Craved

by Lola Smirnova

  She’s such a hypocrite!

  ‘Oh Nata, congratulations!’ I hug her tightly, hoping she will not see the reproach written in capital letters on my face.

  ‘You don’t have to pretend. I’m not looking at this situation through rose-tinted glasses. I’m more terrified than happy about it.’ She inhales sharply, looks away, and silent tears run down her face.

  ‘Oh gosh...’ I mumble – as always, feeling disoriented when I see Natalia in such a state.

  ‘I didn’t want or plan it. If not for the pregnancy, I wouldn’t even consider marriage. You know I’m not in love with him. He’s a nice guy and everything, but marriage and baby?’ She wipes her tears with her T-shirt sleeve.

  I get up to get her some tissues, find the tissue box empty, and grab a toilet roll from another shelf. I rub her back while she wipes her face, thinking what to say.

  Natalia doesn’t need my counseling – she simply needs to get things off her chest.

  ‘And even so, I feel a relief! Some kind of way out for me, an escape.’ Her wet eyes are turned to me, but it’s like she doesn’t see me. ‘I am so tired, Jul. I understand Lena and others like her. They don't want marriage and kids for the marriage and kids, but for the long-awaited escape. To have a home, to hide behind someone. You know? Just to relax and be able to breathe again, without waking up every morning with that persistent smoldering anxiety in your chest, wondering how else life is going to kick you. To hand over responsibility and feel weak and human again.’

  ‘And yet it didn’t work for Lena! Maybe the escape part is just an illusion? With married life there will be other responsibilities, other worries and problems. Life will still kick you. The only difference is that you’ll service only one man. Maybe what you need is just a few weeks off? A vacation, to think things through?’

  She smiles through tears. Her eyes are sad and unfocused. ‘I’ve worked hard since I was sixteen years old. All these years of non-stop plowing without even a moment of compassion for myself. I’m tired. I need a break.’ She sighs and gives me a woeful smile. ‘Do you think I’m that tough? That I don’t have insecurities and fears every single night I go out onto the floor? I might just try this thing with the baby and the marriage. Maybe I’ll be lucky, and it’ll work out?’ She is looking at me as if asking my permission. But I understand it’s not my approval she’s seeking; she’s trying to convince herself.

  I take a moment before I reply. ‘You know? I think you are right. Try the family thing. If it doesn’t work, you can always get divorced and do something else.’

  Natalia gets up, walks to the wardrobe, and checks her red, swollen face in the mirror on its door. ‘I’ve turned into a drama queen lately. I wonder if it’s the pregnancy hormones already?’ she titters, then turns to me. ‘You said you had some news too?’

  ‘Well...’ I smile, trying to recover the lost excitement, ‘Saad heard me complaining about our “horrible” living conditions and rented me an amazing apartment in Sea Point with gorgeous views of the ocean. The lease is in my name for the whole year! Paid upfront!’

  Natalia covers her mouth with both hands and squeaks. She grabs my hands and starts shaking them, while laughing hysterically. ‘This is freaking awesome! So he thinks we are suffering here, huh? I wonder what he’d do if he saw our apartment in Kherson?’

  ‘That’s true!’ we laugh.

  I open my purse, pull the keys out and shake them in the air.

  ‘Do you want to have a look?’

  Natalia squeaks again, checks her wristwatch, stops for a moment to think and then starts to instruct: ‘Let’s pack for work. We’ll check it out, then grab a bite, and go to the club straight from there.’ She stops on the way to the wardrobe.

  ‘I am so glad, Jul, that good things are happening to you. Life is finally being kind to you. You deserve it.’ She turns and goes back to packing. ‘It’s all going to be good. You and your new rich boyfriend. Lena is out of rehab. Mom said that Dad is doing better. We are finally going to be okay again.’

  42

  ‘Hello?’ I was still in the shower when the phone rang. I rushed out, wrapping myself in a towel, and pressed the green button, without looking at the number.

  ‘Julia?’ My mother's voice tenses me instantly.

