One More Year: The Romantic Path of Ana Lee (The Path Less Taken Series Book 1)

by SJ Cavaletti

  “Well, I was married, as you might expect a man of my age to have been at one point. It was to the first girl that I ever really dated. With my protected upbringing I attached quite strongly to the first person I trusted outside my family circle. I asked Felicity to marry me after knowing her for about six months. We got married before we even graduated university. It was kind of unheard of… even in those days.”

  Oh dear. Here it comes. The baggage he couldn’t bring on the Bombardier Challenger.

  “Well, Felicity and I just zoomed through the next seven or eight years without even blinking. Without even thinking. We got along really well. She was so, so… cooperative.”

  “Cooperative,” I said, slightly unsettled by this word that I would normally reserve for a pet. It made me cringe.

  “Yeah, I know that sounds like a horrible adjective to use but it’s really the right one. Any other word would be chosen just so you didn’t judge me. With Felicity, everything I wanted to do, dream, or dare was okay. She was right there with me. A good teammate as much as a cheerleader. She’s a wonderful woman. But I always felt like the star player and it’s just not something I want in life. I needed someone a bit more like me.”

  It all sounded understandable and at the same time ungrateful. Love is so peculiar that way. There are so many competing ideologies and definitions of love. Some say love is staring outwardly at the same future and vision; others say love is the discovery of oneself in another person… no two poets agree.

  He continued tenderly, “One day I woke up and read the paper and there was a review of a play in the Entertainment section. And there was this Aristotle quote: ‘Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.’ I really believe that… and I knew I didn’t have that. I loved Felicity the same way I loved my mother. Was I going to do that my whole life and never know true love?”

  I remembered Angelo’s words. Was this what it meant to be vulnerable? To admit to someone that finding true love is worth wrecking a home with a perfectly good woman? To risk the potential scorn and alienation?

  One thing was for certain: his sentiments hit home. I often questioned the same thing. Would I ever meet someone that was my soul’s mirror? Or share the same hallucination of the mirage that is the future?

  Carlos’ tongue continued like a conveyer belt delivering baggage holding a ton of bricks. “Felicity and I had a really adult conversation about the whole concept of being in love, and were we in love or not… to my surprise she had been finding the relationship quite difficult as she tried to support my goals which were so not in tune with hers. All she wanted was to settle down with a 9-5 kind of guy and have a few kids.”

  “So, do you have kids?”

  “Yes, I have four.”

  Shit.

  “Twin girls, a boy and a girl. Felicity and I decided that we would work through life together as parents. There was absolutely no animosity between us and we had the children to think of so here we are today… We live in the same house. Kind of… we have several properties and she inhabits only one but we do share the same main address.”

  I was aghast. But tried to be understanding while I made sense of my mixed emotions. My years as a stripper made my sympathetic response quite natural. We were used to hearing that we weren’t the only women in a man’s life.

  “Well, it certainly is noble to think about the kids first. I can say from personal experience that isn’t always the case. Your children are very lucky to have such dedicated parents.” I said this but didn’t really mean it. I was only thinking of my twenty-four year old self.

  “So,” I continued, “Just so I understand, you literally live in the same house as everyone?”

  “Well… it’s a pretty big house,” he laughed, “We live in different wings.”

  And then the defensive question came, “But in the end, you broke up and still kind of sacrificed the independence needed to seek out true love. Don’t you think?”

  He took my hand and said, “Ana, I think that when I meet the right person, the one that’s just like me, it won’t be that we’ve walked the same exact footsteps to get where we are today. But that our past experiences help us accept the present. I’ll be really forward here and say that once you get past the unfamiliar set up that is my life, your past with your dad and mom… it probably would make you wish that decisions like mine had been made for you.

  I have taken only one woman home since the official divorce. She and Felicity got along great, Lissy makes it easy and natural and totally dispels any awkwardness because she’s so inviting and friendly. What my now ex-girlfriend could not grasp was how to deal with the children.”

  My body was stiffer than a corpse. I felt colder than one, too. He was asking me to be his girlfriend but to accept this 21st century threesome.

  I wondered what Nancy had thought when she first came home with my Dad. I remember the day quite clearly even though I was very young. We had a live-in nanny named Sarah. She was the best. Although Sarah tried hard to support the idea in our heads that our Dad loved us, living in our house, it was impossible for him to conceal his emotional abuse. She fed us a melancholy sort of love but as children we were not adept enough to understand that she felt sorry for us.

  Dad had kept Nancy a secret from us for God knows how long. But Sarah knew. She washed the sheets after all. So when he told Sarah to make dinner for four and to make sure us girls were presentable, Sarah went rigid. She intuitively knew that we were about to meet the girlfriend.

  I had reached the age where I had started to shower myself and get ready on my own but that Friday evening after school, Sarah insisted on brushing my hair. I was sitting on a pouffe in my room and she brushed slowly and deliberately. It soothed me, relaxed me. I missed my Mom’s daily gentle touch and craved these moments. Sarah knew how much children needed affection. She finished by putting some clips on the sides of my head then turned me around to inspect. She kissed me on the forehead and said, “Listen to me, my little Ana. A wise person once told me that kindness is in our power even when fondness is not. Do you understand?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  “It means that even if you don’t like someone, you are always able to be kind. And you know, kindness can sometimes turn a bad situation good. Be a good girl this evening, okay,” she said.

