by Isabel Morin
“Um, no. I’m fine, thanks,” she said, gesturing toward the travel mug that sat in plain view on her desk.
“Oh, right,” he said. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
As soon as he was gone her head dropped to the desk. Acting normal was exhausting.
For the first few periods they both acted like polite aliens had taken over their bodies. By the end of the day they’d loosened up, but it was nowhere near the friendly, familiar rapport they’d had, and it was just about killing her trying to act like everything was fine.
It was obvious he was sorry, but that wasn’t enough. She’d actually started to believe he was different, and that something could happen between them. It would have been better if she’d never gotten her hopes up.
Someday, if she were lucky, she’d have a real relationship with someone who respected her. Whoever that guy was, he was never going to know she’d been a stripper. Even the nicest guy couldn’t help thinking less of her for it, and she wasn’t going to take that chance again.
How much disappointment could a person take before they became bitter? Was she going to end up with that hard look so many of the strippers had? What if the damage was already done?
As soon as the thought entered her head she ran to the bathroom and examined her face in the mirror. But the face that looked back at her just looked sad.
The rest of the week passed without incident. Cheryl stuck around after school let out and they worked together like they had before, planning classes and grading. They were both being careful with each other, but at least they’d established that they could continue working together.
Still, she was more reluctant than usual about stripping that Friday night. It had been a long week, but it was more than that. Jason’s angry words still spooled through her head, louder than her own voice confronting him back.
Then a surge of determination coursed through her. Why should she feel bad about making a living, just because Jason couldn’t handle it? There was no reason to let what he thought change how she lived her life. She’d worked too long and hard to let one guy’s opinion turn her world upside down.
Stomping into her bedroom, muttering to herself, she threw together the underwear, garters, shoes and costumes she’d be wearing that night and stuffed it all in a big duffel bag. Then she took a shower so long the hot water ran out, and by the time she got out she felt more like herself.
Of course, the way she felt sometimes left a lot to be desired.
Like most Fridays it was a bit quiet at first, but things picked up within a couple of hours. Normally, she would have been so run off her feet, she wouldn’t have had time to worry about much of anything, but even as she flirted and joked with the customers, she found herself imagining what it must have been like for Jason to see her come out on stage without any warning, then start flirting with his friends.
She could see how it would have been shocking, and she didn’t even blame him for that part. It was the judgment and disdain that hurt. As sincere as his apology had seemed afterwards, it didn’t take away the bad taste the whole incident had left.
Maybe they’d eventually work their way back to a more comfortable place, but that was still a hard thing to accept when they’d been on their way to so much more.
“Cherry? Yoo hoo, you in there girl?”
Cheryl snapped back to the present and gave Jim, one of the semi-regulars, an automatic smile. It seemed to do the trick though, since he told her how great she’d looked on stage before sliding a folded up twenty into her garter. Or, as Jason might have seen it, he leered and groped her.
She really needed to get him out of her head.
Cheryl planted a kiss on Jim’s cheek to make up for her distraction and then headed back to the dressing room. Five more sets to go.
“You all right, hon?” Julie asked, coming into the dressing room from her rounds on the floor.
A curvaceous blond with augmented breasts, she was a big favorite with the crowds.
Cheryl looked up from her spot on the saggy orange armchair, where she was counting her tips. “I’m fine. Why, do I look like something’s wrong?” she asked, hating that she was so transparent.
“You just seem a little down or something. Not as chatty as usual,” Julie commented, turning to the mirror to examine her eye make-up. “But don’t worry, it’s not obvious. I’ve just known you a long time.”
This was true. Julie had been the one to show her the ropes when she’d first started at the club. She was past thirty, or so Cheryl guessed from some of the things she’d said, but she looked even older. Yet another reason to ditch this life as soon as she could.
“It’s nothing,” Cheryl said, giving her a tired smile. “I’m just kind of bummed out. Every time I meet a nice guy, he ends up disappointing me.” She thought for a second. “Or maybe I’m the one disappointing them,” she said, feeling more defeated than ever at the thought.
“You’ve got a lot going for you, sweetie, more than most of us here. You just need to leave this place and never look back.”
“That sick of me, huh?” Cheryl joked, trying to ignore the tightness in her throat.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Julie said, staring her down until Cheryl had to look away.
***
Jason looked over to where Cheryl sat frowning in concentration at her notes. She hadn’t worn her usual ponytail today, and her hair kept falling forward into her eyes before she tucked it back behind her ear.
She was so serious all the time now. That was his fault, but he didn’t know what to do about it. They’d managed to get back on a more appropriate footing, professional and friendly, but the way they’d been acting, you’d think neither one of them had a sense of humor. It was depressing.
“You heading to the lounge?” he asked, trying to sound merely curious rather than desperate.
She hadn’t joined him in the teachers’ lounge for lunch since before their fight. Instead she ate in the classroom, prepping for the lessons she was teaching. He couldn’t fault her for it, he just missed how they used to hang and talk about things outside of work, missed knowing what she was thinking.
