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Zac frowned at my answer and asked.
“Why do you want to have this job? No offense, I’m not judging. It’s just…I think, you could have found another job,” he was trying to sound nonchalant but his voice was rigid.
“I need a job. I didn’t work for a while so there are a lot of bills to pay but there is no other job that pays me this much. Also, I’ll work only at nights, here. I can find one more job during the day if I have to,” I answered.
He didn’t answer for a long while; there wasn’t anything to say that would change my mind, anyway. I let the silence grow until we have reached to my street. I only broke the silence to point out my building.
“Goodnight, Zac. Thank you,” I said and got out of the car. Zac stopped me by saying my name before I could get inside my apartment. He was frowning when I looked back at him.
“Be careful.” he said tensely and drove away.
Watching the car disappeared from my sight, I stayed in the cold for a while. I tried to understand if there was another meaning behind his words. If he knew something… but I couldn’t answer those questions swirling in my head and the cold quickly cut the way my thoughts were headed.
The same anxious feeling passed through me as I tried to quickly skim my surroundings. It was almost morning and there was no one in proximity but a few people who started their days earlier than the rest; they were jogging despite the cold.
Finally, I shook my head and took a deep breath, letting the cold air prickle my lungs with sharp tingles before I got inside the house. It helped me to ease my lingering paranoia.
The water started to turn cold after I had been sitting under it for a long time without a purpose. But I couldn’t move a muscle in order to get out from the shower. My feelings were keeping me stuck there—I wanted to stay under the pure water to erase my filth. I felt dirty, not because I was a prude, but because I enjoyed the night I had at the club. My reason to be there was far different from having fun but for some minutes I forgot about it. I couldn’t shake the guilt I felt. No matter what my real motive was, I selfishly enjoyed the time I spent there.
The dance was the only thing that had kept me going, the only thing I had allowed myself to do since I had last been in a club. It had been two years…two years of agony, darkness and loneliness. Tonight was an exception but tonight, I wasn’t there to have fun and get drunk. I had a reason, a purpose, for being in the club and dancing was the only way for me to reach my goal. Could I blame myself for having fun while dancing?
Cold water started to torture my body but also, it erased any further thoughts from haunting me and awakened the determination in me. I only spent one night in the club and I was letting it affect me. I should have stayed true to myself.
I knew why I was going to that club, I knew my reasons, I knew my motives…as long as I remembered those reasons, I could allow myself to be the old me again.
Maybe… just maybe, having fun and bringing out the old me might help me to be the best, command the attention I needed. I hoped being the best could eventually lead me to the one I was looking for.
I walked out of the shower, wrapped the purple towel around my body and another one to my hair without looking at the mirror. The steamy bathroom became suffocating or maybe it was the thoughts I had in here that put the weight on my chest—I quickly went to my comfortably warm bedroom.
After checking through the drawers on my study table with determination, I found what I was looking for. I took out the leather journal and sat on the bed, examining the blank pages in front of me. It would no longer be empty because I had been preparing myself for a year to write in it.
This journal would be my guide and my witness of the success or the failure. I shook the possibility of failure from my mind.
Finally, I took a deep breath and started to write…it was short but it meant a lot to me.
Day 1- 13th October
I got the job.
I’m working in the Club Nymph from this day on.
I am a pole dancer…
After writing these words down on the white page, I closed the journal and put it on the nightstand near my bed.
Lying down on the bed still wrapped in a towel I exhaled deeply and whispered to the empty room before closing my eyes.
“Goodnight, Angel.”
The next morning I woke up before my alarm went off, finally feeling active after years. I was determined, feeling responsible like I had a purpose in life and… I did have a purpose. As soon as I got out of bed I put my gym clothes on, black yoga pants and a dark violet sports bra with a black t-shirt that was loose on one shoulder…
As I ate a bowl of cereal, I started to plan my day. This week would be different than the last. I had a new job and I was one step closer to reach my goal than I was before. I felt strong but I was also nervous. I put the bowl in the dishwasher, noticed that it was the first time I didn’t mind eating cereals instead of happy family breakfasts.
Though I didn’t sleep more than six hours, it was eleven when I finally walked out of my door. Rosie came out of her apartment at the same time as me and I waved at her.
“Dawn? How are you, sweetie?” she said with her gentle voice.
Rosie was a classy woman with a thick British accent. She’d been living in America for fifty years after she moved to the States with her family when she was in her late teenage years. I was lucky to have her kindness and wise words in my life.
