Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Like her mother hard work did not faze Anne, she often
remarked when other girls were complaining, “I could turn
twenty tricks in an hour for five dollars each if I needed a
quick hundred.” One hundred dollars being the price of a ten
dollar bag. Finding twenty men was the challenge,
accommodating them would be no problem. She could not
stand people who filled idle hours with bitching and
moaning. It was always a blessing to Anne to know her goal.
Growing up in a large single parent family the work and
rules were always laid out in front of her. One of the reasons
why she stopped after two kids. Tonight she was getting
antsy because of her unmet goal, scoring a dime bag.
Since the 4th of July weekend Anne had not turned two
tricks in a week. Wisely, she waited not buying a boot from
Fingers for twenty, for that money Fingers would shoot her
up. That was bad for her personal finances. She was
confident of getting the rest of the money together tonight,
in fact false hope had kept her going for months long after
cash from her husband’s ATM card ran out.
This evening Anne spotted a dad and kids in the park
across the street, as unusual as seeing a shooting star or
finding a four leaf clover, the sight lifted Anne’s spirits it was
sure to change her recent lack of luck.
“Hey, put the fire out!” Someone yelled. With heavy
steps the bartender approached their table and dumped
water on the smoldering pile.
At the whores’ table curls of smoke and stench
continued up from an ashtray now filled with muck, on their
table small glasses of beer grew flat before they were
empty. Cigs in the caustic heap still threw sparks.
Squawking, a gaggle of scarred, gassy, garrulous women
wearing fake gold chains turning their dirty necks green
intended for one of them along with rings of lusterless
colored glass on nicotine stained fingers bought by some
customer on a spree then divided haphazardly among the
women with little regard, it was junk. Such was their
community and their treasure. Smoldering filter kings
grabbed more attention than their emeralds and rubies.
They held private conversations in loud voices as if to assure
the stiffs in the bar that they were still a lively bunch waiting
for their horny clients.
“Did you see that guy in the park with kids?” Coming in
the door Anne went to the window behind the whores’ table
and licked her fingers to clear a peephole onto the street.
After years of cooking grease, smoke and dust only
silhouettes could be seen through the glass.
“Don’t get me started on kids,” Jackie squinted up at
Anne, blind without her glasses her eyes were a smear of
silver blue makeup and crumbs of black liner. She went on to
grumble to anyone nearby about how much her grandkids
were costing her and how she is too good to them listing
what she had bought them and the prices. Anne did not stay
to listen she had heard often enough about Jackie‘s junkie
daughter.
Sylvia, a fellow geriatric added succinctly, “They better
not get that bench dirty. I use that bench. It‘s very
romantic.”
“They have women’s Viagra now.” Jackie voiced prettily
to get a rise.
“Jackie, who the hell asked you?”
“We should have it covered in plastic.” Anne joked and
they laughed.
“And cushions.” Sylvia added, still tearful with anger at
Jackie.
In the dark hours junkies would loll on the swing set
and drape over the monkey bars. Anne would only pull her
panties open to the side for fear of infected blood on the
bench.
She turned to Vanessa who made it a point to know
everyone. “Do you know who that guy with kids in the park
is?”
“Of course, let me see.” She easily wiggled out of her
seat between Jackie and the wall. “What did he ask for?”
Anne opened the door so that they might get a real view.
“They’re over there.” Anne looked out and pointed
across the street.
“I don’t know them. Hey, but check out my new pants.”
Vanessa gave a partial demonstration, navy sailor pants with
two pairs of silver snaps to allow front and rear panels to slip
down near her knees. “Easy access” Vanessa raved, “and no
cum stains because they’re machine washable.”
“That’s great.” Anne answered with genuine
enthusiasm. She had suddenly entered a brighter world. It
was as though she wanted to tell her fellow workers, ‘I met
someone.’
“How old are the kids?” Sylvia, seated across from
Jackie asked with a lisp, tonight she did not bring her teeth
to work. “Stay clear of a guy like that. The ones who like
kids are trouble.”
“I’ve had fathers bring their sons to me.” Jackie had a
story to cover every occasion. “They want to make sure their
boys get busted by a pro who knows what she’s doing, not
some pom-pom girl from school who only knows how to
tease.”
Sylvia continued, “There are all kinds of freaks you
have to stay away from today. Not like when I started out.
