by Isabel Morin
Cheryl changed into a new outfit and re-did her hair and makeup so that she’d be ready to go on again if Jason ever left.
She waited miserably in the dressing room, answering questions from the other girls with as little information as she could get away with. An hour later she peaked through the curtains that hung in back of the stage and sighed with relief.
He was gone.
But the relief lasted only a second. Because whether she was allowed to transfer classes or not, she already knew how he felt about seeing her here. He wasn’t merely surprised or taken aback. He’d looked like a man who’d found his woman in bed with someone else. Whatever had been growing between them was over.
***
That Monday she was sitting across from Robin, the director of student placements.
“So, what’s up? Everything all right with your field hours?” Robin asked, smiling at Cheryl before glancing back at her computer.
Cheryl’s impromptu visit had obviously interrupted something.
“Yes, everything’s fine. Only I did wonder if anyone ever changes classes in the middle of a semester. If, you know, anything came up and someone wanted to switch.”
Now Robin did focus her attention on her. “Is there a problem with your placement? We’ve had only rave reports about working with Mr. Shaw.”
“He’s great. It’s nothing like that. Not an actual problem or anything. I was just starting to wonder if maybe I should visit another classroom or two to see how other teachers work.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option. As you know we take great pains to structure this program so that each student gets a dedicated mentor. Many teachers don’t want to work with a student teacher, or would even be good at it. Not to mention that all of this is meticulously worked out months before the semester actually starts.”
“Of course,” Cheryl said, mortified to have come in. What had she been thinking?
“That said, if there was some problem, I would want you to tell me about it.”
Cheryl forced a laugh. “There’s no problem. I’m just getting ahead of myself. I’m so anxious to be prepared for teaching on my own next semester that I thought I could try something different. I wasn’t thinking.”
Robin was looking at her doubtfully, and Cheryl decided she needed to get out now, before she got herself in deeper.
After thanking Robin she left her office, convinced she’d just made things worse. Now Robin would be wondering what was going on with her, rather than assuming all was well.
All day in class she was distracted and miserable, unable to think about anything but facing Jason the next day. Should she email him? Or maybe call? He’d given her his cell phone number weeks ago.
But what could she say? Hi Jason, now you know I’m a stripper. What do you think about that? Will you be able to look at me without seeing me naked and riding a pole?
Calling in sick, as tempting as it was, would only postpone the inevitable and drag her miserable doubts out longer. So she got up Tuesday morning, after a nearly sleepless night, put on another boring skirt and blouse, pulled her hair back into her customary ponytail, and headed to the school.
She used the short drive to give herself a pep talk. She was strong and could handle anything. She’d survived her mother’s boyfriend and living on her own since she was eighteen, and she would get through this, too. Difficult things often seemed impossible, but she’d survive this day. She’d been through worse.
The pep talked worked until she was standing outside the classroom. The way she was breathing, it was actually possible she’d pass out. She was so lightheaded and terrified, everything had begun to seem surreal. But eventually she moved forward, because really that was the only choice.
Jason was sitting at his desk like every other morning, but the moment he looked up she realized how much had changed. Instead of the instantaneous smile he usually gave her, he was wary and stiff. A flush spread across his cheekbones and he looked down at his desk and shuffled his papers.
“Cheryl, hi.”
Part of her had hoped that she’d walk in the door and he’d act like nothing had happened. In her little fantasy they plugged through the day in silent agreement that there was no need to discuss Saturday night. But there was no way that would happen. There was a big, naked elephant in the room and it wasn’t going anywhere. Just a few minutes ago she’d have sawed off her own arm to avoid talking about it, but now all she wanted was to get it out of the way so they’d have a chance at being normal again.
Walking all the way into the room, she pulled a chair from the side of the room and sat down heavily.
“Now you know my big secret,” she said, looking down at her hands. “I was pretty freaked out the other night, and I’m guessing you were, too.”
“Let’s just forget it, okay? We don’t need to talk about it.”
Her breath caught at the unexpected hurt. This tense bitterness was even worse than the questions she’d been expecting.
“I would love to pretend nothing happened, but it’s obviously bothering you.”
“It’s not bothering me. What you do on your own time is your business.”
“You’re right, it is. But we’re also friends, and I think we should clear the air.”
She waited, but he still said nothing.
“You don’t have any questions about why I do it?” she asked, pushing him, needing him to say something.
“I assume you have your reasons,” he said, staring steadfastly at his grade book, refusing to look at her.
“So that’s it? You’ll just avoid looking at me from now on?” She was getting angry now, frustrated by the wall he’d thrown up. “Are you going to tell anyone?” she asked, trying not to let her fear show.
Now he did look at her.
“Jesus, Cheryl. What kind of asshole do you think I am?”
“How am I supposed to know what you’ll do, when you’re acting like a completely different person?” she said, her voice tight with anger and confusion.
“Maybe that’s because you’re not the person I thought you were.”
