Trixie

The mind is an extraordinary thing, even in it's winter years.

    She stared at the yellow smoke stained popcorn ceiling directly above her bed in the cheap rented room for over an hour before finally getting up and sitting in front of her tiny mirror. She scrutinized every new wrinkle, the hair that grew over-night on her perfect chin and the crows feet around her eyes. She placed her hands on either side of her face and pulled the skin tight. She smiled. For a moment, Trixie saw the beautiful young call girl she had once been. Then, after a short cry, the old w***e began to put on her make-up. She cursed getting older and her inability to flex like she use to made it harder to compete with the younger ones. Every morning was a constant reminder when she tried to pour herself into a younger woman’s fashions. It was a pain in the a*s and a real drawback in her chosen profession. Pushing away the plate of runny eggs and burnt toast, she only sipped at her coffee while staring out the window. She hasn’t had an appetite in awhile. Looking up at the big stupid sunshine clock, she decided it was time to claim her turf for the day and work it like the old days. Trixie laughed at that last thought as she came to the corner on her stretch of real estate.

    There wasn’t much traffic at ten a.m. but an old working girl like herself couldn’t complain too much. If she had dared to work this area during prime time the younger girls would cut her face or beat her senseless. ‘No.’ she thought. ‘Ten was fine with me. I'd like to keep the teeth I’ve got left.’ An older man rolled slowly by, leaning to the side so as to get a better look at her goods. Trixie bunched her breast with both hands then made a kissy face and said “Ya lookin’ for a date, Honey?” The old man quickly looked forward again and kept going. Four more rolled by slowly soon after. The last one looked promising as he pulled up beside her. She said “Hey Sugar, I can show ya a good time.”

The old perv just giggled at her as he opened up the terry cloth robe he was wearing and exposed himself. Trixie thought about it for a moment and shrugged. “That’ll be twenty bucks. Cash, Pee Wee.” she said. The old perv just giggled at her as he pointed at his wrinkled old soldier. From out of nowhere a woman shows up and starts screaming at her. The blue haired old bitty shoved a crooked finger in her face and said “I know you, Margaret! I know what you do and I know what you are!” The old lady then broke down crying. She got up close to Trixie’s face and loudly whispered “You just stay away from my husband. He’s a good man and a good father.” The old hooker whispers back to the lady “Your husband is gay if he’s still with you, so I wouldn’t worry, Honey.” With that, the old woman ran away crying.

    When twelve noon rolled around the traffic got a little heavier with everyone going to lunch. Trixie thought she’d skip lunch today. She wasn’t very hungry anyway. Besides, she hadn’t had a paying trick in days. Trixie knew she didn’t have much money and was too afraid to look. Just as she was about to move a bit further down from the corner, she spotted two Vice cops she had known back in the day. Trixie pretended to look in the window of the noisy little cafe she had been in front of and so put her back to them.

“When was the last time Margaret was toileted?” the young Hispanic woman asked.

“Just before breakfast, I think.” said the older Filipina

“Alright.” she said, and with a raised voice, continued “Come on, Mama. I think you need to go to the lady’s room.”

“Nooo.” Margaret said like a child. “Leave me alone. Why can’t you pigs just leave me alone.” she whined.

“No, Mama. You have to go. If you don’t, we’ll have to put the night panties on you.”

The two caregivers looked at each other and smiled. They went through this scene every day.

“Come on, Mama.” the Hispanic caregiver coaxed politely.

Margaret pulled her hand out of the young lady’s light grip.

“Why can’t you leave a working girl alone and just let her eat her lunch in peace?”

“Okay, Mama. You wanna eat lunch? We’ll get you a table.”

Trixie sat in a cramped booth next to an old lady that sang "Happy Birthday" non-stop and across from an old man drooling into his meatloaf with mushroom gravy. While eating a grilled cheese sandwich and scouting the joint for a would-be John, she remembered where she was and began to cry softly to herself.

“She’s in a better mood today, I think.” said the Filipina caregiver.

“Si’, I agree. She no punch me in throat today.” the Hispanic lady said with a chuckle.

“And at least she has all her clothes on.” the other said, and they both laughed.

“I wonder what she was like when she was a high school English teacher?” their shift manager asked as she walked by and peeked into the Sunny Days Memory Care dining room.