I Am My Mother's Child

I Am My Mother’s Child

I lay there like it wasn’t my first time. He touched my face and then my dark brown hair. My amber eyes looked into his eyes while he just looked past my lightly tanned face. I was doing my job and he was just another customer.  As he continued with his duty he would say the words all men say at that time, to tell me they are pleased, I lay and thought of the past. I thought of my mother, for I am my mother’s child. Growing up she was never there, always out on the streets, or as she would tell me she was on the corner for her job. It never seemed to strike me as a problem at that young age. I thought all mothers went to work wearing leather boots that came to about their knees and cheetah print skirts that barely covered their underwear, assuming if they would wear them that day. As for a shirt it consisted of a black see through material that sometimes had a flower design while others had nothing but little lines that had covered nothing, the shirt would still show her pale skin. She always wore a neon color bra, if she felt like spicing things up it would have a design of polka dots, but still was the same bright colors. The colors against her skin showed how much sun she was lacking, for my mother only went to her job at night. She never smiled and the only time I remember her smiling was when I became just like her.  She would leave my little brother and me home for hours. I was to make the food, if we had any at the time, and also clean the little apartment we had. If the landlord was to knock at the door with fury, I was not to answer, but to hide behind the couch that we couldn’t sit on because of the springs coming out of the cushions.

My brother, Charles, at that time was about four, while I was seven. I only went to school when I could leave Charles with the man down the street, which I couldn’t do so often because I had to pay each time I left him there. Even when I went to school the teachers wouldn’t try to teach the class anything. I would have been at the top of my class if I would have actually attended; I excelled in my art classes. Drawing seemed to take away the reality of what was going on in my life. For I could draw a picture of a happy family that spent their summer nights playing basketball together or silly little games like Life, instead of my reality where I had to take care of a crying child while my mother went out and made money so she could feed us the next day. I thought everyone’s family was like mine; I thought that every sibling that was the oldest was to take care of their siblings while the mother goes off and makes money. When I realized I was wrong it was too late to change my destiny.

At the age of seven my mother tried to push me to get into “her” kind of business. Telling me that the world was a harsh, and if you wanted money to survive the only thing that you can do was to sell yourself, I knew at that moment I had no future but to become just like her.

                At the age of twelve was the first time I got showed around the block. Cars would come and go, I never thought anyone would stop for such a young women like me, but my mom had dressed me, for I had to wear heels that were way too tall for me, and a little blue skirt that showed everything. Mother had told me that I must show everything, but I was afraid. I had no underwear on just like her, and my shirt cut short to the point where you could see above my belly button, while my breasts seemed to just fall out of it. I knew this was what my mother wanted, for it was the first time I seen her smile in years. I still remember when I walked out of the house and the tears that fell down my face. The tears never seemed to stop but all my mother had to say was to ‘Suck it up, Leila*. The first time is the worst but once you’re past that then it gets easier,’ and for once she was proud of me. If my mom felt like cheering me up she would sometimes call me Le Le for short but she never really called me by my real name. Although I loved my name and it was what made me different from everyone else. It was something that was mine and something I could be known for, not just some nickname.

                As soon as the man was done with his duty I sat there in the hotel room and put my clothes back on. I took my time this time, it must have been just one of those days, but usually I get out as soon as I can. I put on my black leather tight skirt taking as much time as I could. I had nothing else to do but to go back to my corner; I knew I could take my time before I was to go to the next man that wanted to do his duty with me.  I collect my money as he answers his phone and walks off into the bathroom so he could talk. I could still hear him slightly talking to some women.

                “Yes darling I’ll pick up the kids on my way home from work. I know I’ve been working late a lot and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you I promise. How about dinner tomorrow night just the two of us? I can find a babysitter, I’m sure of it.”

                She must be content with the plans he had made with her, for she had said nothing more from what I could hear. I knew that I had my money so now it was my time to slip out without any awkward goodbyes. If he wanted to come back to me he knew where I was to be, for I am always on that same corner day-in and day-out.

