Garbage
– Workers are always troublesome, – Daddy continues. – It’s in their nature, isn’t it? I don’t see anything unusual here. Do you?
– But the workers have a point! – the secretary argues. His voice grates on me, like nails on a chalkboard. Why does Daddy tolerate him? He’s just a secretary, yet he acts like some sort of hero for the common folk.
– They’ve been overworked and underfed. One of the women’s children is gravely ill, and there’s no doctor on-site. They’re demanding to leave the mines.
– Are you saying this is the reason for their unrest? – Daddy asks.
Silence follows. I lean closer, straining to hear. Suddenly, there’s a loud thud, as though something heavy has hit the floor. Then, I hear the secretary groaning.
What just happened? Did the secretary regret his boldness?
As a girl, I was forbidden to curse at home, but…can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?
***
– Hey! Are you feeling okay? Here, take some water!
I blinked several times before I could make out who was speaking to me. The image of a hand holding a glass came together like a puzzle.
An unfamiliar but pretty young woman reached out to help me.
– You fell silent and suddenly turned pale, – she looked genuinely concerned. She seemed to be the birthday girl and the hostess of the evening.
I shouldn’t even be at these big, lavish parties anymore. After the last time – when I got caught up in a scandal with the coal baron’s son (a jerk who conveniently forgot he had a fiancée) – I’ve been avoiding high-society gatherings. Tonight, I’m aiming for smaller fish.
– Nothing surprising! Your arguments about 'the iron hand in a velvet glove' of the new prime minister make everyone fall asleep! – a man, whose name I’ve already forgotten, joked at his friend’s expense. He wasn’t interesting to me – neither as a penis nor as a a purse.
– Shut up! – his friend, who I think is named Nick, replied, his tone a little defensive. He looked more promising tonight… although his tendency to ramble about politics might turn out to be a slight problem.
– Women are allergic to politicians' jokes, my dear friend! – the first man tried to sound charming but, doing it at someone else’s expense, only made himself look pathetic.
Nick seemed to take his friend’s words seriously, his face flushing red.
Well, it’s settled – Nick is my target for the night.
I spotted a girl at the party who couldn’t take her eyes off Nick, but she’s no competition for me.
– No, no! I’m alright! – I replied innocently. – I don’t have any allergies!
("Except to a certain person," I thought, but saying that out loud wasn’t the best idea.)
– I’ve heard the new prime minister isn’t a good person, – Nick’s friend continued, refusing to drop the subject. – "I read about strikes at facilities he managed. The workers complained about terrible treatment. Some were even planning to file lawsuits, but none of them made it to court."
("Please, someone make him stop!")
– Where did you read that nonsense? – Nick asked.
– It was in an article from an independent publication!
– So, in other words, it came from a tabloid?
("Please, if this doesn’t stop soon, my coughing will come back, and…")
– Honey, you’re white as a sheet! There are beads of sweat on your forehead! Oh, poor girl! Let me help you loosen your hair! – The birthday girl is reaching out to me.
I’m a prize fool! I forgot that this kind of person doesn’t observe etiquette. They’re familiar and relaxed. The evening isn’t a battlefield for them – but it is for me. The hostess doesn’t have elegant manners and dares to touch a stranger like me. She’s a naughty girl, but she shouldn’t have to pay too high a price for that.
This is all my fault.
The little goose barely grazed my hairdo before squealing in pain.
– Ouch! – I felt a pain when slapped her hand sharply to save her gentle fingers.
Of course, everyone stands up. A scandal is brewing again, and I’ll lose my last chance to find some peace in a quiet bed.
The old hooker asked me to hunt without unnecessary noise. She wasn’t willing to risk her reputation any further, and another brawl would be the final straw for her. She believed she’d helped me long enough, and her recommendation had already increased in value.
She’d made it clear: I could – no, I had to – find a rich fool to live a carefree life. She was disappointed. The thing is, it became too burdensome to be the same gracious.
She didn’t know what she was talking about. It was impossible! Ever since I first appeared on the streets…
“Reputation,” “recommendations,” “gracious” – the old witch had never used those words before. Now she fancied herself a respectable lady! She seemed to forget who she really was – just another hussy who’d been helped to her feet.