  Since her confession, our conversations are no longer as regular. It feels awkward, pretending that those things haven’t been said. I suspect she feels awkward too. As if we crossed a line, and there is no going back to a normal mother–daughter relationship. I intentionally miss her phone calls and get her news from Natalia.

  ‘Oh, hi Mom, how are you?’

  ‘I tried to call Natalia, and then Lena, but I couldn’t reach them.’ Her voice trembles; she pauses, and exhales deeply. ‘He’s gone…’ Because her voice is calm, I don’t get the meaning of her words.

  ‘What do you mean? What happened?’

  Oh God, please let it be something else. Please. Please. Please.

  ‘Your father is gone. He passed away an hour ago.’

  I’d imagined this moment thousands of times, but my worst anticipation didn’t come close to this violent discharge of shock and hurt that immediately hits my mind and body. I lean against the wall and close my eyes.

  ‘Oh Mom...’ I choke on my tears and can’t say anything else.

  ‘He passed away in his sleep.’ Her voice is so calm, it’s creepy. ‘He is in a better place. A place where there’s no pain or suffering.’

  ‘Oh Mom… and we were not even there for him.’ My crying turns to weeping.

  ‘Don’t say that Jul. He knows… he knew why you couldn’t be here. He knew you girls loved, supported and fought for him.’

  I’m buried by this avalanche of pain. It’s all-embracing, and paralyzing. It’s hard to breathe.

  ‘I called the doctor and the police for all the legal certifications. I also organized the transport to take him to the morgue.’

  ‘How are you, Mom?’ I realize that her calmness is her way of coping with pain.

  ‘I don’t know. I am tired.’ I hear her open the window and light a cigarette.

  ‘I… Jul, don’t get me wrong for saying this, but I feel relieved. I couldn’t watch him suffer any more. He was exhausted by the pain and fear. He wanted to let go. I could see it in his eyes. And now he’s free.’ I hear her quiet sobbing.

  ‘Oh Mom…’

  ‘He will be missed. Terribly…’ she says, and we both cry, now, without holding back.

  ‘There is someone at the door, the doctor I guess.’ She clears her throat and sounds almost composed again. ‘Julia, call your sisters. I will call you back as soon as I have sorted things out here.’ She pauses, taking a deep breath. It’s grueling. ‘I love you my girls.’

  ‘I love you too, Mom.’

  We hang up. I wash my face with cold water, trying to get rid of the misty turmoil that has clogged my head, and dial Natalia.

  She hears me out, whispers, ‘Oh God. I'll be at your place now,’ and hangs up.

  When she arrives I notice her red and swollen face right away. We hug without saying a word and let ourselves cry on each other’s shoulders.

  We decide to fly home first thing in the morning. While Natalia is searching for tickets online, I try to reach Lena. Unsuccessful, I call Mark.

  ‘She hasn’t been home since last night. She drew ten grand from the credit card and disappeared. I guess she’s using again. I want nothing to do with that woman ever again!’ Before I can say anything, he puts the phone down.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with her?’ Natalia exclaims. We fall silent, both thinking of what to do next.

  ‘I think you should stay here.’ Natalia speaks first. ‘She may need your help. Don’t worry, I can manage on my own. Besides, I planned to quit the club in a couple of weeks anyway. And no one knows, with this baby on the way, when I’ll have the chance to visit Mom again.’

  We book Natalia’s flight, then call our manager to explain why we aren’t g
oing to come to work. Natalia sleeps over at my place. After a restless night we get up, completely whipped, and drive to Natalia’s accommodation. I help her pack and take her to the airport. We hug, hardly managing to hold back our tears, and Natalia disappears into the crowd beyond the security checkpoint. I walk back to the parking area and call Lena. She doesn’t answer. I curse and send her a text:

  Where the hell are you?

  Call me back.

  It’s urgent.

  Dad has passed away.

