A Tragic Relief

The snow fell steadily as Jake and I drove back to the hotel from Old City, after our beautiful day walking about the landmark ancient town that was decked out in Christmas twinkle and pine. My gullible heart had been captured again by my lying, cheating, bastard of a boyfriend, who had driven ten hours to find me dancing at a new strip club in Quebec City. Flattery will get him everywhere- at least with me.

By the time we arrived at the club and hotel, it was practically a whiteout. We quickly ducked through the falling snow and tumbled into the warm room. I was ready for a nap. Unfortunately, I had an evening of work ahead of me, and only an hour to prepare for it. I jumped in the shower and quickly scrubbed up and shaved my legs. I finger curled my hair in the mirror and hoped it would dry before I hit the stage later in the evening. When I reappeared from the bathroom, Jake had taken off his boots and was fast asleep on the bed. Not wanting to disturb him I left him a note on the pillow next to him saying to get some rest and I’d see him later at the club.

Carefully making my way through the slippery path between the hotel and the club, I went in through the dressing room entrance. I was the first dancer to arrive, so I took my time at the makeup mirror applying my doll show makeup and getting dressed in my little green and black striped tutu, which, suddenly was creating a modest cleavage on my newly swollen breasts. That was good, I supposed.

Impatient to get this night going, so I could spend New Year's Eve and Day with Jake exploring downtown Quebec City and Old City, I peeked out the dressing room curtain to find an empty bar. The bartenders and waiters had not yet arrived and so far, there was no sign of Jean Luc, the MC, and manager of the strippers.

I shrugged into my jacket and opened the dressing room entrance door a crack. Mon Dieu! As Jean Luc would say. I couldn’t see the road in front of the club, the snow was coming down that hard. Not certain what to do I figured I’d better wait and see if any of the staff showed up before I left.

Checking the bar wall clock, it was past seven o’clock and the bar generally opened at six. It was safe to say that I would have three nights off that week. Before I left, I wrote another note and put it on the bar, near the register, telling them that I had taken three bottles of Labatt Bleu and would pay for it the next time they were open. I searched the coolers until I found Jake’s brand and took three bottles to the dressing room.

I wiped off the doll makeup with cold cream and put on my normal makeup. Then, I slipped out of the doll costume and hung it back up. Pulling on my jeans and sweater, I stuffed my feet into boots and fought my way back to the hotel room with Jake’s beer. The snowfall had now become a blizzard.

When I got back to the room the bed was empty and the water was running in the shower. I set the bottles of beer outside the door in the snow to keep them chilled and got changed into pajamas and a sweater.

I was rummaging through my sewing equipment when Jake emerged from the bathroom, surprised to see me back. “What’s going on? Are you done with your first show already?”

“Nope. I waited almost an hour and no one else showed up. It’s snowing pretty hard right now. Doesn’t look like they’re going to open tonight.” I said as I opened the door to the room and reached into a snowdrift, pulling out a beer for him.

“Oh, wow. Did you steal that?” He asked.

“Yeah, and all the diamonds too. Let’s run away to Acapulco.” I teased, waving the beer victoriously.

“I left them a note telling them to take it out of my pay. There’s two more for you in the snowdrift if you can find them.” I told him, “I don’t think we’re going anywhere tonight.”

“That was really nice of you, eh. Thank you.”

“No problem, you’re going to have to pay me for them though. Take off the towel and stand in front of the mirror for me.” I ordered.

“So, beer and some fun- I can do that.” He said, thinking I had a kinky treat for him.

I unwrapped the leftover yardage off the bolt of green chiffon I’d bought for my gypsy costume and cape. Now that I had a mannequin, I could measure the cape properly. I took out the pins and measuring tape and began measuring myself from the neckline to the floor. Writing that down I measured from Jake’s neckline to the length I needed and stuck a pin in his leg… just kidding. I grabbed a pen off the vanity table and drew a line on each of his legs for the length.

He was looking down at me while I was marking him, curious and frightened about what my plans were.

I took a scrap of leftover fabric from the gown I had sewn the previous day with that same fabric and folded it into a two-inch strip for the neckline. I pinned it carefully and tied it around Jake’s neck, standing on my toes.

“Okay. What are you doing to me? First, it’s the pink sheets, now you’re dressing me up like a Barbie doll. You got some deal going with your queer friends?” He asked.

