by Julie Frayn
“Like thirty-five, forty. Older.”
“You have sex with men.” She deadpanned, waiting for it to sink in. “Men my father’s age?” The shrill of her own voice made her wince.
“God, relax would ya? It’s no big deal. All of us do it. It’s the only way to get any money.”
She looked around then put her head closer to his. “Are you…”
He laughed. “Only for pay.” He looked her in the eye. “Look, I like girls, okay? I just do that for cash. It doesn’t mean anything.”
She stared at him. How could it not mean anything? She was saving it, holding out for someone she loved, because it meant everything.
“Why can’t you just get a normal job?”
“No one will hire me. I’ve got no permanent place. And under the bridge doesn’t count.” He winked at her. “Besides, I’ve got no skills. Well, not the right kind of skills. And I’ve gotta eat, don’t I?” He stood up, grabbed her hand and pulled her up beside him. “Now come on. We don’t need money for breakfast.”
*****
August and Reese walked for blocks before turning into an alley behind a row of shops and restaurants. A few yards in, she wrinkled her nose and then plugged it against the foul stench with one hand.
“It smells worse than an outhouse back here.”
Splashes of green and yellow stained the building walls, flies buzzed all around, their steady drone the soundtrack to her filthy new life. The acrid air burned her nostrils, the smell of aging human waste like caustic poison. The manure on the farm stunk, but at least it was earthy and natural. Sweet, even.
An indigo Dumpster, scarred with deep dents and stained with rust, sat cockeyed in the laneway as if the garbage truck that last emptied it had just tossed it aside.
Reese pushed a pile of boxes up to it, scaled them with ease, sat on the edge of the bin and held a hand down for her to grab. “Come on up.”
She hesitated, looked up and down the alley. “What if we get caught?”
“It’s garbage. I don’t think they mind so much. They dump leftovers from last night in here just after dawn, so it’s usually fresh.”
“Gross.”
“Yup, but it will keep you alive for another day. Just look for stuff that isn’t moldy. And I hate bread with lipstick prints on it. Too much like Mom used to make.”
She clasped his hand and he hauled her up beside him. The bin was more than half full, boxes of discarded food tossed in next to bulging garbage bags held shut with twist ties.
Reese ripped one of the bags open and the stink of rotting meat assaulted the air. He didn’t even flinch, just tossed it to the far side of the bin, grabbed another bag and ripped into it.
She turned away and stared toward the end of the alley, forcing down the queasiness that was rolling up her throat.
He tapped her arm with the back of his hand and held up two partial sandwiches. “Pastrami? Or tuna?”
“Yuck. Tuna, I guess.”
He swung his legs over the side and jumped down, holding his hand out to her.
She couldn’t help but smile. He was a complete gentleman, kind and considerate. She took his hand and accepted his chivalry, scaling down the cardboard, protected and safe in his strong, firm grasp.
They sat on some discarded newspaper on the alley floor. Reese took a big bite out of his breakfast. She just stared at hers.
“I can’t do it. I can’t eat someone else’s leftovers.” She started to cry. “It’s disgusting. I could get a disease.”
“You won’t get a disease. The runs, maybe.” He grinned. “Besides, it beats starving."
“But just barely.” She took a tentative bite. Nausea gripped her stomach before she could even chew and she spit the food into her hand. “I’m going to puke.” She ran behind the other side of the Dumpster. It was bad enough he was going to hear her vomit, he didn’t have to watch.
A girl sat cross-legged on the concrete with her back against the bin, shoulders slouched forward, head hanging to one side at an awkward angle. A needle stuck out of the girl’s left arm, a pink ribbon hung from the crook of her elbow. Her skin was chalk white. Bright purple bruises covered her forearm.
August screamed and turned away, almost falling over a short pile of wooden crates. She doubled over them and threw up, spattering vomit all over a grey cat that rested there. He ran down the alley hissing and screeching.
Reese was behind her, pulling back her hair. When she stopped heaving, he turned her around to face him, engulfing her in his long arms. “You okay? Why’d you scream?”
