Who We Are

by Samantha Marsh

  “After a passionate night of lovemaking, we sat at his dining table eating breakfast when he started to tell me about sex. He told me that there were many ways to have sex. He told me that when it was with someone you cared about, like me and him, it was making love. But he then told me that sex was a good way to make money. He told me there were many lonely men who didn’t have anybody to love, but willing to pay women to have sex with them. He told me that a girl could make a lot of money doing this and if I was interested, he could help me. He talked about my job at the diner and that if I couldn’t pay my way, he couldn’t afford to continue helping me. But if I was interested in working with Monique, I could make a lot of easy money and buy everything my heart desired.

  “Well Desire, as shameful as it is, I felt I had no choice. I owed Mac a lot of money and, frankly, I wanted the pretty clothes and shoes. I wanted a nice apartment and visits to the salon. What I didn’t know what that Monique wasn’t a whore at all, she was sort of a front man. All the little girls coming in to the big city that Mac charmed went through pretty much the same routine I went through. Monique’s apartment was a brief stopover before entering hell on earth.

  “Once I agreed to try it, I soon learned that the men that buy sex are not lonely or looking for love. Most of them are perverts looking for something disgusting that they don’t ask their wives or girlfriends to do. After I turned my first couple of tricks, I wanted to quit, but by then Mac had gone out and bought me a whole new wardrobe, more makeup, shoes, purses and all the things a really good prostitute needs to attract customers. I was in so deep and didn’t have anywhere to go. Mac managed all my money so I couldn’t even squirrel any away. I briefly thought about maybe shorting him at the end of the night, after all how could he keep track of all the business I did? Would he notice if I kept back twenty or fifty bucks here and there?

  It didn’t take me long to learn that he knew everything. Another one of his girls, Robyn, held back fifty bucks one night and I have no idea how he knew. Robyn used to work the same block as me, but one night she didn’t show up. That was unusual because we hardly ever got to take a night off. At first I thought maybe she was sick, but after a couple of days I asked one of the other girls if they had seen Robyn. She laughed and told me that Robyn had held back money from Mac and she was probably lying in a hospital bed for doing so. That girl told me if I knew what was good for me I would hold back money. I never saw Robyn again and never asked about her anymore.

  “I decided that I would put all my effort into being a good employee, making lots of money and not pissing off Mac. So for the next three years, I was Mac’s best earner and I was rewarded handsomely. Fancy clothes, a bigger apartment, regular salon visits and spa treatments. On special occasions, Mac would give me the night off and treat me to a fancy dinner or a show on Broadway. As much as I hated being a whore, I was actually living a pretty good life, for the most part.

  “One day, I went for a walk in Central Park and I bought myself a coffee and muffin and sat on a bench to enjoy the sunshine. I watched people walking by. I saw joggers and bikers. I watched business men and women walking through the park, having a bite for lunch. I saw folks walking dogs and countless nannies looking after many children. They were picnicking, laughing, running and eating ice cream. All of a sudden, I felt like I was an intruder. Here I was, a street walking whore with nothing more to show for my existence other than a closet full of stilettos and dresses designed to attract all the scumbags who wanted to pay for kinky, perverted, dirty sex. I had no friends to walk through the park with, no skills, no hobbies and no one who loved me. I mean, Mac loved me in so much as I kept earning him money, but as I sat there on that bench, watching the little chubby toddlers running around with their nannies or mothers, I started to cry. As I sat there sobbing, I felt someone sit down beside me and when I looked up, it was Mac. He put his arm around me and hushed me. When I composed myself, he took my hand and we went to his car.

  “He drove me back to his apartment and fixed me a drink. It was strong, but I drank it. He then led me into his bedroom and took my clothes off. I laid on the bed but what happened next was not what I thought. He tied a belt around my arm and gave me an injection. Within a matter of seconds, everything in the world seemed right. A feeling of unexplainable bliss washed over me. It felt so good, I cannot think of any words to describe it. He let me spend the night and whispered sweet nothings in my ear all night. When I started to come down from my high, he would tie up my arm and inject a little more magic.

  “After that night, I never went back to Central Park for three more years. I spent each day after that seeking another shot to get that feeling back. I continued to earn for a while but eventually my addiction to heroine took over. My looks were fading fast, I lost a lot of weight and I skipped salon appointments to get high. Mac was about to kick my ass to the curb when he realized that when I was high I would do anything. So I became his nasty whore who serviced the most depraved and sick men you can imagine. As long as I was high, nothing bothered me and if I woke up the next morning hurt or bruised or ashamed of what I had done the night before, it didn’t matter. I simply shot up some more heroine and all was well.

  “Mac eventually moved me into a dingy apartment. The shopping sprees and nights on the town had long since ended. I didn’t care though because I just wanted my little bag of heroine each day.

  “Then one day, Mac didn’t show up with my bag in the morning and, even stranger, he didn’t show up with a line-up of perverts that night for me to service. I went through a week of hell as my body suffered the effects of withdrawal. Since ac had taken care of everything, I had no clue how to get drugs. And even if I did, Mac never let us keep more than $20 a day for cigarettes and lunch.

