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“I won’t be giving you any more favors.” With one last, leering look, he turns on his heel and strides down the hall.
Hurriedly, I slip back into the apartment, locking my door and leaning against it for a moment as I close my eyes. One foot in front of the other. Just keep going. It’s been my mantra ever since the accident, ever since I had to take on the duties of a mother as well as a sister overnight. From the kitchen, I can hear Niki happily crunching away on his cereal, and I let out a breath, pushing myself away from the door and going to join him so that I can eat something as well.
Thirty minutes later, I walk with him to the bus stop and get him off to school, and then walk down to the next to catch a regular bus to a part of town where I can try to pawn the watch. I can feel the weight of it in my purse, and I try not to hold my purse too closely, despite my worries about losing it. The last thing I need is for someone to pick up on the fact that I have something very valuable inside.
I try to act as casually as I can once I’m off the bus, walking at a normal pace as I head to the pawn shop. I want to get this over with, and I sneak a glimpse at my cell phone to check the time. I have an hour before I need to be at my ballet practice, and it’s easily a thirty-minute bus ride to the studio. I don’t want to seem rushed, or desperate, but I need this to go well.
There’s a short, grizzled-looking man standing behind the glass counter inside the shop, and he gives me a look that I’m all too used to seeing from men. I force myself not to care, walking up to the counter and reaching into my purse for the watch. “I have something to sell,” I tell him, setting it on the counter. “I’m curious what price you’ll give me for it?”
The man’s poker face is impeccable. I can’t tell what he’s thinking as he picks the watch up, turning it this way and that. He sets it down long enough to pick up a jeweler’s loup and inspects it again, dragging out the moment long enough that it’s almost impossible for me not to fidget.
“I’ll give you two hundred.” He sets the watch back down, and I feel my stomach sink.
“What?” I blink at him, swallowing hard. My reaction is too quick, too visceral for me to bite it back, and I see that he’s picked up on how badly I need to sell it. “I know it’s worth more than that.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Are you accusing me of cheating you?”
My chest tightens. “I—no! Of course not. I just—maybe you should look at it again.” It’s taking everything in me to try to keep my voice from shaking. “Maybe there’s something you missed, the first time. It’s very valuable?—”
“And how do you know that?” There’s the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, as if he’s toying with me and enjoying it. “This is a family heirloom, maybe? Something that belonged to a father or grandfather? Or—” Now he does smile, and there’s nothing friendly in it. “Maybe you stole it.”
A chill settles somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach. “No. It belongs to me. I just need to sell it, that’s all. I think—” I take a deep breath, stiffening my shoulders and reaching for the watch. “I’ll get a second opinion.”
“Oh, no.” There’s an almost predatory gleam in the man’s eyes as he reaches for the watch at the same time, moving it away from my grasp. “I’ll give you one seventy-five.”
“That’s—” Anger ripples through me. “Now you are cheating me,” I snap, before I can stop myself. “Give me back my watch, please. I’m going somewhere else.”
He chuckles. “Sure. And I’ll call the cops. Do you think they’ll believe that this watch belongs to you?”
That anger flares hotter, but a sharp jolt of fear cuts through it. I press my lips together to keep them from trembling, but the man must have seen my eyes widen. He smirks unpleasantly.
“That’s what I thought. One fifty, and that’s my final offer. Or I call the cops, and neither of us gets the watch or the money. But I’ll get the pleasure of watching you squirm.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and a wave of exhaustion washes over me. Rich or poor, attractive or ugly, it feels as if the men who come into my life are all the same in the end. They derive pleasure from watching a woman be humiliated, getting more out of it than any amount of money could offer. Alfio, my landlord, this man—all of them get off on debasing women and taking advantage of the circumstances that those women have found themselves in.
Although Alfio, I suppose, is in the past tense now. I take some small comfort in that.
“Alright,” I admit defeat at last, both because I don’t believe the man is bluffing, and because I’m out of time. I did steal the watch, and if he does call the police, I’m no doubt going to be the subject of an investigation that might lead back to Alfio. The complications that could arise because of that—not to mention what could happen to Niki—are unthinkable.
And I can’t be late to the studio again. If I don’t sell to this man, I won’t get anything from the watch today. Even a hundred and fifty is that much that I don’t have to try to make at work tonight.
The man smiles, clearly pleased with both his purchase and the success of his treatment of me. “See? I knew you’d come around. Here you are.” He peels off the money from a banded roll of cash, handing it to me. “You can count it if you like. It’s all there.”
I do, simply because I don’t trust him not to have cheated me further. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him scoop up the watch, and as it disappears behind the counter, I feel another wave of defeat. The watch is gone now, and any chance of using it to truly improve my and Niki’s situation is gone with it.
I have to figure something out, and soon.
The money is all there, and I tuck it into my purse. I don’t bother thanking him—he doesn’t deserve it—and hurry out of the shop. I avoid looking at anyone on the street as I leave, not wanting to draw attention, and walk to the next bus stop, where I can grab a ride in the direction of my studio.
I have just enough time to get there. I lean my head back against the bus seat, closing my eyes and trying not to breathe in the scents of musty upholstery, snack food, and warm bodies. I’m already exhausted, and my day has barely begun. I still need to make up the practice time I’ve missed, go to my normal practice, and then make it to work this evening to dance all over again—this time in a very different atmosphere.
I know why I’m doing this. I know it’s worth it. But I wish, more than anything, that things could be a little easier somehow.
Even for just a little while.
—
Rachelle, one of my friends from the corps, is at the studio when I arrive. I change into my practice leotard and tights, going to sit on the floor of the practice room as I start to lace up my pointe shoes. Rachelle is stretching at the barre, and she smiles brightly at me as I walk in.
