. One of the girls who would sometimes work the odd shift was twenty-two, but seemed even younger and yet looked older still — until she spoke and opened up when they were alone.
“Yeah, I got two kids, too,” she said one particularly quiet afternoon, as they chatted. “Did yers get taken by the Child Services, too?” she nodded and leaned in.
Linda spoke before really thinking. “What do you mean, ‘taken’? Your kids were taken where? Why?” asked Linda in earnest.
“Ah, ’cause of when we got busted and the cops found the dope hid in my kids’ room. Well, that’s the best place to hide it, ain’t it? Shit, I don’t trust damn junkies; they rip ya off. That way, if I stashed it in the kids’ room, way up high outta reach, you know — ’cause ya gotta be responsible an’ shit — then nobody could rip me off. Good idea, huh? Nobody ripped me off after I started putting it in there, ’cause the dog won’t let nobody go in there when the kids was there, and it made sure no one was gonna diddle my kids like they diddled me when I was … ah, fuck that shit. Never mind.”
Linda closed her mouth and sat straighter before saying, “I’m so sorry, Kitty; you must really miss them.”
“Every day, but I’m working hard now to save and get a nicer place, ya know. That way I could get ’em back — that’s what the worker told me. I’ll make a real nice place this time, and no more selling dope from my house, that’s for real.” Linda reached over instinctively to give her a hug. “Nah, fuck that shit. It’s all good, it’s all good, man.” She paused and shook off the emotion threatening to expose her. “Hey, what about you; ya got an old man or what?”
Linda laughed and said, “Hell, no, this is money I’m not sharing with any man, any way, anyhow.” They both laughed a little too hard and knew it. The moment passed and work continued; Kitty’s regular walked through the door and in a split second she changed into what he expected. She and Kitty never spoke about kids again.
The months turned quickly into more than a year. Linda was content with the money her job provided; she couldn’t remember how she had formerly managed on fourteen dollars an hour. But the day came, as it always does, when the spa got busted and Linda was arrested. She mentioned prices to an undercover cop, something she knew she shouldn’t have done with a new customer. The cops let her change into her jeans and a T-shirt, instead of having to go out in the skimpy dress she wore. She and another girl were ushered into separate waiting cruisers while the police searched the place. To her horror, she was fingerprinted and photographed at the police station, and given a notice to appear in court. When it was over, she called a cab from the lobby of the station. She walked out with her head down in shame and her attention turned to her still slightly blackened fingertips. The spa was shut down and Katya was arrested and charged. She did not make bail the first day, but rather was held over the weekend. Apparently they had a lot more to charge her with.
Linda was suddenly out of work. After a week at home without routine and income, she started to panic, and called Kitty to find work. Kitty arranged to meet her at a place called Dottie’s Diner in the city’s south end the next day.
It was like a time warp had frozen the diner in an era gone. Linda looked at the art deco stools and counter; the fixtures were worth a small fortune to a dealer. The octagonal table tops were a faded yellow, with grand and heavy silver bases. Deep red leather booths lined the far wall. In the far corner were several girls arguing over something.
The older waitress smiled at her. “What’ll you have, dear?”
Linda smiled back and ordered coffee. “Is there anything a bit stronger to pour in it?” she asked, avoiding staring at the girls in the back.
Betty leaned in closer and said, “How about a wee splash of medicinal brandy; would that be fine?”
“Oh, that would be really fine,” said Linda with gratitude.
Betty gave her a wink and called out to the girls in the back. “Okay, bring it down a notch, ladies, will you please?”
They all said, “Sorry, Betty,” in a sing-song kind of way.
The bells at the entrance rang and in tumbled Kitty, tripping on the mat. “Ah shit, not again. Hey, Brandy, how the hell are ya? Ya look good girl, been to court yet?” Linda smiled, a bit embarrassed, and tried to shush her, but Kitty said, “Ah shit, man, don’t matter: we all been busted here, eh, girls?” she called out to the back booth. “What’s up in the office back there, Scary? Big meetin’, huh? Hey, Ellie, Josie, Beth: this here’s my friend, Brandy. Gonna show her the ropes on the stroll. She got popped in the bust at Katya’s, so yas all back the fuck off a her, ya hear me?” Kitty slumped down on the stool beside Linda and gave her a hug, surprising Linda a little.
One of the girls growled, “She just better stay the fuck away from my regulars and we’ll be fine.”