– What are you doing? – Nick screams in fear.
Well, here it begins!
– No, it wasn’t her fault! – someone interjects, cutting through the confusion.
I don’t have time to see who it is because the birthday girl shrieks “Blood!” and starts crying. She must have hurt her hand when she touched me. At the same moment, I feel a coughing fit building – one I can’t control. I desperately cover my mouth as small drops of my blood fall onto the carpet.
This is the end of everything! I can’t manage the situation. Damn it!
Part 10
The next thing I notice is someone’s sneaker stepping on the bloodstains by accident. The sneaker is brightly colored but worn-out. Its owner clearly values comfort but also wants to challenge society with a “breaking the rules” statement.
How childish. No one survives without rules. Anyone who claims to prefer chaos simply hasn’t experienced it in its true form.
Then someone wraps their arms around my trembling body and guides me out of the living room.
When we reach the fire escape and the cool air washes over my face, I finally relax a bit.
– You sure take the cake! – the voice says, dripping with either sarcasm or some twisted form of respect.
I don’t reply – I don’t have the strength to tell him to buzz off.
– You know, you amaze me!
What nonsense. Does he think his opinion means anything to me? Ha!
The coughing subsides, and I focus on breathing with my eyes closed, refusing to think about anything.
– Take this.
Something – a jacket or blazer – is draped over me. At first, the cool fabric makes me shiver, but then I feel a comforting warmth.
I have a new cocktail dress. I stole it especially for this evening. I don’t have anything else.
– You could say thank you. I saved you.
– …
– Okay! Don’t say anything. Just please… don’t disappear!
I open my eyes and look at him. My memory is excellent, especially when it comes to men. But this guy doesn’t look familiar.
– Surprised? It’s a shame! We’ve met several times, but you always vanished. I introduced myself at a Christmas party! You were like an angel in that stunning gold dress. What happened to it? This midi looks great, but the gold one… it almost drove me crazy! That night, you smiled at me but left with someone else. Then, at New Year’s…
I listen, racking my brain to place his face among the sea of memories filled with countless others.
– What do you want? If you’re planning to blackmail me for money, you’re wasting your time. I’m broke!
Panic rises again, triggering another coughing fit.
– Wow, you’re talking now! How do you feel?
– …
– Relax! I’m not going to tell anyone about you.
– I don’t believe you!
– But you’ll try!
– …
– Please, don’t look so hard at me! I swear, I won’t say a word.
– I need to go, – I say, trying to stand.
As soon as I do, the world spins. Shapes and colors blur together. But I can’t stop now – I’ve worked too hard to get here.
The theft earlier was no small feat. A security guard had noticed me the moment I stepped into the boutique in rags. No surprise there. This time, though, I used a new trick: I left the fitting room, blending in with other shoppers. Another guard was stationed at the emergency exit, but he didn’t expect anyone to bolt through as fast as I did.
Sure, it cost me – I nearly coughed up my lungs – but I got what I wanted.
I deserve satisfaction!
– Are you going back in? – the guy asks, quicker than I’d expected. He’s holding the apartment door. – I saw how that idiot embarrassed you…
His words hit me like a revelation. It’s him! The boring guy who left me stranded with that wannabe “prince of coal”.
I remember how he’d hesitated, losing his nerve just when I needed him. What a spineless softie.
– None of your business! – I snap, tugging at the door. – I’m yelling!
– Do you really enjoy this? – He presses the door shut, bringing us uncomfortably close.
I almost stumble into his arms, catching the bitter, unfamiliar scent of his body. Normally, I’d use this as part of my act, as if it were an accident. But this wasn’t planned – and it’s not funny.
He seems startled by the sudden closeness too. I’m too tired to care.
Why were every random man who wanted something different from me the one to suggest learning how to live?
I decided to take the opposite tactic.
– What is this? Please, tell me! – I take advantage of the strange situation and lean toward him, bringing us even closer.
– I mean… well… – the guy stammers.
– Why don’t you just say it? Just say it! – I shift even closer.
– I… can’t.
My face is so close to his that I could either kiss him… or bite off his curious nose.
