by Daisy Allen
He doesn’t say anything, and it hurts too much to watch how he’s going to react to this next part so I return to my stare out the window.
“One night, with only a few dollars left in my pocket and knowing I would have to leave the motel the next day, I was walking around, looking for a place I could afford with the last of my money when I saw a flyer. It was for a club downtown, looking for dancers. I thought it was the best luck, that it was fate.” I stop, laughing at my own naivete. “Yes, they wanted dancers. Not for any kind of dancing I had done before, but I didn’t know that. Not until I got there. $100 a night, the club manager promised me after she looked me up and down for a minute. It was $100 I didn’t have and desperately needed.”
He doesn’t say anything. And I can’t blame him.
“I told myself, I’d just do it for the night and if it was really too bad, I could quit and no one would ever need to know. And I’d have $100, and that could get me through another day or two.” The years fall away, and it’s like I’m right there, staring at that darkened stage for the first time. The fear. The shame. The hopelessness.
"That first night, was one of the worse nights of my life." I have to stop for a moment, swallowing down the shame that comes with the memory. "I had no idea what I was doing and, I had no idea what to expect. I didn't know the rules and… when some of the customers touched me, I - I didn't know that I could say no. So I just let them. It wasn't until some of the bouncers caught on and kicked them out, that I realized I'd fucked up. Some of the other girls thought I'd let them do it on purpose for better tips and none of them would talk to me. That night I went back to the motel and cried in the shower for about three hours. And that's when I sat down and wrote you that letter, Xavier. I thought I could never face you again. I never ever wanted you to know the things that had happened to me, and the things that I'd done. I wrote you so many letters. Somewhere I told you everything and begged you to come to New York as soon as possible. But I threw them all away. I couldn't do it to you. I couldn't do it to myself. Because even though the thought of never seeing you again was worse than death, it was better than you knowing what I'd become. What had happened to me. I never wanted you to know, Xavier, I never ever wanted you to know. So, I wrote what I thought would be the only thing that would keep you away. That I was happy. And to let me go."
“Oh, Malynda,” I hear him whisper my name. And already, it sounds different.
I just look at him and shrug.
“After I sent the letter, I felt like my life was ending so I just went back to the club. The manager agreed to keep me on a week by week basis. It got… a little bit better after that first night. They didn’t expect too much from the new girl, and there were one or two girls who were nice to me once they realized what position I was in. They taught me to dance… the way they did. And the tips were good. And what else was I going to do with my life? I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t go back to school. I couldn’t go back to you.”
He doesn’t say anything, just sits there, frozen. So I just go on.
“But anything can happen… bad things, at any given night. And I might’ve been lucky, but not everyone was. It eats at you. Leeches on your soul. And your self-worth. Not the dancing itself. That was the best and worst part about it. On a good night, I could get up on the stage and pretend I was doing exactly what I wanted to do. I was dancing. Maybe not ballet or jazz, but it was still moving to music. On a good night, I could ignore the eyes. More, always wanting more. And telling myself, I had nothing left to give.”
"It's not what you think it is. There's nothing sexy or glamorous about it, at least where I worked. You don't know, until you've been there. Some girls love it. And some girls don't care. But I wasn't one of them. I… wish I could've been, but I just wasn't one of them. And I hated myself. I… knew, I could never go back to you. There was no chance I could ever look you in the eye after what I'd done." I feel myself sob and my hands come up to cover my face. I can't look at him. I don't want to see that look in his eyes, that look I've been running from for twelve long years. That look of disgust and disappointment. I would've gone my whole life not seeing him again to not have to see it. But it's too late now. I'll never be that sweet girl to him anymore.
“So, that’s it. That’s… what happened. Everything.”
He clears his throat, I brace myself for his first question since I started talking. “How… how long…?”
"Um, not too long. Long enough, but not too long. There was… there was this one guy. He came in for a drink or two a few times a week. He was different. He wasn't a sleaze, he never bought private lap dances, he always tipped well and was polite. We never could figure out what he was doing there. We wondered if it was just the closest place to get a drink on his way home from work. He'd sit and talk with us sometimes when it was quiet. He was nice. To all of us. He actually knew a lot about art, which was a bit of a change from the other guys, so we shared that. I hadn't talked to anyone about how much I'd loved color except for you, everyone was so used to just looking at me the dancer. Anyway, one night… um, a fight broke out in the club, and I was there, um, on stage. He... er, he pulled me off the stage and made sure I was okay. I was a little shaken up and he offered to take me home. Normally, I probably wouldn't have, he was still a patron, even though I never really saw him that way. He felt more like a friend. He took me home and he spent the night."
There’s a flicker of something, jealousy maybe, across Xavier’s face, and for a moment, I feel a jolt of hope. That maybe, just maybe, there is hope for us. But it passes and he bites his lip and stared straight ahead, waiting for the end of my story.
