Have Mercy

by Siobhán Béabhar

  I pushed open the door and stumbled into the foyer. The sobs swelled in my chest. For fuck's sake. I had thought I was finished with the crying. I sat down on the stairs and caressed the butterflies in the wood. I needed Moses to comfort me and this was the best that he could do.

  CHAPTER TEN

  There was a loud, abrupt knock at my door. Opening an eye, I checked the clock. 11:45. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Dragging myself from the bed, I ran downstairs to the door.

  I peeked out. Albertine's head popped into my line of vision. "Penelope's here!" She bolted away from the door, eagerness adding an extra bounce in her step.

  I crawled back up the steps to my loft. Halfway up, I gave up. I wondered how badly my body would ache if I just fell asleep right there. Rolling onto my back, I scooted myself up the stairs. When I reached the carpet, I let my arms collapse beneath me. Now this was a good spot to sleep.

  Damn it. Someone was knocking at my door again. I reached up and pulled the comforter from my bed. I wrapped it around my body and curled into a fetal position. The person knocked again. "Go away!" I shouted through the covers. They kept knocking.

  I unrolled myself and jumped to my feet. Bounding down the stairs, I pulled the door wide open. "What?"

  Red stood there, looking uncomfortable. She lifted a cup, offering a caffeine olive branch.

  "Fuck you," I said, slamming the door. I stormed back upstairs. My door opened, followed by the pounding of feet coming up the steps. Lord forgive me, but I wanted to push her down those stairs.

  "Remind me to never go anywhere with you," I called out, darting into my bathroom.

  Red was a few steps behind me. She stood at the door while I washed my face. "Look, Mercy, I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have left you like that. Johnny said he saw you leave with someone, so I followed him. Melia said you were upset when you got home."

  I looked at her, feeling the disappointment deep in my gut. If I needed a reminder of why I avoided people, this was a darn good one. I walked to the door and shut it in her face.

  Rushing through my bathing routine, I reminded myself that this was a business relationship. Red and the other women were simply my tenants. I provided them with a room, and they paid me for a place to stay.

  I left my bedroom and ran into Albertine as she walked up the stairs from the first floor. There was a grin on her face as she carried a large plant. I watched her enter Penelope's room. The bedroom door was open, and the movers were shuffling furniture around.

  A large oak bedroom set dominated the room. I moved aside as Red walked in, a painting tucked under her arm. Her gaze fell on me, but I walked away, searching for Penny.

  We encountered each other on the landing. Bending down, Penny dropped a box on the floor. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a check. I didn't want to appear rude by checking the amount, so I pushed it into my pants pocket as I smiled in welcome. "Do you need any help?"

  "No, I think we have most of it. I didn't bring much with me," she said.

  I hid my smile, thinking about the oak set in her room. I was afraid to know how much was too much for this woman.

  "Welcome to your new home, Penelope. Let me know if you need anything," I said, entering the kitchen.

  I was making a cup of coffee when I felt a presence lurking behind me. I knew who it was. Her perfume gave her away.

  Red remained silent as she watched me make my breakfast. Did she expect me to say something? I wasn't in the mood to play any games. My head ached and all I wanted was a cup of coffee.

  Finally, she moved away from me and went to the kitchen table. She sat down, taking the chair next to the one in which I usually sat. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a wad of money.

  Alarmed, my hand dropped to my pocket, thinking that I dropped Penelope's rent money. But then I remembered that she gave me a check. What was this about?

  Red crossed her legs under the table, resting her arm on the back of the chair. "Did you at least enjoy yourself last night?"

  I had unanswered questions. I wanted her to tell me why she had left, but I was fairly certain I already knew the answer. "It was decent enough. At least in the beginning," I admitted.

  "Did my leaving with Johnny ruin the evening for you?" she asked, a guarded look on her face.

  "No. It happened before that, truthfully," I said, sitting down at the table.

  Her eyes widened. "What happened?"

