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“Ohh…” she murmured, unsure what to say.
“Shortly after my son showed me those pictures, he and his friends argued about why you did what you did. The agency had contacted me and stated that they could no longer guarantee that my anonymity would be protected because of some recent public actions taken by Marietta. They continued that although your tenure with the agency was ending, they were displeased. I believe the woman on the phone stated that more harshly. Regardless, they were unhappy with some information that they had recently uncovered. I am sure the fact thatSports Illuminatedis using that cheerleading episode as publicity for the front cover is not helping. The agency offered to send another escort, not understanding why you've been a part of my life for the last year.”
“Yes, they were not too pleased with my actions, but I can tell you that it wasn’t intentional.” Casting her eyes downward as she explained.
“I understand that. Our responses in life are not always planned out according to how others would have us act. I want to thank you again. There are no words to express your grace while I have worked to heal. I was lost, and that started to change just by being with you and going to places my wife loved, having the opportunity to discuss literature the way she and I had. I'm finally fully present for my boys now, and I've also met someone who is very special to me.”
Rakell slid her hand across the table toward him. As she looked into his onyx eyes, she became acutely aware of the music that swirled around the room, the warmth of the fire, and Amare with his soulful expression. This time, she didn’t see her client; she saw the man who had become her friend, andthatwas ending now. “My time with you has also helped me. I’m not sure I know how to heal, but my time with you has helped me better understand that things happen in people's lives that alter their future and their abilities to deal with loss differs.” With her words, the image of her grief-stricken mother taking in the remains of the fire hijacked her brain.My mom… will I ever be able to understand her?
He grasped her hand, his eyes exacting on her as if he were reading her. “I think everybody handles tragic events in different ways. Since understanding how significant my loss has been to me, my perspective on others’ grief and how they should or should not handle it has been altered significantly. I’ve registered by some of your reactions when we were together that you've gone through some particularly difficult situations in your life, too.”
Why is he doing this now? We are saying goodbye; I don’t want this to be about me. “I guess it's not anything I choose to talk about. It's been easier for me to just go on focusing on what I want to do moving forward and bury the tragedy that happened when I was younger. I honestly don’t know who that girl is anymore, and I don’t desire to know her,” she shared with a definite tone leading her words.
“I understand. I’m not asking any questions; it is not my place. However, I want you to know that we can bury those things, we can try to forget…but our memories hold on to trauma and who we were during those times. I think if we don’t face our losses, it comes out in future relationships. I know this clearly. I am quite a bit older than you, but I see how my fear of losing someone has impeded my ability to respond to love again. I am consciously working to put that aside so as to be fair to this new woman. I believe the time that I had with you gave me the space I needed to work through the loss.”
The rest of the evening, he told stories about his sons between bites of fish and then showed her pictures of them. She'd never seen pictures of his sons. She then asked tentatively if she could see a picture of his wife and daughter. “If it is too painful, it’s okay…I guess I am just curious…” she murmured, looking down at her plate.
“No, I am grateful you asked,” he said, scrolling on his phone before showing her some pictures.
Rakell knew she and Elizabeth must’ve looked similar, but she couldn’t stave off the shiver that ran up her spine as she stared at pictures of Elizabeth: her arms engulfing her boys—all three lost in laughter, reading a book to her daughter, dressed in a demure cocktail gown beside Amare, snuggled in a blanket drinking a glass of wine. How eerie it was to have embodied a woman so essential to so many people. Somehow, seeing the pictures of Elizabeth made her brain freeze with regret, thinking about her mom…trying to remember who her mom had been when Rakell was young. Her mom was alive yet lost to Rakell.
“She’s beautiful and looked so happy being a mom and uh…”—Rakell swallowed, a choking sound emanating from her throat—“and um, happy being with you…I…”
Then a singer’s voice jolted her, his distinct Australian accent filtering around them. She knew the words to Dean Lewis’s “How Do I Say Goodbye.” She’d listened to that song millions of times, but at this moment, the lines in that song triggered another memory. The quote fromThe Alchemist, the line she’d wanted to share that night months ago in Patagonia, sat in the forefront of her mind,If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, the world will reward you with a new hello.
Sucking in the emotion, her eyes on Amare, she said, “You were brave enough to say goodbye, and now the world is rewarding you with a new hello.” It felt so good to say thosewords to him, to let this man know she had learned from him and now they were both saying goodbye, not just to each other but to the past.
“Ahh…you remembered. Yes, holding on to the past can often crowd out the good waiting in our future. I want that for you as well, Rakell.”
