Calling Maggie May

by AnonYMous

  I thought about turning around and confronting whoever it was, but I had nothing on me that could possibly be used as a weapon. I thought about breaking into a run and trying to make it home, but it seemed like a bad idea to let the stalker know where I lived. And I still haven’t replaced my phone since that night I got jumped in the park, since every penny I’ve earned went to Shawn. So I couldn’t even call the police.

  Not knowing what else to do, I just kept walking, and the footsteps kept following, sometimes a little closer, sometimes a little farther away. At last I saw the opportunity I’d been hoping for: The footsteps had grown more distant, and up ahead of me was a narrow alleyway lined with garbage bins. I slipped in and sank down to sit on my heels behind one of the bins, desperately hoping to lose my stalker. I could make out the footsteps for a little while, but they stopped before they got too close. I heaved a sigh of relief, but I was still too scared to come out.

  So that’s where I am now. Scribbling in this journal to pass the time and make absolutely sure there is no one out there.

  Shit. I just heard it again. Click-clack, click-clack. It’s getting closer.

  Sat, April 11, later

  I hardly know what to say. Never in a million years did I think . . . I can’t even figure out what to write! My thoughts are scattered all over the place. I need to focus. I need to write out what happened or else I will never believe it.

  I remember that sound drawing closer, and I remember closing my eyes and holding my breath. After that I’m not sure what happened. It was like a gray mist was swirling around me, and I think I must have passed out for a minute from fear. In any case, the next thing I remember is the feeling of an arm wrapped around me while something slid down my throat like liquid fire.

  I sat up, sputtering, and scrambled around to see who was there. I nearly fainted again when I saw.

  She was filthy, her long coat torn, her hair matted around her face and tucked into an inelegant bun, and there was a battered flask in her hand. But there was no doubt in my mind: It was Ada.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said as I fought for breath. “But Shawn was right. It’s a dangerous neighborhood. I couldn’t let you walk it alone.”

  For a while I couldn’t speak. My heart was still racing and my breath was short, but even more, I didn’t know what to say. I had so many questions, I didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t know whether to be happy she was back, or furious that she had let me believe otherwise.

  “You were dead,” I finally gasped out after a couple more sips of the awful whiskey. “Shawn told me you were . . .”

  Ada raised an eyebrow. “And what was it about Shawn that made you think you could trust what he said? I told you back at the party that he was trouble.”

  “But then why . . . ?”

  “I had to disappear for a while,” she explained. “You must have seen that. I tried to keep you out of the whole thing, when Miss Irma came sniffing around about the Damon business. I told her to leave you alone, but I knew she wouldn’t listen, so I told you to stay away from her. You should have done what I said.”

  My eyes filled with tears. It was too much to process: the euphoria of having her back, along with the pain of having disappointed her.

  “I was worried about you!” I said, choking back my emotion. “You didn’t tell me where you’d gone. You just disappeared. Miss Irma was the only person who had any chance of telling me what happened to you.”

  “I couldn’t tell you,” said Ada. Her voice was calm and steady, but there was guilt in her expression. “It was too risky. If Irma got to you . . .” Ada put a hand to my cheek and looked into my eyes. “You don’t know what she’s capable of.”

  “I wouldn’t have told her,” I insisted. “I’d never have betrayed you.”

  “I know,” said Ada. “But this was safer for us both.” She grimaced a little. “Or it would have been, if you’d only stuck to the plan.”

  “The plan you never told me about!”

  Ada dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know. . . . It never occurred to me. . . .”

  “What?”

  “I never imagined you’d come after me. That you would care enough to—”

  “Of course I would. I always would.”

  She smiled weakly. “We shouldn’t stick around here,” she said. “Anything could happen. Can you take me back to Shawn’s place? I could use a shower.”

  “What if he comes back?”

  “I saw him go off drinking with his little pimp friends,” she said. There was something slightly vicious in her tone. “He won’t be back before morning.”

  As we walked the rest of the way home, Ada told me her story. Beth must have tipped off Miss Irma right after the Valentine’s party, because that’s when Irma went after Ada. Of course, Miss Irma always knew that Ada didn’t have the cash, but she was willing to strike a deal. She told Ada they could settle up quicker if Ada took on dates with some of the more . . . demanding clients. The ones who like to make special requests.

  Ada balked, but Miss Irma told her to grow up. She told her she wouldn’t be sixteen forever, and at some point she was going to need something other than her youth to build her career on. Taking on kinkier clients would be a good career move. And if she did it, Irma promised not to try to get the money out of me.

  It seemed reasonable enough, so she went along with it. But after a couple of dates, she couldn’t do it anymore. I asked her what happened, but she wouldn’t tell me. She just got a hard look in her eyes.

  On top of that, Irma’s goons keeping an eye on her made her mother’s delusions get worse, until one day she wouldn’t let Ada in the house. Ada decided her mother would be better off if she just skipped out, so she called an aunt to come by and look in on her, and Ada disappeared.