Kitty ignored her comment, but Linda felt the threat and fear it evoked. “Hey,Betty, it’s eleven o’clock. Can I get a cola and some fries, please? It’s breeeeeakfast time,” Kitty said and then cackled a lively laugh. “So, wha’s up girl? You ready for this shit? It’s way different, but the same, ya know. You be fine; I got your back, an’ anyways, it’s a livin’, huh?”
Betty delivered Kitty’s fries and cola and a little side dish of carrot sticks, broccoli, and cheese, which she put down with a smile and said, “You promised you would eat some veggies, Kitty; and I know you keep your promises, sweetheart.”
“Ah, thanks, Betty. What’d we do without ya, huh? We’d be dropping from nalmatrition.” Kitty immediately stuffed a piece of broccoli into her mouth, gave it a few chews, then looked at Betty, mouth open wide, pointing to it. “See? See food. I’m eatin’ my veggies.” Linda laughed as Betty smiled and shook her head.
The girls in the back got suddenly loud again. One of them got up, banged the table, and said, “Trust you? Trust you? Are you fucking kidding me? I trust you to stab me in the back; I trust you to rip my dope off if I pass out; and I trust you to let me down, like every other fucking person I know. That’s what I trust. Don’t fucking tell me to trust you, ’cause that’s a sure sign I can’t. So go fuck yourself.” She began to storm out, but paused and turned back at the door. “Sorry, Betty; didn’t mean to disrespect your place.”
Betty nodded at her and said, “Take good care, Carrie.” Everyone else called her Scary, but not Betty.
Kitty gobbled up the rest of her food and suddenly stood up. “Oh, shit, look at the time. Come on, Brandy; we gotta go, too.” She called across the diner, “Thanks, Betty. We gotta go now ’n’ get to work.” She put a ten dollar bill down; Linda did as well. She thought this Betty was somewhat of a momma bear for the girls and liked that. “Oh, yeah, Betty, this here’s my friend Brandy. Did I tell ya that already? Never mind, anyway; she’s cool.” The bell at the top of the door jingled as they made their way through it and out to the stroll.
Betty looked up at the bell and said, “Please be safe out there, ladies.” The hairs on Linda’s arms stood up as she waved and said thank you to Betty.
Linda was surprised to get down the block with Kitty and hear her call out, “Hey baby,” to a passing car and then another. Linda looked at her feet, unsure of her confidence still.
A car pulled up and someone called out. “Hey, Brandy, what are you doing down here? You busy?” It was one of her regulars. She looked at Kitty for encouragement before opening the car door.
She made small talk, but he cut her off. “I don’t mean to be rude, Brandy, but I only have a few minutes and I’d prefer if we didn’t spend them talking, okay?” He pulled out some bills and handed them to her.
She looked at them like they were foreign currency, and counted them out. “But, that’s … that’s not what we usually agree to,” she said, her face clearly shocked.
“Well, we usually don’t have to do it in a car in a parking lot, now do we?”
Linda took the money and put it away as he pulled in and parked. He wasted no time unzipping his pants and pulling it out. It was all a bit crude, rushed, and unnerving for her, and she wasn’t sure she could do it. Somehow, she managed to lean over his lap and was surprised at how fast it was done.
“Where can I drop you, Brandy? I’m headed that way.” He pointed toward the main drag and she nodded without speaking. She wiped her mouth and put the tissue in her purse; he pulled over and said, “Okay thanks, see you around.” He definitely couldn’t have known or even cared that she had never worked the streets before. She stood there and watched as he drove away and didn’t look back.
She searched the street for Kitty, but didn’t see her anywhere. She didn’t know what to do, so she started walking and halfway up the block someone else pulled over and asked if she was working. “No,” she said, feeling off kilter. He drove on as if it was an everyday occurrence, she guessed. It was — and she would have to get used to it until her lottery numbers won.
She walked past a few more houses before she heard her name; it was Kitty. “Hey, wait up,” she said. “Man, it’s hopping out here. I already done three. How many you got so far?”
“One.”
“What? You betta get busy, girl; school’s out soon, and we try and stay off the stroll for a bit when the kids get out, ya know.” Another car pulled up and slowed. “Hey, baby; lookin’ for a date?” Kitty said with experienced ease.
“How are you ladies today?”
“He’s all yours, Brandy. I’ll see ya when yer done in a few minutes, ’kay?” Brandy looked in at the man, and looked back at Kitty. “Go on now, girl.” Linda opened the door and slid in. Ten minutes later she was back on the stroll. The money was worse, but the pace was way faster than she would have imagined. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she just worked a little during the day.