  43

  Disregarding Natalia’s several calls a day reporting on the funeral and other issues, which end up with her insisting on me taking a break from work, I decide that on the contrary, being busy could help me to cope with the pain during the day and to sleep better at night. When I do nothing, my mind gets suffocated with grief over Dad and with fears for Lena. That’s why, as soon as I step into the club, I walk around non-stop, without giving myself even a minute’s break. It seems that if I stop even briefly, unbearable thoughts will get their way and wear my consciousness down.

  I get off the stage after my show, and drop onto the chair in the changing room.

  ‘The corner booth on the right. They’ve called you for a table dance,’ the waitress announces and leaves as quickly as she arrived.

  Eight people, including a few female clients, greet me with praise.

  ‘Julia, that was a very naughty show!’

  ‘You are so beautiful!’

  ‘Will you give us a table dance?’

  ‘These girls are in a strip club for the first time. Give them a steamy show!’

  I begin, grateful for the distraction, presenting the full range of my moves and tricks. The women bashfully giggle. The men laugh out loud, while peeping at their girlfriends’ reaction. The second song begins and I take off my panties. The female spectators squeak and look away. Except for one, the pretty blonde. At first, she checks out her boyfriend’s reaction and then, when she attests that he is truly into my entertainment, she springs to her feet and walks away. Her boyfriend shouts, ‘Honey! Where are you going?’ but doesn’t follow her, staying to enjoy the rest of the dance.

  I finish, accompanied by loud clapping. The blonde returns and with the same acidic manner drops back onto the couch.

  I get off the table, put on my panties. As I look for my bra I realize that the blonde is sitting on it.

  ‘Can you please pass me my bra?’ I smile, ignoring her stare full of hatred.

  She smirks, pretends that she hasn’t heard me and assumes the cross-legged position.

  Still half naked, I straighten my shoulders, step closer, and ask her again, in the same polite manner but louder this time, ‘You are sitting on it. Can you please pass my bra?’

  The whole table is watching us in silence. Her boyfriend fidgets but also keeps quiet.

  The blonde, after a dramatic pause, to make sure she has everyone’s attention, pulls my bra out from under her ass and dashes it in my face.

  A wave of humiliation, followed by self-pity, distorts my expression. ‘Why did you do that?’ I finally say, feeling that it’s not just my bra but all the unfairness of the world that’s been thrown into my face.

  What did I do to her? I don’t even know the bitch.

  She gets up, her face made ugly with the same smirk. ‘Because you’re a fucking dirty stripper!’ She walks away, shoving me out of her path. I step back, losing my balance, and awkwardly drop down on my ass on the table.

  On a normal day I would likely have disregarded the fine for fighting in the club, made sure that I got a good payoff for the money spent on the fine, caught the bitch and shown her how to respect ‘fucking dirty strippers’. But not this time. I cover my face and, forgetting that I’m still half naked, ignore the apologetic cheer-ups from her frightened friends along with the curious and intruding eyes of other girls and patrons. I start weeping like a little girl.

  Strong hands lift me up. I open my eyes – it’s Alan. He picks me up and carries me to the changing room like a bride. I put my arms around his neck, hide my wet-with-tears face, and cry even harder, smearing my mascara over his shirt.

  It’s so nice to be taken care of like that at least once in a while. Sweet.

  ‘Julia!’ Alan yells, puts me on my feet as soon as we are in the changing room and steps back. ‘What the hell was that?’

  Crap, I'll get fined one way or another.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here after what happened to your father.’ Before I can object, he heads to the door and adds, ‘I don’t want to see you here for at least a week! My clients come here for fun, not for mourning.’

  44

  Another two weeks go by. I’d taken a week off as Alan had ordered, and am already back at work. Natalia has decided to stay in Ukraine for longer, as Tom wanted to meet our mom and could only do this in a month’s time. So, she’ll wait for him and they’ll fly back together. She calls me every day with ‘I don’t get it. How’s that even possible? I can’t even look at some foods, the ones that used to be my favorite,’ or, ‘Oh, I have this perverted urge to eat green fruits. Sour apples and plums are on top of my list now!’ She also reports on our Mom’s state, saying that except for some moments, when Mom got emotional at the funeral or while packing Dad’s clothes and other belongings after that, she is doing pretty well.