  “Disappeared,” I repeated. “What does that even mean? Did you go to another country or something?”

  “I might as well have. I was in the Jungle.”

  “The Jungle? Like . . . South America?”

  “Close enough. It’s right here in the city. A patch of land between the freeways, too narrow and steep to develop. It’s turned into a kind of no man’s land, reclaimed by nature but not like a park, with paths and flower beds. It’s wild, and so are the people who live there. You go there when you have nothing left to lose and nothing to live for. It’s all junkies and crazies, and the people who are neither are even worse. They call it the Jungle, but they should just call it Hell.”

  “Jesus, Ada. How could you—”

  “I didn’t mean for you to think I was dead, but I needed to stay gone long enough for Miss Irma to stop looking for me, and I didn’t know how long that would be. As it happens, I got lucky. Some poor slut died in a Dumpster, and a handful of people decided it was me. That was enough to convince Miss Irma, and Shawn too, as it turned out. And you.”

  “But that was a while ago! Why didn’t you come back before?”

  “News doesn’t travel quickly to the Jungle. I didn’t hear about my own death until a couple of days ago. At that point, I went to Jen, but Jen’s gone. Beth was there, though, and she told me you’d been around looking for me.”

  “And before that, you never even tried to get in touch with me?” Even in my relief at having her back, I couldn’t hide how hurt I was that she had forgotten me.

  Ada stopped me and looked me in the eyes. “I thought you were at home with your parents. I wanted to tell you, but I thought you were safe, and I knew I would only mess that up. All I could think of was how much better off you’d be if you’d never met me. I wanted to give you a second chance at your real life.”

  I grabbed her by the arm. “Ada,” I said, “you are my real life.”

  I think she finally believes me.

  Sat, April 11, early morning

  Ada’s out of the shower no
w. She was starting to put back on her grubby clothes that she’s been living in God knows how long, but I stopped her and gave her something of mine to wear. It’s funny. It’s almost like we’re back to where we started, only this time she’s wearing my clothes instead of me wearing hers. I still think she looks better in them, though, no matter whose they were to begin with. Even as skinny as she is right now.

  “So what are we going to do?” I asked her as she studied her new look in the mirror.

  She caught my eye in the reflection. “What are you ready to do?” she asked.

  “Ready?”

  Ada turned around to face me. “You and Shawn,” she said. “Is that over now?” She dropped her eyes when I didn’t answer right away. “I know how it is,” she said. “I’ve seen it a million times. A girl gets smacked around a little; she gets angry, says she’s going to leave. In the morning, she’s making him breakfast and saying how sorry she is that she upset him.”

  “Ada, no,” I said in horror. I reached out to take her hand. “No,” I said firmly. “It’s not like that. Even before tonight, I think a part of me already knew he was no good and was looking for a way out. I was just scared of being on my own.”

  Ada smiled. “But now you’re not.”

  “Now I’m not. But maybe we should leave soon. It’s getting light out, so he could be home any minute. And I’d rather not see him again.”

  Ada squeezed my hand tighter. “One more time,” she said. “Can you deal with him one more time? If you disappear, he’ll look for you. We need to see him once more, to make sure he’ll leave you alone.” I nodded and she dropped my hand. “Good,” she said. “Besides, me and him have a little business to transact.”

  Sat, April 11, late morning

  We’re at Beth’s now. She and Ada never liked each other, and she definitely wasn’t my friend either, but when we had no place else to go, she was the one who took us in.

  It probably helped that we gave her money.

  That’s part of what Ada wanted to stick around Shawn’s place for, it turned out. While we waited, she started ransacking the apartment, going through all the drawers and closets. I asked her what she was looking for.

  “His gun,” she said.

  “He doesn’t have one,” I told her.

  “Are you sure?” she said. She turned and stepped into my space, looking deep into my eyes as if she could read the truth of my statement there. “Are you absolutely sure? Because this information could be very important in the conversation we’re about to have. Life and death.”

  I nodded, to show I understood.

  “But he doesn’t have one,” I said. “It was one of the things he was saving up for, before I came around. There was one he wanted to buy. He was planning on it, but we didn’t have the cash yet.”

  Ada nodded and relaxed a little. “Good,” she said. “That will make this a little easier.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t much later that we heard his footsteps on the stairs. Ada motioned to me to be quiet, then silently moved behind the door just as we heard Shawn’s key in the lock. He opened the door to see me sitting in his armchair and let out a sigh of relief.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. His words slurred a little, and I remembered Ada had said he was out drinking. But he was clearly trying to make up with me. “I’m sorry about last night,” he went on. “You know I would never have done that, except—”

  Ada slammed the door shut behind him.

  Shawn jumped so high at the sound that I almost laughed. But that was nothing to how spooked he was when he turned around and saw Ada standing in front of him.

  “Ada?” he said. “How in the hell? You—you’re dead!”