“We stayed up talking, and I told him… everything. It was such a relief to get it off my chest. He didn’t know anything about my past here in Maine, or anyone that I knew. And I really needed a friend. So I told him. Everything. And when I woke up the next morning he was gone. But when I went by the club that night, he was waiting outside and told me that he had a proposition for me. He would help me get back on my feet, if I helped him start his interior design business. I told him I knew nothing about interior design, and he said all I needed was an eye for color and shapes, and I had that. So… I agreed. I couldn’t stand doing what I was doing for much longer. And that was my last night.”
“Cameron,” he says, his lips tight against his teeth.
“Yes, that was Cameron. He saved me, Xavier.”
“I get it.”
“I know you do.”
He gets up, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looks at the mess around us.
“And… the…”
He can’t bring himself to say it. I can barely say it either.
“The guy who attacked me? I don’t know. I didn’t keep in touch with anyone at the school. As far as they know, ‘Malynda’ dropped off the face of the planet. But… I read somewhere that he left the school shortly after I did. Opened up a studio or something upstate. I haven’t heard anything about him since.” Except for in my dreams, my head reminds me. “Until now.”
Xavier’s head whips around.
“The slipper,” I gesture to the shoe I’d thrown across the room. “That’s the shoe I threw at him that night. He’s the only one who could’ve had it.”
“How…? How does he know where you live?”
"I don't know. I changed my name. Maybe… maybe he saw my picture somewhere. I don't know." The shiver that's been creeping up my spine spreads over every pore of my skin, raising goosebumps that make me wrap my arms around myself. "He must recognize me from a picture, it's not like I'm that easy to find by my old name."
“Don’t I know that,” Xavier mumbles under his breath.
Suddenly, any energy I have left in my body is gone. I feel my body sway and I fall back against my headboard.
“Malynda!” I hear him call my name, but I can barely open my eyes. I haven’t thought, really thought, about that night in years. Having to live through it all again, telling the one person I neve
r wanted to know, it’s taken everything out of me.
“I’m okay. I just… I just want to sleep. Please.”
“Malynda…” he calls me again, but this time, it’s like through a wind tunnel. And his voice, his face, everything is fading into air.
“Xavier…” I try to say, and it’s the last thing I hear before everything does quiet.
***
“You fucking bitch! Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this or I will kill you. I will find you and kill you! Don’t you ever set foot into my dance studio again!”
I’m shaking my head as I run. The only thing giving me relief is his voice getting quieter the further I run. He’s not behind me.
But he’s always there; everywhere I turn, I can see his face.
“I’m back!” His voice is taunting me.
My ballet shoes appear in front of me, a hundred, no, a thousand of them scattered all over the floor.
“I will find you and I will kill you.”
His voice is getting louder now.
“No!! Leave me alone!!!” I scream, so loud my throat burns.
“Shhh. You’re okay…. you’re safe, I promise, you’re okay,” I hear a soft female voice say and something cool and wet on my forehead. It instantly soothes me and quiets the voice and images in my head and I feel myself grow calm. “Get some more sleep, I’ll be right here,” the sweet voice says again. I obey, and feel myself fall back into the quiet darkness.
***
I'm not sure where I am and what time of day it is when I open my eyes. My head is throbbing and I rub my temple for a moment as I try to figure out where I am. I don't recognize the place. It's dark though and warm. I feel comfortable in this strange bed. And safe. And really, really thirsty.
I notice a glass of water on the table by the side of the bed and turn on the light as I sit up and reach for it. The first sip of water feels like a crystal-clear lake trickling through my brain. Bliss. There’s a knock on the door and I freeze.
“Um, yes? Hello?” I say, hesitantly.
“It’s Jade, can I come in?”
The sense of relief that floods my body is almost enough to ease the pounding in my head.
“Yes, of course, please.”
The door opens slowly and Jade’s friendly face appears through the gap.
“I don’t want to bother you, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“Come in, please,” I say, patting the bed. I actually prefer her company to being alone right now.
"Okay," she says and comes to sit by the side of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
“I’m… okay, confused.” I laugh a little, but it jars my head and my hand involuntarily comes up to cradle my left temple.
“Oh, you have a headache. I’ll go get you some Tylenol.” She starts to move but I reach out, touching her arm.
“No, please, stay. I’ll be okay. Where am I?”
“Oh! I’m sorry, you probably haven’t seen this room. This is the guest room in our apartment.”
“Yours?”
“Yes. We used to have two but we converted one into a nursery. My brother, Gabriel, spends some nights a week here so it’s his stuff in that closet. Is there anything you need? Another pillow? Are you warm enough?”
Something in the way she sounds, it’s so sincere, I instantly burst into tears.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” she says, startled at my sudden sobs.
“I’m okay,” I say, hiccupping through the tears. “You’re just being so nice to me. I’m sorry, I must be feeling really emotional. What am I even doing here?”
“Well, Xavier called me and brought you over here. He told me about your apartment and wanted to make sure you had a safe place to stay while he called the police and tried to sort out what happened.”
“Xavier?”
“Yeah, he and Kaine went over to your apartment. I’m sure they’ll call when there’s some information. You must be so scared. Xave told me what happened.”
