Calling Maggie May (13 page)

Thurs, Feb 19

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse.

I went by Miss Irma's office today to pick up my fee, and Anne said she didn't have anything for me. I pointed out to her that I had an appointment clearly marked on the schedule and I needed to be paid for it, but she just said that if I thought there was some kind of mistake, I was free to take it up with Miss Irma. And she pointed me to Irma's door.

I didn't like the sound of that, but what choice did I have?
I went in to see her. Miss Irma started in right away about how furious the client was and how he had complained about me, so I tried to defend myself. I explained about how he had made me do drugs. Miss Irma asked if he had held me down and forced me, and I had to admit that he hadn't, but I did tell her about how he wouldn't let me go and how he was being abusive. Then she asked if he hit me, and I had to say no. She asked if he injured me in any way, but he hadn't.

So then she lectured me for a while about how important it is to keep the client happy at all times. And at the end she added, “Unless you are in danger,” like it was an afterthought.

“I was!” I said. “He was threatening me and he wouldn't let me leave. And I was . . . I was scared.”

Miss Irma was silent for a few moments, just looking at me over the top of her glasses.

“Of course,” she said at last, “if you were in danger, you did the right thing. You must always leave if you don't feel safe.”

I sighed with relief. “So you'll pay me?” I said.

Miss Irma smiled coldly. “How can I pay you if I did not get paid? Be reasonable.”

“But you said—”

“The most important thing is to be safe. Surely your safety is more important to you than money.”

“Yes,” I said, “but—”

“You did the right thing. We all have to look after ourselves in this business.”

“I thought . . . I thought we look out for each other.”

Miss Irma laughed. “Who gave you that idea?” she said.

So on top of that being the worst date ever, I'm not even getting paid for it. And in fact, I'm in the hole since I blew money on the taxi home.

Fri, Feb 20

Chinese New Year. Normally this is my favorite time of the year, with so much good food, and firecrackers, and decorating the house. . . . But it's hard to celebrate family and community when I've spent the last few months making my parents hate me.

I'm really trying these days to stay in line and not give them a reason to make good on their threat, but it's hard. They just don't trust me anymore. Not that I can really blame them.

I know my parents would say that none of this would have happened if I could only have been the good, obedient girl they wanted, but sometimes I wonder if the problem is really that I've always been too obedient. Trying to live up to their expectations of the dutiful daughter nearly drove me crazy. I was living so much for other people, it hardly felt like living at all. Then I traded all that in for the “bad girl” life of a call girl, but even there, I spend all my time trying to be good, trying to
be what people want, to fulfill their fantasies, to live up to Miss Irma's expectations, not to disappoint anyone. Where am I in all of this? What about me?

And what happens when all the people I am trying to obey disagree with each other? Or when obeying one person leads me in a bad direction? At a certain point, I have to start trusting myself and doing what I think is right, because the people around me don't always have my best interests at heart, or know what's best for me.

But then, how can I follow my own mind when I don't even know it? And how can I make the best decisions for myself when there's so much about the world I don't know?

I don't know, but after that last date, I am thinking again about quitting. Not for my parents, not for Ada, but because it might be the right thing for me. Maybe it's time to stop living in this crazy fantasy. Because it is starting to seem not so fantastic.

Wed, Feb 25

I haven't gotten called for another date since last payday. I'm guessing Miss Irma is mad at me for talking back and not just accepting whatever she says as law. But you know what? I'm just as glad. I'm still having nightmares about that last client, and when I even think about going out on another date, I just start
to feel sick and panicky and my skin goes clammy. So I don't regret being left out of the loop for now.

The more I think about it, the more I realize I don't want to go back to that ever again. I had already been planning to quit at some point. I was just trying to save up enough money to have a nice amount for me and Ada. Since I didn't get paid for that last date, I have a little bit less than I'd been hoping for, but maybe it's enough. Maybe it has to be.

I'm going to call Ada and tell her about my plan. If she wants to talk me out of it, she can try, but I hope that she wants what I want. I just want to walk away from this mess and start over.

Wed, Feb 25, later

Just got off the phone with Ada. I'm still kind of . . . confused though.

I wanted to tell her my plan and hear her say, “Yes, we can do it. Let's make a new life for ourselves.” Better yet, I wanted to hear that she had a better plan than mine, one that would solve all our problems. Or if she couldn't offer me any of that yet, I expected her to at least talk me out of quitting, so we could keep saving up. But nothing went quite how I expected.

“I'm glad you called,” she said immediately upon answering the phone. “I need to talk to you.”

“I need to talk to you too,” I said, and before she could get in another word, I started in about my little dream of us living together in an apartment, getting real, legal jobs to support ourselves, and not getting pushed around by parents or Miss Irma or the clients anymore.

I kept talking for a while before I realized Ada hadn't said anything.

“Ada?” I said. “Are you there?” Still silence, but I could hear her breathing on the other end of the line. “Tell me what I should do, Ada. Should we quit? Or should we keep on with Miss Irma? I know we can trust her. I know she would never put us in any real harm, but—”

Ada barked out a humorless laugh.

“What?” I said. “What's going on?”

