Client 1: Roger

“Hello?”
“Hi honey. How are you?”
“I… I’ve never done this before.”
“It’s okay honey, just act natural.”
“What’s your name?”
“Candy Cane. What’s yours?”
“Roger. What do you look like?”
“What do you want me to look like, Roger?”
“Is this how it’s supposed to go?”
“It can go any way you’d like. What do you like, honey?”
“You mean, ‘what’s your fantasy’ right?”
“Exactly. So, tell me about your fantasies.”
“I…actually didn’t call for that.”
“What’s on your mind then?”
“I just needed someone to talk to, I…you ever go to the bar and want to be left alone yet don’t want to actually be alone?”
“No, but I think I understand what you mean. We all get lonely. How old are you, honey?”
“Thirty-five.”
“You’re still young. Your voice is a bit husky, I was imagining a man somewhat older.”
“My wife used to say that.”
“Is she not your wife anymore?”
“No, not since she met Greg.”
“Is that his real name?”
“For the purposes of this conversation, yea.”
“Well, then, to hell with Greg.”
“I’m imagining you as my wife right now. She’s a slim little thing, about five feet. Wavy brown hair, her nose crinkles when she laughs. Chestnut eyes. Hearty laugh, like warm soup on a snow day.”
“As your wife what would you like me to do?”
“Sit on the corner of the bed.”
“Okay, I’m slowly walking to the queen sized mattress with the floral patterned bedspread.”
“I’ve always hated those.”
“My feet make no noise as I turn but sitting down the mattress kind of gives from under me.”
“Are you looking at me?”
“Our eyes are locked, honey.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t the assertive lover you needed, but I tried my best. I enjoyed hearing your wispy moans when you came, the smile that seemed to take up your entire face. I’m sorry your felt trapped in our marriage and instead of talking to me to work it out you decided to go astray. I guess I’m more sorry than anything for not seeing my best friend’s unhappiness. Now I want you to become my sister, Candy Cane.”
“Oh…Kay.”
“It’s not like that. I just need to tell her something. Same as my wife.”
“I understand, honey. I don’t judge.”
“I suppose you don’t. Anyway, sit at the coffee table from our childhood home.”
“The floorboards creek underfoot as I pad my way over with a cup of steaming black coffee, taking a seat with the wooden backed chair scraping the floor.”
“Are your blue eyes looking at me?”
“You have my full attention, honey.”
“I’m sorry for cutting your hair when you were eleven and called it a prank. That was cruel and the almost year it took to grow back was hell you did not deserve. I’m sorry that, because of this, you seemed to welcome abuse and fell in love with a man who took a liking to blackening your eye. I’m sorry that, when your were seventeen, I didn’t listen when you said Bobby Dean had forced himself on you and only thought it was true after the police found the blood trail leading to him that belonged to a girl- who looked just like you- that suffered needlessly. I’m sorry for not co-signing the loan papers so you could move into your first home which forced you to move back in with another man who also took a liking to putting his hands on you. And I’m the most sorry for not setting a good example for what sort of man that should have been taking a liking to you.”
“Is that all honey?”
“Y..yes, I think that’s it.”
“And how do you feel?”
“I’ll feel better when I can no longer feel anything.”
“What do you mean, honey?”
“Good-bye, Candy Cane.”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s