“Gay. Gay friends. Queer is rude.” I corrected him, “And, yes,” I assured him with an evil gleam in my eyes, “Sol told me to bring you to him tonight dressed up like a little girl so he can take a crack at your fine ass.” I giggled.

“Hold it- hold up. Take this thing off me.”

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding.” I couldn’t stop giggling.

“With what you did to me last night it wouldn’t surprise me one bit.” He reminded me of the 'balls' accident rumor I spread about him to the other strippers. “Is that why you brought me the beers? To get me liquored up for you quee- sorry, gay friend?”

“Oh, yeah. That was part of my evil plan.” I confessed. “Just hold still and leave that collar on. I’m trying to sew my new cape and I can’t do it without someone to pin it on first.”

With that, I started gathering and pinning the chiffon yardage to the collar I’d put around Jake’s neck. When I got done pinning it, I announced, “Perfect. Wait right there while I get my camera. I got new flashcubes last week.”

He panicked and ran to the bathroom. I heard, “Ouch, damn it. Ow, ow, son of a bitch- shit. Ouch.” As he was trying to get the cape off him, getting stuck in the process. I should have been more sympathetic- but I wasn’t. I couldn’t stop giggling.

“I’m sorry- giggle giggle, giggle. Really I am. Giggle, oh my God you should have seen your face… giggle giggle- really I’m so sorry- hahahahha.”

I have no heart. No soul. I’m a monster.

When I finally stopped laughing at the poor guy I sat down on the bed and began sewing the fabric to the little collar I had made, leaving two gaps in the gathered fabric for armholes. Capes are easy to sew. It was completely finished in about half an hour and I tried it on in front of the mirror to see what had to be changed and did a few sample twirls. I made a few small adjustments, and it was done. I loved the fabric, and it would look great under stage lights.

Jake was on his second beer by then. He had recovered from his homophobic tantrum and was dressed. He was sitting next to me on the bed watching me sew when he remarked, “You can do a lot of stuff. I didn’t know you could sew. What else can you do?”

“Geez, I don’t know. All the guys at Hanrahan’s club said I gave pretty good head. Hmm. Let me think.” I laughed at the look on his face.

“You know what? Pregnant or not you need a good spanking.” He threatened.

“Promises, promises.” I retorted, hanging up the new cape in the closet.

“No, come on. Tell me what other stuff you like to do?” He wanted to know.

“Hmm. I played the flute all the way through school and into college. I think I was kind of good at it. I was always the first chair wherever I played.” I told him.

“First chair? What’s that? I know football stuff- no music though.” He admitted.

“Um, the first chair is like the musician quarterback,” I explained.

“Wow- you must have been good then. What else?”

“I taught swimming lessons all the way through high school and life-guarded every summer and I was a camp counselor.” I reminisced. “I loved teaching kids to swim, especially kids who were afraid of the water. I taught handicapped classes for kids too. That’s why I went to college for physical therapy. I guess you know how that turned out.”

“No wonder your parents were so pissed off with you. You could have done anything, and you decided to be a stripper. Not that I think it’s a bad thing. Just, you know…” He said.

“Yeah. I get it. I know what you’re saying.” I agreed. “As much as I loved all the other stuff I was doing- nothing makes me feel like dancing does. It’s like flying without wings. It’s magical. When I’m onstage I’m not really me anymore.”

Then I turned the tables and grilled him about his hobbies, “What other stuff do you like, other than hunting and fishing and fucking?” I joked.

“Well, definitely, fucking comes first.” He quipped. “No, let me think. Hmm. I played hockey for a couple of years. But didn’t want to mess up my pretty face and ruin my chances with the chicks. They like teeth, you know, and I like to fuck.”

“Oh, wow- you skate! I love skating. We should find someplace that rents skates here.” I suggested.

“Not a chance. You could fall and get hurt.” He warned.

He lit up a cigarette and I had a hard time with the smell, so he put on his jacket and took it outside. I grabbed my boots and jacket and joined him, watching the snow piling up in the parking lot. We stood outside for quite a while just quietly watching the snowfall.

When we came back in, he said we had to talk seriously about our new challenge. I still could not utter the word, baby, out loud yet.

“I know I haven’t told you a lot about my situation at home,” He began, “and it must be hard for you to be in the dark. I’m sorry- it’s not something I talk about and sure don’t want to make you feel bad by talking about home, eh.”