  I didn't want to be delicate. I wanted to confront the topic full on. "I wasn't sure why Deanna was antagonistic towards us when we arrived. Later on, she approached me. No. She confronted me." I paused. "Why would anyone think that I was an escort, Carol?"

  Her fingers made circles across the table. She peeked through her lashes. "You ever hear that old phrase 'Like hangs with like'?"

  I slammed my mug down on the table and I leaned towards her. Growling, I asked, "Why didn't you tell me? How could you not tell me something like that? People treated me like a pariah. Like I was some kind of diseased whore."

  Her eyes flared as she met my penetrating gaze. "I guess that would be a fate worse than death, being viewed as a whore."

  "You know how people view... women like you."

  "I do, but I was hoping for a wee bit more understanding from my friends."

  "You might have received it if you'd been forthcoming from the beginning. You didn't have to tell me when you moved in. How you make your money or spend your time is your own business. As long as you keep the cops far from my door, there won't be a problem. But it should have been brought up when you took me to that fancy ball!" Smacking the table, I leaned into her. "You, my dear, aren't my friend. You promised a good time; instead, I was made into a fool."

  "You wouldn't have come if I told you everything," she admitted, leaning away from me.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few deep breaths, trying to quell my anger. I opened my eyes and said, "You're damn right. I wouldn't have."

  She looked cocky when she said, "Are you angry that I'm an escort, or are you angry that people thought you were one?"

  "Both!"

  She raised an eyebrow. Her lips were pressed together as she sat staring at me. Shaking her head, she swiped a tear from her cheek. "You think we don't notice the creditors that call here? We all know that you're desperate for money. I wanted to introduce you to my line of work because it brings in good money, Mercy. You could do a few dates then go back to Family Universe when it re-opened."

  "I don't care what you do with your life. I don't have much going for me, but one thing I have, that I built myself, is my reputation. What if I encountered someone I knew?"

  "What if you did?"

  "What if I did? They would think I fell so hard that I was now selling my ass to make ends meet. Hell, they would probably think that I was a meth head needing money for my next hit. I'm a retired teacher. I was a vital part of this community at one time. Children looked up to me. You could have tossed away thirty years of building a respectable reputation for one lousy night."

  "So, I'm a dirty, diseased whore. I lack respect and I sell my ass to make ends meet. Got it," Red said, choosing only a portion of my comments to focus on.

  "Don't take it that way."

  "How else am I supposed to take it? You're saying that you don't wish to be viewed that way. Doesn't that mean you view me like that?" she whispered.

  "We're talking about me, Carol, and how those people viewed me."

  She slammed her hand onto the table and said, "No! We are talking about me!"

  There was a squeak at the door. I turned to see Albertine standing there with a startled look on her face.

  I tried to hide my anger. "What's wrong, Albertine?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. What is wrong? Carol? Mercy?" I felt Red grab my hand and squeeze it. Ah. That's right. Our sweet little wren was a Sister. A retired Sister, but her faith was still strong.

  "It's okay, Albertine. We had a falling-out last night, that's
all," I assured her. She looked skeptical, but she respected our private moment. Nodding her head, she left the kitchen, her tread soft across the wood.

  I could hear Melia asking Albertine what was happening in the kitchen, but Albertine shooed her away. I looked back at Red and saw her wiping her eyes.

  She sniffed. Her eyes were puffy, her nose nearly as red as her hair. "I don't think I could handle her judgment."

  "No way," I said. "Albertine isn't the type to judge."

  "I didn't think you were the type to judge, but I see that I was wrong," she said, standing. She pushed the money towards me. "Here. This is your cut."

  She left the kitchen. I sat at the table, staring at the folded bills. I hadn't earned any of it. I had no intention of keeping it. I was no one's whore.

  I snatched the money off of the table. One hundred. Two hundred. Three hundred. There was four hundred dollars in my hand. My cut for the evening.