“Quit,” she replied.

“What?”

“You should quit. You have to.” Her voice sounded odd, broken. “I'm asking . . . I'm begging you.”

“What's going on, Ada?”

“Nothing,” she said with a sort of grim finality. “Nothing you need to worry about. I'm taking care of it, okay? It wasn't your fault, and it's not your problem. So don't worry about it.”

“Okay, but Ada, did something happen? You sound upset.” Actually, she sounded more than upset. She sounded scared.

“I'll be fine,” she said. “I know what I'm doing. Just stay the hell away from Irma. Don't take any more dates. Don't respond if she contacts you. Ignore her, and she can't hurt you. In fact, take that stupid phone and throw it in the bay, like you wanted to that other time. I should have let you then. I should have made you do it then. Promise me you'll do it now.”

“Okay. I promise. What's gotten into you? Why are you talking like this? Are you okay? Can I help?”

“I can't talk about it,” she said, and hung up.

What was all that about? I'm worried about her.

Fri, Feb 27

I wish I knew what was going on with Ada. I've called and texted her a few times since the other day, but she's not answering. Not that that's all that unusual with her. Sometimes if she has a crisis with her mom or something, I won't hear from her for a couple of days. When I'm not working, we don't necessarily interact that much. And she's tough and smart. If anyone can take care of herself, it's Ada.

Still, something about my last conversation with her . . . I wish I knew what was going on. She sounded nervous and upset. A little desperate, even. But I trust her. And she did give me the answer I was looking for. I wanted her to tell me if I
should quit the business or keep going a little longer, and she told me what I think I needed to hear. It's always tempting to work a little longer, turn just one more trick, in hopes of easy money, but the money's not so easy, and as I learned from my last date, sometimes there's no money at all.

I'm glad she said what she did. Quitting's hard, but I think it was the right decision. That lifestyle is not healthy. It grinds you down. I didn't even do it very long, and it has already taken its toll on me. And if I'm not doing it, at least it's easier for me to be obedient to my parents, so I don't have to worry about them sending me to Taiwan.

I just wish I knew what Ada thought about the other part of the plan . . . about us moving in together. All the time I was dreaming it, I don't think I ever allowed myself to wonder what I would do if Ada said no. If she wasn't interested. But what if she's sick of me? What if she'd rather live with someone like Jen? Someone cooler and more sophisticated? What if she just wants me to quit because she has figured out I'm not cut out for that kind of life, and she wants to just hang out with people more like her?

I don't know. Maybe she's right. Maybe to Ada it's really obvious how stupid my plan is and how I'm just too sheltered and ignorant to survive on my own. Maybe she knows I could never make it work and was trying to let me down easy.

Mon, March 2

I am trying very hard to be good, but it really sucks being on lockdown. My parents are sticking to their plan of not letting me go anywhere or do anything except for schoolwork. I'm so far behind in everything. I've missed so much. As overwhelmed as I used to feel by school, it's ten times worse now.

And it's not just the work. Back at the beginning of the year, I thought I knew what it meant to be invisible. I felt like a loser, an outcast, like no one really noticed me. I didn't know how good I had it back then. I had my regular table at lunch and I was in all those activities—no matter how I felt, I was part of the fabric of the school.

That's all gone now. I'm embarrassed to talk to my old friends, and they don't really seem to miss me. And Ada hasn't been coming to school, so other than answering the occasional question in class, I basically don't talk to or interact with anyone all day long. I'm like a ghost, haunting the halls of the high school.

There is something comforting in the ritual of it, though. I mean, as bad as it is, at least I don't have to worry about people assaulting me or making me do drugs I don't want. It's boring and frustrating, but it's not so scary. Scary was exciting at first, but I think I had enough. I'm still having nightmares about that last client.

I'm starting to get worried about Ada, too. I haven't heard from her in almost a week. I know she told me to throw Miss Irma's phone in the ocean, and I was going to sneak out of school and do it the other day, but I decided not to. What if Ada tries to contact me on it? She has my other number, but if she's in trouble, she might not have a chance to try both numbers, and if there is any chance she might try to reach me through Irma's phone, well, I'd never forgive myself if I wasn't there for her when she needed me.

It does make me nervous when I see it in my purse, but so far Irma hasn't contacted me on it since our last meeting, and that suits me just fine.

Mon, March 2, later

I convinced my parents to let me start swimming again! Not with the team. I don't know if I even want that anymore, but I really miss having something to do that was just for me. One thing in my life where I don't have to do what people tell me or care what they want. When I'm swimming, it's just me and the water.

I told them that my body was going to atrophy if they kept me locked up all the time, so they finally decided that I could go to the YMCA pool in the evenings. Only an hour, though, so it won't interfere with my homework. And they'll drop me off and
pick me up. That's what they say, anyway. I know they're really afraid of me sneaking off.

I'm so excited to get back in the water again!

Fri, March 6

I feel gross.

I don't know what to do. I need to talk to someone, but who? I wish I could talk to Ada, but I still can't get in touch with her.

I thought things were supposed to be okay now. I thought if I just stuck to my parents' plan and behaved myself and did everything they told me to, I'd be safe and I'd never have to deal with the scary situations that hooking put me in. But it's like I can't go back to who I was. I should explain what happened. Maybe that will help me calm down.