She peered around his arm and looked down at the dead girl behind him.
Greasy copper hair was pulled back into pigtails high up on each side of the girl’s head, a dirty pink ribbon hung wilted from one side. A half-eaten lollipop lay on the ground next to her limp hand and a skipping rope, curled neatly and tied in place with its own ends, lay atop a worn pink backpack covered in filthy, tattered bows.
She pulled away from him and pointed. He turned and looked down.
“Oh shit! It’s Tanya.” He kneeled beside the girl and touched her ashen face. He pulled one eyelid open with his thumb, then held the girl’s hand and bowed his head. “She’s dead. We better bolt.”
“Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“What good will they do her now? They’ll just harass us. C’mon.” He took August’s hand and pulled her away, then they sprinted down the alley.
Blocks later, when they were well inside the park, they slowed down. She dropped to the grass, pulling him down with her, and gasped for breath, her heart racing. When it found a slower rhythm she sat up and looked over at him.
He lay with one arm thrown over his face. He didn’t make a sound but what few tears he’d cried left track marks on his dirty cheeks.
“Were you close to her?”
He rubbed his face with both hands and propped himself up on his elbows.
“She’s part of the family. One of a bunch of us that hang together. Shit. I’ve got to tell Amber.” He got to his feet and pulled August up.
She followed him. He led her through the park, never letting go of her hand. He wasn’t alone after all. He had friends. Her stomach filled with butterflies and her hand trembled inside his. Was it finding Tanya dead in the alley, or meeting this group of his friends that had her so freaked out? Maybe both.
Three teenagers sat under the shade of a massive tree. The faint smell of coffee and cinnamon floated on the air, getting stronger as they approached the group.
“Hey, Reese-man!” The only boy in the group flashed a peace sign. “Who’s the chick?”
Reese sat next to the boy and pulled her down right beside him, her hand still safe in his grasp.
“This is August. That’s Guy, Amber. And that’s Ricki.” Reese pointed to each of them as he said their names.
“Nice to meet you,” August mumbled. She sat cross-legged on the lawn and stared at the grass, pulling up individual blades.
“Hey, September,” Guy said. “Welcome!”
“Her name is August, dude.” Reese lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “Don’t call her September.”
August lifted her eyes to peer at the group, her hands trembling. She was comfortable with Reese within minutes, put at ease by his casual nature and his kindness. But these three scared the shit out of her.
Guy’s olive complexion was deepened by dark eyebrows and long black hair. Eyes almost as dark as his brows were framed with thick, luscious lashes. His hair was tied back with a dirty, pink ribbon – just like the one around Tanya’s arm.
Amber was tall and skinny and blonde, her flawless skin deeply tanned. The palest green eyes seemed to jump out from soft brown lashes. She was remarkable looking.
Ricki scowled at August with smallish eyes, their color so unexceptional they were barely noticeable. She was curvy all over, her too-small top straining against the heft of her breasts. Any movement made them bounce and jiggle like water balloons abou
t to burst. August was a stick figure, an underdeveloped little girl, by comparison.
They sat in a ragtag circle, sipping coffee from cardboard cups and eating sweet-smelling pastries. August swallowed the saliva that filled her mouth, her stomach announcing its emptiness.
“Where the hell is Tanya?” Amber sipped her coffee. “She blew me off again last night, probably to tweak as usual. She’s missing out on all this great grub. That girl needs more meat on her bones.”
Reese sucked on his cigarette, sent smoke into the fresh morning air with a heavy exhale, and butted it out in the grass. “Me and August found her in an alley this morning.” He pulled another cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket and lit it. “She OD’d. She’s dead, Amber.”
With his words the vision of Tanya’s body rushed back into August’s mind. She hung her head and started to cry.
“Ah fuck,” Amber said. She stared at her cinnamon bun. “God damn it.”
“What’re you bawling for?” Guy asked “That’s life in the big city, baby. Better get used to it.”