                I walk back to where I belong and stood on the corner my mother used to do her business on, alone again at last. All the other women were gone on trips for work, probably at the same hotel where I was. At these times, when I was alone on my corner, I would just look at the signs, the green in them so plain and dull, no life nothing going on. Then the simple white that stood around the green. The lettering of the sign always said the same thing, ‘Weary Road’, never going to change just always going to stay there. The other road sign read ‘Lucid Trail,’ which seemed to have been replaced recently for it was not a dull, faded green, but instead, a crisp green. The stop sign beneath the street sign which never changed was always a dull red. The only thing exciting was the spray paint on the sign that reads ‘never ends’. The city seems to replace that sign all the time; it always changes, the words that are written on the sign. As I stare at the words a car pulls up.

                “How can I help you?” I ask as I walk over to the blue car and the guy had his top down. I bend over to show him the features of my body, hoping he’ll want more than just some directions.

                “I want a great time. I’m sure you can help me out with that.” He said throwing out a cigarette. His eyes only on my body and I already knew what was on his mind. He wore just some sweats and nothing more than a wife-beater for a shirt. His hair was shaggy and dirty. He had a little gut as well, but all I could think was about the money I could get from him.

                “It’s $40 dollars an hour, $20 extra for anything you request. Plus $10 if I am to be on bottom.” He looked at me for a moment and then nodded for me to get in. The car ride was silent, the way I liked it. There were only a few rules for my job. One was to never fall for a customer; two was to never kiss the customer; three never get caught; four get your money and hide it; and five was to stay safe and get checked by a doctor every once in awhile.

                Once we got to the hotel, in which I had been in earlier that evening, I came towards him and slowly took off his shirt, button by button.

 As I reached the bottom button all I could remember was my first time, I was nerves and the guy didn’t care. He didn’t care when I bled or when I cried, he kept at his duty. My body was tense before we started. He touched my arm to signal to start so he wouldn’t spend money on time he didn’t receive pleasure. After he took my clothes off things just seemed like a blur. All I remember was when we were done I sat there. I said nothing and he said nothing. He counted out the money he owed me then went on his way. He didn’t even take me back to the corner. I had to get a ride from a man that was driving by the hotel, nice man he was. He actually treated me like a little girl instead of a body to play around with.

                When I came back my mother was no where insight. I thought she must be at another job with another man. I waved to the man in the vehicle goodbye, and then stood next to the pole with the street signs on it. I had no idea what to do, I felt like a lost girl in a huge story and no one was there to claim me as there’s. I cried and couldn’t stop, the nightmares I would have if I was to fall asleep. The cars kept going by and men would stop to pick up the other women, while I stood by myself almost off in my own world.

                The one thing I knew I was going to become came so fast. Threw out my life my mom would teach me the tricks of the job. Sometimes that would mean by wearing even less clothes or with my words, for I had to make things interesting each time they were to come to visit with me.

                After the blue car man and I were done I put my clothes back on and sat on the bed, expecting him to give me my money so I can get on my way. This man was different; he sat on the bed right next to me.

                “Can we just stay here and talk” He asked me looking into my eyes with a deep pain.

                “I still have to charge by the hour. I have customers waiting for their time as well.”

                “Just keep the count going.”

                “Ok. Do you want to go again or something?”

                “No I just want to talk.” He said as he sat there. I waited for a response to that but there was nothing; nothing came out of his mouth. I was ready to leave, but how can I turn down some more money just for sitting in silence, when finally he spoke.

                “I lost my job today, and my wife left me last week.” He looked at me as if I was the answer to his problems, but another part of me questions why he was even here. Could he be telling me that he had no money to pay, because if things were to come down to that he would have to talk to Charles. Charles would be the only person that I run to if I don’t get the money I worked hard for.

                He stood up and walked over to the small fridge that contained alcohol, and had two clear bottles in his hand, trying to push one towards me.

                “Want some vodka, makes the problems go away and I know you being a prostitute you must get a lot of s**t for what you do. Drink up” He pushed the drink towards me again and I looked at him lost in his eyes. I didn’t know to either accept it or pass it up. I never take drinks from the men I do business with and plus if the others smelt the alcohol on my breath they may not want to pick me up, because they might think I was to the point of passing out. 

                “No I’m fine. I don’t drink. I’m only 22 and it seems like a waste of time to start drinking now.” I thought was the best reply. He finished one of the bottles and then looked at me and tried to grab my hand to hold, but with quickness I withdrew my hand not wanting to be touched by this man anymore.