  “Not exactly,” said Ada. “But you’ve done yourself a favor. You convinced me you really did think I was dead and you weren’t lying before. That will make this go easier for you.”

  “What are you going to do?” he said. “Beat me up? I must have fifty pounds on you. And if you had a gun, you’d be pointing it right now.”

  “I don’t have a gun,” said Ada, “and neither do you. But you do have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

  Shawn looked down at me, then back to Ada. “Take her,” he said. “She’s yours.”

  Ada made a disgusted face. “Really, Shawn? That’s not what I meant. She’s a person, not a thing, and you can’t trade her back and forth. No. I want the money she earned that you never paid her.”

  Shawn hesitated, and even though I knew by now that he was a creep, it still hurt a little that he was more reluctant to give up the cash than me.

  “How much did he pay you for all the streetwalking you’ve been doing?” Ada asked me.

  “We were going to split it fifty-fifty.”

  “But how much did you actually see?”

  “None yet. He was holding it for me.”

  “Not anymore,” she said.

  “You don’t have a weapon,” said Shawn. “Why should I do what you say?”

  “I don’t have a gun,” agreed Ada, “but I do have a weapon. My weapon is your past. Give her what she’s owed, or we’ll go door-to-door in this neighborhood like a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses, telling everyone you know what you were doing when you were employed by Miss Irma. What do you think they’ll say, Shawn, when I tell everyone what a good little cocksucker you used to be?”

  Shawn didn’t answer right away, but I could see panic in his eyes. It was gnawing at him, preventing him from thinking of any way out of the situation. After a minute, he walked over to a small safe under his desk and opened it. We watched him count out half the money, and Ada made him hand it to me.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Don’t thank him,” said Ada. “All that is yours.”

  * * *

  After that we went back to Beth’s and more or less threw ourselves on her mercy. Thanks to Jen still being mixed up in the correctional system, Beth is behind on the rent and on the point of being evicted, so I think she was actually pretty happy to see us and our wad of cash. Too bad that took a big chunk out of it, but there will be time to worry about that tomorrow.

  For now we’re both exhausted from running around all night. There’s only Jen’s narrow bed to sleep in, so we’ll have to share, but I don’t mind. To be honest, now that I have her back, I just want to keep Ada as close as possible, so she doesn’t slip away again.

  Sun, April 12

  I’m worried about Ada. We fell asleep yesterday morning curled up together in Jen’s bed, and I felt the safest and happiest that I have felt in ages. Ada was alive! And for the first time, my dream of us living together and leaving a life of prostitution felt like it might be within my grasp.

  We slept like that through the day, but come night I woke up to find myself struggling to kick the blankets off me. I was boiling hot even though the apartment was chilly. That’s when I realized it was Ada. She was burning up and making us both sweaty and miserable. I got up and got a cool, wet washcloth for her face, then managed to fall back to sleep. But this morning she still feels hot, and she hasn’t woken up yet, even though she’s been asleep for almost twenty-four hours.

  If she’s sick, I guess the rest is good for her, so I’m not going to wake her up.

  Mon, April 13

  I went out and got some orange juice, chicken soup, and vitamins for Ada, using a bit of Shawn’s money. My money, I should say. I earned it, and it’s mine. I guess I still have a ways to go, breaking out of the mental habits I learned with him.

  When I got back, Ada was awake! So that’s good news. I made her soup and she took a shower, and after a little while she even started to get a bit of her color back. She says it’s just a cold she picked up while living on the streets. It’s been pestering her off and on for a while, but now that she has a roof over her head and a warm bed to sleep in, she’
ll shake it off soon. She’s so skinny, though! That can’t be good for her health. I have to make sure she eats well while she’s getting better, even though it means dipping into our little pot of money.

  Speaking of which, I guess we need to start thinking about what comes next. This place is dingy and kind of a dump, but it’s good enough for now, and I think Beth will let us keep staying here as long as we can help out with the rent. But the money I earned with Shawn isn’t going to last long, with Seattle rents being what they are. I really, really don’t want either of us to have to go back to hooking, so we’re going to have to think of another solution.

  Wed, April 15

  Ada’s feeling a bit better, so we had a talk about the future. She wants to stay here with me, which is a huge relief. To her too, I think. She still finds it really hard to believe I don’t want to just go home to my parents, and I know she worries that as soon as things get difficult, I’ll change my mind and go back, but I’m doing my best to reassure her that’s not true. That I would never abandon her.

  But that still doesn’t solve the money problem. She mentioned that as soon as she was feeling a little better, she’d get in touch with Miss Irma. Now that her debt’s been paid, she doesn’t have to hide out from her anymore.

  Ada shook her head and laughed in amazement when I told her I wanted us to support ourselves with legal jobs and quit hooking for good. But she said that she believed in me, and if anyone could figure how to make that work, it was me.

  I just hope I’m worthy of the faith she’s putting in me. God knows I don’t really have any experience in this area. But I have to try. That life was no good for either of us. There has to be something better.