Eighteen Months

by Giulia Napoli

  “God … listen to yourself, Alie. You sound like the classic addict.”

  “THAT’S BECAUSE I AM! I know it, Rina knows it, and now you know it too. I’m a heroin junkie, Megan! I admit it!”

  I heard shuffling in the background and Rina say, “What are you doing here? Go home. I need some time to think.”

  “Please, Rina …” I started.

  I felt Megan’s hand on my arm and she whispered, “No. Not now.”

  “Megan …”

  “Now that I know what’s going on, let me talk to her. You’re hooked and that’s not good, but it is what it is. You probably have a decent plan to end this, though I’m less confident in the tea than you are. But I’ll admit that you do have that nappy hair that you didn’t have before, so maybe it’ll work. I’ll try to persuade Rina to see it your way.

  “I’ll call you in the morning, Alie.”

  I left. Rocco took me home.

  I didn’t hear from Megan until a few minutes before I had to go to the Jolly Roger the next day. I’d tried all day to call her and Rina. I’d gone over to Megan’s condo but no one had answered the door.

  “Can I talk to Rina, please Megan?”

  “She’s gone, Alie. When I got home she wasn’t here. She’d left a note saying she was leaving for a while.”

  “Where did she go?” My heart was in my throat. The buzz from my afternoon do up was dead.

  “I don’t know. I’ll call you when I hear something. Do you wanna come over here?”

  “I’m dancing tonight. Call me as soon as you hear from her, please Megan.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  After I got back home from dancing, I went into the bedroom, deciding to crash early. Rina hadn’t answered my calls all night. As soon as I entered the room, I realized something wasn’t right. I began to feel around. Most of Rina’s things were gone.

  I checked the closet. Her half was empty. She must have come in while I was at the Jolly Roger. At that moment my heart broke. I cried myself to sleep.

  The next morning, the sun woke me up.

  **********

  I could see light and dark and maybe make out some color with my left eye, but I couldn’t distinguish any objects or shapes. When I covered my left eye, I couldn’t see with my right. It didn’t seem to be working yet.

  After my morning fix, I called the Sheriff’s Infirmary. They referred me to a private ophthalmology practice near River’s Edge, and gave me an authorization code to cover my costs. I was in there with a doctor by 10:30.

  “Yes, Ms. Adams, the treatment that blinded you is wearing off.”

  “What happens now?”

  “Your formerly disabled optic nerves will continue to rebound, but your vision will stay as it is for another four weeks or so. I’m not sure what will happen with your strabismic right eye. At this time, your brain seems to be ignoring it, probably to avoid double vision. It could be your right optic nerve hasn’t recovered yet, though I’ve not seen that before. Usually sight returns to both at virtually the same time. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  “But my right eye will eventually recover, won’t it?”

  “I don’t know. We can only wait a few weeks to determine what will happen, or what else we might be able to do.”

  That was not what I wanted to hear. I was now worried that they had messed up my right eye permanently. I didn’t want to go through life blind in one eye, and have it always misaligned and looking inward. The doctor went on.

  “Most likely, somewhere around early December, you’ll wake up with enough vision that you’ll be able to make out shapes that aren’t too far away, and may be able to read, say, newspaper headlines close up. When that happens, you should come in here and we’ll fit you for corrective lenses. Once you have the glasses you should be able to see quite well, at least from your left eye, though you’ll remain legally blind without them. By about mid-January your left eye vision, and maybe your right eye too, should suddenly return to where they were, what … about eighteen months ago. If your right eye still isn’t working or aligned properly, we’ll decide if there’s anything we can do about it then.”

  After all this time, all these ups and downs, the end was in sight. More accurately, my sight was in sight. At least in my left eye. Any sight was better than none.

  As I tapped my way to the bus stop in the cold, I knew that I was much less excited and happy about this than I’d expected to be. That wasn’t all because of my still-blind, misaligned right eye. A significant part of that was because I liked to dance; I liked to dance a lot. Except for Roger Junior, who was a monster in my book, I liked everyone at the Jolly Roger too.