I can almost hear his blood rushing – to his head and… elsewhere that is just below the waist.
His pupils dilate, as if he just got high. Too many thoughts are scrambling his logic. If he tries to add two plus two right now and gets the right answer, he’ll be a miracle worker.
I whisper:
– Tell me, what part of my life do you find so mangy? Do you really think you know the worst thing about me? We’ve crossed paths three times. Or maybe it was three times enough? Do you know who I am? What I’ve lived through?
– Nnn-no… – the poor guy exhales.
– Then why did you decide that there’s nothing scarier than sex?
– But you’re a young lady… and your health is so fragile! – he blurts out, suddenly grasping for a simple excuse, reminding me that my cough still hasn’t gone away.
– Ha! – I pull back sharply. – If that’s your best argument, you’re an even bigger fool than I thought. I have things to do. I’m leaving. Bye!
The gad-fly looks crestfallen. At first, he seems on the verge of tears, but instead, he just stands there, disoriented.
I catch the moment when his grip on the door weakens and pull it open. He doesn’t try to stop me, so I take my chance.
– Did you lose your home? – the simple question freezes me in place.
– What did you just say? – my voice wavers as another cough rises in my throat.
– You hinted that you’ve been through things I couldn’t understand. – His next words hit harder than I expected. – Do you have nowhere to go?
This is a disaster. I need to leave. This building, this street, this entire area. If I don’t disappear right now, he’ll run off and tell his friends. A homeless girl! What a joke. But if I vanish fast enough – leaving his place, this dwelling house, this area as soon as possible, – most people here will forget my face soon. So why not?
– Come with me! – he suddenly says. – I have a big accommodation and a guest bedroom.
– …
For the first time, I don’t know what to say. This is not how I expected the evening to go.
– You don’t have to trust me. – His voice is steady, almost urgent. – I’ve been looking for you. I went to every private gathering in this city just to find you. But each time, you looked paler and sadder. More exhausted. Are you in trouble? Are you running from someone?
– …
This guy is insane! And he stalked me through the city? Disgusting! I should stay far away from him.
But… on the other hand, maybe this is an opportunity.
He smells of luxury and wears silent brands. Maybe he’s not some lunatic.
My instincts tell me one of two things: either he’s genuinely smitten, crashed on me… or he’s ready to skin me alive like a real psycho.
If Nick was a big prize and a pie in the sky, then this guy – this one with the intense stare – might actually be a duke.
– Forget about Nick! He can’t take care of you! – the man caught my doubts.
– Oh? And you can?
– Yes! I can! – he practically shouts. Does he really believe that?
– You’re drunk! You don’t even know me!
– I know that you’re smart, charming, breathtakingly beautiful… and at the same time, strong, brave, and willing to fight back when you need to. Just like now. I want to get to know you. And I promise I will never hurt you. I will never throw your past in your face.
– How big is your bathtub?
– You can soak in it for hours.
– Just try to touch me without my permission.
– I wouldn’t dare. But I am curious – what weapon are you hiding in that hairdo?
– It was a gift from someone very dear to me – specifically to discourage pests like you.
– And? Has it worked?
– Once. A fat pig tried to cut off my hair. I killed him.
– Great joke. I’ll wait for the day you tell me the real story.
"Your hair is your treasure and your weapon of survival," – I recall my goombah’s words.
Part 11
We left the restaurant with a hoot of laughter. I feel a light giddiness from the wine.
First, it was the cinema. Then, the eaten house. I ordered baked crackers with Russian caviar and a glass of champagne. The main course was duck with blackberry sauce, grilled vegetables with oregano and mint. After that came dessert – the softest English scones.
My stomach purrs like a contented house cat.
The evening isn’t particularly warm. The snow has finally stopped, and the coming of spring lingers in the air.
I’m no longer afraid of freezing, no longer waking in the middle of the night at the sound of distant noises, no longer spending entire days in a queue just to wash up at some free flophouse.
I’ve forgotten the worn-out jacket and the heavy boots that never fit. Now, I own several natural furs and elegant gloves. I’m wearing high-heeled shoes, crafted from the finest leather by a master-shoemaker – especially for me.