  “At the end of the week, I still hadn’t heard from Mac, so I assumed he was in jail or dead. Either way I didn’t care. I walked to Central Park and bought a coffee and a bag of bread crumbs. I sat on a bench and threw the crumbs to the ducks. When the crumbs were gone, I walked along the lake in the park and leaned over. I saw my reflection in the pond and was horrified at what I saw. I didn’t see me. I saw a haggard, ugly girl. Who was this girl? I was only 24 years old but felt like I was 80. I sat down on the grass and sobbed, much like I did three years earlier. After I had a good cry, I looked up to the sky. It was much like the sky today. I peered back in the lake but the ugly girl was still there.

  “What on earth could I do now? Off the drugs for a week, my mind was beginning to clear and that was awful. Memories of what I had done over the past six years haunted me. With Mac missing in action, it was my chance to start a new life, but what on earth would that be? I had no money, no skills and nothing other than track pants and whore dresses in my closet.

  “I walked back to my apartment, but the key wouldn’t work. I knocked on the manager’s door for help, but he cracked the door just a bit and told me to fuck off. He told me Mac had skipped town and that he hadn’t paid the rent past today. I asked him if I could at least get some of my things and he told me it was his now and to get off his property before he called the cops.

  “I left the apartment and stood on the sidewalk. I looked in my pocket counted my money. I had $11.50 to my name. I went to Monique’s apartment, but there was no answer. A neighbor heard me knocking and told me that she had left. So I went back to where it all started, the diner I first went to when I had arrived in the big city, full of hopes and dreams. I sat in a booth where I saw a newspaper. I flipped through the want ads, but of course very few jobs valued to skill of nasty heroin-addicted whore and sad as it was, that was all I knew how to do.

  “Then I saw an advertisement that caught my attention. It stated that a company was looking to do research and was willing to pay the participants. The stipend was room and board during the six-week experiment and a $3000 payment at the end. There were no criteria to join and it didn’t specify exactly what the research was about, but all I saw was the $3000. I didn’t think that someone l
ike me would qualify, but what did I have to lose?

  “There was no name in the ad, just a phone number to call 24 hours a day until the research spots got filled. I called the number from the payphone in the diner. A man answered. He sounded very professional and asked me several questions. He told me I sounded like a perfect subject and would love explain the experiment to me in person. I told him where I was and he told me he would meet me there in 20 minutes.

  “Before I finished my breakfast, a man in a dark suit with a medium build came over to my table. He asked if I was the girl who called him. I told his I was, then he sat down and ordered a cup of coffee.

  He told me that his client was interested in human behavior. Based on my history, he could recommend me for the study that focused on recovering from drug addiction. It sounded like exactly what I needed. He told me that I would be taught to sew, cook and bake. I would also be taught a new way of living in order to become a productive member of society, free from the bonds of addiction. I would have a comfortable place to live, new clothes and all my meals provided. In addition I would receive $3000 if I successfully completed the requirements of the experiment.

  “Before I could say yes or no, I woke up here in Hemac. I am sure the man slipped something into my coffee. Waking up in this strange place was strange enough, but what was even more peculiar was feeling like I had two distinct sets of memories. I could remember my life from before—the trailer park, the diner, Central Park, Mac and all of the disgusting things I did and how high I got to perform those things—but now I had this new set of memories that seemed more like scripts in my mind. The scripts seemed to direct me how to behave and get by in Hemac.

  “I explored my new home, saw my husband and realized that, in this world, I was actually a somebody, a respectable somebody with a home and supportive community. Everyone around me seemed to believe they always lived here, and for all I knew, they did. But it didn’t take long for me notice that every once in a while, a new community member would appear and then, all of a sudden, they were in my memory and everyone else’s memory as if they had always been here! I only saw the scientist when I went for check-ups at the Clinic. I quickly learned that these were really adjustments to implant the new information we needed to continue to live our lives with any sense of normalcy.

  “I am sure it sounds funny to hear me talk about all this and use the word normalcy, but for the first time in my life, I felt at peace. Six weeks quickly turned into six months and then a few years. No one ever approached me to see if I wanted to stay longer and I never brought it up. As far as they knew, I had no memory of my previous existence. This may sound pathetic, but I was prepared to stay forever if They wanted me to. I never questioned anyone and I think I must have immersed myself deeply into this way of life because I wanted to believe that my old life was just a dream. The thought of returning to a life in which I was destined to be useless piece of street trash frightened me more than the unknown of this strange world.

  “After about four years here, I went in for my routine checkup at the Clinic and when I was done, you were in my memory. When I came home, you were in the kitchen preparing dinner for me, your new father and yourself – our family. At first, I felt very nervous around you, but, unlike me, you seemed totally oblivious to the fact that this was not your life. You were so beautiful, young and innocent and when you looked at me it melted my heart to think that you were now all mine.

  “At first, I convinced myself that you were probably just like me: A poor street girl saved from a terrible life and brought here for a chance at a new, albeit peculiar, life. I knew in my heart this was not true. You were inquisitive and mischievous. Someone like me who sees this place as a refuge doesn’t question or try to stand out. You had a free spirit and a genuine look of innocence and goodness in your eyes.