                “So how does it feel to be a w***e? I mean taking money from men just so you can have sex with them? Growing up did you think the best thing for you was to lie on your back and take it from men all day? Do you even have a family or even care? How did you get started in this s**t business?” I had enough with his words and I stopped caring about the extra money I just wanted what he owed me and to get out of there.  Although he spoke of the truth I couldn’t handle the words.

                “I’m out of here; give me the money you owe.” I said with such power. I had to be in control at this meeting.

                “Awe the w***e can’t handle the truth. Here take your damn money. You’ve done nothing for me but wasted my time and breath.”

                I grabbed the money from his hands and walked out the green door, not turning back to see if the man would follow. I had enough for tonight. Men can be such pigs sometimes, no respect even for a woman in my position. I at least deserve some respect, but in this business it’s too much to ask for. In men’s eyes I’m just something they can use, just like a piece of plastic that can be thrown away but it never decays.

                I walked home from the hotel. It has been such a long time since I ever had to walk back to the corner, it seemed just like the first time I started this business. Most of the time Charles would pick me up from the way home from his job. What a man he has become; a family and all, a great job doing something that makes high-end money. He’s became the father figure I never had. Just growing up I was the one that took care of him.

                The cars drove by and the cold night just seemed to get darker as the time passed by. No stars were out and the only light came from the cars. They never stopped or slow down. No one stopped to pick me up and give me a ride or even to try to pick me up just so I can do the job I have come to be so familiar with.

                As soon as I got to my corner I stood there, wondering should I go home or continue with the night. It was only 3 a.m. and there was still more things to be done. The cars didn’t stop coming by but they seemed to pick up everyone else but me. It gave me time to think, to think of what that man said. He was right, I am a w***e, and I’ve always known it. My mother made me into what I am, but she’s proud of me. Proud of the things I do, just like my first time. Never did she know my fear and anger but I am her. I am everything she was. I even have the same rules as she had.  Although she is gone now I still wonder if she looks at me from where ever she is and just thinks about me and how what I do pleases her. It seems like she’s been gone forever but really three years isn’t that long.

                I look at the signs one more time and then I start to head home, or the place that I could sort of call home. It was an apartment, small and painted red; nothing special about it. I was able to save up my money and get it, and I considered myself lucky. It has two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small kitchen that you could only fit one person in, and a living room, which only contained a small couch and chair. The two beds that are in the bedrooms are just the mattresses and they lay on the floor. The walls are all painted white, nothing exciting and never seemed to change.

                As soon as I saw the old apartment I stopped and decided to wait outside the door for a little bit, just to overlook everything that has gone on tonight. A person can only take so much in one night before something happens out of fear or anger. I glanced at the stars and they seemed to just shine back at me, sometimes which can give me hope. I sometimes would call them the hope stars and to wish upon one would be like wishing to a God.

As I stood there glancing at the stars I saw this light when I noticed that there was a light left on in the other bedroom of my tiny apartment. I already knew who it was so I didn’t bother rushing upstairs. I just stared off into the distance for a while. Cars kept passing by and caught my attention every once in awhile, but the different colors of the buildings and the street lights caught my eyes the most. It was always interesting how slowly the lights would turn colors. Starting out with red, then green, and as it changed cars would either drive by or stop. The longer I stood there the more the colors just seemed to blend into one color, making it so that the green, red, and yellow were to become one.

                I finally decided to go upstairs to the tiny apartment. By the time I opened the door everything was dark, except for the bedroom light. I walked in and lying in the bed was Mika*. Her soft brown hair draped over her face as she was looking at her book, I could tell she was already for bed as she was supposed to be.

                “Hey sweetie, what are you doing up this late? You should be in bed by now. You have school in the morning and you know you can’t miss anymore days. “

                She looked up as soon as she heard the worlds come out of my mouth. Her blue eyes looked at me, and then back down at her book, but I could still see the little smile that had came over her face as soon as I walked in the room.

                “Awe Mom just a little longer, I’m almost done with the good part of the book. I’m at the part where the detective finds the first clue in the murder and now she is…”

                “Now she is going to go to bed since she had such a long day.” I interrupted. “Okay now turn off the lights and get to bed, your only 7 years old you know. “

                “I know mom it’s just I want to finish this story.”

                “Not tonight darling. Tomorrow is a whole new day and you can finish then.”