“Yeah, it is hard to hear you talk about your wife. Really hard. But at some point, I’m going to have to hear it to understand things better.” I begrudgingly admitted.

“So, Bree’s family is a big family in Hamilton. Not like a lot of kids- but they’re kind of the upper crust. She always threatened me that if I ever left her, they would hire a lawyer and ruin me for the rest of my life. She’s just that much of a bitch that she would make it happen out of spite. It’s not like she’d need my money- she’s got a trust fund and her parents still spoil the shit out of her. She’d do it because she knows she can hang that over my head. That’s what’s been going on in our marriage for the past three or four years. She’s been on the pill forever and I think she went off it because she thought she was losing control of me.” He explained unhappily.

“That’s sort of what your friend, Dan told me. That after all these years of you cheating on her she finally has you where she wants you.” I told him.

“Yeah, some friend, right? Well, he is right about that.” He admitted. “She’s already hired a fucking designer to paint the nursery and pick out the furniture. Like I can’t pick up a paintbrush or go to a store with her?”

“Do you think Dan has a thing for her?” I wondered.

“Seriously? No. He’d never do that. He can barely stand to be around her.” He didn’t sound totally convinced.

“I was just wondering if maybe he told her you’d been seeing someone for a while, and she decided to get pregnant on purpose. That’s all.” I suggested.

“Hmm.” He looked as though he was considering it.

"Hey, something else Dan told me really is bothering me."

"What's that?" He said, taking another swig of beer.

"Do you really think I'm 'just a stripper you're fucking'?"

"What? No. He said that to you?"

"Yeah, he said you were bragging to him that you were fucking a stripper and it really hurt my feelings. I hope that's not the case."

"No. That was- that was just guy talk. I didn't really mean that the way it sounded. I guess it sounds pretty bad though. Eh?"

"I'd hate to think I'm going through all this for someone who thinks of me that way."

"No. Ignore him. He's an asshole. I can't believe he would say that to you. What a jerk. Maybe he was hoping to get into your pants by making me look worse than I am."

"Hmm." I chewed the conversation over in my mind for a while.

“Anyway,” He said, “we have to make a plan for you to find a doctor and make sure you have what you need when you can’t work anymore.”

“I don’t know how long I can go before I start showing. I’m hoping I’ve got at least two more months, maybe three if I don’t gain a lot of weight.” I said, hopefully.

“Naw, you can’t dance that long if you’re pregnant. It’s not good for you, even if you can get away with it.” He cautioned me.

“I already have money saved up,” I told him. “I’ll just keep saving and when I can’t work anymore, I’ll live off my savings. When I went back to Rochester, I paid up my rent six months in advance.”

“Rochester?” He seemed surprised. “You can’t move back to Rochester. How am I ever going to see you? Let me find you a place near me, so I can help you. I want to be there for you.”

“I can’t stay here without a work visa. Remember? When I can't dance anymore I have to go back home.”

“Well, you can’t take my kid away from me to live in the States. What, you're just going to up and disappear on me with my baby? That’s pretty fucked up. You aren't serious, are you?” He growled, as he got up, threw on his jacket, and stormed out of the room.

After my relationship with my ex, his outburst scared me. I had no plans to become a punching bag for another man.

After a few minutes, I heard his truck roaring to life. I raced to the door, worried he was going to try his usual angry drive-off in a blizzard. When I finally could see him through the storm, he was under the truck doing something with the tires.

I struggled into my boots and my jacket and waded through the snow piles to see if he was all right. Busy wrapping chains around his tires he couldn’t hear me, so I tapped his foot with my boot to get his attention.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I have no idea. It looks like you’re putting your tires in jail, so they don’t run away.” I said, clueless.

As he tried to sit up, he bonked his head on the frame of the truck. “Shit. Ouch. What a crappy night, eh? Climb in the truck and warm up. This’ll only take a few more minutes.”

I sat in the truck warming my hands over the heater vents and noticed his leather gloves on the driver’s seat. I picked them up and climbed back out of the truck, careful not to startle him into another concussion. I reached under the tire he was working on and passed him his gloves. I think I heard ‘Thanks, eh.’ Or it could have been ‘Flake off’. I wasn’t absolutely sure of his mood at that point. But I remembered my father’s temper when he had to deal with cleaning off the car every morning in the winter and shoveling the driveway. So, I kept my mouth shut and got back in the truck. Quiet women live longer.