Her head snapped back, as if he’d actually slapped her, and for several seconds she couldn’t breathe. Standing up, she backed a few steps away, her legs trembling so that she thought they might give way.
He stood up so suddenly, his chair tipped backward and hit the ground. “Why do you do it?” he demanded. “How can you stand to have men groping you like that?”
“Why does anyone do it?” she asked, crossing her arms defensively. “I need the money. At one time I needed money pretty desperately.” She shrugged. “Now I earn enough to live on and put myself through college.”
Her whole body was shaking. This was just what she’d feared. Standing in front of him, vulnerable and having to defend decisions she’d made out of necessity. That and the judgment, the disdain she felt coming off him in waves.
“There must be other jobs. Something that wouldn’t be so…”
“What? Skanky? Funny how that didn’t stop you from going,” she shot back.
“When I go, I’m not the one on display for the world to see. I just don’t understand how you can stand to do something so sleazy.”
“You self-righteous jerk. You act so understanding, but really you’re no different from any other guy. You have no idea what it’s like to work there. It’s not like I get mauled every night. The bouncers take care of men who get out of line. I’m safer at the club than I was in my own house.”
Silence fell as Jason stared at her in shock. And no wonder. Shit. Shit shit shit. Why had she said that? It was none of his business, and now he’d think she was even more screwed up than she really was.
She couldn’t even bear to look at him, or know he was looking at her. Without another word she walked out into the hall and down to the faculty bathroom, where she let herself cry in a stall until the worst of it was over.
Chapter Six
Jason watched Cheryl walk out the door
and wondered if she was ever coming back. What the hell had just happened? In all the scenarios he’d pictured between the two of them this morning, that hadn’t been one of them.
He waited, his stomach in knots, to see if she’d return. Just before the end of homeroom she walked back in, her face pale, a few strands of hair damp, as if she’d splashed her face with water.
How had he let things get so out of control? His chest tightened with guilt, and he kept seeing her pale, wounded expression when he lashed out at her. He’d acted like an asshole, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d been sick and furious ever since Saturday night, and all that pent-up emotion had erupted without warning.
He just couldn’t get his head around what he’d discovered. His intern was a stripper for God’s sake. He couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d looked like on stage, how wicked and worldly, how she’d had men eating out of the palm of her hand. And if she hadn’t seen him, she’d have given one of his friends a lap dance.
He’d been going to strip clubs off and on since he was nineteen. Back when they were using fake IDs they’d stuck to the cheaper clubs, the ones that didn’t much care if they let in underage kids. The girls there looked tired and worn out, and sometimes you could see bruises on their arms and legs.
It was at one of those dives that Brad had paid a skinny dancer, probably no older than they were, for his first lap dance. Jason had watched the performance with a mixture of fascination and disgust. It was too personal, and he couldn’t imagine letting some strange girl work him like that in front of other people, friends or strangers.
Brad had disappeared later that night, only to turn up again and tell them all how he’d met up with the dancer in an alley outside the club and paid her fifty bucks for a blow job. All the guys had congratulated him, slapping him on the back and treating him like he’d hit the jackpot, but Jason had been revolted by the whole thing.
He and his friends had eventually graduated to the nicer clubs where the dancers didn’t look so banged up, and none of the girls would have gone into an alley with anyone. But he couldn’t help thinking of strip clubs as sleazy, and that included the dancers. He wasn’t real proud of his old habits, and they’d lost their allure long ago, but even now when he found himself in the audience again, he didn’t think of the girls as anything more than a body to lust after.
And Cheryl was one of them.
She wasn’t who he thought she was, and he felt…betrayed. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but he felt like the woman he’d been falling for was an illusion. Too good to be true, a figment of his imagination.
But then he looked over at where she sat in the back of the classroom, her head bowed over her notebook, only the pale curve of her cheek visible, and his chest tightened. She was real, real enough to feel pain, and she didn’t deserve what he’d said to her.
He could only guess what she meant about not being safe in her own house. Whatever it was had probably led to her being desperate. She’d had a rough start, and he’d just raked her over the coals for it. It was so unlike him to lose his temper like that, much less to let such vitriol come out of him. He hadn’t known he had that in him, and it wasn’t a pretty thing to discover.
But there was no time to work things out, not that morning. As soon as the bell rang, the classroom emptied and then filled again with their first period class and he had to concentrate, had to ignore the blank look in her eyes whenever they accidentally met his.
When the bell for lunch rang he walked over to where she stood, packing up her papers.
“Look, I’m really sorry about–” he began.
“Can we not do this now?”
“Yeah, okay. Another time,” he said quietly. “But we should probably talk when you’re ready.”
Still she didn’t look up at him, just nodded her head. He stood there another second, waiting for her so they could walk to the teacher’s lounge together, before realizing she was waiting for him to go. He left the classroom without another word and headed for the lounge, then decided that was the last place he wanted to be. Instead he headed out to the parking lot and got on his bike. He needed to move, get out of his head for a little while.