  “I’m always good, Sarah,” I said, fluttering my eyelids.

  “I know you are, darling… I know you are.”

  My Dad had us positioned behind him as he answered the door himself that evening. He didn’t even pretend that Nancy was a new friend. He gave her a big, wet, sloppy kiss right in front of us. My sister and I stood behind the pair, silent and quite frankly, scared.

  He turned around and said, “Girls, this is Nancy. Daddy’s girlfriend. She’s part of the family now, you hear?”

  My sister and I were stunned but Sarah had been standing nearby and cleared her throat to cue us.

  “Pleased to meet you,” my sister and I said simultaneously.

  Nancy walked over to us and bent down to our eye level. At the time it felt as though a scary giraffe was bending down to get a good look at us. Her height seemed superhuman.

  “Hello girls… I’m sure we are going to be very good friends.”

  From then on, Nancy wasn’t around enough for us to be friends. She was either out on the town with my Dad or if he was away for some reason, she had the mobile aesthetician over at the house waxing her pussy or doing her toenails. She had a whole style squad on quick dial. And we were pretty sure that she had a special relationship with her ‘physical trainer,’ too.

  It was a lonely life when Nancy moved in. We only got to see Mom every other weekend and my Dad only had eyes for Nancy, though I never knew why. She had a face like a melted Barbie doll.

  I couldn’t imagine my Mom and Dad making it work as Carlos and Felicity had. But it’s pretty safe to say that Nancy wouldn’t have survived in such an arrangement. It’s easy to dupe children into being
silent, not outing your true nature, but even a drunk mother sobers up sometimes. There was no doubt in my mind that Carlos and Felicity were superstars and the decision took some serious guts. But was I stronger than Nancy?

  “I think you and Felicity are pretty cool for doing things this way. I’m sure it’s a bit awkward for new girls, and for you two of course as well, but… oh, so now I understand me coming to the flat. I guess that’s what this place is for. A testing ground.”

  My tiny joke lightened the mood.

  He looked at me with pure gratitude and more. If he were to tell stories about me in the future, this would be when he said he truly fell in love. I could feel it and remember it so clearly. It was like static electricity in the air. His hair practically stood on end. And I fell in love with him as well. Thinking about it all now it feels impossible, to play back this crazy and unconventional story and to identify it as the moment we fell in love. But it was.

  “I love being with you Ana,” he said, “You have a unique way of accepting people, but not passively, no… you are so active in seeking out the true person. I’ve always thought I’m a bit like that. It’s exciting to navigate people, to get to know their souls… maybe these are the last true adventures known to mankind.”

  “You’re probably right. The Internet killed exploration. I’ve always said getting to know people is like traveling through the universe. More to do than can ever be done.”

  He inched closer to me on the sofa and stroked my cheek. He kissed it softly and said, “Ana, will you go away with me? A week from today I can take a bit of vacation and I want to take you somewhere… see how it feels to not be in a rush with you. Give us time to settle.”

  Oh, how I wanted that. Time with Carlos was always so fleeting. His sincerity was addictive; it made him so beautiful to me. But how could I manage more shifts off? I already only worked a few days a week. Taking them off without planning was damaging to my budget. I did a quick calculation in my head, shifted around deposits and realized that I might just be able to do this month minus three days pay. No pension contributions (yes, seriously, I had a pension)… that was the answer. And perhaps a week of Ramen might be necessary as well.

  I said yes. Then he asked me if we could just lie together and if he could take a nap. He hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. So we lied down right there on the sofa, spooning with sugary sweet Hollywood smiles on our faces pretending we were the only ones in the world.

  Pete

  I didn’t work again til Tuesday which was great because Sunday and Monday acted as a buffer zone. I needed to recalibrate as I realized that making cuts in my budget was only one solution to raising the capital I needed to have a spontaneous holiday. It was also possible to make more money at work. Moral dilemma and tongue twisting conundrum: I’m in love with a man. Can I use another man’s love for me to enable my love for the other to grow?

  In other words: I considered calling in my regulars.

  I had only six regulars that lived in San Francisco, the rest came to see me when they were in town, like Larry the Crossdresser. Regulars. It’s exactly what it says on the tin. Guys who come in and request you by name. They bring money in (usually the EXACT same amount) with the intention of spending it on you. Sometimes they bring presents. Sometimes they get creepy. But they always want to do it with you.

  I had all of my regulars’ cells but had NEVER before called them asking them to come into the Club. It just felt naughty and also sent the wrong message. I was not eager to see them and I didn’t want to pretend that I was. All of my regular customers were non-dancing types that simply liked to confide in me, chat with me, laugh with me and I’m guessing dream about touching me when they’d gone home to masturbate. Because there was an ‘emotional’ connection more than a physical one I always felt it important to keep that little tease of distance. It added to the fun and kept our relationship safe from drama. They could not believe that I lusted for them in return or it would mess things up.