  “Until I came here, I had resigned myself to that fact that I would probably starve to death in the city. It was just like Madge had warned me: The Big City had swallowed me up and was about to spit me out. Hemac accepted me for who I was.”

  Mama, or Sarah Jane, went over to the creek and splashed some water on her face while Desire sat there completely stunned. What was a horrific story! As she watched her ‘mama’ splash water on her face, she did not see a whore or a junkie. Real or fantasy, she saw the woman who cared for her as if she was her own daughter. Sarah Jane looked back at her and slowly walked up the bank to sit back down beside Desire. She didn’t look at Desire at first. Recanting the history of her pitiful existence made her feel exposed and ashamed.

  “I don’t know what to say, Mama. That all sounds too awful for one person to go through, and all alone at that.” Desire picked up Sarah Jane’s hand and squeezed it.

  The sounds of water running in the creek was soothing and a little blue bird landed on the other side of the creek. Desire pointed it out and Sarah Jane looked up.

  “Look, a blue bird of happiness. That has to be a good sign.”

  Mama looked up into the sky and she could see signs that dusk was approaching.

  “Come now, Desire. The will set soon so we must go home so that we do not raise suspicion. I know a better way to get home so that our nosy neighbours don’t notice how long we have been out here.”

  Desire looked at her a little surprised.

  “Well dear, do you think you are the only one that is curious about what’s out here? I may be a stupid street whore, but I know a thing or two about survival.” She started off and then paused. “Desire, I am sorry I cannot finish the story today, but we must not raise any suspicions. Your reaction to my storytelling was not the shock and awe that I thought would happen so I think it’s safe to assume that although my past may have come as a shock to you, the notion that something is amiss here in our community is not. I must stress that we cannot speak of this anywhere in town or even in our house. We are being watched very closely and I am not certain if there are any safe places other than the forest. Let’s come back tomorrow and I will finish my story. The ending will not be happy for me, but I believe there is still a chance for you. In the meantime, do you think you can act like everything is normal?”

  Desire laughed a little out loud. “Given all the events of the last week, I think I can manage hiding a few more secrets. Perhaps I have some stories to tell you as well.”

  Sarah Jane nodded and then turned to lead them home, but Desire grabbed her hand and stopped her. As she turned around, Desire embraced her. Desire whispered in her ear, “You may not be my real mother, but that doesn’t mean you are not a good one. You are not useless because God doesn’t make mistakes.” They ended the embrace and ‘Mama’ whispered the words ‘Thank you’ to Desire before she turned and led them home.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Exhausted from a very long day, Mama and Desire ate a light supper and then set about turning in early. Before she went to bed. Desire soaked in a hot bath for almost an hour. As she lay there in the lavender-scented water, she imagined Mama laying in a wonderfully fragrant bubble bath that first night in the City. Tears sprung to Desire’s eyes as she imagined that once simple–and-innocent girl laying in a bath tub just as she did so now: Soaking in the heavenly scent and dreaming about all the possibilities that lay ahead. The difference was that her Mama believed that her dreams would come true whereas Desire was living in a nightmare and hoped that it would soon end. Mama, or Sarah Jane, had lived a horrible life. Desire could totally understand how Sarah Jane would appreciate the appeal of living in a controlled but safe environment. Desire couldn’t help but see the irony in her now laying in a lavender tub much like her mother did not so many years ago. The question was whether or not she too was slated for a lifetime of sorrow.

  After her long soak, Desire laid in bed wide-eyed and sad. She pictured her ‘Mama’, who seemed so virtuous now, standing on the streets night after night way back when. She imagined that Sarah Jane had many experiences on the street similar to—even worse than—Desire’s attack by Nathaniel: hu
miliating and painful. As she thought about this, it occurred to her that she knew what Sarah Jane was talking about. She knew what New York City was, she knew what hookers and drug addicts were and, in fact, it dawned on her that she could picture the outside world. She tried in vain to search her mind for more concrete memories from her old life. How peculiar that her memory of reality had crept back in so silently, and the memories of living inside the real world were limited to a few dreams and flashbacks.

  Despite the relaxing bath, and the coolness of the night, Desire could not fall asleep. She couldn’t help but focus on the awful details of the story Sarah Jane had told her. So she turned on the small bedside lamp, got out of bed and pulled out her notebook. In keeping with her plan to record everything, she transcribed the entire story ‘Mama’ had told her with the details still fresh in her mind. When she was finished, she felt a little better. She hid the notebook and got back into bed.

  But she still did not sleep right away. Now she felt curious about what more it was that Sarah Jane wanted to tell her. She imagined many possibilities before she finally rested her thoughts on Johnny. She longed for his touch and hoped he would sneak into her room and sleep with her. As she thought about snuggling in his arms, she finally drifted off to sleep. And, she dreamed.

  She was sitting on a big porch on a wooden swing. She was in a quaint little neighbourhood surround by houses with beautifully manicured lawns and colourful flower gardens. The street was lined with tall oak trees. Lots of children were running about and playing. She saw a woman with long red hair walking up the street. The woman paused in front of the house and waved. “I will see you soon, darling. Be careful.” It was her Mammy.