Then you just had to look out for cops and wives.”
“We had syph and the clap back then too …” The
incessant contradictions and conflict between Sylvia and
Jackie went back to forgotten ages past, the dispute having
simmered down to ongoing one-upmanship and mutual
rudeness.
“I’d rather have clap than another kid.” Jackie, the
wiser of the two said about which both older women
laughed.
“How do I look?” Anne asked Vanessa on an impulse.
“Turn around. You look fine. You just need to update
your wardrobe.” Vanessa replied.
“I know and lose thirty pounds.” Anne added as an
honest joke to keep the light mood going.
“If I was thirty years younger.” Jackie tossed in from
her seat at the table. Adding to herself, “I’ve got to keep
saving my money for Botox.” She began an unconscious
attempt to rejuvenate by pulling at the loose skin on the
side of her face.
“Do you think he has any money?” Vanessa asked gaily.
Her dream was to blackmail a rich man.
Suddenly all four of them were feeling festive.
“We don’t need grown men with kids around here.
Someone ought to go across the street and get rid of them.”
Jackie said it like an order.
PRISON
Long after the scowling face of the judge who heard the
testimony and handed down the sentence had faded from
memory, and after being dragged from the courtroom for
her violent display over the betrayal she felt that both the
prosecution and defense attorneys worked for the state and
her rage had faded into a sense of irony and the realization
that she had to be in shackles before allowing herself to
freely express her pent up feelings and the echo of the first
curse barb died out as Anne struggled against and traded
insults with the brutal matron who did a body cavity search
in a cold shed before allowing her through the prison gates,
after she heard and dismissed the instruction by the
sergeant about her attitude and the lecture by the trusty
given to the entire busload of convicts being admitted that
afternoon saying stepping into prison was entering a life or
death situation, and until she could no longer recall the
names of the dykes and racist sisters who were her
cellmates who she immediately got into fights with and for
which she was clubbed and maced by guards, only then
when her face was pressed to concrete and she was alone in
the cold and dark could Anne begin populating her isolation
cell with the true witnesses, the ones who held her secret
and would tell her why she was there.
She did not like being watched not only by the guards
but by the other women. They spoke openly about her until
enough new women arrived and she was no longer new. On
the outside she had been an obedient wife, not obedient in
enough ways to keep out of jail but once inside she soon
became an irritable and dangerous prisoner.
Not being allowed to keep to herself and being one of
the only white women in the lock up irritated her. The other
prisoners had names for her. She was constantly proving
herself by fighting. She felt the intensity of eyes on her even
when it was only her cellmates. Being arrogant and rowdy
helped her survive but it also prolonged her stay.
In addition to punitive segregation Anne’s attitude also
got her extra doses of therapy. Group therapy gave her
several eye opening experiences. Hearing another woman
talk about the hate list she carries in her head was startling
to Anne who carried one as well and always had a feeling
that she was the only one who did. The therapist talked
about what a burden keeping a list must be. Talk opened old
wounds. One of her cellmates had been a child prostitutes
for a drug addicted mother and like Anne saw herself as
being a composite of bitter emotions which she was forced
to hide. Many of the women had an anger that defied a
label, they were angry at the world. But the world was just a
term used for an event or person they were afraid to name.
Often following group therapy Anne turned sensitive,
her reactions became reflexive and she could not stand any
talk, she became uncooperative with the guards escorting
her back to her cell. Even the loss of weekend visits with her
family did not help the warden and the bulls get a handle on
Anne’s behavior. Providing more proof that she deserved to
be incarcerated, deserved more punishment and above all
was guilty. Seeing other women come and go with longer
sentences but earlier release dates for good behavior was
not enough to influence Anne as the first month became a
year.
MY DADDY'S BAR
Once she was glad to be with him, back in the days when
she was in school and she was working. So hot for each
other only able to spend a few nights a week together. But
after she avoided him like a bad memory. She went to the
church, PTA meetings with neighbors who had kids and even
visited her mother in law so that she could be away from her
husband.
Another chore done by Joe and the only price she had to pay
were dirty looks in the morning and a cross examination at
night. She was totally honest with him about the need to get
out although she honestly could not attach a reason to the
need.
