What A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy (#Wattys2016)

What A Wonderful Caricature Of Intimacy

I stood at the corner of the street, leaning against the street light. I observed my shadow as I took a long last drag of my cigarette. Exhaling, I watched the smoke swirl into an erratic design. Finishing up, I threw my cancer stick to the floor looking at the small spark of light die as I crushed it beneath my heel. I held my carry-on tightly and clutched the fabric of my white sundress. I looked up. The sky was grey and dark, just like my plans for tonight. Stretched across the grey canvas of a sky, was an intricate painting of a rainbow. It was captivating. Eye catching really. The clouds lined up perfectly blocking any sort of peaking sunlight. The pavement beneath my feet was cold and damp. I took a look at my surroundings. I was standing at the corner of Fourth and Fremont street. Ahead of me stood the infamous 'substandard' motel. It's name shall remain anonymous. Any utterance of such results in nasty glares and stares. The name of this motel was treated as a piece of profanity in this town, yet here I stood. I looked up at the nameless building. It was dimly lit, resulting in a shady appearance. But that is exactly what it is, shady. It was so appealing that it was unappealing. It was a very obvious, questionable and suspicious building, yet so infamous for the promiscuous acts committed there that it was avoided by all, but a few. Any person in their right mind, with self respect, human dignity, and so forth would steer clear of this place. But desperate times, call for desperate measures.
*
Was I really about to do this? Every molecule in my body was urging me to turn back, my brain screamed at me and my arms stayed glued to my sides, yet my legs and feet took the first few dreaded steps. My head hung low as my heart thumped at what felt like a million miles an hour. I looked at the decor. There was a large but delicate rose bush off to the corner. I hesitantly walked over and inquisitively observed the roses and their petals. This afternoon's shower left the roses glittering with raindrops. I laughed to myself. My mother used to sing me a song called, "My Favorite Things". I sighed to myself and quietly sang, "Raindrops on roses..." I abruptly paused and looked down at my attire. I weakly smiled tears pricking at my vision. "Girls in white dresses..." The nostalgia of that song was overwhelming.
*
The sky was getting darker, telling me that I was nearing tonight's events. I sighed, shakily grabbed the doorknob and stood there. I contemplated my life's worth and the decisions which lead me here. I can still turn back. I really shouldn't do this. My wrists took control and opened the door. I was immediately taken back by the atmosphere of the building. A memory from my childhood flashed before my eyes. My mother had warned me about this place. "I never want to see you step anywhere near this horrid place Alicia." She had performed the sign of the cross. "Well don't just stand there! Bless yourself! Purify yourself from being in the presence of this sinful place!" I had crossed myself without so much as a second thought. Not today. I'm a different independent person, rejecting our old ways of Catholicism and rejected by my own family. I walked up to the receptionist who was nose deep in a magazine. I observed the means of the tattered walls and tapped my feet nervously. "Room for two please. I will be checking out either late tonight or tomorrow morning." My eyes darted from one end of the room to the other. She unemotionally looked up at me, grabbed the keys, and handed them over, returning to her magazine.
*
I firmly grasped the key reading the room number. It read, A87. I walked down the halls of the building searching for my room whilst taking in the ambience. The extreme feeling of acrimony was evident in the air. Finding my lodge, I hesitantly opened the door and entered the room. I broke out in a continuous line of unexpected coughs and wheezes. The rooms in this establishment have a hint of asbestos, and maybe just a dash of formaldehyde. This place smells. It smells of death and preserved regret. I closed the door and walked up to the wall of my room and observed its decaying features. The walls were decomposing right before my very eyes, along with the people inside. We are decaying. The sins we commit in this place will be the death of us. It will deteriorate us until we are nothing. The wallpapers were stained, peeling, and falling off. The cracks scattered every which way, just like the minds of the desperate souls occupying each room.
*
I roamed over to the window sill. I stood and gazed at the glistening rising moon. The sight of such a beauty mesmerized me. As far as I know, the moon is considered a sign of innocence and purity. I laughed as my mother used to compare me to the moon. "You are as innocent and pure as the moon," she would say. Virginity, innocence, purity. I shook my head. It was a high set standard for the females in my family. I find it interesting how important staying a virgin until marriage was to my parents. Oh but look at me now. My first time was a meaningless fornicate session in exchange for money. It was as meaningless as the next persons'. I sighed thinking of my stance in life at the moment. Moonlighting aside, I really need this money.
*
I glanced at the clock. It read 6:47. My first client arrives in 13 minutes. I need to get myself ready. I placed my small carry-on on the bed and began to strip. I looked at my body. I'm skinny, almost bony. No one would love me for real. Oh well, life isn't pretty, and nor am I. I replaced my white sundress with a black laced lingerie. I quickly stuffed my dress in my bag when I felt a cool metal like bead brush against my fingertips from within my bag. I immediately paused and carefully searched the bag again hoping that it was what I thought it was. Yes, it is. Memories of the good old days came flooding back. In my hands lay my rosary beads. I sat on the bed and played with them. It was given to me by my grandmother, who had died many years ago. She was a kind and extremely religious person. As a kid she had told me to follow my dreams and be someone for myself. I have been following that advice since the minute it had rolled off of her tongue.