He hopped back in the truck and backed up a few inches, then went to the tires again, doing something mysterious. When he got back in the truck, he clapped his hands over the vents to warm them up and leaned over and kissed me.

“Thanks for the gloves- that made it easier. You’re pretty good to me- well, except for lying to the other strippers about my balls being useless, and telling me you’re setting me up for your que-gay friend and laughing hysterically at my pain.” He said in a better mood than I expected. “But you did bring me beer, so that’s good.”

“Where are you going in this weather? The roads aren’t even plowed.”

“I can’t stand staying in that pink room all the time. I think I’m growing boobs. Let’s see how far we can go and see if anything is still open. With chains, I can drive this thing anywhere.” He announced proudly as he did a donut in the snow drifted parking lot.

Good to know. It was ten degrees; the snow was blowing sideways, and he was worried about growing boobs.

Somehow, he found the highway that ran past the club and headed in the direction of the diner we had been to. I knew better than to bother a man while driving in bad conditions.

Fortunately, he was the only fool on the road at that time, so there was no oncoming traffic. I only screamed a few times but I’m pretty sure I left fingernail gouges in the leather seat.

It was a miracle. In the distance, the lights for the little diner were still on. There were snowplows in the parking lot, trucks, and a few snowmobiles. He swerved into the parking lot, leaving me shaking and a little breathless. I preferred the other way he left me shaking and breathless. Sorry. I may have sounded adventurous, but I was not.

He hopped out of the truck like it was a sunny day in July and ran around to my side to help me down. Taking my arm, he led me through the slippery lot to the entrance and opened the door for me, bowing like I was the freaking queen of England.

When we got situated at the table I said, “You need to look into going to school for forestry. Your mood sucks when you’re cooped up inside. You’re a different person when you’re outdoors.”

He looked up, surprised, “You think? Naw, I’m too old for school and a little busy at the moment, eh.”

“You’re never too old to go for what you want.” I said, “you’re only thirty-five.”

“Thirty-six.” He corrected, “I had another birthday this year.” He joked

“Why didn’t you tell me when?” I asked, clearly distressed.

“Ah, well, eh, I don’t pay much attention except I worry about getting old. It was in November. The tenth.”

The waitress brought our coffee and tea as we gave her our orders. When she had disappeared, Jake asked me, “What about you? You didn’t tell me yours either.”

He sat smoothing down his mustache, studying me as I pretended to be stirring lemon into my tea, wondering if he would even make the connection.“Um. It was this Summer.” I mumbled.

“Before we met?” He quizzed me.

“No. A little bit after.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He pressed.

Fortunately, the waitress came back with our toast and I filled my mouth to end the conversation, “Mmmm. I was starved. I’m glad you decided to go out tonight.”

As I was bringing the next piece of toast to my mouth, he stopped my hand in midair and repeated his annoying question, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We barely knew each other. I didn’t want to bother you with it.” I lied.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You didn’t want to bother me?” He sounded a little annoyed. “Maybe I would have wanted to celebrate with you.”

Now I was the one getting annoyed, “You were busy that weekend.” I said simply and took a sip of tea.

The waitress brought our meals over and after she left, he sat there looking at me, shaking his head. “Son of a bitch. Lousy timing, eh? I went home to celebrate with my wife and all her friends and family, and you were alone on your birthday, weren’t you?”

I downplayed it with, “I’m not much into birthdays either. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the year Frank dragged me around the country. He came to pack up the rest of his stuff from where we were living when I turned twenty,” I told him, “He did give me a gold watch that he stole in a robbery he pulled off the night before my birthday. I guess I was being retired.”

“Oh, God. That’s a pretty sad comparison. That guy gave me a low bar, didn’t he?” He said, staring into his coffee, “Tina, I’m so sorry. I had no idea it was your birthday coming up that weekend. Jesus. Why do you put up with me?”

I started eating my eggs to avoid commenting on the fact that I had nearly stopped putting up with him about two weeks ago. I gave him a half-shrug and left his question hanging in the air. Sort of the way he always left me hanging in the air every time he went away.

“You know, this baby will be born around your birthday.” He said, trying to inch the conversation away from his conscience.

“M…hm.” I muttered, between bites of pancakes, which suddenly tasted delicious to me, after almost two solid months of nausea.