During her only year of college she had been inside plenty of
bars with flashing lights, a good sound system and plenty of
chairs no bar like this would ever have gotten her notice and
less likely to draw her inside. As a married woman it was
what she was looking for, far from the action, hushed and
poorly lit, small windows. The patrons stood at the bar or sat
with their backs to the wall and the center was open like a
dance floor but no one danced and the music was inaudible.
When she was still single she wanted a place that would
back light her where she could advertise her presence. This
establishment was a hideaway.
"Whose little girl is this?" She had followed her father around
a corner and into the basement of a house. "Come and sit
with me, sit on your daddy's knee and don‘t say a thing."
Her father smoked and drank tea. He smoked and sat with
other adults, a strange sight to see.
THE BANSHEE
A FAMILY
Sitting behind his desk Nick the Greek looked over her
application. “You’re not afraid to work hard?” He peered
through the cigarette smoke, the hand holding the cigarette
resting on his big belly, motionless in front of his face.
Looking with one squinting eye over his half glasses he
asked questions with a foreign accent in good English.
Anne simply held up one arm and made a muscle for
him. High school meant expenses and she needed a job to
build upon her new independence.
He looked unhappily at her, “If I hire you you will be
like part of the family.” Anne new then she would get the
job. Nick added, “Don’t quit on me.”
Nick responded to the few seconds of silence. “What
are you waiting for? Go see Jena. Get an apron and go to
work.”
Before leaving to sell used cars or visit the race track
Nick stopped in the kitchen and told bent old Uncle Starcos
running the dishwasher how she made a muscle for him.
Starcos was Nick’s and everyone‘s uncle. Later the cooks
and bus boys who spoke no English would make that
crooked arm gesture back at Anne with a smile or a laugh.
From the rich man’s belly which seemed intent on
swallowing the entire world to the skinny, nervous boys who
were Anne’s age and younger fresh off the Olympic Airline
jet, this was as close to a caring family as she ever got.
Being treated like a member of the family meant being
asked first to work on holidays, expected to come in early
and stay late and allowed to run the register when it got
busy along with other responsibilities all done for no extra
pay. She did it all happily with only the expected complaints
because she felt she was working directly for Nick the stern
and shaved Santa, in a suit without a tie, a shirt that pulled
at the buttons, smelling of cigarettes, garlic and basil. Nick
was a father figure and a provider who had personally built a
fortress empire where Anne and the others would serve for a
time and feel safe.
For her dark coloring, downy mustache and thick arms
Anne was assumed to be Greek and treated as such. She
disappeared into the army of girls serving cokes and Greek-
Italian cuisine. Like any girl in the family she soon became
invisible to the men who ran the back end of the business.
And like a member of the family she was held to a strict
moral code, those men were her supposed cousins and
brothers back there. Anne invited an occasional pinch or
bump but the men could only screw the blond waitresses, it
seemed to Anne that was what the few buxom blonds were
hired for.
Nick the Greeks son, Little Nick, was tall and skinny,
and like a Greek man he had a strong nose. He was hairy
like the rest of them, he had hair on his knuckles and even
his ass. He was lazy and spent most of his time in his
father’s office usually on the phone when he wasn’t making
deliveries for the restaurant or the dry cleaners next door
which his father also owned.
In that meek laziness there was something that
attracted Anne. One winter afternoon when Little Nick was
alone in his father’s office she tapped on the door to ask if
she could take her smoking break in there. Little Nick was
very relaxed behind his father‘s desk. He let Anne stay and
was glad for the company.
Little Nick was born in America, Anne asked because
like everyone else in his family he seemed to have an
accent.
Forty five minutes had gone by when Aunt Jena was
unhappily standing in the door. Nick told her he was talking
about the Orthodox Church.
“Never mind that,” Aunty said in a strained voice, “she
has work to do.”
All of them seemed sensitive about their religion, Little
Nick regretted never having a real American Christmas.
Anne felt the same shame toward her family since gifts were
sparse and many years when they were not in their own
apartment but crowded in with relatives the holiday was a
heart felt blight as her family looked on jealously. Anne did
not know if she was in a corresponding French or Canadian
Church.
Among the many framed pictures on his father’s desk
Little Nick showed Anne his own family, a blond wife and
American looking children. After that Anne became aware of
Little Nick as a person in pain and he seemed to take special
notice of her from then on as someone with a sympathetic
ear.