  But most of all, what was the point without Rina?

  When I got home from uptown, I called Mike, the person who had hired me at River’s Edge Biotech so many months ago. I told him that my left eye had improved, as the doctors had predicted and as I’d told him would happen when I withdrew my job acceptance. I asked him if there was any chance that they might have an opening for me at the beginning of the new year. He said he’d see what he could do, and call me back soon.

  He called me in late afternoon. I hadn’t expected him to call so quickly, and I suddenly panicked, thinking he might have found out that I’d been an erotic dancer at the Jolly Roger, and that they didn’t want me as a result.

  “Hi Mike. Is everything alright?” I asked sheepishly.

  “Better than alright. I’m able to offer you the same kind of position at $2,000 more per year, because starting salaries have gone up.”

  “I’LL TAKE IT!” I shouted, absolutely delighted.

  “Great. Call me when your eye or eyes rebound enough for you to set a definite start date. We’ll tentatively plan it for January second.”

  And that was that. I hung up the phone. Then it hit me.

  I’d just accepted a job that paid me in a year what I made in less than two months at the Jolly Roger.

  Wow.

  But it didn’t matter. I still had the $35,000 from my parents’ estate. I had invested $170,000 of the $300,000 that I’d made after-taxes at the Jolly Roger. I had no debt because I’d paid off my student loans, and had about $20,000 in the bank. I had something to show for eighteen months of stripping besides bigger tits and an addiction to heroin – which I’d soon break with the tea. I was giving myself a healthy financial start in life.

  And I missed Rina every hour of every day. I didn’t even know where she was.

  The rest of November came and went with no word from Rina. I’d reached the point where I admitted that she was gone from my life.

  Every day was like the one before. On most I danced; on others, I didn’t. I shot up every day regardless. I tried to stay high all the time. Without Rina, it was the only way I could make it to the next day.

  December arrived. Soon, I’d be telling Roger that I was leaving.

  On December third, I woke up and could make out the dresser about six feet away. Sort of.

  **********

  They fitted me for glasses at Uptown Disability Services. My vision was 20/220, in my left eye and my right eye was blind, apparently because whatever caused the esotropia strabismus was still present. My brain either got nothing from the right eye, or ignored it. It still tracked slightly inward compared to the left. The doctor said that my right eye couldn’t align properly with the left, which was the eye I could control accurately. My brain would ignore the signals from it, even if there were any.

  In a way I was lucky. If my brain had been receiving and utilizing input from my right eye, I could have had double vision which would have messed me up even more. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel very lucky. The doctors didn’t know what to do to fix me. I was going to remain blind in my right eye. I was always going to have it slightly turned inward compared to the left too. That’s how I’d look.

  In other words, my three-month punishment had not only turned into eighteen months, but it also had fucked up my right eye and my appearance
long-term. The corrective lenses did make my left eye’s vision almost 20/20, so I could now drive as long as I was wearing them. When I took them off though, I was still legally blind.

  I took my prescription to a LensCrafters near my house. When I got home, I studied my face in the mirror for the first time in eighteen months. I’d seen it when Rina was wearing my body, of course, but it was different looking at my reflection from within me.

  The glasses didn’t hide the fact that my right eye was turned in. I didn’t think it made me look ‘cute’ as others had told me; I thought it made me look peculiar. I liked the permanent eye and lip makeup that I’d worn almost since I’d been blinded. I wasn’t sure about the thin eyebrows, but I had to admit that they looked good with my Afro.

  I’d let my kinky-curly hair grow a little longer and now I had a ‘fro that stuck out evenly about two and a half inches all around. I suspected that it made me look more African-American than when it was shorter. It was pretty, I thought, but so different than the soft, straight, blonde hair I’d had all my life before. I decided that I’d have Melody cut it very short again the next time I went in.