*
I tightly grasped the rosary beads causing my knuckles to go white as, yet again, I felt tears starting to well at my eyes. As much as I was running low on money, I was not going back to my parents for help. They kicked me out when I told them I refused to part take in Catholicism any longer. "Build God, Then We'll Talk," they said. They refused to speak to me until I reverted back to the religious little girl they knew. From then on, I was on my own. My search for a job hadn't gone well. I was running low on money and skipping meals most days. I had no choice. A few tears escaped. As much as I regret this decision, it will help me attain a proper living space, a job and put food on my table.
*
I grasped the rosary even harder digging into the skin of my palms. My tears continued to spill onto my thighs as I thought of what my aunt did to me. I had asked her for a place to stay, having nowhere else to go, and she agreed. Everything was rolling smoothly until she found out how I was making my money. She had mocked me. "Oh what a wonderful caricature of intimacy!" She knew how to get under my skin. My love life wasn't what anyone would call "wonderful". My last real boyfriend had cheated on me. My new means of making money wasn't exactly what anyone would call wonderful. It was just the opposite. It was shameful. Everything was fake. There was no love but rather lust. My string of thoughts was interrupted by the ding of my phone. "I will be there in a few. What room are you in?" I hurriedly responded. I looked down at my rosary beads once more held it tight against my bosom to later tuck it inside my lingerie.
*
I was on the bed staring at the off-white sheets. I wonder what the original colouring of the sheet was, before all of the stains. Every stain could represent from one, to as many as ten sinful acts. Who knows? I let my eyes wander even further. They landed on a small roach running across the floor. I didn't take any bother. I wonder how many there are in this building. Oh you think I'm talking about the insect. Nonsense. I'm talking about the countless "self-respecting" men who come here. How many of them? How often? There was finally a knock at my door. Speaking of roaches. "Come in!" I sat on the bed with my hands in my lap. In walked the lawyer from the firm. He was wearing a suit and tie and carried a briefcase. "Let me make this clear. This is strictly business. When you arrive at the firm on Monday for your interview, you and I have no background knowledge of each other." His voice was deep and stern. He spoke with a trace of dominance and authority although I could see through his faulty facade. He was nervous as hell. One wrong move and he might ruin everything. I could see it in his eyes. "Understood?" I snapped out of my daze and nodded.
*
I laid on the bed watching the moonlight through the window. The lawyer left a few minutes ago. He said something about his Mrs. possibly getting suspicious. I can't believe I went through with that. It was for the best though, wasn't it? At least I had secured myself a job. My breathing rate had finally returned to a normal pace. I glanced at the clock once more. It read 7:43. My next and final client will be here in 17 minutes. I sat up and observed myself in the mirror. "Oh I need to fix my makeup!" I grabbed my compact and adjusted my facial features.
*
I was putting away my compact when there was a rather harsh rapping at my door. I hesitated to answer when my visitor barged in unwelcomed. I looked up and instantly regretted not locking the door. In walked the town constable, Mister Dykes. I gaped in shock. "Ah. Miss Jackson. I didn't expect to see you here, in such,...lovely attire." I saw his tongue run across his lips. My cheeks grew hot as I looked down. He was referring to my lingerie choice. "I, um-" I couldn't formulate a proper sentence. I fumbled with my bag struggling to retrieve my clothing. I finally managed to pull out my dress when my greatest fear came true. It all happened in slow motion. Right before my very eyes, was the contents of my bag spilled out on the floor. Mister Dykes smirked. "Oh Miss Jackson, you aren't as innocent as we all thought." I'm so tired of hearing that word being juggled around with my name. Innocent. "Not only are you  involved in prostitution, which is illegal, but, you are also in possession of drugs. Cocaine to be specific." He paused for a minute leaving me to die internally waiting for his response. "You know, I was going to let you off of the hook for the whole 'prostitution' situation, but, you are in possession of drugs." My breath hitched. What is it like in prison? I wouldn't survive one day! "However..." He smirked. Oh I don't like where this is going.
*
By now I had slipped on my dress. Mr. Dykes walked up to me. "If you let me borrow your body for the night-" He advanced to me and pulled down my dress' sleeve staring lustfully into my eyes. "-then I won't tell anyone about your dirty little secret. If you refuse, then I will turn you in." I was about to protest when he interrupted me. "And don't think about telling anyone about this. I mean let's be real. Who do you think they are going to believe? A girl who was found with drugs and involved in prostitution? Or the town's authority figure?" He gently took a strand of my hair and placed it behind my ear. I felt a shiver run down my spine due to his words and touch. His lips curved into a smirk. My choices were either his proposition, or I'm arrested on possession. We ended up, well,...making love isn't exactly what I'm looking for, but, you get the picture. "What a wonderful caricature of intimacy."