The Crossroads
In the years between school and prison, the time I spent dancing at the Cheetah Lounge was the longest I ever held a job. I was there a whole nine months. During that time my life was relatively stable in a way it had not been in years. I rented a studio apartment, the only place I have ever lived that was mine alone. The first night I spent there, I could hardly sleep, I was so excited over all the ideas I had about how to fix it up and make it my own.
But, the normality apparent in my life was just a thin veneer. Underneath, I was still riding on the pillhead rollercoaster. I needed a little something to get me started in the morning, a bump at midday to keep me moving, a bigger bump before my shift, and then, something to put on the brakes afterwards. What had changed was that I was making enough money dancing that I could afford my habit without having to beg, borrow or blow anyone. But, as any addict can tell you, it only takes one little event to start the cascade that can bring the world crashing down around you. A fight with your lover, a bad day at work, and your life spins out of control.
I broke a heel.
As I was climbing the steps to the Cheetah's stage, the heel on my right shoe snapped. My ankle turned and I fell, cracking my shin hard against the edge of the stage. Both my ankle and my knee immediately began to swell. Jordy, the manager, took me to the emergency room, where they determined that nothing was broken, but wrapped both joints in bandages and gave me a prescription for Vicodin.
The downfall can be as simple as that. I couldn't dance for the next three weeks, so I had no income. I went through the thirty day's worth of Vicodin in the first week, and replaced it with Oxycontin and Dilaudid I bought on the street.
I needed to get the money coming back in, so I returned to the club sooner than I should have. Before I was halfway through my first shift, the pain in my leg became unbearable. Between dances, I was popping pain pills like they were candy. By the end of the night, I was stumbling. Jordy gave me a hard look, but said nothing. The next night, I could barely stand, and missed my shift. When I went in on the third night, I was so doped up that I started to nod off leaning against the pole. Jordy had seen enough. She pulled me from the stage and led me into her office. There was a small leatherette couch there, and I flopped on it and immediately passed out. When I woke, the club was closed, and she was sitting behind her desk, toting up the night's receipts.
I sat up and looked at her with bleary eyes. She never looked up from her counting while she spoke to me.
"This crap is not acceptable," she said, "I knew you used the pills, but until now it wasn't a problem. I'm sorry, but until you get your shit together, we can't use you."
"But I'm taking pain pills because I got hurt on the job."
She shook her head. "You're an independent contractor, dear, that's not our problem."
I got up and shuffled out of the room.
"Come back when you grow up, sugar," she said as I shut the door behind me.
My rent was past due. I was driving around on expired plates. There were no minutes left on my phone. I lay around the apartment for the next couple of days in a deep depression. I considered my options. I could drag myself back to my mother's house and once again become a burden on her. I could go down to the street and turn tricks. I could just take all the remaining pain pills at once and end my concerns, but even that was not a sure proposition, because my supply was dwindling fast.
By the end of the week the pills were gone, my cash was gone, there was no food left in my apartment and my car was running on fumes. I decided to beg Jordy for another chance. I ran out of gas two blocks from the club and walked the rest of the way.
I knew there was no realistic chance that Jordy would let me work again. I hadn't slept in two days. I must have looked like the living dead. But I had nothing to lose by trying.
She was standing at the end of the bar when I came in. I saw her roll her eyes as I approached, but she listened patiently while I described my predicament to her. When I finished, she shook her head.
"Melissa, you know as well as I do, if I let you dance, and first of all, you are in no shape to do so anyway, you would just take the money and buy dope with it. If you come back in a month and convince me you are clean, I will be happy to let you come back."
"Okay, well thanks anyhow. I'll come back."
"Sugar, I hope so. But if you come back in dirty, I'm just going to have you tossed out."
"I was doing okay until I fell."
"But everybody falls, sugar. Sooner or later, everybody falls."
I thanked her and started to walk away. I heard someone calling to me by my stage name.
"Chardonnay! Wait!"
I turned and looked. It was one of my regular customers, the owlish man the girls all called The Professor. He put his hand on my back and said, "I couldn't help hearing your conversation. I'm sorry you are having such a hard time. Let's go across the street and I'll buy you a cup of coffee."
I had nowhere else to go, so I went with him. He ordered us each a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. We chatted and he told me about himself. His real name was Glenn. He was 52 and worked as an office manager for a big commercial real estate company. He had been a widower for many years and had a son in the Navy. Eventually, the conversation worked it's way around to my situation. He thought all my troubles came about because of my injured leg, and I let him maintain that belief.
"Listen, Melissa," he said, "I've got a spare room, why don't you come stay at my place while you heal up. Once you're on your feet again, you can get back to work and everything will be alright."
I was naturally suspicious of this much older man inviting me into his home. But, as limited as my prospects were, it was an offer I had to consider.
"Don't get me wrong," he said, reading my apprehension. "I like you, I think you're a special person. I don't have any ulterior motive. I'd just like to help out a girl down on her luck."
I told him that I would consider it. He gave me his business card and asked that I call him when I had made my decision. Then we drove to a gas station and he bought a can of gas for my car. After putting it in the tank and making sure the engine started, he handed me a twenty dollar bill, telling me I should use it to fill up. When he drove away, I went back to the gas station and put in five dollars worth of gas. I went to the grocery store and bought a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. Then I called a friend and spent the rest of the money on pain pills. When I got back to my apartment, the power had been turned off. I decided that I would call Glenn in the morning and accept his offer.
It was a pretty little bungalow on a quiet suburban street. I was surprised at how neat he kept it. He showed me to the spare room, which had obviously been his son's bedroom, and told me to make myself at home. I didn't have much in the way of possessions. My furniture had all been second hand, none of it was worth saving. I had one suitcase filled with small items, and a trash bag full of clothes.
Glenn was true to his word. He made no advances towards me and tried to help me get myself together. He let me use his car to run errands and would give me money for clothes or items I needed. I would go to a thrift store and buy the newest looking things I could find, and spend the rest of the money on pills. My leg had heeled though, and in the absence of pain I was able to taper down to a manageable level. I felt guilty, though, and would assuage my bad conscience by diligently cleaning the house and cooking him meals.
After a few weeks of domestic routine, I grew restless and began to go out a couple of evenings a week with friends. He voiced no objections, but it was obvious that he was disappointed whenever I left the house.
One night I came home to find him sitting in his bathrobe on the couch. It was obvious that I was high. He asked me to sit down and talk.
"Melissa, I'm a little worried about you. Where do you go when you go out?"
"I just go visit with my friends."