  At least Natalia had a good result according to our plan. My part, which was helping Lena: not so much.

  I walk into a bar. It’s one of those smelly, dodgy open-in-the-mornings-as-well places on Long Street. I look around trying to adjust my vision – from the bright, sunny street to premises with almost no windows. The place is empty, except for one last-stage alcoholic man, sitting at the bar and staring at a half empty glass of beer, the tired-looking barman and my sister in front of the countertop game machine sipping a glass of white wine.

  For two weeks I’d tried to reach her. I called her thousands of times and sent her a bunch of texts. I begged and accused and threatened – I tried it all. Today, she finally responded with a short text, asking me to come and meet her in this bar.

  I walk towards the bar counter and sit down next to her.

  She sees me but doesn’t stop playing. ‘Oh Jul! Thanks for coming, let me quickly finish this one.’

  I pin her with a heavy look, but she doesn’t even notice.

  She drags me to this shithole to talk and now some stupid game is more important?

  ‘Can I have a bottle of still water and a cappuccino, please,’ I say to the barman and go and sit at the table.

  Mark is furious. And I understand why. But unfortunately, there is nothing we can do about Lena’s state, no matter how depraved it is, or how willing we are.

  The barman brings me my order. The cup has a lipstick stain on it. I make a face, push it away and check the glass. It’s dirty too. I pick up the bottle and take a few gulps.

  Lena finishes her game and comes to sit in front of me. She is definitely drunk and most probably high too. She looks horrible. Her jeans and T-shirt are wrinkled and dirty. Her hair is matted and there are earth-colored rings under her eyes. She’s lost a lot of weight too.

  Fucking living-on-the-street-junkie.

  ‘Thanks for coming.’ She sips from her glass. ‘I believe Mark’s already spoken to you. He is angry at me, huh?’

  ‘What do you think? How come a few weeks after rehab you were back on drugs?’

  ‘I know Jul, but do you know how difficult and sad it is to live with the knowledge that you’ll never be able to have kids?’

  ‘Oh God! You’re starting with this again? How are the drugs supposed to help you get pregnant? You know what’s really sad? Dad died, and you haven’t called Mom once! That’s fucking sad.’

  ‘Oh God, I am a horrible person... I’ll call Mom.’ Her voice quivers, but it sounds so fake that I can’t help rolling my eyes. ‘Jul, I need help. Can you give me some money, please?’

  ‘I don’t have money.’

  ‘
Oh yeah? And what about your new car?’ She nods towards the only dirty window, where I’d parked outside. ‘You have the money for that… I heard about your new rich boyfriend.’

  ‘He isn’t my boyfriend. I work hard to earn this money. And it’s none of your business how I spend it.’ I look straight into her eyes. ‘Besides, you know, it’s not about the money. Me giving you money equals me buying you drugs equals me contributing to your probable death.’

  ‘Maybe I don’t deserve to live. I am a bad, bad person. I should die. And you are the first person who should want that.’

  ‘Don’t even try it. I am an addict myself. Remember? I know all the tricks you are trying to pull. So what? You cheating on your husband or your abortion story or you falling for addiction are not reasons to deserve death.’

  ‘If you knew, you would want me to die.’ She continues the drama, and I roll my eyes again.

  Lena’s eyes spark with anger.

  ‘That day you were raped...’ She picks at the wine glass. ‘I came back from school, they were still busy with you. I got scared and left. I went one flight of stairs up. When my fear settled, I still didn’t move to help you. I knew if Sergey had to find out that I knew, he’d never marry me. I was in love with him and I wanted to get married so badly that I was ready to pretend that I never saw it. That it never happened. Even after seeing you in hospital, knowing how much damage they’d done to you...’ She looks me in the eye. ‘If he’d wanted to marry me you’d have had a brother-in-law who had raped you.’ An ugly smile finishes her sentence. ‘Do you want my death now?’

  The painful memories flood my mind, boiling my blood and burning from inside. I sit back and turn away, unable to stand her stare.