Chapter 7

I was down in the dumps all day and it was hard for me to smile at my customers. When I was alone, tears would come into my eyes. I couldn't help it. I kept thinking about John and how much I wanted him. It was funny, I could do it with any man who came along, but not with the one I really wanted. I turned the juke-box up as loud as I could and kept playing it. It was the only way that I could drive those thoughts out of my mind. I was nervous and my hands were shaky. It seemed that I dropped everything I picked up; objects just slipped out of my hands.

Shirley returned at seven. She looked as fresh as a daisy and she almost bounced into the house. I envied her cheerfulness and I hoped some of it would rub off onto me.

"I heard you got slapped around last night," she smiled at me.

"Who told you?" I snapped.

"Oh, I just heard-men talk you know. I'll bet you won't be getting lovey-dovey with your customers any more," she said. "Here, look, I'll show you something."

She pulled back her dress and slipped her bra down. I looked at her breasts. The nipples were almost gone and covered with scars.

"That's what my old man did when he found me cheating on him. He burned me with a cigar. Boy, did that teach me!" Shirley slipped her straps back on. "You were lucky all you got was a slapping."

"I was just being nice to a guy," I explained.

"What's the use of being nice to a guy?" Shirley shrugged her shoulders. "That doesn't get you any place. They don't pay you extra for it and they won't think any more of you for it. Do you think any of the crumbs that come here would be seen walking down the street with you? Hell no, they wouldn't!"

I moved my shoulders and stared out the window. I wondered if I could make her understand. I didn't care for my friend and that's all that he was-a friend, but I didn't say anything. If I did, it would be carried to John and I'd have to answer for it.

My friend didn't come around for a couple of days and I had almost forgotten him until I saw him coming down the street one morning. John was across the street and there wasn't much I could do.

"Hello, Wanda, how have you been?" he asked with a cheery smile.

"O.K. I guess." I stared at the flowers on the wallpaper while he made awkward motions with his hands. He reminded me of a little boy trying to recite a poem. I knew that he was too self-conscious to say anything in front of Shirley and Grace.

"Why don't you go to bed with Shirley?" I suggested. "She can show you a good time."

"I-I was thinking about you," he stammered.

"Oh, give Shirley a break. You've had enough of me," I answered. "I get tired of going to bed with the same men all the time."

He didn't answer, but just looked at me. I would have preferred that he hit me because a beating would have been easier to take than the hurt look he gave me. He didn't even glance at Shirley, but turned around and walked out. I watched him go up the sidewalk, walking as fast as he could and it was all I could do to sit still. I wanted to run after him and tell him I was sorry. I turned my face so Shirley and Grace wouldn't see my tears.

"Boy, wasn't he a stuck-up bastard?" Shirley said. She jammed her hands on her hips, "Who does he think he is-not wanting to go to bed with me."

"Can it!" I screamed and burst into tears.

"Gee, I'm sorry, Kid, I didn't know you cared," she answered. "I didn't mean it-not the way it sounded."

"I didn't care about him-that's the worst part," I said. "It would be easier if I did."

I gripped the chair arms until my knuckles stood out white. I didn't care. I didn't care about anyone-not even myself. I felt cold, hard, and vacant inside; like an old house that no one lives in any more. Of all the men I had "dated," only one had treated me like a woman. But I wasn't a woman and men didn't think of me as one. To them, I was a prostitute, something to buy and paw over, and to leave here until they wanted me again. One guy had been nice to me and had been different, and because he had been, I wasn't allowed to see him any more.

Some guy came down the street and I walked to the door, instead of pecking on the window. I wanted him to know mat I was a chippy and I wished we could stand naked on the porches and shout out our wares.

"Come on in, Honey, I'll show you a good time," I called out.

"How much?"

"Ten bucks. Come on, I haven't had a date all morning."

"There's a girl down the street who sells it for five," he jerked his head towards one of the houses down the street.

"She knows what her fanny is worth and I know what mine is worth," I answered. "Would she sell it for five if she could get ten?"

He paused for a moment, deep lines in his forehead. I wanted to go out and drag him in, but I knew Grace wouldn't let me. According to the rules, we weren't allowed to even go out on the porch to solicit. He threw his cigarette away and finally said, "Too much."

He walked on. It made me feel cheap and rotten. I hated him for turning me down. Another man came along and I hooked him. I took him to my room without asking if he wanted to go to bed with Shirley.

"I can put out a good French Date if you want it," I said when I got him into my room. He shook his head.

I laughed when I kicked off my panties and I wanted him to think I was the hottest whore on Green street. I was determined to give him the best ride he ever got from a woman. I had never felt this way before. When he got on top of me, I opened my eyes wide like I was pleased. He didn't tumble to the fact that I was just acting.

That night I took on thirty-four men, the most that I had taken on since the mills shut down. Shirley only turned twenty tricks. When John drove after me the next morning, I handed my money to him as soon as I got into the car. His eyes bugged out with surprise when he counted it.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

I just laughed.