Even opening up on the highway didn’t clear his head. The entire way out and back he played the ugly scene over and over in his head, watching himself tell her what she did was sleazy. But she was just doing what she needed to do to get by, so really, who was sleazier? The strippers, or the guys who paid money to see them?
The worst part was, even if she did accept his apology, there was no going back to what they’d been. All the fun and hope he’d felt having her in his life had drained away, leaving only disappointment and the odd feeling of losing something he’d never really had.
***
Cheryl’s entire body tensed when the bell signaling the end of the school day rang. Jason would want to talk to her again, and she might as well give in this time.
As if on cue Jason left the doorway, where he’d been keeping an eye on the hallway, and came over to her. His hands were shoved into his front pockets and he looked uncomfortable.
“I just want to say I’m really sorry for how I acted this morning. I was way out of line and I wish I’d never said any of those things. I had no right to be so judgmental. If anyone is sleazy, it’s guys like me who go to the clubs.”
This came out all in one breath, like he’d rehearsed it and wanted to get it out before she could stop him.
“Fine. Let’s just forget it happened,” she said, her eyes darting away from his.
She didn’t want to stay angry at him, it was exhausting and upsetting, but she hadn’t felt this vulnerable in years and she hated it. She wasn’t even angry exactly, not anymore. She felt like she’d been scraped raw, inside and out, with no buffer between herself and the elements.
“Okay,” he said, looking uncertain, like he wanted to say more, or wanted her to say more.
But if he thought she was going to hang around and process this with him, he was going to be disappointed. All she wanted was to get home and put this day behind her.
They stood there awkwardly for a moment, neither of them sure what to do next. God help them if they were like this the rest of the semester.
“I think I’ll grade the quizzes at home today, if that’s all right with you,” she said, already putting her papers into her bag.
“Yeah, of course. Can I walk you out?” he asked, oddly formal, his demeanor emphasizing how different things were between them.
Together they headed out of the building and over to her car. Silently she unlocked her door, looking at him only as she got in.
“You have a good night, Cheryl,” he said, his voice low and subdued.
He stood by as she got in and started the car, looking melancholy and defeated. The sad part was, she almost felt sorry for him, and for a second, sitting in her stifling little car, she couldn’t help wishing she was climbing on the back of his motorcycle and wrapping her arms around him, letting him whisk her away from herself.
How pathetic was that?
She drove home thinking about all the other things she could have said to him, the ways she might have hurt him like he hurt her. When she got to her apartment building she sat in the car, unable to summon the energy even to get out.
God, she was tired of herself. Tired of wanting what she couldn’t have, of thinking a man would accept her for who she was only to be disappointed. She knew what he wanted – someone untarnished by the kinds of things she’d done to get by. Well, wouldn’t that have been nice for both of them? She would have loved the chance to be that person.
The heat finally drove her out of her car and up to her apartment where she collapsed on the sofa. She could have called Emily or Beth, but she didn’t have the energy to explain what had happened. Instead she changed into a tee-shirt and shorts, pulled a blanket over her lap and graded the quizzes. When she was done, she put in a DVD of “Singing in the Rain,” her go-to comfort movie. She
paused it after the “Moses Supposes” scene to heat a bowl of soup, then resumed watching. By the time it was over she felt like herself again. A tired, disappointed version of herself, but still.
Somehow, during the course of the movie, her brain must have worked out how to deal with the latest crisis, because once she’d shut off the DVD player and carried her bowl to the sink, she understood what to do.
Becoming a teacher was the most important thing to her now. Yes, she was hurt and angry about how Jason had reacted, but there was no undoing what they’d both said. He’d apologized, and it was time to move on. Tomorrow she’d go to school and do what needed to be done. That meant being on good terms with Jason, no grudges allowed. If she felt anger or regret that he’d let her down, she’d deal with it after hours.
Her mind finally calm, she got into bed and turned out the light. She was dead asleep before any new doubts had time to surface.
When she got to the classroom the next morning she saw she’d arrived even before Jason had, which was a first. Fine, so maybe she was a bit over-eager, hoping to prove that even a stripper could be on top of her game.
Sighing, she sat down at one of the desks in the front row and started looking through their plans for the day. Before long she recognized Jason’s familiar tread, a sort of unhurried stride that still managed to cover a lot of ground in a short time. Her heart rate spiked and she took several deep breaths, determined to keep to her resolve.
“Oh, Cheryl. You’re here early,” he said, stopping inside the door.
“I got an early start, so I’m looking over my notes for fifth period today. Hopefully I can enthrall them all with my lesson on grammar.”
“You’ll do fine,” he said, looking relieved that she was talking to him like a normal person. He came the rest of the way into the room and set down his bag. “Let me know if you need help with anything, though.”
“Will do,” she said, hoping she sounded easygoing.
“I’m heading down the hall for a coffee. Can I get you some?” he asked.