I look up, startled, surely he hadn’t shared everything. He and I hadn’t even really had a chance to talk about it. “He did? What did he say?”
“Well, he said that he had taken you home and the place was an utter mess, like someone had gone through all of your things. He said you were really upset, so he didn’t want to leave you alone while he dealt with the police. So he brought you here.”
“Oh.” Maybe, hopefully, that’s all he said.
“You must be so devastated, I can’t imagine being violated like that. I love my home, if anyone ever came into it, I don’t know what I’d do.” Her words make me remember the state of my home and it causes a new rush of tears. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, no, I’m just… I’m feeling a little emotional.” I try to wipe away the influx of new tears.
“Totally understandable! Do you want something to eat?”
“Um, I think… if you don’t mind, I’m going to try to sleep some more.”
"Of course, I'll let you rest. If you need anything, I'll be right outside." She looks at me for a moment, and then reaches over and pulls me into a hug. It's tight and warm and reassuring, and exactly what I need at this moment. I wait until she pulls away.
“Thank you, Jade. I’m sorry to be a burden like this.”
“Nonsense. Hey, when you feel better, I’ll tell you about my own experience with being brought to this room by Xavier. It’s a good story.” She winks and grins and I smile for the first time since this all happened.
“And, um, can you… um, if Xavier calls or comes here, please wake me up. I want to see him.”
The smile freezes on her face, but she quickly recovers. “Of course I will. I’m sure he’s worried about you too. But they could be busy for a while.”
The cold starts to set in again and I just nod and slide back down into the bed, pulling the covers right up to my chin.
Worried about me, she said, about Xavier.
I’m worried about me, too.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to go on without him.
Twenty-seven
Him
“Hey, Xavier, how are you doing, man?”
I ignore the guy at the front desk and continue walking past the machines to the back of the training area. My jacket lands on the floor where I throw it, and I kick my shoes off, looking around the gym.
“Hey. You. Wanna spar?” I say to a young guy doing burpees on the mat.
“Me?” he says, patting his chest.
“Yeah, I’m looking at you, aren’t I? What? Scared I’ll kick your ass? You’ve got forty pounds on me.”
He snorts and jumps to his feet. I was wrong, he’s got at least sixty pounds on me, and six inches. “No, old man, I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid FOR you.”
“Don’t waste your breath on the trash talk. Just put your money where your meathead is.” I slide under the ropes and into the ring.
“You wanna stretch a little first?”
“Let’s just do this.” I don’t need to warm up. The walk here from Malynda’s apartment was warm up enough. I need something to help me cool the fuck off.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says, joining me in the ring.
“Rules?”
“No fucking rules,” I say and swing my left arm.
He ducks out of the way, light on his feet for such a big guy.
“Your funeral,” he says, shrugging.
I can only hope.
He’s fast. I can barely keep up just trying to duck and weave out of the way of his fists. His long arms make it hard. My breath is ragged already. I’m not really dressed for this. My suit pants aren’t conducive to the high kicks, so I’m going to be aiming for his fucking knees instead. Even though they’re almost the height of my waist.
He punches and I lunge forward, hoping to catch his arm in a hold. He shakes me off like I’m an annoying bug that landed on his wrist. I trip as I land, awkwardly, but manage to get up onto m
y feet before he pins me down.
I attack this time with a barrage of strikes and land a hit on the side of his face. He growls and spins, his foot connecting with my hip with a back kick that knocks the air out of me.
We both retreat to our corners to catch our breath, shaking the pain from our bodies.
He lifts his arm to wipe the sweat off his brow and I take this chance to charge him, ramming my shoulder into his stomach.
“Ah!” he grunts as he doubles over but he doesn’t fall; instead, he moves his arm to hook around my neck and slams me to the ground. I fall on my back, and he straddles over me, his eyes burning red. He lifts an arm and his closed fist comes down to slam against the side of my face. I almost choke from the impact, I’ve never been punched so hard.
I barely have time to recover before I feel him lift his arm ready for another punch.
“Give up?” he growls.
“Fuck you,” I spit and he responds, striking against the other side of my face. Fuck.
I punch my arm up out of habit and make contact with his chest. Not that it matters. It’s hard as steel.
“Is… that all you’ve got?” I taunt him, as I feel him move to get off me.
He snorts and looms over me again, I stare at him, daring him. He bares his teeth and swings again, his knuckles slamming against my face so hard I feel something tear and crack.
“Again,” I rasp, and he grins lifting his arm again.
“What the fuck?! Stop! Marcel!” a familiar voice yells out, and Meathead stops his fist mid-swing, looking up.
“Get the fuck off him,” I hear Ram say. Fucking hell.
“Dude, I warned him,” Meathead says, getting up off me.
“Just shut up and go work out somewhere else.”
I lay there, head-spinning, a streak of wetness leaking from my mouth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hear my friend ask, as I feel him kneel by the side of my head. “You trying to get yourself killed?”
I almost laugh.
