I Will Pay

January 29, 2010

I will go to the motel without shame or hesitation. I will enter its front doors with my chin up. I will look the people I pass in their eyes and raise my eyebrows if I see a sneer. I will keep looking at them until they look away.

I will approach the counter and inquire. Then I will go to my room, alone.

In the room, I will turn on all the lights. I will unpack the towels, the soap, and the slippers. I will undress and I will take a shower.

I will not think of my failures. I will not think of how many times I have been spurned. I will focus on the hot water as it cleanses my skin. Just the hot water as it cleanses my skin.

I will wrap the towel around my body. I will lie on the bed, smoke, and watch TV. I will wait for a bit and then the door bell will ring.

I will open the door and he will come in. I will smile, but only with my lips. He will make small talk and I will reply with monosyllabics. He will ask me to make myself comfortable on the bed.

He will put his stuff on the side table and he will undress but he will not be naked. Neither of us is. He will ask me what I want and I will tell him to do whatever he likes.

He will begin to put his hands on me, gently but surely. He will make the most out of my body and he knows which strings to pull. Soon my body will succumb and I will will my mind to be blank.

Then my hands will be traveling the length of his body too and the sheets will begin to be soaked with sweat.

And then that smell will permeate the room.

And then he will take a shower and I will remain on the bed, watching TV and not smoking. He will not want to stay too long. I will pay him so he can be off to his other appointments.

He will say thank you and he will want to meet me again some time in the future.
When the door closes, I get off the bed and look at the mirror. I will tell myself that it was okay. I will convince myself that I am not a loser.

I will light up a cigarette and put on my player. Lady Gaga will be on and I will dance on the bed. Alone.

I will go home to my parents and they will ask me for money. They will tell me the electricity will be disconnected in a few days. They will tell me they have run out of psycho drugs for my brother. They will tell me they do not have money, even for food.

And I will give them none because I do not have enough money left.

And they will ask me why and I will not be able to explain.

I will not be able to tell them that they are partly responsible for what I've done. I will not be able to hug my mother and ask for comfort. I will not be able to tell them that I have been so very lonely.

When they turn to leave me in the living room, I will sit down on the couch and smoke.

My pet cat will see me and he will sit on my lap. He will put his paws on me, gently but surely. And in that brief instant, I will smile. With my lips and with my eyes.