Meme and Me
Back at school her friends who knew she was going for
the modeling test now waited for the results with her. Only
Anne and a few others were told what really happened.
Meme did not want to hear ‘I told you so’ by other girls who
would have never taken such a chance. It became at best a
lesson for both of them and at worst a taunt reserved for
when Meme‘s plans and plotting got too far ahead of reality.
Eventually Meme related a modified version of this
story and similar exploits. With a genuine belief in her future
as a model and movie star Meme ate up the envy that came
with every retelling, the tacky motel room, the repulsive
moles on the old men, the smell and slippery feel of their
crisp new money. While the three of them had come to take
advantage of her, in Meme’s mind as she retold it, she had
taken the upper hand and fleeced them.
Although she did not receive the promised pictures for
her portfolio and never heard again from Advantage
Modeling, the fact that the young man in dreadlocks
photographed everything made this an item for her verbal
resume that she did have modeling experience. Meme was
convinced and Anne too became convinced that it had been
a professional modeling session.
Meme had given the old guys everything they came for
and more and she walked out of the room with almost two
thousand dollars. Unlike most girls that age fixated on
making a living on their looks, Meme was low maintenance
with no interest in make-up or fashion. For subsequent
modeling jobs she only wore her tee shirt and jeans.
Meme nude was a marble statute in a sun drenched
garden as she gave off the rays of healthy and pliant youth
that men desire. A glowing beauty unqualified men, those
too young or too poor had to look away from, her creamy
skin and perfect proportions, the bounce that was
unavoidable making herself and her audiences transparent
and embarrassed.
Other women and even gay men saw her sex appeal, it
was so strong as to wither and blunt their jealous barbs.
Just to make it through the day and prevent them
melting all around her Meme wrapped herself in coarseness
and contempt for men, vocalizing it in ugly words.
Of the people Anne surrounded herself with in high
school Meme was the only one with whom she felt free to
talk. Being completely self involved as her own tabloid Meme
offered little response except to highlight any pause in
Anne’s monologue with grunts and partial syllables or a
deliberate head sway to let Anne know she was still there
listening.
Meme skinned off several crisp one hundred dollar bills
for Anne, fun money, not meant to last. She did not go back
to work at the restaurant until the money ran out.
While Anne did not have the looks for modeling she
shared with Meme an easy way of picking up men. Lacking
Meme’s perfection Anne used her intellectual gift to know
what phrases to use and which words to emphasize. In high
school double entendre was one of Anne’s obsessions. She
was able to spread red faced embarrassment anywhere she
chose.
Anne flourished in high school having both brains and
personality. By the beginning of senior year it seemed she
had risen above every circumstance that had brought her
down all of her life, in triumph she was elected class
president. For her it was not just a popularity contest, she
had ideas and was motivated wanting to use her position as
a platform from which to help the others. The homeless
being especially close to her heart.
However the administration who supervised student
activities had no intention of breaking with the vain and
trivial role of student government and they disallowed
Anne’s ambition. Her energy was directed back to the
traditional work of class officers, spirit week, football and
graduation. As inevitable as the coming of spring Anne could
see her future writ large.
Unable to afford college her only role models were
menial laborers. She had been raised by her mother to
believe the only option which life could offer someone like
her was to marry well. Meaning marry for money, at least a
man willing to work.
But social class mixing was ruled by the same standard
as racial mixing. So that the upper class does not become
diluted the socially mixed family is always grouped with the
lower half.
This was something Anne had only read about or seen
in movies or soap operas, she had been brought up to
believe that she lived in a society of classes, it seemed
almost impossible to rise above ones born class through
marriage. Only the opposite effect was known to happen,
the couple could only attain the lowest common social
status. The only exception made was for males who are
athletes and women who possess high sexual powers - like
Meme. Frightened by what the future might hold Anne felt
she had nothing to lose.
Far be it for Anne to ever use anyone but if she was
going to hangout she might as well hang out with a friend
who could help her achieve her goal. Meme, like the juiciest
of ripe fruit did not look toward the future, she wanted the
man who could show her the best time at the moment. For
that purpose having Anne around was a help.
