Clipping...
I had changed.
Here I was just days after leaving Barry's house and if you had met me, you would have thought I had been born to live this life. I was surface hard, determined not to break and I had found some allies in my pain. I was in Bristol now. I left the City of Bath, the city that sleeps and I went to a much more seasoned town. In Bristol there were no shortage of people to spend the cold nights with, the homeless community was large and flourishing. Geoff and Steve, two boys that I had met in an underpass the day that I arrived there, took me under their wing and taught me much. I learnt to beg for money in the street, to steal food from shops and to find warm places to bed down for the night. Cardboard was my new best friend, it does much to keep the ice from your skin. I learned quickly and I was an excellent begger. My middle class accent and childlike smile made the business men reach deep in their pockets to heal my pain and maybe mute their guilt. I shared my earnings with the others and I forgot, just a little, about what I could have been. The money was never enough though. They drank it as fast as I could make it and they wanted more. Geoff had become a boyfriend of sorts. He had a pink Mohawk and a tattooed face. He might have been good looking once. He came to me one day and sat beside me. Glue bag, beer and cigarette to hand. 'If I were a girl.' he had said 'I would try Clipping. it makes more money than begging for sure.'
'What's clipping?' I had answered.
The boys waited outside the toilet whilst I washed and dressed. Steve had stolen make-up, Geoff had stolen clothes. I was to be a walking investment for their indulgences. I had forgotten how to say the word 'No'. This all seemed normal now to me and I was fueled by promises of easy work and easy money. Hair tied up & make up piled on, I enjoyed the feeling of shoes on my feet for the first time in a month. As I walked out Steve whistled.
'Oh God. I feel like a prostitute!'
'That's my girl.' laughed Geoff. They deposited me in a suitable place, left me there for bait and went to finalise the deal around the corner. Within minutes I had found the perfect man. Too nervous to haggle I had agreed to everything he asked. I took him, as directed to the house up on the hill and fumbled in my pocket for the keys that we had borrowed. I did everything as I'd been told. An actress in this world of theirs, I kept my cool and spoke my lines. He tried to touch me on the way upstairs but I told him where to go 'You get half an hour in the room. So keep your hands to yourself until we get there.'. At the top of the stairs I took his money, just moments before the violence rained upon him. He left that house with a broken nose and bloodied face,without his wallet and most definitely absent of any good memories of me. I was on a complete high. We had enough money to pay for using the house and to keep us fed and happy for days. A success! We drank the night away and fell satisfied to sleep on a hard squat floor, all three huddled together nice and safe for now.
I can't remember why we got so greedy or when it all began to fall apart. But I will always remember the day that they left me there. It had always been the same. It was different men and different houses, but it was always me as bait, then them, at the top of the stairs with baseball bats and willing smiles. Until today. It started out as normal. Just me and some pathetic soul. John's we used to call them, I felt nothing for their pain. But today, when I got to the top of the stairs and took the money, no one came. I said my line, as always 'You get half an hour in the room for that.' but then there was nothing. No violence, no salvation, no hapless loser leaving with guilt smeared red on his face and his confidence in tatters. Just me and him.
The money bought my fare back to Bath and it would pay for a night of drinking. I threw the stilettos in the bin and padded barefoot, honest once again. This city sleeps but not quite yet, I drank myself complete then left to find a bed. I had heard of a place that I could go here. Of a place that was warm and dry. That night I built the box and I would live there for at least a year. I had a home!
Continued...
Here I was just days after leaving Barry's house and if you had met me, you would have thought I had been born to live this life. I was surface hard, determined not to break and I had found some allies in my pain. I was in Bristol now. I left the City of Bath, the city that sleeps and I went to a much more seasoned town. In Bristol there were no shortage of people to spend the cold nights with, the homeless community was large and flourishing. Geoff and Steve, two boys that I had met in an underpass the day that I arrived there, took me under their wing and taught me much. I learnt to beg for money in the street, to steal food from shops and to find warm places to bed down for the night. Cardboard was my new best friend, it does much to keep the ice from your skin. I learned quickly and I was an excellent begger. My middle class accent and childlike smile made the business men reach deep in their pockets to heal my pain and maybe mute their guilt. I shared my earnings with the others and I forgot, just a little, about what I could have been. The money was never enough though. They drank it as fast as I could make it and they wanted more. Geoff had become a boyfriend of sorts. He had a pink Mohawk and a tattooed face. He might have been good looking once. He came to me one day and sat beside me. Glue bag, beer and cigarette to hand. 'If I were a girl.' he had said 'I would try Clipping. it makes more money than begging for sure.'
'What's clipping?' I had answered.
The boys waited outside the toilet whilst I washed and dressed. Steve had stolen make-up, Geoff had stolen clothes. I was to be a walking investment for their indulgences. I had forgotten how to say the word 'No'. This all seemed normal now to me and I was fueled by promises of easy work and easy money. Hair tied up & make up piled on, I enjoyed the feeling of shoes on my feet for the first time in a month. As I walked out Steve whistled.
'Oh God. I feel like a prostitute!'
'That's my girl.' laughed Geoff. They deposited me in a suitable place, left me there for bait and went to finalise the deal around the corner. Within minutes I had found the perfect man. Too nervous to haggle I had agreed to everything he asked. I took him, as directed to the house up on the hill and fumbled in my pocket for the keys that we had borrowed. I did everything as I'd been told. An actress in this world of theirs, I kept my cool and spoke my lines. He tried to touch me on the way upstairs but I told him where to go 'You get half an hour in the room. So keep your hands to yourself until we get there.'. At the top of the stairs I took his money, just moments before the violence rained upon him. He left that house with a broken nose and bloodied face,without his wallet and most definitely absent of any good memories of me. I was on a complete high. We had enough money to pay for using the house and to keep us fed and happy for days. A success! We drank the night away and fell satisfied to sleep on a hard squat floor, all three huddled together nice and safe for now.
I can't remember why we got so greedy or when it all began to fall apart. But I will always remember the day that they left me there. It had always been the same. It was different men and different houses, but it was always me as bait, then them, at the top of the stairs with baseball bats and willing smiles. Until today. It started out as normal. Just me and some pathetic soul. John's we used to call them, I felt nothing for their pain. But today, when I got to the top of the stairs and took the money, no one came. I said my line, as always 'You get half an hour in the room for that.' but then there was nothing. No violence, no salvation, no hapless loser leaving with guilt smeared red on his face and his confidence in tatters. Just me and him.
The money bought my fare back to Bath and it would pay for a night of drinking. I threw the stilettos in the bin and padded barefoot, honest once again. This city sleeps but not quite yet, I drank myself complete then left to find a bed. I had heard of a place that I could go here. Of a place that was warm and dry. That night I built the box and I would live there for at least a year. I had a home!
Continued...
posted by Claire at 5:01 pm
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