Chapter 19

The first sensation that Alice was aware of was that she had dreamt. She didn't know what the dream was, but dreams leave a scent behind them, you know they've been here.

Then, she was aware of a smell. It was warm, and it reminded her of home. But not home as it was now: home like it is to a child. It was a comforting and uncomplicated sensation. There were no questions to answer; there was no curiosity in that smell, no uncertainty.

Food…

It was something baking in the over, onions frying in the pan, fresh tomatoes stewing. Herbs and garlic.

Then, Alice was aware of cold air coming into her nose, carrying the smell. It stung. Breathing was painful. Her nostrils were filled with a burning sensation, and lungs expanded and contracted with difficulty.

She couldn't put all these different facts together.

Alice couldn't remember how she got home. She felt around with a hand, looking for the switch to turn on the light next to the bed, but she came across a wall. That was weird: her bed was free standing, and the only wall next to it was behind the headboard. And yet, here it was: a wall.

Her arm felt heavy. Now, she realised it was sore.

Then, there was the smell of food again.

Alice raised her hand and felt her face. The skin was puffy and tense, like the surface of a balloon. She felt the rough surface of bandages around her head.

It was dark all around. There was a noise in the next room. Somebody was there, doing something, moving about. And then, Alice realised the magnitude of that darkness: it went on forever; it was infinite. She couldn't imagine it could ever end. And yet, there was a next room, somewhere nearby.

Then, the little pains she had felt – her ribcage, her face, her arm – merged into a one. It was like small streams running along the side of the mountains, quickly being engorged by torrential rain. They filled with water and overflew. They became one river flooding the plains. Her whole body was now filled with the awareness of this pain.

There was somebody nearby. She could hear it. She could smell it.

A door opened, and the darkness was broken by the shape of a door, dimly lit from behind, by a light in some nearby space. Then a dark figure walked across the door.

Click.

The light was turned on. For a moment, the brightness of the lightbulb above her hurt her eyes; it even confused her warped senses even more. Then, the details of an unfamiliar room came into view: posters on a wall, a little study desk, a built-in wardrobe. And Athena, sitting on a chair next to her.

'Do you feel like eating something?' she asked.

Alice looked at her. She wasn't wearing her wig. Her face looked different. Then Alice noticed that she wasn't wearing make-up. She wore a jumper. It was too large for her. It was old, and it had lost its colour from too many wash cycles.

Alice wondered for a moment if this was a room at the club.

'I made you soup,' Athena said.

She offered Alice a bowl of broth. Thin noodles, pieces of carrots and chicken livers floated about. It was warm and smelled invitingly.

Alice straitened herself.

She groaned.

'Slowly, you're all bruised up,' Athena said.

She stood up. Her head felt empty and heavy at the same time. Alice realised she had been talking, but she couldn't remember. Athena was laughing.

'Why are you laughing?' Alice asked slowly.

'Because you asked me how long you've been here three times already, and only in the past five minutes. Yesterday, you asked that too. Also, the day before.'

'I'm sorry. I don't remember…'

'That's ok, sweety. The doctor said you'll feel a little fuzzy for a while, but you'll get better.'

'The doctor?'

'I couldn't really take you to the hospital.'

'I don't understand,' Alice said confused.

Why did she need a hospital.

Athena was talking. More time must have elapsed. She noticed that the bowl was empty, and she tasted the flavour of the soup in her mouth.

Then it was dark again.

'You're up,' Athena said.

There was sunlight in the room. It was day. Alice didn't know how much time had been since the last conversation. Had Athena come again to see her, to feed her?

Alice picked up a biscuit from a little plate and dunk it in some coffee.

'You look better today,' Athena said.

'I feel – ok, I guess.'

'Now, I'll let you finish your breakfast, but can you please tell me if you want me to call someone to let them know you're here? Last time, the number you gave me was missing a few digits.'

Alice panicked. How long had she been in this room? Tom – the kids – they didn't know where she was.

'I need to call my husband. Please,' she said.

Athena gave her the phone.

'Hello? It's me – yes, I'm sorry – no, I'm ok – I should be – yes, I know – no, please don't worry, Tom – I'm ok.'

Athena tried to busy herself, not to look like she was eavesdropping, moving a few objects around the room, tidying up a little, emptying a little bin in the corner.

'Please, don't worry: I'm ok,' Alice was saying, while Tom was asking a million questions. 'I should be home soon – Just a little accident – I'm ok, I swear.'

And that was it.

'How is he?' Athena asked.

