Looking out again, I still didn’t see him. How many times I have waited for him like this. He’s not just an easy mark, money for a night. But it gets me by, for a while. He is one of many, so why am I constantly looking for him, waiting? He’s so different from the others. Just because he never hits me or abuses me….I guess that is what makes him different. I wonder what he comes for, if he has a wife, or even a family? Why would such a decent man come to me?
She tips the blinds another time, he still isn’t out there. She will wait, though, she will wait all night. She wants him to come, to talk to her, hold her in that soft, gentle way he has. He is unlike the others, the rough, the lonely, the unattractive, that frequent her services. But they are all the same, in one way or another, nothing like him.
She walks the floor, throws on a dressing gown, and pours a drink for herself. She wonders if he’ll come tonight. It is their usual night. She wants to see him again. He makes all the others disappear for the time he’s with her, if only for the night. She foolishly imagines a life with him, as if it were possible to leave the life she chose. Chose is what she thinks, belittling herself again. If she chose, she would be married to someone like him, have a real home, and he would love her forever.
If she chose this life, it was because of how she was expected to act. Her father taught her how to please a man. She didn’t think she had a choice then and not now, but to live like this.