Tonight, I’ve dressed in a bright gold gown, reminding me of the costume I wore at the Christmas party.
Oliver likes it when I make an effort like this. It only makes him fall deeper in love – and more pliable.
People don't call Oliver a "walking wallet", but I have more than enough money for myself – or, as an old hooker once put it, for “carefree living.” So I can spend his money however I please. No, it’s not just for fun. I need to save my secret.
Two months ago, I chose Oliver over Nick. Best decision I ever made. I got all the benefits and privileges of being a beloved woman. He doesn’t demand anything from me except sex.
At the time, he yelled that it was disgraceful for me to sleep with random men – but he didn’t mind being the man himself. The modest ones are always the hungriest! Sometimes, he even wakes me up in the morning to make a pass at me, only to go off and make breakfast right after. What a silly boy.
– I want to introduce you to my family, – he interrupts my thoughts.
– What brought that idea on? – I know my boyfriend well. This is unusual.
– My mom asked to meet you, – his words make me tense.
– And what exactly did you tell her about me?
– I told her how I caught you in the act of filching my money – almost a thousand dollars! I remember how long I had to beg you to stay, swearing I wouldn’t call the police. That was a challenge!
– I hope you are joking! – I am laughing but in fact I am feeling a premonition of a problem. My excellent mood flew away. Old habit to sharpen inner senses came instead.
Oliver offered to walk along a city garden – it seemed so magical for him because of the snow. But it was not for me. This park showed me the dark and full of threats. Yellow color of the rare lamp makes me feel sorrow. I lived on the street – I prefer to avoid suspicious places.
– Relax! I told them the truth – except for “that” part. That’s our little secret. – Oliver grins. – My family is very intelligent. They will definitely love you!
– Why would they love me?
– Because I love you and want to make you my wife, – Oliver drops to one knee and reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Maybe other girls would be thrilled by the proposal, but I’m thinking about how to dodge answering. A wedding is a perfect opportunity to legitimize a relationship, but I have a few… complications with the law. What happens if, during the preparations, someone figures out my documents are fake?
– Well… Oliver, I need to say something to you something…
– Will you marry me? – He pulls out a small box and opens it. Inside, I don’t see a ring. Instead, I find… my pendant.
– I know you tried to steal my money to buy it back. I decided this would be better than a trivial ring.
The memory hits me like a slap. I recall the most dishonest dealer in the city – the one nobody wants to do business with. Billy, the crook, had contacted an even bigger fraudster. Spots dance before my eyes as I remember the old rogue grinning, offering me an absurdly high price for my own pendant. I saw it in his ugly face – he’d figured out my secret. But he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
I probably would have burned him along with the filthy barn he called a store… but I wasn’t sure where my pendant was. Last time, I had to walk away empty-handed.
– How did you find it? – I forget to breathe. My hands tremble.
– A strange old man on the street told me the jewel would bring you joy. At first, I thought he was mocking me, but then he showed me your photo. You were so young and adorable! So, I bought it for you.
– Did he say anything else?
– That’s all.
I’ll kill that dealer! That son of a bitch! Was this some kind of joke? Setting me up?
– If the old man was right, and you’re happy now, then… – Oliver is still kneeling in the snow. – Do you say yes?
Of course not. But I need to get my pendant back. What if…
Before I can answer, a commotion reaches my ears. I recognize the sound immediately – someone crying, someone laughing cruelly. The noise grows louder. A group of nameless thugs is closing in.
I hear the kind of laughter that reeks of superiority. A hunt.
Tonight, I am not the prey. But I’d rather avoid this meeting anyway. If I witness a massacre, the police will question me, and that’s the last thing I need.
– We have to go! – I grab Oliver’s hand.
– But you didn’t answer me, – snow sticks to his trousers in clumps.
Through the trees, human figures take shape. One of them runs ahead—a fox. The others follow – hunters.
– What did you say? – I try to drag Oliver away.
– Will you marry me? – The idiot is as stubborn as a mule. – Honey, where are you looking?
– Only at you, my love! Oh yes, of course, I’d be delighted to be your wife! – I try to distract him with sweet talk.
Damn it! I missed my chance.
