The Runaway
Chapter V
Trannie what?
Time has drifted past, as the events of that nightmarish agony for Melanie are but a dream. That dream concerns the now inseparable pair.
“Baby, you have had a smile on your lips all morning.” Daria speaks from her usual position rinsing dishes for the dish washer.
“Daria,” the beaming Melanie is interrupted by the woman’s huff.
“What did I tell you?” Daria asks.
“Mom,” a slight titter leaves a pair of moist lips.
“Well, girl,” Mom grabs a cup of her espresso and sits. “I never drank this. Then my son took me to an Italian restaurant,” she snorts. “Then, I was hooked. “Anyway,” Melanie now halts her.
“Sonny and I are going to dinner in the City.” The young girl’s shoulders shrug in anticipation of a disapproving smile as the woman’s reply.
“Oh, I’m so happy. Come here baby.” The two clinch each other as Melanie’s tears are overshadowed by the woman’s joyful sobs.
“I can’t speak. You,” her hands shake, “don’t know what I went through. Melanie, he was so sweet and scared.” Melanie helps the woman back down to the metal white folding chair.
“Mom, he was scared?”
“Oh, sweetie. His mommy and daddy passed away months apart. “He used to be in the streets all time.” She pulls the slender form before her to a welcoming lap. “My son found him. He was trying to rob one of the card games Alexi runs.”
Melanie’s expression is one of bewilderment.
“Sweetheart, he needs a girlfriend. I no know what he does in the City with that pervert Dimitri?” She looks upward. “But need good girl.” The woman waves a thick finger in front of the still stunned young woman. “Not that you get married right away, or unless you get pregnant.” The older woman smiles. “Then you get married. You Catholic or one of those crazy religions?” Daria’s eyes widen. “Maybe Russian Orthodox? No, then I be too happy and die of heart attack.”
“Mom, please he tried to rob,” she places her finger on the girl’s lips.
“Listen, someday he tell you. But it was best thing that happened.” She needs a breath to continue. “The Lord did it. Cause taking him in, my sweet Alexi is alive today.” The woman begins to cry as if her words are too painful to say. “My baby, Santino, he was just fifteen at the time.” Mom’s form shakes. “He saved my son’s life.” It became Melanie’s turn to console someone. A gesture she has not done, in a long time.
Then the older woman erupts.
“Forget this nonsense. This is happy day.” Melanie stands up as Mom pushes the words through a few chuckles. “You got no dress for tonight?”
“No, please, you’ve done enough for me.” Again Daria hushes the girl.
“Mom, taking you shopping. “It’s first date. You must impress, maybe,” Mom’s thick eyebrows rise. “You know future husband? Maybe?”
Since the marriage comment by Mom, the young woman has not spoken even entering the dress shop. Daria is too preoccupied by the array of dresses being modeled by Melanie.
As they enter the Kaffeine 231, Mom’s favorite coffee shop, Melanie’s eyes fill with tears. Again, Daria is unaware of the girl’s growing sorrow as the woman is too engrossed speaking Russian to an elderly couple. But, the pre-occupation ends.
“Baby, my dear,” she holds the seated girl’s hand. After sitting down, Mom tries to speak but is interrupted.
“Mom, Daria, whatever you are called by those that love you. And, I do love you.” Sobbing makes a continuation stall, for a few seconds. “Mom, I don’t deserve your love. I don’t deserve even thinking of loving someone like Sonny.” The girl touches the bags of clothing, and lingerie all paid for by Daria. “I don’t deserve this. Sonny should find a good woman. A woman that,” a round of tears erupts from her. The few customers and staff of the shop look and then move their eyes elsewhere. A typical reaction from New Yorkers. In a sudden quiet voice with tears abruptly ebbed, “Mom, I am worse than a whore. And I can never give Sonny a family.”
Mom is struck to silence. Melanie’s stiff stature and stern expression has shocked the normally strong woman.
“I want to tell you everything about. Everything,” Melanie speaks in a tone minus emotion. “You must know what type of person lives in your house.”
“Then tell. This is my favorite shop. You are not the first to pour her torn heart to Mom. I understand, when I look at young girl like you. The pain still inside. I know it all starts with a man.”
As Daria comforts Melanie, Sonny returns to the strip club where he first met Melanie.
“Hey, Sonny,” Boris possesses a worried expression on the round face. “What’s the matter. All the money was there. Right?”
“Just told to check out your clientele. See how many come on a Friday.” Sonny’s reply.
“Oh, don’t ah, ah,” Boris stutters. “Please, I no skim from money.” The man’s face is usually pale but now appears totally drained of color. “Here,” he signals to the bartender. “Here!” His fat palm smacks the bar’s counter.
“Boris, everything is cool. I’m not staying here much longer, I got something later.”
“It’s not you, kid. This fat bastard from somewhere out West,” pointing at the man getting a lap dance across the floor. “He comes in looking for his, now get this,” Boris inhales. “Underage daughter! Telling me he wants see her or he tells cops.” The owner pauses and looks at Sonny. “I think, that girl you took? Oh, oh, underage? Did you fuck her already?”
Sonny does not answer and walks over to the area for “lap dancing.” He shoves a twenty in the girl’s g-string. The young blond woman knows the well dressed young man and immediately gets up and leaves the scene.
“Hey, wat dah fuck. Who dah fuck…” John pauses as he looks at Sonny.
“You wanna know about your daughter?”
“Ah, yeah. Ah, what about my dance?”
“Come with me. I’ll get you another one. What you drinking?”
The two men walk to a table off in the corner, away from the blinking lights.
“I’m not askin’ no questions about you. So please, don’t worry.” John tells this calm young man.
“Why you upset?” Sonny asks.
After a long pause to find the correct non-offending words, “I see someone like you dressed like that, I don’t want no trouble. I mean, I saw that fat foreign guy shittin’ his pants talkin’ to you. I get it.”
“Well, I don’t know what you mean.” Sonny’s calm demeanor does not ease John.
“O.K. The truth. She’s not underage. This little Trannie girl or whatever you call a bitch like that,” he giggles. “I’ve been fuckin’ the little whore for a long time.” As John continues, Sonny remains with an unchanged expression. Though a mind is racing.
Trannie what?
- ***********************************************************************
- Hi:
- Well, I guess you’ll be reading Chapter VI?
- Love from,
- Allaboutlove
