Renting Ginny

As I stood there in the middle of the warm, brightly lit living room of the old couple’s home, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that came over me like a tidal wave. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. I just didn’t know what. The old man shuffled ever so slowly back into the living room. Just when I thought he wasn’t going to say anything, he said, “Your ride will be here soon.” “Thank you very much for making the call, Sir. I think for now I’ll just wait outside. I really hate to put you out any more than I already have.” With a barely visible nod, he sat down on the couch opposite his wife. Then he picked up a remote control on the table next to the couch and turned on the television, acting as if I weren’t even there. For a split second, I wondered if either of them would notice if I sat down with them or helped myself to something to eat in the kitchen. I pulled the front door open and left the house, the old lady and her rhythmic knitting never missing a beat or looking my way. The still night air seemed rather ominous as I made my way down the drive and to the roadside to wait for my ride. I didn’t want to stand where I would easily be seen by Anina, should she have caught on by now and be on the lookout for me, but I also didn’t want my parents to miss spotting me. Quickly surveying my surroundings, I decided the best place to stand would be under the streetlight but near a stand of trees in which I could quickly dodge and hide should the wrong vehicle approach. But that was the problem; none did approach. I yawned. I had been up for a long time and I was getting tired. I was also getting restless and that restlessness eventually turned into concern. I waited for what had to have been close to half an hour. I was really starting to worry that something was wrong. I glanced back at the Asian couple’s house. It was still brightly lit. I hated to disturb the poor people again, but what choice did I have? Casting one last glance of hope toward the street, I shrugged and headed back up the driveway and rang the doorbell. It opened just a second later, making me wonder if they’d been watching me. “Yes?” said the old man once again. “I’m so, so very sorry to disturb you again.” He opened the door wider. “But my ride seems to have failed to show up. Could I please call my folks again?” I thought he would refuse to allow me in again or at least show some signs of annoyance, but he didn’t. He didn’t really show any emotion at all. He simply opened the door all the way and gestured me inside. I tried not to let my discomfort show as I eyed the still knitting woman who slowly rocked back and forth in her rocking chair, seemingly oblivious to anything and everything around her. Didn’t her hands ever get tired? “I’ll just be a moment, Sir.” “That’s alright,” the old man said. “You just have a seat and let me make the call.” I considered objecting and insisting that I be the one to make the call. I really needed to hear my Mom or Dad’s voice at that moment more than anything. But it wasn’t my right to demand the use of his phone. I was asking enough of him as it was. “Okay,” I said, sitting down on the couch and trying not to look at his wife. “I’ll be back in just a minute,” the aging man said as he moved more slowly than molasses. “Goddamn lesbians!” I nearly jumped out of my skin and through the roof, startled by the old lady’s sudden and very unexpected outburst. My head snapped in her direction. “Excuse me?” Cold eyes of onyx stared back at me with a hatred that got my adrenaline pumping. How the hell did she know I was a lesbian?! “All you lesbians do is hate men and put them down every chance you get,” the Asian woman hissed, beady black eyes boring into me with an icy cold loathing. “Th—that’s not true, ma’am,” I stammered. “Not true at all.” “The hell it’s not!” she roared. I was stunned by the intensity of her anger. Why did she even care what lesbians did anyway? “You think men are so ugly, don’t you?” “Oh, no, no, not at all. My Dad’s a very handsome and intelligent guy. Really.” “You know what makes a lesbian a lesbian? I’ll tell you what makes a lesbian a lesbian. Incest, rape, bad relationships; that’s what makes them the way they are. Science hasn’t proven they’re the way they are without choice.” I rose on shaky legs. “Actually, it can, and it has proven that, ma’am. Furthermore, not all lesbians were abused by men.” She pointed a long, bony, and gnarled finger at me and snarled, “You will pay for your sins one day, young lady!” Fuck this shit. “You will rot in hell for all eternity!” I didn’t need to listen to this babbling fool, nor was I obligated to explain or defend myself in any way. I was reaching for the doorknob when the gentleman returned to the room. He didn’t seem to have heard his wife’s outburst, though I didn’t see how that was possible. He grinned at me, exposing yellowed teeth with gaps between them. “I saw a flying spider the other day.” What the fuck? “Your father said the car won’t start.” I yanked the door open. “But he’ll be around for you soon.” I was now in the doorway. “I saw two flying spiders here in the living room. They kissed in midair.” “Yeah,” I muttered, “and I saw Santa’s reindeer turn into giant rats.” The strange couple erupted with a shrilly, evil laughter that penetrated my nerves more than any knife, scalpel or other sharp instruments ever could have. I got the hell out of there as fast as I could. Not wanting to wait in front of this particular house, I moved slightly up the street, but not too far so as not to throw my Dad off when he came to get me. I tried to speculate as to why I’d never heard of Woodsy Boulevard or its cross street while I waited in the night. I didn’t recognize any of the streets or houses around me. It was as if I were suddenly in this whole new neighborhood that I’d never known existed, despite living in the same area all my life. But just what area was I in to begin with? North of town? South of town? East? West? I wondered if my Dad would have to consult with a road map before setting out to fetch me. I thought of how good it would feel to be back in my own bed. The first thing I would do come tomorrow morning is let Emmy know what a wacko one of her clients was before getting what little I’d left in my room at the escort service and finding a whole new line of work to get into. What it would be, I didn’t know. I only knew that I was perfectly ready to figure that out. It was what happened next that I wasn’t ready for. “Yes!” I shouted gleefully to myself when I saw the glimmer of approaching headlights. The vehicle seemed to be approaching at a very slow speed, making me more confident that it was my father searching for me in unfamiliar territory. I couldn’t yet see the vehicle, just the headlights. Suddenly, the car stopped. “Oh, come on, come on,” I moaned impatiently. It was when I was getting ready to jump into the middle of the street and wave my arms so he would see where I was that I was grabbed from behind. A hand swiftly cut off any chance of screaming while a long, strong arm held me so tightly that I couldn’t move an inch. The long hair that dangled over my shoulder and in my face told me who it was, along with the scent of flowers from Anina’s jasmine-scented lotion. I could barely breathe as I was helplessly dragged off into the night, further and further away from the slowly approaching car that I thought was my only hope of escape that night. My eyelids began to droop. I was so, so very tired. I also knew, like never before, that I had chosen the wrong profession.