elegantly as possible. “If I am going to pull my deal off, I need to make the right impression. I have to!”
I wait for my new partner to finish laughing and then lose a dress’s strap, slowly. As if by accident. And all what remains is watching him gulp. I have almost won, have gnawed out my victim! Name as you want. I am really starving!
We are leaving a party at last. I coquettishly ask him to take my things with us.
– Why are you dragging around this heavy bag?
– I was in a gym. What is the main point of our life? Being healthy, isn’t it?
“And get what you want!”
This place is crowded, no one will notice our disappearance (us missing). If so, who cares? As I am going downstairs, my brightening evening dress canopy is flirting with every single step. Just like a passionate whisper that promises everything you have ever dreamed of. My new lover catches my hand but I break out smiling. A fish is already on the hook.
The way to his house seems like a dream. Need to but I couldn't lose control. While my gallant is trying to watch the road, I am playing painful impatience.
“You are all mine!”
Having parked the car, the man impatiently tries to kiss me. Fortunately, I can manage that. It is not the right time, not yet.
– You are so hot, baby!
– It’s all your fault, honey! Only yous!
Finally, we got to his place. I expected a wealthy apartment, but I couldn't even imagine how luxury it is! A two-storey apartment, bingo! My intuition never lets me down.
“I won’t miss my chance!”
– I dreamed about you!
– Take it easy! Not so fast! Let me feel at home. – now I hurry playing an innocent: am pressing arms into my chest, lowering eyes down with shame, nervously touching my hair. So, I am shown a rehearsed Shakespeare’s scene about Lavinia from “Tit Andronik”. I know how to look miserable and proud at the same time, so no one is unable to resist the desire to protect me.
– Oh, you are absolutely right! I’m losing my mind when you’re close. You said it is the first spontaneous escape from your careful daddy!
– First, where can I take a shower? – my voice sounds blameless.
– Upstairs, the second door on the left. Meanwhile, I will prepare some snacks for us.
– That’ll be great! You are so cute! After a couple of wine, I am always hungry!
– Okay! I have enough delusions of food supplies for someone like you (??) What’s your fancy?
– Surprise me!
– Of course, baby!
I restrain an exclamation of a winner. No doubts I am the queen of fortune!
When the second-rate part with poor sex was finished and I sneaked out from the bedroom as soon as my cowboy fell fast asleep. I filled in a full bath, took all the snacks I found and lied in hot water for half of the night.
That’s my best X-mas day. My stomach was full of tasty food. My body felt renewed. The place was warm and safe.
That’s exactly what makes me really delighted!
***
Have I ever had such a future? This is my home, my bathroom. I feel the warmth in my toes. Soon, I’ll get out of the hot water and go to sleep in my bed, next to my husband. My dreams will be so quiet, so fresh…
Wait – what’s this? Is it a nightmare? Who am I? I am not…
I fell asleep right here, in the bath! I’ve relaxed too much. Was I dreaming about a carefree, easygoing life? I could have died.
I’ve never had a family or a home. I’ve almost forgotten what trust feels like. People are brutes. They pretend to be human. All of them play convenient roles. They act kind, sweet, noble – only when someone’s watching, only while the eyes of the law are open.
And me? I’m not a good housewife, not a decent citizen, not an innocent lamb. I’m a cruel, wild beast, like a filthy rat. I have to stay on alert.
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
Water is spilling over the edge of the tub. The floor is flooded. I didn’t turn off the tap. I was lost in my stupid dreams. How pathetic!
What time is it? Morning is almost here. I’m definitely in for trouble.
How long was I asleep? I need to get out of here – fast!
My skin is red from the hot water. Crawling out of the bath is a struggle. My legs feel unusually heavy, my fingers refuse to cooperate. My head feels both enormous and fragile, like a bright Christmas bauble. Fortuna is playing with me like a big, ugly cat, and I’m about to shatter.
Where are my clothes? Not the evening dress – my real clothes. Of course, they’re still in my sports bag, locked in my lover’s car trunk.
I sneak through the bedroom leaving behind wet footprints, find the key next to my gaudy gold shoes, head downstairs to the garage, and pull on my usual castoffs.
I am homeless.
Part 2
I open the trunk and take my usual belongings from my bag.
The winter air blows against me, sending shivers over my still-wet skin and raising goosebumps. As I leave the warm, safe house behind, I know I will never return. The thought crosses my mind to steal something for profit, but I resist. Everyone needs money to survive, and the homeless are no exception. Today, I am full but what will I eat tomorrow?
Still, I follow my own rule: never steal.
If you take even the smallest trinket, you can never be sure of your future. What if, at the next party, while trying to charm another foolish rich guy into falling for you, you discover he’s a close friend of a man you robbed before? They’d call the police, and you’d lose access to their circles forever.
The world of these young, frivolous sons of wealthy families is small. Many of them are acquaintances or studied together at the same elite universities.
I’m not willing to take that risk. I don’t want to end up in prison or lose my ability to eat and wash luxuries I can still access for now.
If I manage to hide the faint smell of my sports bag or answer the inevitable prying questions, I can get by. Questions of morality stopped troubling me long ago. Sex may not nourish the soul, but hunger and disease are far deadlier.
Most of the men I’ve found are polite enough. They sleep soundly right after they’re satisfied, leaving me to do as I please. Celebrations like Christmas are especially fruitful; everyone’s too distracted by their indulgences to notice someone like me slipping through the cracks.
I walk along the riverside street toward the quay, carrying my sports bag, which feels lighter with each step. The area is deserted. It's a holiday morning, and all the "normal" people are still sleeping in their cozy beds. Even the sailors, accustomed to surviving extreme frosts to make a living, show no desire to work today.
I need to cross a massive international port and a long bridge before I reach my destination. The journey will take me a couple of hours on foot, step by step. Last night, covering the same distance took only fifteen minutes and a few stolen kisses. There's no fair exchange, but that doesn't change anything.
I dream of finishing this walk as quickly as possible to escape the biting wind. My freshly cleaned body is already sweating, but my poor feet, wrapped in thin socks, are starting to feel the chill. Thick wool socks are waiting for me back at my den.
Five years ago, I met someone who gave me shelter and taught me how to survive, how to carry myself as a homeless person, a "marginal," someone the world calls garbage. He saved me even though he knew my secret. He was the noblest person I'd ever met – kinder, better, and more selfless than anyone else. But I failed him.
He's dead now. More precisely, he was killed by a street gang of local teenagers. Witnesses did nothing. They didn’t even call for help.