They became a pair who brought fire to the night
anyplace they showed up. Meme had plenty of fun nights
and did more modeling but Anne rarely found a male worth
keeping. The ones she did meet seldom lasted, culturally she
could not see beyond bars and parties. Some nights she
howled out her frustration as even slightly plausible
prospects slipped out of grasp. She did not think her
intentions were terrible or so obvious, the most useful
conclusion she reached gold digging was that the typical
man to meet in a bar would be a drunk one and they
inevitably sober up.
All that fire water led to bubbling and eruptions, there
was only so much Cover Girl could cover. Meme decided to
try cocaine and Anne slowed her drinking and enrolled at a
community college.
Years later she would tell her husband that she had
been an innocent girl until heroin. The way her father used
her and her mother ignored then abused her, the cruelty and
mistreatment from her older sisters, the burden of caring for
younger brothers, the way her husband looked down on her
and treated her as if she was a moron, all of those things
had been her lot in life, her burden to bear. Until she met
Three Fingers and he opened for her the way to drugs she
had never felt a sense of inadequacy and self hatred, or a
desire for violent revenge.
Monday, she smoked a line that he sprinkled on a
cigarette. Tuesday, she bought some that was caked and
yellow, at home she made an aluminum foil pipe, it bubbled,
the smoke was hot but numbing. On Wednesday she snorted
a powder he had saved for her before starting her car to
drive home. She smoked some more of the yellow once Joe
left for work. Having gone through the grocery money on
the way to the bar she stopped at an ATM and withdrew the
limit. That was Thursday and on that day she thought drugs
were bad. Friday she woke up feeling nervous and hungover.
Needles were always a phobia for Anne. She paid
Fingers the twenty and could not look as he fixed her arm
for the injection. “When it comes to needles I am still a
virgin.”
She clenched her jaw but then relaxed, she wanted to
giggle, seeing double made everything twice as funny. It
gave her a sense of happiness and well being like she had
never experienced in her life. She wanted to dance but was
pinned in her seat. She felt both weightless and anchored.
Anne was light for the first time in her life.
In the beginning it comforted her in her world, over
time it became her world, she could not have a cogent
thought, laugh at a joke, or remember where she lived
without it. The first time in prison she thought she had found
within herself a desire to make amends with her family and
live without the junk. Having failed at both goals and going
to prison again the only drive that moderated her anger
toward prison authorities and the other girls was the reality
that the better she behaved the sooner she would be out
and getting high once more.
HOW WE MET
RAZOR WALKER
A PARENT’S SECRET
When Anne was with Joe she felt like she was in a
supermarket or with a bank teller, he had the expression of
urgency of a DMV worker who wanted his line to move
fastest. Without his glasses she saw the liquid, semi
squinting eyes which seemed to spend many hours studying
her body like an application form full of tragic mistakes that
made him smile.
In the end she forced her own mind opened to see the
past but there were still things she could not express
involving her own children and the future. She was jealous
of her sons for having a capable and virtuous father. This
was punishment for having been made happy by her sisters
who had babies but no men, opening a place for Anne in
their lives to be a helpful auntie. The reverse now of her own
family, arriving home after years in prison to find they had
only a small and unsentimental place with no special need
for Anne in their lives.
She was a guest of the state for only two years the
second time despite a longer sentence than the first one she
served. As a model inmate Anne did not miss a single visit
from her kids. When she got out her oldest boy was sporting
a pink mustache, he was months away from thirteen and
Anne was finally showing signs of maturity although she was
unsure if she would survive it.
Anne had learned her lesson and easily did two years
with the knowledge that if she was a good girl she would be
out faster and be getting high again sooner.
It had been a good night, she had made well over one
hundred dollars. One hundred went for a dime bag and the
extra let her take the next night off, shooting up in the car
then spending the evening in the back of the bar.
“For a long time it was all secrets and lies. There were
knowing looks behind my mother’s back as her mother and
sisters increased the tension among us kids and our cousins.
But when my brother died that all changed. From then on
we were marked, liked the old ladies dressed in black
mourning clothes.
“That put the stamp on us, the world was free now to
offer open pity. Since coming to America my mother hung on
shreds of hope but now she was free to turn on her children
and like back in the old country it was again my fault
because I did not watch over my brother and protect him.
Just like everything else because she did not know how to
care for her children and love them. It was more important
for her to have a husband.”