A few more tricks and she was done; she looked at her watch and called it a day. She couldn’t find Kitty, but asked one of the girls from the diner to tell Kitty she’d call her later.
“Yeah, does it look like I’m your personal fuckin’ secretary?” Linda’s face burned red with the unexpected sting of the words. Oh, boy; this was going to be a whole new learning curve, she thought. She couldn’t get to her car fast enough.
Another car drove by and some young guys leaned out laughing and said, “Suck my dick, whore,” and threw some change at her. She felt as though she had been punched in the stomach and walked faster to her car. She fumbled with the keys, dropping them not once but twice. “Fuck,” she said out loud. She turned the key and the car engine started and then stalled out. “Oh, no. Please, not today.” She turned it over again and put it in drive before it could refuse her.
She stopped at a restaurant on the way home and used the restroom. She tried as best as she could to wash her face and rinse her mouth. She looked up into the mirror and paused before bursting into tears. She slumped down on the toilet seat and let her tears fall. No wonder so many of the women got high and tried to stay that way. She sat quietly sobbing until there was a knock at the door, and a voice asking if she was all right. “Yes, thanks. I’m fine; I’ll be out in a minute.” She stood up and turned the taps on, and washed her face for the second time. Never look in the mirror, she thought. Never look in the mirror.
Linda arrived home to find Kaitlin making supper for them. Ben told her with a big smile that he had set the table. There was a little glass with flowers from the garden, and juice glasses, too. She tried to beam at them and said thank you, but her voice cracked and she started to tear up.
“I’ll be right back, you guys, I just need a minute okay?” She turned before she let them see her cry, and went to the bathroom and closed the door. She couldn’t do this; she couldn’t do this to them. What the hell was she going to do? Her life was suddenly a huge disastrous mess. She felt hatred for the men, and hatred for herself, and a disproportionate amount of hatred for Katya. She felt the weight of all her decisions, and wondered how it had all seemed okay for a while. She turned the shower on, stripped, and got in, hoping the water would cleanse her.
She managed to make it through supper with the kids. She said she thought she had the flu coming on, and wanted to hug them but didn’t want them to get sick, too. The truth was she really didn’t want any part of her day to touch them, not this day. She went to bed early. She listened to them arguing over what show they were watching, and heard as they decided to make a compromise. She turned the radio on for comfort and listened to a repeat of a meaningless show — on whistling of all things — until it and the waste of prime radio airtime angered her enough to want to smash it into pieces. She turned it off, curled into a ball, and cried into her pillow so they couldn’t hear until she fell asleep.
She didn’t get out of bed the following morning, even when the kids poked their heads in to say bye and that they hoped she felt better. She said she was sure she would be better after more rest. She couldn’t get out of bed all day, with the weight of fear and depression pushing down hard on her. She didn’t eat; she didn’t even make a coffee. She just laid there sobbing every now and then. The cat and the dog both stayed at her feet in an effort to be acknowledged.
By that evening, she had finally decided that she would work the stroll just a few more weeks to make enough to fix her car, and then … then she would find something else, anything else, she promised herself — knowing it meant she would have to pack up and move them all to something smaller in a neighbourhood worse than where they were. She called Kitty and said she’d meet her at the diner on the following day, earlier this time, so that she would have enough time to get home and showered and refocused before the kids got home.
When she got to the diner, Betty wasn’t there; another waitress was in her place. The back booth was empty, and she couldn’t help but feel alone. She waited for as long as she could, avoiding the stroll, but after several cups of coffee went cold, she finally resolved to just bite the bullet and get out there. The first car paid well and she was glad that it was fast. She jumped out and waved goodbye, pretending for any observers that it had been someone she knew just dropping her off. She walked down the street and around the corner; this time she had brought a small bottle of mouthwash, a facecloth, and soap in a baggie to freshen up after each client.
She didn’t look up to see the van until he was right beside her, waving her in with one hand and holding some bills in the other. She heard one of the girls from the diner shouting something at her from down the block — the same girl who had warned her to stay away from her regulars. She saw another girl running toward her, waving her arms, and she thought of the implied threat from a few days ago. She decided in that instant that she wasn’t going to be pushed around by the girls, so she jumped in and the driver sped off in the other direction.
“I’ve been watching you,” he said. The tone of his voice sent shivers down her spine, but she attributed it to nerves. He kept driving until he turned down an empty alley. She saw the steel pipe as he raised it; she instinctively held her hands up and said no, but the words were silenced as the pipe crashed into the side of her head. Her body would be found four days later.
Linda (1963–1999)