I’d taken the train to downtown hoping to accomplish . . . something.
What, I’m not entirely sure, but I’m so, so tired of feeling like this. Emptiness can make you behave in ways you could never imagine, and this is the only way to satisfy the giant fucking hole inside of me. The satisfaction comes and goes as the men ogle me. They feel end to my body since I dress in a way that purposely entices them. They are disgusting and entirely wrong, but I play into their lust, encouraging their behavior with a wink of my eye. A shy smile at a lonely man goes a long way.
Needing this attention makes me sick to my stomach. It’s more than an ache; it’s a scalding white-hot burn inside of me.
As I turn another corner, a black car approaches, and I glance away as the man behind the wheel slows down to look at me. The streets are dark, and this zigzag alley is located behind one of the richest parts of Philadelphia. Shops line the streets, each of them having their own back dock here.
There’s too much money and not enough pleasantness in the Main Line.
“You want to go for a ride?” the man asks as his automatic window rolls down with a smooth whir. His face is slightly wrinkled, and his sandy-brown-and-gray hair is neatly parted and combed down on the sides. His smile is charming, and he looks good for his age, but there’s a warning that sounds in my mind each and every weekend that I take this walk, follow this zombie routine for some unknowable reason. The faux kindness in his smile is just that, as fake as my “Chanel” bag. His smile comes from money; I know this by now. Men with black cars that are so clean they shine under the moonlight have money but no conscience. Their wives haven’t fucked them in weeks—months, even—and they search the streets for the attention they’ve been deprived of.
But I don’t want his money. My parents have that, too much of it.
“I’m not a prostitute, you sick fuck!” I kick my platform boot at his stupid shiny car and notice the gleam of a band on one finger.
His eyes follow mine, and he tucks his hand under the steering wheel. Douchebag.
“Nice try. Go home to your wife—I’m sure whatever excuse you’ve given her is set to expire.”
I begin to walk away, and he says something else to me. The distance catches the sound, carrying it away into the night, no doubt to some dark corner. I don’t bother looking back at him.
The road is nearly empty since it’s after nine on a Monday night. The lights on the backs of the buildings are dim, the air calm and quiet. I pass behind a restaurant where steam billows from the roof, and the smell of charcoal fills my senses. It smells amazing and reminds me of backyard barbecues we’d have with Curtis’s family when I was younger. Back when they felt like a second family.
I blink the thoughts away and return the smile of a middle-aged woman wearing an apron and a chef’s hat walking out of the back entrance of a restaurant. The flame from her lighter is bright in the night. She takes a drag from the cigarette in her hand, and I smile again.
“Be careful out here, girl,” her raspy voice warns.
“Always am,” I reply with a smile and a wave of my hand. She shakes her head and puts the cigarette back to her lips. The smoke fills the cold air, and the red fire at the end of the cigarette makes a crackling noise in the night’s silence before she tosses it to the concrete and loudly stomps on it.
I continue walking, and the air grows colder. Another car passes, and I move to the side of the alley. The car is black . . . I look again and realize it’s the same shiny black as the last one. A chill runs cold down my back as it slows, tires crunching on the trash covering the alley.
I walk faster, choosing to step behind a Dumpster to gain as much distance from the stranger as possible. My feet pick up the pace and I walk a little farther.
I don’t know why I’m so paranoid tonight; I do this nearly every weekend. I dress in a hideous smock, kiss my dad on the cheek, and ask him for train fare. He frowns and tells me that I spend too much time alone and that I have to move on in the world before life passes me by. If moving on were so simple, I wouldn’t be doing this quick change into this dress or shoving the smock into my purse to put back on during the ride home.
Move on. As if it were so simple.
“Molly, you’re only seventeen; you have to get back to real life before you’ve missed too much of the best years of your life,” he tells me each time.
If these are the best years of my life, I don’t see much point in living any longer than this.
I always nod, agreeing with him with a smile while silently wishing he would stop comparing his loss to mine. The difference is, my mom wanted to leave.
Tonight feels different somehow, maybe because the same man is now stopping next to me for the second time in twenty minutes.
I break into a run, letting my fear carry me down the pothole-filled street to the busier road up ahead. A cab honks at me when I stumble into the street and jump back to the sidewalk, trying to catch my breath.
.noitcerid yreve ni kool dna klawedis eht otno kcab pets I .ria dloc eht ni ehtaerb ot elggurts I dna ,erif sehctac tsehc yM .woN .emoh og ot deen I
.em dniheb morf stuohs eciov s’namow a ”?uoy taht si ,sleumaS ylloM ?ylloM“
.em drawot sklaw ehs sa dnah hcae ni gab yrecorg nworb a sah ehS .sreh teem seye ym nehw noitcerid rehto eht ni tlob ot deen eht thgif I .otni nur ot tnaw I nosrep tsal eht fo ecaf railimaf eht ees dna dnuora nrut I
.keehc reh revo nwod sllaf riah fo knuhc a sa sksa tterraG .srM ”?etal siht dna ,ereh tuo gniod uoy era tahW“
.niaga skool ehs erofeb shgiht ym nwod sserd ym hsup ot yrt I ”.gniklaw tsuJ“
”?enolA“
.evisnefed naht erom enot ym ,yas I ”,oot ,enola er’uoY“
.renroc eht no dekrap nav nworb eht drawot strats ehS ”.rac eht ni teg ,no emoC“ .mra eno ot sgab yrecorg eht selffuhs dna shgis ehS
.rewsna na rof on ekat ot mees t’nseod ohw rac kcalb eht ni yug eht htiw teerts eht no tuo naht tnemgduj reh dna reh htiw rac siht edisni eb rehtar dluow I .yltnatiseh edisni pets I dna ,skcolnu rood edis-regnessap eht ,nottub a fo kcilc eht htiW
.leehw eht no gnikahs era sdnah reh tub ,enot gnorts a ni sdne tnemetats reH ”.efil ruoy fo tser eht rof siht ekil tuo tca t’nac uoy wonk uoY“ .em ot gninrut erofeb etunim a rof daeha thgiarts skool dna edis s’revird eht otni steg roivas yraropmet yM
”—ton m’I“