“I don’t think so. I was going to read through –”
“There’ll be birthday cake for Patty,” he cut in. “I’m pretty sure it’ll be chocolate.”
Still she hesitated, and he had to stop himself from making another pitch. Then she nodded, allowing a small smile to appear.
“Sure. I could use some cake,” she said.
“Great,” he said, a little more enthusiastically than the situation called for. “Let’s get up there before it’s all gone.”
The lounge was full, with lots of chatter as people stood around eating cake. Jason cut a piece and handed one to Cheryl. She thanked him, but he couldn’t help thinking that her manner was more subdued than it would have been before. Before her energy had been palpable, her passion for teaching and her eagerness to learn unmistakable. Now she was cautious, giving nothing away. Shooting him a quick smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she took her plate over to one of the tables.
Jason grabbed his soda from the fridge and started to head for her table, only to find that every seat was taken by other men more than happy to get close to her.
His loss, but at least she was socializing again. He watched as she threw her head back and laughed at something Jim said. The low, husky sound went straight through him, but how did he know it was sincere? She knew how to fake it to make men feel good.
As soon as the thought entered his head, he felt sick. She’d never been anything but authentic with him, and he knew it. Why couldn’t he get over this?
He sat at another table and pretended to listen to people talking about the upcoming contract negotiations. But really he was watching Cheryl and trying to overhear what she was talking about. That was what he’d come to, and knowing it was desperate and sad didn’t stop him.
Chapter Seven
Cheryl stood in front of the cla
ssroom, looking around at the raised hands. The sophomore class was reading The Outsiders and they were pretty into it, as she’d hoped. But not Sara Borowski. The first month of school she’d been alert and interested in the material, even the stuff the other kids didn’t like. Lately she seemed disinterested, but worse than that, she was looking tired and disheveled, not put together as she normally was. She didn’t seem to talk to her friends either, which was even more alarming.
At the beginning of the semester Sara had come up to her after class to talk about the first essay assignment Cheryl had given, and she’d been excited, her eyes sparkling with her idea for the paper.
Where had that girl gone?
The students filed out after class but Sara was slowly packing up her things, as if she were moving through water. As if she didn’t care where she went next.
“Hey, Sara. Everything all right?” Cheryl asked, walking over to the girl’s desk.
Sara looked up, alarm written all over her face.
“What do you mean? Everything’s fine,” she said, her face going blank and unreadable.
“You just seem down lately, that’s all.”
Sara’s gaze darted to Jason, who was back at his desk, pretending not to notice them.
“I’m just a little tired,” she said, sounding defensive.
“If you ever want to talk, just let me know, okay?”
Sara only nodded without looking at her. “I’m going to be late for my next class,” she mumbled, hurrying away.
Cheryl watched her go, her worry only increasing.
“She seems even worse than before,” Jason said, looking towards the door with a worried frown.
Three weeks had passed since Strippergate, as Cheryl now referred to it with her friends, and she and Jason had settled into a decent working relationship. They pretty much stuck to school topics now, though.
“I know. Something’s wrong, but it could be anything.”
“I’ve never had her in class before this semester, but she was like a different kid at the beginning,” he said. “I’ll mention it to the counselor.”
“I guess that’s all we can do,” she said, letting out a sigh.
“That and keep an eye on her, try to make her feel comfortable enough to talk to you.”
Cheryl only nodded, frustrated that she couldn’t do more.
“You’re really worried, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yeah, but maybe I’m just projecting.”
“Projecting what?”
She grimaced at the memories that assailed her at the simple question. Did she really want to tell him? They’d been doing a good job of staying on safe, non-personal topics, and this wasn’t something she was keen to talk about, especially with someone who tended to judge her. Then again, how could she expect Sara to confide in her, if she wasn’t able to tell Jason, ten years after it had happened?
She leaned against his desk, determined not to draw it out into a big thing. It was lunch period, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to eat. She would just stick to the facts and get it over with.
“I’m not saying I know what Sara’s going through, but the way she’s been acting makes me think of how I was after my mom’s boyfriend moved in with us my junior year. That probably would have been rough no matter what, but not long after he moved in, he started to...”
She trailed off, surprised at how hard it was to actually say the ugly words. Even now it make her stomach hurt.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
He was looking at her with such earnest concern, her nervousness seemed to melt away. As weird as things had gotten with him, she wanted to tell him this, wanted him to understand why she felt so strongly that something was really wrong with Sara. Besides, he was so patient, sitting there quietly, letting her find her way.
“I’m fine,” she said, taking a deep breath. “At first I thought it was my imagination, but Sean always stood so close to me, kind of crowding me and making me uncomfortable. When my mom wasn’t around he’d ask me what kind of sexual experiences I’d had, what I wanted to do, that sort of thing. After a while he started doing other things. He’d open my bedroom door without knocking and catch me undressing, then stand there and talk to me, even when I begged him to leave.”
Jason looked horrified. “Did your mother know?”
“At first I was afraid to tell her, and then when I did she accused me of overreacting.”