She had mentioned the man and his two boys to her
own two sons at home. Her boys were thirteen and fifteen
and looked at Anne with fear, pity and contempt. If their
mother had a special relationship with their dad they had no
knowledge of it. What they did have was a slight suspicion,
as men well into their teens, they sensed things that were
wrong which they could not explain, yet.
Only the image of her boys as babies lived in her mind.
Her lengthy prison sentences had destroyed the connection.
The bond threatened to be a weak one under any
circumstances as she went from party animal before her first
son was born to junkie after the second child arrived.
While she was in prison Joe divorced her. Anne in the
eyes of the State was no longer a parent. “Why would the
Child Protection Agency take children away from their
natural father?” She asked innocently, not knowing if it was
only the pressure of the CPA that forced the divorce. In
prison she had heard and believed the stories of other
husbands who fought and saved their marriages. Even
though she knew they made a better pair of singles than
they did a married couple it hurt her that he went through
with it. Well educated and well paid Joe could not let home
life impinge on his work. When Anne went away he
immediately hired women to help him with the children.
Despite the large family he came from who would have been
willing to help he was ashamed of the turn his life had taken
and being able to pay he maintained the privacy from his
family in his own home which he lacked growing up.
Her incarceration and the psychological intervention
were not sufficient. When she was rearrested Joe had
already turned his back on her financially. After her first
imprisonment Joe refused to help support her habit. Despite
their sexual adventuring as a couple he found drugs to be
unacceptable.
“Our mom is away,” the children mentioned her cutely
when they had to mostly she was not spoken of at all. She
always struggled to catch up on the life she had missed but
they treated her like a distrusted housekeeper in their home.
Often she had to pretend to be deaf and blind. The boys
asked quite reasonably for their father to keep on the
housekeeper but he explained that he could not afford both
and said to the boys that things would be better if mom did
her job. Anne could not bare the realization that her family
was being punished for what she had done. Despite the guilt
for deserting them she could not change, she needed drugs
once more just to keep her thoughts superficial enough to
function.
Joe could not comfort her, he was ruled by guilt over
his desires for which she was equally to blame. Years ago he
tried to master the anxiety he felt for their having sex not
sanctioned by marriage. In his spirit that desired forgiveness
for himself Joe was able to forgive Anne of anything she did
or was to do. Joe tried to make an example of the meaning
of forgiveness under the Eyes of God.
Joe was aggressive at work and had steadily advanced
his career. At home he was a different man. He often
complained that no one else where he worked had to deal
with the sort of problems Anne created for him. None of
Anne’s sisters or cousins could say that they had found a
man who lifted them out of poverty as Anne had done and
for that Anne wanted to keep Joe happy. It was as though
the nightmare of her childhood developed into a beautiful
dream. One with a nightmare lining.
Following prison Anne found that Joe had changed.
Once divorced he acted out of resentment and brought
home the values he used in the office. Anne was now renting
a room in her X husband’s house. No longer would they
make love, now she preformed for him. The education she
had given him in lovemaking was perversely turned against
her.
When they were still married Joe was shy and with
difficulty asked for the things he had seen in his porno
movies. There was a thrill of discovery for Anne who found
stashes of tapes by following the trail of torn cobwebs in the
basement. For his enjoyment it was her idea to barter new
moves for chores, she enjoyed his enthusiasm more than
some of the things he wanted to do and their arrangement
gave Anne some control in the relationship.
But after prison Anne was bartering for food, shelter
and contact with her children. Joe became savage in his
demands and his tone was humiliating and no longer playful.
Clearly Joe was getting revenge for the heightened
humiliation he had suffered in front of his family, friends and
the guys at work for a wife he could not control.
Just as in prison, with few exceptions, there is a mutual
assumption of innocence so too Anne realized that in the
office and in front of the football game on TV men assume
all women are guilty. Anne turned to exchanging sex for
cash, she felt a complete equal to men who spend their lives
at work for the exact same reward.
Anne knew the secret that women are born able to
make the same amount of money on their backs with their
eyes closed for which men go to college, compete with each
other and work themselves to death. The advantage went to
the women who became equal partners while only giving up
a few minutes a day. Joe had pushed Anne into a position
where there was no difference between a whore and a
housewife.
ED’S APARTMENT