“Well, that’s good. You’re finally eating something. Do you want anything else? Maybe we should get something to take with us in case we can’t get out tomorrow.” He suggested, chattering away to fight off my silence.

I tapped my spoon on the teacup nervously and said, “Really, I’m just getting used to knowing I’m pregnant. I haven’t really wrapped my brain around baby yet. It’s different for me than it is for your wife.” I reminded him sullenly.

“I know. I know. You must be scared and confused as hell.” He replied.

“No. Jake. I’m a pretty methodical person. Scared? Maybe. But I’m not confused. I’m going back to Rochester after I can’t work anymore.” I firmly declared. “I need to be around people I know. Even if I could stay here without a visa I would only have you. A few months ago, that would have been enough because it was just about me.”

He interrupted me with, “I can take care of you. I promise I’ll be there for you if we can find a way for you to stay in Canada. We’ll find an apartment and a doctor and get you set up at a hospital. You’ll need all those things. How are you going to do it without me?”

“I have a doctor in Rochester. They have hospitals there too. I don’t want to sit around alone waiting for you to sneak away all the time to see me. It just about kills me when I know you’re home now. How am I going to feel when I’m pregnant out to here,” I mimed, “all alone, and can’t depend on when you’re going to see me? That’s just torture. Think about it. How are you going to sneak around seeing me in Hamilton? We won’t be able to go anywhere or do anything. We’ll both be prisoners.”

“Is this what you do, Tina, when things get hard? You just disappear- run away, like you did last week?” He accused me angrily

“I’m trying to make this easy on you. How am I running away? Your life is about to get incredibly complicated. You don’t need me in your backyard.” I told him.

“I don’t need you to make my life easy. I didn’t ask you to do that. I’m not some lowlife scum who walks out on his responsibilities.” He hissed at me. “I’m sorry if that’s what you’re used to. I’m a man and I can take care of my own children. Okay?”

My eyes did the last thing I wanted them to do. They started dripping tears and I couldn’t get them to stop. I wiped my eyes and nose on a napkin and got up from the table. “Excuse me,” I mumbled, “I have to use the ladies’ room.”

He reached out and grabbed my arm. “No. You aren’t going to run away from this conversation. Please, sit and let’s talk. Really talk.”

He handed me a pile of napkins and I said, “What do you want me to say? You don’t owe me anything. I could walk away tomorrow, and your life would only get better.”

“Better? It might get simpler- but it will not be better. You know what you’ll be leaving me with? Do you have any idea what I go home to? I go home to a bitter, mean woman, who, honestly, I think hates me. She may have good reason now. But I didn’t always run around on her. I put up with her bullshit for a long time before I started going out on her.” He continued, “We talked about divorce dozens of times, and each time she decided it was better to treat me like shit than to let me go. So, no, you wouldn’t be leaving me to have a better life. Her baby? The baby will be hers. Make no mistake,” He laughed wryly, “I’ll barely be included, except for depositing it there and that may not even be the case, now that I think of it.”

“Can we get out of here?” I pleaded, “I don’t want to talk about this around people.”

“Sure, eh, let me pay for this. You want to use the girls room now?”

“No thanks. I’ll just go in your truck.” I snarked at him.

“I promise to wait for you- go. Or, I swear to God I’ll make you go in the snow.” He laughed for the first time since we sat down to eat.

I washed my hands and splashed water on my puffy, red face. Didn’t I look delightful? When I caught up to him at the cash register, he had a take-out bag in his hand.

“Ready, cry-baby?”

Punching him in the arm I complained, “I hate that. I really do. I can be mad as hell and the tears start. I have no control over them.”

The snow was still falling steadily, and the wind was whipping up snowdrifts all over the parking lot. It looked as though the plows had begun clearing the highway, so the ride back wasn’t as treacherous as the ride there.

The parking lot at the hotel and club was piled up with about two feet of freshly fallen snow. His truck just plowed through it effortlessly and he pulled up close to the door of the room.

Not wanting to sit like a queen, expecting him to help me down from the truck I popped the door open and jumped out, falling hard on my back. It took my breath away. I hit my head on the opened door when I tried to sit up and fell back down, feeling sick. He ran over and helped me up.

Shaking his head, annoyed with me, he said, “See? See? You think you can do everything alone, eh? Come on, let’s get you inside. You couldn’t wait two minutes for me to help? Two fucking minutes. You are so damned stubborn.”