“Jesus, Cheryl,” Jason said, sounding pained.
“One day when she was out of the house he stuck his tongue down my throat and grabbed my breast. That’s when I realized I had to leave. I lived with my friend Beth’s family for the rest of high school, and my mother never tried to get me back.”
“No one did anything? Not even your dad?”
“My dad died when I was fifteen. Sean moved in about a year later.”
“Fuck. That’s awful.”
“Yeah, I know. The thing is, I had a pretty normal childhood up until then. My mother was always there for me. But after my dad died it was like she disappeared or something. I was angry and upset all the time then, but looking back I think she was really lost and terrified. She attached herself to the first guy who came along and never let go. Not even for me. As far as I know, they’re still together.”
“I’m really sorry, Cheryl. That’s pretty rough stuff.”
“It’s okay,” she said, playing with the edges of his notebook. “It was a long time ago.”
“It’s not okay, but I’m glad you are,” he said, taking her hand in his.
It was the first time they’d touched in weeks, and a surge of warmth flowed through her.
“Seeing Sara reminds me how I was those weeks after Sean started harassing me. I had a hard time sleeping, and I got really depressed. I didn’t care how I looked and I barely spoke to anyone. I also wore really baggy clothes so that I wouldn’t draw his attention so much. Not that it worked.” She looked at him and gave a wan smile. “But that could describe anyone who’s seriously depressed, and who knows what’s triggering it for her?”
“Why don’t you go down and talk to Mary now,” he suggested. “She might already know something we don’t, and if she doesn’t, I think you’re the best one to talk to her.”
“That’s not a bad idea. It’ll make me feel like I’m doing something, anyway.”
She felt oddly depleted, but also cleansed, like there was more room to breathe. Then a thought occurred to her.
“I don’t want you to think I strip because of what Sean did to me. I mean, indirectly that is part of it, since I was on my own at eighteen. But I don’t do it because I’m so broken I can’t do anything else –”
“I don’t think that,” he said. “I don’t think you’re broken. And I’m glad you found something to help you get by.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She stood there for another second, surprised at the turnaround he seemed to have undergone. It felt like there was more to say, but why complicate things? They’d come to a good place. Best to leave it at that.
She could feel his eyes on her as she left the room, but this time she knew they weren’t hard and judging. She headed down the hall, wondering why he was acting like the whole stripping thing was no big deal. Not that it was his place to decide what was okay, but obviously something had changed.
The guidance counselor, Mary Gardner, listened to what she had to say and told her she’d speak to Sara’s other teachers. Cheryl was just getting up to leave when Mary pulled up Sara’s record.
“Hmm. This might be something. It looks like she moved about six months ago, and her mother changed her name.”
“So her mother probably got married,” Cheryl said, leaning forward in her chair. “That’s a big change, though it doesn’t explain everything.”
“Oh dear,” Mary said, frowning at the computer monitor. “There’s another student here with the same name her mother took. Tim O’Ma
lley.”
“What about him?” Cheryl asked.
“If I’m right, then her new stepbrother is… well, he’s not the nicest boy. He’s a senior, and he’s been bullying other kids since he came to the school. Last year he got suspended for shoving a girl into the lockers.”
“And that’s who Sara’s living with now,” Cheryl said, sick at heart.
“If I’m right. I should double-check all this so we know what we’re dealing with. I’ll have Sara come see me, too. Maybe she’ll want to talk if I give her the opening.”
Cheryl left Mary’s office, even more worried than when she’d gone into it. Though nothing had been confirmed, she had a feeling Tim O’Malley was the problem. What could be worse for a teenage girl than a horrible step-brother? The question was, how horrible was he?
When she got back to the classroom she found Jason eating a sandwich at his desk, a slew of tests spread around him.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
She paced back and forth in front of his desk as she filled him in on her meeting.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” he said. “But you’ve done everything you could possibly do. You know that, don’t you?”
“Maybe that’s the problem. It’s still not good enough.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but bit it back.
“Don’t worry. I know I can’t get too wrapped up in this,” she said. “I have to save myself for the decades of misery to come.”
“Ouch. Dark much?”
“Sorry. Why don’t you give me some of those exams. I need something to do.”
“Gladly,” he said, sliding a pile over.
Plopping herself down in one of the student desks she lost herself in the mindless grading of multiple-choice questions, reassuring herself that Sara was in good hands.
Her cautious optimism was short-lived, however. Checking in with Mary a few days later, she discovered that Sara had refused to speak to her. Feeling defeated, like she’d let the girl down herself, Cheryl spent the rest of the day trying not to dwell on it.
The very next Tuesday, Sara lingered after class to ask Cheryl a question. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give her hope. After Sara did the same thing a couple more times, Cheryl started giving her things to do so that she wouldn’t have to come up with excuses. Some days it was helping to collate handouts, others it was writing sentences on the chalkboard for the next class to diagram. None of it took more than a few minutes, and they spoke little, but over time Sara seemed to get more comfortable with her.