  I tried to focus on my overall look. I was still pretty, I thought, even with my funny eye, but I didn’t look much like the blonde who’d moved to River’s Edge.

  I managed to get a driver’s license. I’d sold my car when I lost my vision so I bought a cheap, used car to make me more mobile again. I’d trade it in on a new one, once my vision was completely back to normal. I had no real depth-perception because of my blind right eye, so I had to drive carefully, using other cues to tell me how far away nearby vehicles were.

  On Friday, I showed up at the Jolly Roger wearing my glasses. I could see everyone there for the first time. Marlene, Crystal and Patti looked mostly like I thought they would, and I immediately recognized them. Rocco came into the dressing room while we were talking and he looked exactly as I’d pictured him.

  I told them about the miracle, and how well I could see right then. Everyone was very happy for me except Roger Junior, who grunted and shrugged his shoulders as he gave me the cocktail shot. He didn’t care if I could see or not, as long as it didn’t affect my dancing.

  It didn’t. I’d been able to see light/dark and some color patches for the past month. I was afraid that might distract me while dancing, but it didn’t. Now, without my glasses, I could make out shapes better, but I was still basically blind. I wouldn’t wear the glasses to dance, of course, and I wasn’t interested in contacts at that point. So I’d still dance blind.

  If I needed lenses for a longer-than-expected, left-eye recovery period, I might consider contacts. By then, I’d be long gone from the Jolly Roger.

  My dances that night went off without a hitch. Things were finally starting to turn around for me, but I went home and cried myself to sleep. I still missed Rina so much.

  On Sunday, I gave Roger my two-weeks’ notice. It didn’t go very well.

  **********

  “ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDIN’ ME?” Roger shouted. “YOU’VE GOT A GODDAMN THREE-YEAR CONTRACT!”

  “With a buyout clause of five thousand dollars at eighteen months,” I reminded him.

  “I WILL NOT LET YOU WRECK MY BUSINESS!”

  “You’ll find another headliner, Roger. I’m giving you my two-week’s notice. On my last night I’ll give you the buyout.”

  “Where you gonna go? The Four Horsemen?”

  “Of course not. I’ve taken a job at River’s Edge Biotech, where I was planning to go before I lost my sight.”

  “Alie. You’re the best dancer I’ve ever seen. What do I need to do to keep you here?” He’d managed to get himself back under control, and was trying to be conciliatory - like a snake that tells you it won’t bite.

  His words made me stop and think for a moment, though. I didn’t mind dancing, I really didn’t. I’d grown to like it, even love it most of the time. I was very, very good and I knew it. But I couldn’t see it as my long-term career in any way, and I certainly wouldn’t work for this jerk any longer than necessary.

  “It’s time for me to leave, Roger. Two weeks from tonight is my last performance and my last night working for you.”

  “Goddamn it, Minx, I made you a star!”

  “Your dad made me a star; you made me a junkie!”

  “I made you a bigger star, and a LOT of money!”

  “Roger, I’m a heroin addict thanks to you!”

  “I gave you all the White Nurse you needed and it never cost you a penny! Where you gonna get it when you leave here? You’ll be turnin’ tricks on the street before the week’s out!”

  For a moment there, I thought that he honestly didn’t get it. That he honestly didn’t realize what he’d done, or why there was something wrong with that.

  But he knew. Now at least one of the proverbial chickens was coming home to roost.

  “Two weeks from now, my eighteen months are up. I’ll have five thousand dollars for you. You have a receipt for me and a signed contract release, or I will sue you the next day.”

  “Get outa here now.”

  “Not a chance. I’m not giving you any opportunity to say I broke my contract, and my attorney tells me you have to let me dance, as per the contract. It’ll end in two weeks. Now, I’ve gotta get ready for my opening number tonight.”

  I left to get ready to dance. As I’d requested, Rocco had been listening from outside Roger’s office. He’d been prepared to crash in there if I needed him.

  **********

  The next day I called Mike at River’s Edge Biotech, and told him I could start January second as planned. I’d get a week or so off between jobs.