Chapter Four
Mandy, her old friend, the one who had convinced her to give the escort business a try, insisted on driving Rakell to the train station. They enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with a couple of mimosas. Mandy went on and on about Albert, her client, who had set her up in a new apartment. The whole time Mandy talked, Rakell’s stomach felt jittery, as if she could see the heartache heading Mandy’s way, but she had to check herself. Was it that Rakell just couldn’t see happy endings?
“Rakell, I love that I got to see you twice in such a short time. I will make sure I call more. I suppose I will have more time since Albert has asked me not to audition anymore.” She offered Rakell an impish smile, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, you know, he wants me to spend more time with him.”
Rakell rearranged her features, hiding the shock.We got into the business so we could pursue the dream of acting.Mandy had not shared that news over breakfast, only that Albert, one of her long-term clients, had moved her into a beautiful townhome. He had also promised Mandy that he’d soon be getting out of his relationship and assured her they would get married in the next couple of years. That alone made Rakell wince, knowing that those scenarios usually didn’t end well for escorts.
“Mandy, always take care ofyou,” Rakell said, repeating something Mandy had said to her over and over when she started as an escort. Rakell left off the next line:don’t fall for these men; they can’t be trusted.“I’ll call after I get back to the States, maybe after the game.”
Just before Rakell hopped on the train, Mandy said with a laugh, “Try to stay off the big screen.”
“I’ll try. Hopefully, this gets buried under some big story; maybe Snoop Dog could marry a Royal,” Rakell said waving, smiling at Mandy’s laugh.
Watching the city morph into the English countryside, the landscape blazing by before the darkness of the tunnel smothered everything, she couldn’t help but think about how being an escort had changed Mandy. How Mandy seemed all too willing to give up her dream of acting for a client who was tangling the carrot of forever. This was at odds with what both Mandy and Rakell had been taught about the industry. The business had altered Rakell, too, but in a seemingly different way, making her more determined not to rely on a man for her future. The Mandy she’d first met in London, who had convinced her to jump into this business, drifted into her head. The night Mandy had invited her into this world.
I left Australia for London with two suitcases and a backpack, moving into a small flat with four other girls. It was the cheapest option, way cheaper than university housing. Me attending classes at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts was akin to being a paint-by-number piece hanging in the Louvre; so many of the students were offspring of acting royalty and were so well trained. I struggled in the beginning to fit in, but after a couple of months, I met Mandy. She, like me, didn’t have an acting background. It had just been a dream for her as well, one planted by her aunt, who loved the craft but had never gotten the opportunity to pursue it. I remembered Mandy’s declaration—she would do anything to make it, to see herself on the silver screen.
I’d quickly learned that London was quite expensive, and the small amount of money I had was nowhere near enough to cover all the costs. I found myself working during all my off time from school, which cut into rehearsal time. There was nothing aboutworking at a fish and chips shop that would prepare me for the stage. Through another friend, Lana, I had an opportunity to do some catalogue modeling, which paid more than double per hour what I made at the shop. Even though the money was good, I had to listen to the photographers and clothing representatives say over and over, “Only use her for the plus size shoots.” I wasn’t sure hearing that was worth the extra money, but I saw it as a path.
My London friends and I crammed around the small round table at The Cross Keys, a place that sported the décor and atmosphere the old English pubs were famous for. Since most of us were students, it also had a very important quality that made it our go-to hangout: the drinks were cheaper than the more modern posh pubs that weren’t really pubs anymore. Renovations were spreading through London pubs like a gentrifying cancer. Their clean lines, trendy blue-grayish hues, and avant-garde lighting made them all look like a pre-packaged ‘bar-from-a-box’ ordered from the same ultra-hip designer’s warehouse. The new look also meant more refined drinks at double the cost. Of course, some of the students attending RADA had money—but it wasn’t cool to act like you did.
Tilting my chin back, swigging a beer, I took a mental inventory of how much I had left in my account. I probably couldn’t afford another drink, even here, so I cut my gulp short, knowing I had to make this one last.
Mandy rushed in, pulling off her raincoat. I couldn’t help but notice it was Burberry and her purse Stella. Burberry and Stella on a girl who only two months ago was waiting tables at a greasy fish and chips place with me? I took in her outfit as she slipped off her coat. It reeked of money.
We’d confided in each other about our money struggles, so my curiosity was definitely piqued. Her parents lived an houroutside of London, and while they weren’t helping her much financially, she had a place to return to in the event London didn’t work out. Unlike me. I couldn’t imagine returning home. No way. Then everybody, including my mother, would know that my dream of acting had fallen flat.
Mandy had quit the fish and chips joint about two months ago. And it was literally a joint—we were lucky if someone threw us a pound here and there. The best thing about working there was the guaranteed free meal a few nights a week. I looked at Mandy again, staring briefly at her profile, wondering what she was up to.
