posttraumatic stress

Staying Present – 30 December 2000 – 1.25PM

Soul Destruction - Story of a London Call Girl - Mickey
Mickey climbs into the back of the van and I follow. He’s parked up on a side street near where we scored in Narrabeen. It’s a quiet road. All the houses are detached. On the grass verges, there’s trees every few feet that have been planted with the greatest precision. Now, I’m in the back, I can’t see any of it, just the grotty guts of this van. I strategically place a few of the multi-coloured cushions on the floor, so I can lie down without my white dress touching the dirt.

Yesterday was a write-off. I didn’t wake up when Mickey left early for work. I didn’t wake until the afternoon. With my skin painfully sunburnt, there was no point going back out in the sun. I stayed in my hotel room, rationing the gear I had left. Under my breasts, the skin’s stinging. I’m sweating, not from clucking. It’s the heat. This day must be the hottest since I’ve been in Sydney. With no air-conditioning in the van, it’s like a sauna.

Mickey passes me my filled syringe. Finally, I can have a decent hit. To make the smack I had last until this morning, I was only using enough to stave off the aches and sweats. The dodgy vein on the inside of my elbow still isn’t healed. So I inject the hit in my lower arm.

“Can I hold you?” Mickey asks.

“You can try.”

He arranges the spare cushions to make a slim bed next to him. He opens his arms and rolls me over. My head is on his chest as it was the last time, but my eyes are directed at his face. Although it’s a strain, because the heroin makes my eyes close, I force them to stay open. Looking at him helps. It stops other men’s faces entering my head. He’s not like most men. I don’t need to be scared. I repeat that in my head.

“Is there any news on your grandma?” I say.

“She’s doing all right. Dad’s still with her. That’s sweet of you to ask.”

“Is your mother blind?”

“No. Why would my mum be blind?”

“Must’ve been a dream.” I’m feeling so fucked from the gear, I forgot I didn’t want to bring that up. “That morning you left when you had to take your mum shopping, I thought you said she was blind.”

“She doesn’t drive, that’s all.” Mickey chuckles. “You’re a funny one, Nicole.”

“What do you mean by that?” I pull away from him and sit upright.

“Nothing bad, beautiful. I think you’re great. You’re just not like the other girls I know.”

I lie back down with my head on his chest. No, Mickey, I’m not like the other girls you know, but for reasons I don’t think you’re aware of. Or maybe he does know. Maybe Stix has told him what I am. I shut my eyes tight as if that’ll make it all disappear. Hiding the truth is a lie. I don’t want to lie to Mickey, but I don’t want him to reject me.

Edge of Intimacy – 29 December 2000 – 1.15AM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

On the queen-sized bed in my suite at the Radisson, I’m lying face down. My head’s buried in a feather pillow. Mickey’s sitting on my backside. He doesn’t feel heavy. I’m probably not accurate at guessing a man’s weight but I reckon he must be at least ten or eleven stone. He’s about five foot ten or a little under. Though he’s not well built, his body’s toned. Muscle weighs more than fat and he doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

He’s rubbing Stix’s mum’s aloe vera gel into my skin. He’s done my front, which cooled the heat and soothed the soreness of the sunburn. Now he’s doing my back, but my back isn’t burnt. I’m not going to stop him though. Being massaged makes a change. I’m always the one giving a massage, for money of course. I like the feeling of his touch on my body. His hands are warm and soft. I don’t feel anxious like I have done when he’s touched me before.

“You’re gonna have to stay out the sun for a few days. Let this heal.” He rubs the gel into my thigh. “Stay away from Lorna. She’s bad news.”

“Yeah, I guess she is.”

“There’s no guessing about it. If this was a little bit worse, you could’ve ended up in hospital.”

Apart from Mickey, Stix, crusty-lips and close-eyes, I don’t know anyone else in Sydney except Lorna. She’s the one I’ve spent most time with. I’ll be lonely without her. Like me, she’s been a hooker. She also had a termination, and she’s had a violent ex-boyfriend. We had stuff in common. She was someone I could talk to. And aside from all that, I’ll have one less connection who can score here.

“Right, that’s you all done.” Mickey climbs off my back and lies down next to me.

“How’s your grandma?” I ask, slipping on my nightdress.