  With luck, my left eye would return to normal in the first half of January. I’d resigned myself to being blind in my right. I’d written it off as a lost cause. I recalled that my friend, Sara, had told me that she never expected to walk again, even after her punishment was over in six years, because of the atrophy in her legs. I guess it was the same for me. In my case, the strabismus had somehow caused my right eye to atrophy, and the doctor was certain that I’d never see out of it again.

  Being permanently blind in my right eye was bad, but I found that I could deal with it. What I struggled with was how its misalignment with my good eye made me look. I thought it stole the small measure of beauty that I had before I was punished.

  The next seven nights I danced at the Jolly Roger were uneventful. Business was a little slow because of Christmas coming, though it would pick up for New Years. I’d be gone well before then.

  The last Friday night arrived and I headed to the Jolly Roger. By now, everyone knew that I was leaving in two days. They treated me like a prisoner who’s about to be released from jail, with joking and laughter and pats on the back. If there were jealousy, I didn’t see it. I didn’t think there was; I’d be making a lot less money, and they all knew it. Marlene, Crystal and Patti wondered how I was going to kick the heroin habit. I told them I wasn’t sure, and left it at that.

  It was nearing Christmas and the annual business slump was on. I strutted onto the stage for my fifth and last performance of the evening to a house only about three-fourths full. This final dance of the night was still one of my slow, sensual dances as a sultry, long-haired brunette. My ultra-toned, responsive body rippled and swayed to the measured, Latin tempo. The audience was hushed and attentive. The stage was lit where I was dancing under a soft floodlight, but the rest of the stage and the audience were dark. As a result, I couldn’t see much more than I could when I was totally blind.

  About half-way through the dance, I did catch some movement out of the corner of my left eye, a split second before a tall, muscular, clearly drunk man seized me around the waist from behind. It was only the second time in the year and a half I’d danced that something like this had happened.

  I screamed bloody murder!

  I was in only my G-string when he grabbed me with powerful arms. One immediately moved up to encircle my chest and
grab my right breast. His right hand plunged into my G-string and tore at my pussy. There was a momentary shot of pain in my clit and some of the labia rings. Then the pressure of his hand shaking against my uber-sensitive clit made me climax.

  He laughed in my ear, “You like that, don’t you little whore?” His words were slurred.

  “Let go of me!” I screamed, tearing at his unyielding arms with both hands and trying my best to somehow bite his arm. Where was Rocco, or one of his guys?

  We struggled, barely managing to stand. There was more movement toward the stage. Some of the customers were coming to my aid. My attacker stepped toward the back of the stage, using me as a shield. My would-be rescuers were held at bay. Where was Rocco?

  Suddenly I saw a mountain jump up onto the stage, at the same moment there was a loud “crack!” from behind me. My attacker let go and I felt him drop backward. The mountain, Rocco, pulled me into his arms, then passed me to Pat. I thought I saw Phil standing a foot away with something like a piece of pipe in his hands.

  Rocco had pulled the assailant off me. The guy was apparently at least partially conscious, because he yelled at me before I slipped behind the curtain. “I’ll get you, Minx, you teasing bitch! I will fuck you up!”

  And then Rocco proceeded to fuck him up.

  Pat took me into the lounge where Marlene and Crystal tried to comfort me. Pat handed me my new glasses so I could see. Phil came in right then, still holding a piece of two-inch metal drain pipe. He’d been the one that had bashed my attacker on the back of his head. Now Phil was shaking even worse than I was. I think that was the first moment of violence the gentle gay man had ever experienced.

  “Alie, are you okay?” He asked me.

  I nodded. Then Phil collapsed onto a leather chair, having fainted dead away.

  Saturday came and went uneventfully. Sunday arrived; my last day as an erotic dancer. I danced, paid off Roger, got my contract release, said goodbye to everyone, and left crying. I could barely see well enough through the tears to drive home. I cried myself to sleep.