I've been going to the pool every day all week now. It was nice. It didn't make everything better, but for an hour a day, at least I knew no one would be telling me what to do or hassling me or expecting stuff from me. That's what I thought, anyway.

So today I was doing some laps, not even trying for speed or perfect form or anything, just enjoying the feel of the water on my skin. And it was just a bit before closing, so I had the whole pool to myself. I was vaguely aware that there was someone standing nearby, but I didn't really pay attention,
because I was off in my own little blue world. Soon I noticed the person had gotten in the water and was swimming next to me. He was really good, matching me easily, stroke for stroke, which is unusual given that most people at this pool are old folks or little kids.

So I stopped when I finished my lap and I looked up, and guess who it was.

Tyler Adams.

I wasn't expecting that at all. I felt like someone had just knocked the wind out of me. And even weirder than running into him at the pool was that he was actually looking at me and smiling, as if he knew who I was. Which was weird but sort of . . . nice, after everything that happened. These past couple of weeks I've been so isolated and alone, not speaking to anyone except my parents and everyone at school looking through me like I'm invisible. It felt nice to have someone treat me like I'm human.

And I couldn't help remembering how I used to feel about him. It's not like I could just instantly go back to that little-girl crush, not after everything I've been through, but there's no denying how good Tyler looks. A lot better-looking than the men I'm used to being with these days.

So we got to talking. I worried it would be superawkward and I would act like an idiot, just like I used to, but I guess at
least one positive side effect of my recent career is I am less tongue-tied around boys. We talked about the swim team a bit and how they were doing, and I gave him a lame excuse for why I wasn't swimming with them anymore. Eventually I was like, “I better hit the shower. My ride will be here soon.” And he put a hand on my arm and said, “Don't. Not yet.” And he gave me this smile. I've seen him give that smile to other girls, but I never dreamed he would use it on me.

I admit, I melted a little. I stayed in the pool, and when he ducked into my lane and pressed up close to me, I didn't stop him. It was late, but the water was warm and the lights were glowing and it was almost romantic. And then he pulled in closer and started kissing me.

I was surprised, but too turned-on to really think too much about it. All that was going through my head was,
I wonder if it can really be this easy.
Tyler wasn't a client, and he wasn't twice my age or more, and he wasn't paunchy or bald. He's just a cute boy my age who likes me and wants to kiss me. And maybe I deserve that, after all I've been through. Maybe that would be the perfect antidote to all the gross stuff I've had to do for the past few months. Maybe I can just be with Tyler and be normal and happy, and it can all be uncomplicated.

That was what I was thinking until he stopped kissing me and started whispering in my ear. At first it was nice things, or
nice enough. He was telling me how sexy I was and how much he wanted to touch me. He was moving pretty fast, I know, but the truth is, I wanted to touch him too.

But then he started saying other things like, “I bet you know all kinds of tricks. I bet you could make it good.” I didn't know what he was talking about, but I started to feel uncomfortable. He was pressed all up against me now, and he said, “Why don't you show me what you know?”

So I was like, “What do you mean?”

“Don't play coy,” he said. “I know what you are. I saw you hanging around with Ada Culver. You're like her, aren't you? You used to be a little nerd, but she made you a whore just like her.”

I didn't like that. I didn't like him talking about Ada that way, so I stopped kissing and touching him and tried to wriggle away, but he had me pressed pretty firmly against the wall of the pool with his arms around me like a cage.

“Come on,” he said in a whisper. “Don't try to act like you're some virgin.” His lips were moving against my ear, and I could feel him pressed up between my legs. And he started whispering to me about Ada, how he had found out about her. He told me his uncle was one of her clients, and he had told Tyler all about her one day when he was drunk.

“My uncle's a real sleazebag,” he said. “He told me all the things he did with Ada, all the things he made her do to him.
Why don't you show me what she taught you? I can pay, if you want. Then you'll be my little whore to do whatever I want with.”

For a while I was just frozen, listening to him whisper those horrible words in my ear. I didn't know what to think. I felt like such an idiot, like I had been so naive. For so long I'd let myself believe I was living in two different worlds . . . that I had these two identities, but they were totally separate. On one hand, I was a highly paid call girl. On the other, I was an ordinary high school student, unpopular but high achieving. But that was a mistake, or a lie, because it was only one life all along. The same stinking life.

If Tyler knows about me, how many other people know? How many has he told? How many will he tell? What happens when Jenny and Eiko and John find out? What about the teachers? And my parents?

Finally I came back to myself and shoved Tyler away from me. He let me go without a fight, but his smug laughter echoed through the empty hall as I dragged myself out of the water.

Since then I have showered and toweled off and returned home and crawled into bed, but somehow I still can't stop shivering. What do I do now? Throughout this whole thing, I've always believed that there was a safety net. If I wanted to, I could pretend this was all a bad dream and just go back to the
ordinary life I had before. But that's not possible anymore. Tyler had called me a dirty little whore. What's the point in getting offended? It was true. These aren't just words. This is who I am.