  Damn her. I thought that I was doing a friend a favor, not going out for a job. I would give her the money back. I wasn't that desperate.

  Swallowing my anger and coffee, I stared out the window. I sat there feeling a mixture of guilt and anger. The source of the anger was obvious, but I didn't know why I felt so guilty. Maybe it was due to Red turning the tables on me?

  There was a cool breeze as Penelope appeared beside me and sat down at the table. I glanced at her and she smiled. Leaning across the table, she took my hand. "Thank you again, Mercy, for inviting me into your home. I think this will be fun."

  Grinning at her, I patted her hand. "You're welcome. I hope it turns out as well as you hope. Who knows? You might go running back to your daughter within the month."

  She snorted. "Trust me, that won't happen."

  I looked at her sitting across from me. She wore her hair in a bun, and on her neck was her string of antique pearls. She was sweaty and slightly out of breath, but she still managed to look so damned composed.

  "Can I make you a cup of coffee?" I asked.

  "Oh, that sounds lovely but no. I need to stop by the post office and do a bit of shopping. Maybe another time," she said, patting my shoulder as she left the table.

  Going through my mental checklist of errands, I went to the sink and rinsed out my cup. At the top of my list was learning what was happening with Family Universe. I needed to know when we could return to work, or if I had to find a new job. I'd also have to call the unemployment office and see if I qualified.

  I picked up my phone and called my supervisor's number. "Hello. May I speak with Ina?"

  "She's speaking," said that yucky sweet voice.

  I wanted to gag. I wasn't in the mood to pretend that I liked her. "Hi, Ina. This is Mercy Higgins. I was calling to learn if there was any update about Family Universe?"

  There was a pause on the phone. She softened her voice as if she were sharing some secret. "Well, just between you and me, they found some serious wiring problems. Corporate has to address the issues before the store can re-open."

  "So, how many months?" I asked. I didn't want to draw out this conversation.

  "This isn't official, okay? This is something that I have only heard. I can't confirm or deny that it's true, but they are saying it may be six to eight months before we can re-open."

  My heart dropped. I had rented out my spare bedrooms, hoping to catch up on my bills. I was in a much better position than I was a few months back, but I relied on the money from Family Universe to cover my day-to-day expenses.

  "So what are we supposed to do until then?" I asked her.

  "There is some kind of emergency insurance. Oh shoot. What did they call it? Business Interruption Insurance... That's right. They may pay to keep essential personnel on the payroll," she said.

  Sighing, I asked, "And what about the non-essential?"

  I could almost hear her nonchalant shrug over the phone. "I don't know," she responded. "Once I hear something, I will let everyone know."

  "Thanks," I said, hanging up.

  I wasn't essential personnel. I couldn't imagine a business paying to retain minimum-wage workers while it wasn't in operation. I was non-skilled labor. There would always be people clamoring for those types of jobs.

  Shit. I wanted to strike my hand against something. I wanted to throw my coffee mug across the room. I didn't want to look for another job. I hated Family Universe, but it was the devil I knew.

  I grabbed my car keys and walked out of the kitchen. "I'm going out. I need to run a few errands," I yelled up the stairs. It wasn't clear in my mind why that was necessary. Red and Penelope weren't in, and it had probably been an hour since I last saw Albertine or Melia.

  I drove to my bank. I pulled up to the drive-through window and pressed the call button.

  "Hello, how may I help you today?" asked the bank teller.

  I reached into my pocket to pull out Penelope's check. My fingers touched the money that Red had given me. I pulled it from my pocket and stared at it. I laughed, thinking about how simple it would be to keep the money. It was almost as much as I earned with two paychecks from Family Universe. It would be a nice buffer until I found another job.

  If I kept the money, then wouldn't I become the type of women all of those people judged me to be? Wouldn't I be accepting money in exchange for my body? No, wait. I didn't give my body to anyone. I shared some of my time with a few gentlemen.