“Looks like she’s going to be okay. She’s out of the coma. My dad’s still there, but.”

So I didn’t dream what I thought he said about his grandma. I wonder if his mother is actually blind. That’s not the kind of thing I can just throw into conversation though.

“I need to get some decent shut-eye tonight. I’ll try not to wake you when I leave.” Mickey flicks the light switches above the bedside table.

I can’t see a thing. We’re in complete darkness. I’m hoping I manage to get some sleep myself. Sharing my bed isn’t something I’m used to. In the dark, it’s worse. I can think it’s another man instead of Mickey lying next to me in this bed. It would better if I could see him. I need to see his face. I turn on the light above the bedside table to the dimmest setting. “Do you mind?” I whisper. “I need a light on.”

“It’s okay, beautiful.” He breathes on my neck.

When he drove me back here and I invited him in, he said there was no expectation of us having sex. He said he was fine with waiting as long as I needed to wait. I felt comfortable with that. It was okay when he was massaging me. I felt relaxed and kind of sleepy. But now he’s lying so close to me in my bed, and feeling his breath on my skin, I’m on edge and more awake. The intensity of how I feel isn’t as powerful as the last time he slept here. But I don’t think I can sleep. I’m a guard on patrol.

Taking Advantage – 28 December 2000 – 1.05AM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

Mickey’s on my mind. Lorna’s in my bed. I didn’t want to have sex with her again but it’s happened. I didn’t realise what was going on until I found her with her head between my legs. She must’ve undressed me while I was gouched out. I don’t want her. I want Mickey. I know she’s not going to give me his number. I’m going to have to wait until she’s gouched out, and then see if it’s stored in her phone.

“Why are you putting that on?” Lorna sits up in the queen-sized bed.

Wearing my nightdress, I slip back under the duvet. “I’m cold.”

“Me too. Turn off the air-con.” She leans over to the bedside table and tips a small heap of white heroin into a spoon.

Reluctantly, I push myself up from the bed. I open the drawer in the bureau and take out my pastel blue nightdress. “Wear this,” I say, holding it in her direction.

“I like being natural.” She drips water from a syringe into the spoon. “It’s what nature intended.”

I’d so much rather we were friends without the sex. The more I’m getting to know her, the less attractive I’m finding her. And I hate it that she’s shaven. I haven’t had a flashback so far tonight, but that’s probably because I haven’t been there yet. I know she’s going to want me to. And I really don’t want to.

“I’m sorry about your punter.” Lorna passes me my filled syringe. She gets up from the bed and walks over to the air conditioning unit on the wall. As she turns the control, the dull humming sound stops resonating in the suite. “At least you got your fifty dollars back.”

“Fifty dollars isn’t compensation for a missed job.” I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m so into the lie, I’m nearly believing it myself. If it was a missed job, I wouldn’t care less. But it was Mickey I missed, and I’m fuming with myself about that.

“If you need work while you’re here, I can set you up.”

“I don’t want to work in a brothel. No offence, but I can’t do that many punters a day, and I don’t work for pittance.”

“It doesn’t have to be a brothel. That guy in the Cross, he knows people.”

Wrapping my tan belt around my arm, I look for a good vein. “He’s a pimp, you mean?”

“Not exactly. I’ll introduce you to him. He can explain what he does.”

“Why don’t you just tell me?”

“I’m not involved. I don’t know. Next time we’re there, you can meet him.” Lorna injects her hit. Her eyes close. She lies down next to me on the bed. Her long, blonde hair splays over the pillow, fanned out like the feathers of a peacock.

I insert the needle into a vein on my lower arm. I need to give the one on the inside of my elbow a rest. It’s not healing and I don’t like the mark there. “What do you do for money?” I ask.

“This and that.”

“Did you make much working in the brothel?”

“Yeah, quite a lot over the years. Put it all in my arm though.”

“Didn’t you–?”

“What?”

“Doesn’t matter.” I don’t want to cause a row, but I’m sure she said before she worked in the brothel for two months. I can’t question her on it again though. Last time I did, she was upset with me for not listening to her properly.

I push down on the plunger. The rush pulsates in my body. Somehow, I need to keep alert. If she gouches out for long enough, I can look in her phone for Mickey’s number.