  Now saying that, I knew that whenever I did see a regular it often boosted my shift earnings by more than 100%. It doesn’t take a math whiz to see that if I got one in every night this week I would recuperate the lost wages from vacation. But was it right to call on these other men to support my quest for love? Here’s where the cynic in you is thinking, “Why the hell not? You use men for a living every day, don’t play noble bitch on me now you skanky wench.”

  Ok, maybe you didn’t use the word wench.

  The truth is when it came to regulars you might be surprised to know that many dancers do not actively reach out to customers. Many of them are mostly scared of exchanging contact information that might lead them to be stalked, raped or abused in some way. Others are simply too lazy or not commercially minded. In my case, it was truly respect for other people’s feelings. I only handed my details out to six customers in nearly three years of dancing in SF and they are all still ‘normal’ guys that I have friend-like relationships with.

  But remember when I said necessity is a good catalyst for compromise? So, too is desire. And I wanted to be on holiday with Carlos more than anything. As I sat there with my cell in my hand about to dial a punter, I just couldn’t cross the line. It felt so wrong to use their emotions for my personal gain and also, what would Carlos think of this solution? I had already started to try to be a good girlfriend by being upfront with Vin so I begrudgingly accepted that I was about to be the next stripper to eat boxed Mac and Cheese in the name of love.

  I tried to relax and be normal on Monday, trying to get my muscle memory going. I cleared my head by walking to Fisherman’s Wharf. The smell, sound and hum of tourists always had a way of making me feel more present, allowing the anxieties of the future and the past to blur. It was hardly my favourite neighborhood but there is also something impressive about living in a place that millions of people flock to. It was an exciting feeling. I walked past some street performers and tried to brace myself for the guy that hides in the bushes covered with trigs to scare passersby. He popped out and I jumped in spite of being prepared. It made me smile and I gave him some coins. Mist started to roll in off the Bay and I walked down Pier 39 to get a view of the Sea Lions. I pulled my coat snugly around my middle and did up the buttons. The temperature started to drop. The Sea Lions were piled on top of one another, probably thinking the same thing I was: I bet Sea Lions in San Diego aren’t huddled up like this.

  My walk was therapeutic and I decided to grab some simple grub and watch the guys crack some crab. I could hear them before I saw them as I walked down the seafront path, the rhythmic tap of the pestle on the stone crushing board and the sound of the crab shell giving way like a snail shell under foot. The guys that did this were artists and they tapped and crushed all day to what felt like some African drum beat in their heads. I waited behind an Italian tourist who videoed the whole thing and then moved up for my turn. As I watched the crab getting elegantly destroyed for my delight, I couldn’t help but think what a powerful analogy it was for my life at the moment. Love was turning out to be a wonderfully graceful destruction of the order I desperately clung to.

  Tuesday evening was similar to the last shift I had worked. I didn’t want to be there. My tolerance levels were nil. Thankfully a regular named Pete came in without my expecting it. Pete was a cute, short guy of Japanese descent that worked in technology. He was youngish, about 35, and had a very stylish look about him with fashionable haircuts or beards (whatever was the latest trend) and he always wore the best shoes. He was adorable by any measure. Pete and I had met when he was in for a bachelor party on my very first night dancing in SF, at my old club. I was out of practice and looked like a foal standing for the first time. My feet ached with effort. I had approached him that evening and he had given me a break.

  “Hey, if I give you a hundred bucks will you sit down and relax?” he asked me.

  I’m still so grateful that I learned so early on that strippers, like any business, could take advantage of many
revenue streams. Dancing, counseling, drinking, sex talk, teasing, misleading… there were many ways to make a dime.

  That was the first night of many with Pete. I had asked him why he offered me that Benjamin way back when. He said I was just his type… I was petite, blonde and blue eyed. His wife was first generation El Salvadoran; figure that out. He followed me even when I switched clubs and loyally came once per month, though even after all these years he didn’t usually alert me that he was coming, unlike my other regulars. He either liked the element of surprise or could only convince his buddies to come that often.

  As I mentioned Pete was married; he told me so the very first evening we met, so he never messed around hanging about on the floor. We’d head straight for one hour in the Champagne Room. Pete and I had a lot in common and the many hours we had spent together had zinged by. We both liked theatre, new restaurants and animals. One time we had spent a large part of our hour showing each other cute cat videos that we had seen on Facebook. After that night management banned cell phones in the private areas. They probably thought we were taking cheeky pictures of my bits and bobs for him.

  He was such a nice guy, I had always hoped we could hang out somewhere else. It had started to almost feel ashamed that he had to pay for my time. He knew how to make me laugh and I always sensed that somehow I brought about that lightness in him. I would have loved to see a Gershwin show with him (his favorite musical composer, probably since he loved Jazz) though Girl Crazy has never shown in any town I’d ever lived in. So for now I was pretty sure we both looked forward to our one hour a month together. I was constantly surprised by how normal everything felt with him.

  That night started like any other, we did some tequila shots and I sat next to him and threw my legs over his lap. I’d usually cuddle him on his side while we chatted flirtatiously. I hadn’t felt like anything was different to me but after about 40 minutes or so he asked, “Are you alright tonight?”