The "fox" reaches us. It’s a man – beaten so badly I can barely look at him without disgust. His clothes are torn, revealing burns and bloody wounds. He collapses near the garden’s lattice and, through swollen eyes, sees us.
– What the hell? – Oliver finally notices him.
I would like to tell him that this is just the shadow of the gate into true hell – but I won’t.
The man begins to crawl toward us, crying. It seems he has lost most of his teeth, and many of his words are incomprehensible. But it’s not hard to understand – he’s begging for help.
– What are you doing? – I shout.
– I’m calling emergency services.
– Don’t! – My request sounds more like a command, but it works—Oliver hesitates and hangs up. – Someone will help him. Someone always helps.
– But… – My lover hesitates. Even a complete moron can see that those terrified guys aren’t looking to make friends. If we stay here any longer, this won’t end like a happy movie.
“His wife!” – I hear the call. It’s my former name. I don’t recognize his voice – it is hoarse and strainfull. Is the fox familiar with the Creaker? Worse – he might blurt out something about my past.
– Please! – I pretend to slip and fall into Oliver’s arms.
– Your face is pale. Are you okay?
– Take me home! I’m cold. My cough will come back!
– Of course, honey! Whatever you say…
“Wife!” – I heard it one last time.
I don’t look back at the homeless man.
Part 12
– Oh, you are so beautiful, honey! – Oliver’s sister squeals so loudly that my ears feel blocked. – You look like a superstar – an actress or a princess!
– It’s all thanks to you! – I smile and hug her. – The hairstyle and makeup are wonderful! You have hands worth a million dollars.
– Oh, honey, you’re embarrassing me! But thanks! You are so kind and cute! My brother is a lucky guy!
– No, he’s going to suffer with me!
– Don’t say that! He loves you! I love you!
– And I love you! But your mother… She hates me.
– No, no! Mommy was just mad at Oliver for not introducing you to us sooner. He hid you like a treasure, afraid you’d disappear! Give her some time. She’ll come around when she realizes how lucky we all are to have such a wonderful daughter-in-law.
– But…
– I know you lost your family when you were young and that it hurts knowing none of them can be happy for you on this big day. It’s so tragic! But you have me! I feel like you’re my sister, and I support you, honey!
– Do you promise? – I hurry to reinforce my words by hugging her.
– Of course! – She seems happy to stand by my side tonight.
It wasn’t surprising to learn that Oliver and his sister had inner conflicts with their mother. The old bat had always controlled the family. No wonder Oliver is so pliant. His sister, though, is more independent – a quality I find very useful.
– Forget about everything else! This day is about you and my brother!
– You’re fucking right! – I blurt out a curse word, and we burst into laughter.
The wedding ceremony went hunky-dory. I heard a few disapproving whispers from elderly relatives suggesting I might already be pregnant, but most guests complimented how I looked – “as lovely as a painting,” – they said.
When I reached the altar, I saw Oliver’s bright eyes – he was on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with happiness.
As my groom made his vows, I tried to breathe steadily, though not too deeply – I didn’t want to start coughing. The old bat had insisted I wear an ancient, suffocatingly modest wedding dress made of heavy, foul-smelling lace, supposedly inherited from Oliver’s grandmother. I complied… but conveniently “forgot” to wear panties.
At least I could breathe a little easier knowing that, at this very moment, I stood practically naked before the religious old bat and her god.
I was mocking them.
– From this moment on, you are my wife! – Oliver declares. – I am incredibly… – He starts crying anyway.
I touch the pendant around my neck, worn over the ridiculous dress. It calms me.
My secret is still with me.
After the ceremony, we headed to the restaurant. I convinced Oliver to book a small café on the other side of the city – it saved money and avoided unnecessary publicity or unwanted attention. Oliver agreed, and his sister eagerly ran to their mother, telling her how lucky she was to have such a “wise” daughter-in-law.
The table is covered with food, but I barely eat. My new relatives glance at me knowingly – they assume my “obvious” nausea is due to pregnancy. Idiots!
The truth is, the dress is suffocating me. If I eat anything, I might choke.
Once this night is over – if I survive my own wedding – I’m going to ruin this dress.