“Leave her alone, dude. She only got here a couple of days ago.”
Amber wiped a tear from her cheek. “You think Tanya did it on purpose?”
Reese shook his head. “Nah. Didn’t matter what happened to her, she never wanted to die.” He took August’s hand and caressed the top of it with his thumb. “How’d you get the food?”
“Man, I turned enough dates last night to buy pizza and donuts all fucking week long,” Ricki mumbled through a mouthful of pastry. Crumbs flew from her mouth, carried out by her sudden loud laugh. “One loser gave me an extra twenty just to cuddle with him! Can you believe that shit?”
August stared at Ricki. She clenched her teeth and squinted at all of them. Death was a big deal, not a passing comment. Something to reflect on, brood about, cry over. Grieve.
In seventh grade, a boy in her class was helping his dad unload grain and fell onto the spinning shaft behind the tractor. Both his arms were ripped off and he bled to death before they could get him to the hospital. School was closed for a week, the whole county showed up for the funeral. Counselors were brought in to talk to the students and teachers. Two weeks later his dad died. They found him hanging by a rope in the hayloft.
These city kids didn’t even skip a beat when faced with death. It’s like they didn’t give a damn about Tanya, like it never happened at all.
“Don’t you care that your friend died? You just keep eating. And laughing!” She ripped whole tufts of grass from the ground. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you want to remember her? Talk about her?”
“Okay, Miss Priss,” Amber said. “I’ll talk about her. She was my best friend. I helped her run so she could get away from her freaking father.” Amber started to cry, red patches blotched her cheeks. “He fucked her every chance he got.” She stared at August. “Since she was ten. Ten fucking years old! And he hit her and her mother all the time. Drunk bastard.” Amber reached over and took the cigarette from Reese’s hand, sucked on it hard, and blew the smoke right at August. “She hated it when she got boobs because he came after her more. She didn’t want to grow up, wanted to be a little kid forever so he’d leave her alone. But he didn’t. Not ever.”
Amber took another deep drag of the cigarette and butted it out in the grass, motioning for Reese to give her another.
Guy untied the ribbon, his hair falling around his shoulders in thin, matted mop strings. Without a word he deftly tied it with one hand around his left biceps. Like the black arm bands the veterans wore at the Legion in town, only pink. And dirty.
“Yeah,” he said. “She was always talking baby talk, skipping rope, sucking lollipops. But man, she partied harder than anyone I knew. She’s like fucking Peter Pan, but with sex, drugs, and rock and roll. And a pussy.”
“Shut up, Guy.” Amber lit the cigarette then took a swig of her coffee. “She even tried to kill him once, with his own shot gun. But before she could even load it, he took it and broke her ribs with it. And after years out here, she ends up with AIDs. She was dying anyway. Maybe this way was better. Less pain.”
“There, Miss Goody Two-shoes,” Ricki said. “You happy now?”
Reese squeezed August’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a near-whisper. “Just that we always talk about this stuff at home, get our feelings out.”
“Well that’s just fucking ducky.” Ricki reached across and poked August once below her collar bone. “We don’t.”
They sat in silence, Reese and Amber smoking, Guy eating his pastry, Ricki staring at August, and August staring at the grass.
Reese broke the spell. “So, you gonna share some of that wealth or what?” He reached over and tried to grab the last pastry from in front of Ricki.
She snatched it and stuffed most of it into her mouth, flashing a crooked grin at him, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk with a snoot full of nuts. “Get your own,” she said through the half-chewed pastry. “I’m not sharing nothin’ with your Pollyanna girlfriend over there.”
“Fine.” Reese flipped Ricki off. “We’ll just fend for ourselves.”
She laughed, spewing crumbs again.
“I’m out of money,” August muttered. “Reese got me some tuna from a Dumpster, but I couldn’t eat it.”
“Ah! Special of the day. Tuna and salmonella on rye. My personal favorite, September.” Guy grinned and took an exaggerated bite of his breakfast.
“Dude. Stop calling her that.” Reese smacked his friend on the arm. “Her name is August.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I really don’t mind.”