  This was ridiculous. I spent three hours at the military ball and I received four hundred dollars. According to Family Universe, I was only worth $8.25 an hour.

  Family Universe was considered respectable employment, even though my talent and skills were being underutilized. I could tell random strangers that I worked there and they wouldn't look at me as if I were the scum of the earth. They would look at me with pity, or they might think of me as inferior for working such a low-wage job, but it was honest work.

  Just last night, I had gone out and met, for the most part, gentlemen who treated me with respect and courtesy. They looked at me as if I was a desirable woman. It was mostly the women who looked at me as if I was inferior because they thought I was a hooker.

  "Ma'am, is there something that I can help you with?" asked the teller. I blinked up at her, pulling myself away from my internal debate.

  Could I do it? Could I give up control of my body to another person in exchange for their money? Hell, that's what I was already doing. I was already working a job that I hated, so why couldn't I do this? I would be paid a hell of a lot more, but I also ran the risk of being arrested and charged with a crime.

  I grinned as I imagined standing for a mug shot. My picture would be broadcast all over the community. There would be headline news about the retired teacher who made her living as a call girl. I probably looked insane staring at the money, laughing at my own thoughts.

  I turned to the window and said, "Yes, there is something you can help me with. I'd like to deposit this check," I tossed it into the drawer. "Plus this three hundred dollars, please. My account number is written on the check." I folded one of the bills and shoved it back into my pocket. Hell, it was past time for a pedicure.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Red's dance card better be empty because she and I were due for another dance. After spending a few hours at the mall, I shuffled into the kitchen. On my feet were the flimsy flip-flops the nail shop had given me. In addition to the pedicure, I had decided to splurge and get myself a manicure. There was some kind of special, so I went for it. They offered me a facial, but when I saw the cramped room, I balked and declined.

  The girls were seated around the table. As I hobbled into the room, Albertine turned in my direction and smiled. Melia bit down on a piece of bread, while Red poured herself a glass of wine. Penelope turned in her chair, her gaze landing on my toes.

  "I really love that color. What is that? Violet?" she asked as I took my seat.

  I wiggled my toes, admiring the shade. "Yes, I think it is." The color had reminded me of the nice young officer's eyes f
rom the night before.

  Albertine filled my empty plate with lasagna and salad. My nails weren't completely dry, so I plucked at a piece of garlic bread, trying to avoid ruining the color. Even while shoving lasagna in my mouth, I admired the fingernail polish.

  The previous night had been an awakening for me. Since Moses's death, I had been walking around half-alive, waiting to die. I renovated my house, thinking that it would open doors to new adventures in my life. Unfortunately, I didn't take any steps to walk through those doors.

  I liked being pampered. I liked being desired. I did not like people judging me, but then I realized that being judged meant that people noticed me. I had heard plenty of neighborhood kids calling each other "haters" and all of that strangeness, but it wasn't until I held the money in my hand that I began to realize what having a "hater" meant.

  At the end of the day, I was accountable only to myself. I had lived a good portion of my life worrying about Moses and then worrying about how I was going to be able to keep the house he built. If my house were foreclosed on tomorrow, people would judge me. If I got fired from Family Universe, people would judge me. If I fell into a shit-ton of money, people would judge me. Why was I going to continue living a half-life concerned about the judgments of people who didn't care a damn thing about me?

  Over the tips of my nails, I noticed Red examining my face. I returned her scrutiny. I tried to give her some secret smile, hoping she would realize that I'd had an epiphany. It didn't work, because she returned to eating her dinner.

  We sat in silence as we ate our first meal together since Penelope had joined us. I wondered about Penelope's impressions of the other women. She was staring down at her plate, her nostrils flaring with each breath she took.

  "Penelope, are you settling in alright?" I asked, hoping to start a conversation.

  She didn't look at me as she began to shove the food around her plate. Was she looking for something? Was there a hair in her food? She sat her fork down on the table and gave me an uncomfortable look.