                “Okay, fine. Than at least tell me a bed time story, please mommy” Mika begged and finally I gave into those beautiful blue eyes. She always knew how to get to me.  

                “Alright,” I said as I yawned and lay next to her. “So once upon a time there was a Queen named Leila, who lived way up on top of a hill in a far, far away castle. Then one day a king approached and took the queens hand and whisked her away for one night.  When Queen Leila returned to the castle the next day she found out a great surprise. Can you guess what it is?”

                Mika’s eyes got wide and she almost shouted out the answer, “Princess Mika.”

                “Yes, you are right. The surprise was that Princess Mika was born. The strong King had to return back to his own castle and so he had to leave Princess Mika and Queen Leila in their own castle. Then Princess Mika lived happily ever after with Queen Leila in their castle far, far away.”

                “Mom, will the King ever return?”She asked as I got up and tucked her in for the night.

                “I don’t know. The King had his own castle to take care of, maybe someday he will return.” I knew that he would never return. He was just another customer and when I told him about Mika he just ran. Mika will never see him again, and that’s for the best, but every time I look into her eyes I see his. He left me with such a special gift, and in a way I think him. Now, I have a beautiful daughter who will make it in this world. Mika is the reason I come home at night; she is my life.

                “Goodnight sweetheart. Sleep tight don’t let the bed bugs bite.” She always seems to laugh at this silly saying.

                I kiss her on the top of her head, turn off the lights, and close the door behind me. I walk into the kitchen and sit down at the small table. The first thing I see is a piece of paper on top of a note pad. It was Mika’s science paper and it had a green stamp across the top saying ‘Great Job.’ I was proud of her, she was doing great at school and she was actually going to school. What more could I ask for?

                As I lifted the paper I realized there was some more writing on the note pad. It was Mika’s writing again, only this time it was in some sort of poem.

My mother tucks me in at night once she comes in from her job.

Her red lipstick appears on my cheek and then she whips it off.

She makes me laugh just for fun.

I love my mommy as much as I love the sun,

But never will I become my mom;

For I am a new moon.

 

* Leila meaning night in Arabic.

* Mika meaning a new moon in Japanese.

 

Author's Note

Please tell me what you think.

Reviews

[Eagle Cruagh]

This is a story that had to be told.
I wonder if fleshing it out with hunger and the
inevitable disease and brutality would have helped ?
I awoke this morning thinking of a story along the same lines.
I would have called it, "ANGELS WITH DIRTY WINGS".
After reading your story I wonder if Angels With Broken Wings
would have been more appropriate.

The first part of your story needs to have paragraphs broken up
by two or three spaces.

An extraordinary piece of writing, it creates a sense of sadness and
melancholy in the reader. It lacks passion, but is that not what has
become of the main character ? One of the first maladjustments is the
loss of her passion, loss of life, therefore the story is very realistic.

Some very kind and decent persons must have entered this character`s life
from time to time ? The evil characters must have been much more evil and
cruel than you depict them-----should you flesh out those characters more, show
them for what they are ?

Over all, this is a brilliant story and should be rewarded on the basis of it`s impact.
The critique here is only with the hope of fleshing it out, to touch on the sweet and
the sordid characters and incidents.

The reader is left with a deep, pervasive feeling of sadness. Is that the objective of
the writer ? I believe you wanted to know how the reader is affected by the story ?

Nothing very much is left out of the story----it ends. What I am axious to know is this,
What will this writer create next ? Will it be along the same line, another story about
this unfortunate girl, or will the next story create a new sensation about something
entirely different ?

Wating with great anticipation.

For an education in writing about the unfortunate among us , I refer you to
HOLLYWOOD STATION by Joseph Wambaugh
His characters come alive, they sneeze on your food, they have sores and they are
on drugs, but they are living, breathing humans whom you and I can identify with .

Great, good luck !

---- Eagle Cruagh

[daftinklings]

I like it. It's very different. Only I don't think "duty" is the appropriate word when you use it to state that a customer is having sex with her. It sends the feeling that these men are having sex because they're required to, and not because they are seeking pleasure. Also, apart from a few typos and some confusing sentences, it's pretty good. You just need to proofread it again. I especially like the ending and how you incorporated the names into the story.

[Fern]

That's beautiful, very heartfelt, but not in the typical way. Very original, and I loved the ending.

Great work.