Ricki swallowed hard and washed the mouthful of pastry down with the last of her coffee. She stretched out one foot and poked August in the leg. “Hey, September, you still a virgin?”
August blushed. “Well, yeah.” She glanced sideways at Reese then looked at the grass. “So what?”
“Problem solved, that’s what. Some guys get off on virgins. I know a guy who’ll pay big bucks to pop your sorry cherry. I can set it up. You’ll make enough to buy all of us dinner and breakfast.”
“August.” Reese put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head. “Don’t.”
Ricki stood, grabbed August’s hand and yanked her to her feet. “C’mon. I know you’re green, but you’ll pick it up easy. Not much to it but lying on your back.”
August looked from Reese to Ricki. Was Ricki saying she should have sex with a stranger? Sell her virginity? All she could manage to say was, “Green?”
“It means you’re new, honey. An amateur,” Amber said. “We all were. Once.” She poked Ricki on the foot with the toe of her sneaker. “Leave her alone, Rick.”
Reese scrambled to his feet and took August’s other hand. “She’s not going to do that.” He glared down at Ricki and then looked at August, his face softening, and smiled. “Come on. Let’s go.” He pulled her away from the girl’s grip and left his friends, heading away from them down the park path.
Guy and Ricki taunted them with an impromptu one-act play.
“Oh, Reese! Save me, save me!” Ricki’s voice pitched an entire octave higher than normal, a full-on damsel in distress.
“Never fear, Reese-man is here!”
“You’re my knight in shining armor. Now kiss me, you fool!”
Their voices carried on the breeze, waning as Reese and August put more distance between them.
She stared at the pavement as it passed under her sneakers, Reese’s words from that morning ran through her head. ‘It’s no big deal. All of us do it.’ But it was obvious he didn’t want her to do what they all did. She looked up at him. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
She squeezed his hand. “Just thanks.”
At the edge of the park he stopped in the path and turned to face her. “Sit there and wait for me.” He motioned behind her.
“Where are you going?” She gripped the collar of his jacket and pulled him toward her. “Don’
t leave me!”
“Just wait here, you’ll be fine.” He pried her hand from his coat and stepped away. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”
He jogged across the street and stopped just inside the entrance to the alley. Within two minutes, a car pulled up and crawled to a stop next to him. He leaned down into the passenger window, his forearms resting on the car roof. He opened the door and got in, glancing back at August and flashing a brief smile before closing the door. Then the car drove away and disappeared down the laneway.
Was it that easy? It was like the man in that car knew Reese would be there. Like he gave off a scent or something.
She turned to where he had pointed to find a wooden bench with ornate wrought iron sides sitting under the shade of a group of weeping cherry trees. A glimpse of home. Her father had planted a row of them lining the drive up to their house before she was born. Every spring was a spectacle of pink blossoms, their sweet scent a blessing last year when torrential rains soaked the silage until it went rancid. The blooms had long since fallen from the trees in the park, leaving just boring green leaves.
An old woman sat on the bench tossing seeds at a rapt audience of pigeons. The birds’ neck feathers shimmered with iridescent teal and purple, their heads bobbing back and forth like chickens pecking thin air.
August sat on the other end of the bench and smiled at the old lady.
“Where did your young man go?” The woman’s big smile made the deep wrinkles around her eyes pinch in like paper fans.
August looked back across the street. She was curious to know exactly where he went, exactly what he did. She wasn’t about to share that with this stranger, no matter how sweet she appeared. “He had to make a phone call.”
“Would you like to feed my friends with me?” The lady held out a fistful of seeds.
August cupped her hands together and accepted the offer. “Sure. Thanks.”
After a while the old lady ran out of seeds, stood without another word and hobbled down the park path.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat on that bench. Her butt ached from the rigid seat and her stomach cramped with hunger. She shifted, alternating ass cheeks to keep her feet awake, and kept vigilant watch across the street for any sign of Reese. An hour must have passed by now.