'I don't think I've ever heard him cry.'

'I'm sorry I didn't call him, but I didn't know who to call, or if I could call them. Does he know where you go at night?'

Alice shook her head.

'What happened?' she asked.

'You don't remember? Some guy assaulted you.'

'Vincent!'

'You knew him?'

'Yes,' Alice said.

'Ex-boyfriend?'

'Not at all. Just some jerk.'

Athena nodded: these things happen. She must have seen it before. Guys who couldn't pay, guys who couldn't get hard, or who had a bad rash and were refused service. They often got mad.

'Phil came up as soon as he knew.'

'I don't remember pressing the button.'

Athena winked.

'We have other ways to check the girls are ok.'

Alice looked around at the room. The posters with bands and films. Some dolls. Books.

'Where am I? This is not the club.'

'I took you to my place. This is my kids' room.'

'You – you have kids?'

'Does it surprise you?'

'No, of course not,' Alice hurried to say, knowing she had been insensitive.

She looked at her host. This was really her: gone was the heavy make-up, the wig, the lingerie. She was a suburban mother. She could have passed her on the street and never guessed what her profession was.

Alice could even smell her. It wasn't the perfume she used to appeal to the men, and it wasn't the smell of pleasure that Alice had breathed in at their last session. This was a mixture of body odour, home cooking, fabric softener. This was the smell of a mother, caring for her family, keeping things tidy and clean.

'Thank you,' Alice said.

Athena smiled sweetly, then added a little gruffly:

'I didn't have an option, did I? With our job, we can't go to hospital or call the police. Too much fuss.'

These people on five percent. Always being short-changed.

Alice had wanted to join the ranks of these people with little means. She had led a fuller life since. Now she had joined the throngs of those who suffered. Once it had dawned on her that she was one of many, many more people in pain, her pain seemed to recede. Just like couldn't directly feel the pain of others, she felt her own pain was insignificant. Conversely, just like she had experienced her own pain, she was overwhelmed with the infinite amount of pain that was out in the universe, as she was now part of it all.

Pain, she considered: pain and its opposite, pleasure. All humans wished to avoid one and pursued the other. She had given both, and she had now received both. Sometimes, pain and pleasure, sorrow and joy, merged into one all-conquering sensation; other times, they were polar opposites. Sometimes, they put you in touch with others: she had felt connected to the nanny, who had chosen to repay her debt, to let Alice inflict pain in equal measure as she had caused it with her indiscretion with her master. She had felt connected to Phil, who had taken charge, but always made her feel free to leave or to ask for respite.

 Other times, these feelings had created a divide between her and others. Vincent had chosen to abuse his power over her. Even Tom, at times, had been cruel with his inattention and the distance he had put between them, a distance she had no control over.

She knew the difference was trust. When control was taken in the same measure as it was given, then all feelings bordered with pleasure, they made you powerful and made you feel alive, even loved and appreciated, in their own way.

Pain had put her in touch with others, had made her feel what others felt. And pleasure had connected her with others, as well: she had made others happy, and others had made her happy. And happiness had been contagious: she had seen people gain pleasure, not from any direct sensation they were receiving, but from the knowledge they were giving pleasure to others – to her, in fact. And she had magnified her pleasure by knowing that she had led others to pleasure.

Alice knew it could be one and the same.

'Tell me about you,' Alice said.

Athena looked at her suspiciously: she obviously didn't like sharing too much, but then relented.

'I came to the city when I was sixteen. My parents moved chasing work, but the work didn't seem to materialise. I was still in school, but – I guess, I didn't – I couldn't hang around to do what I was supposed to do. You know, finish school, get a job, get some money. I didn't have the luxury time, and I could get easy money while having fun.'

Alice listened attentively. A life so alien to her, where everything had a real price, where everything required a choice. Money has true value only if you feel its absence. To a rich person, like Alice, money is just a name or a number, but it's insubstantial. Alice never had to think hard whether to purchase something, knowing that that would mean sacrificing something else later on. That choice was never given to her. She could get one, and the other, and some more.

Athena kept talking:

'I danced in a club for a bit. That was easy money and was quite fun. I had a boyfriend who promised to look after me, but he had a substance-abuse problem, and made rash financial decisions – in fact, he was trying to help me, to look after me, and got determined to find more money for us. But we were stupid, and young, and we ended up trusting people. For a while, I helped him out: that's how I started doing what I do. But the guy got jealous with me for what I was doing – that was the only way I knew – and he got deeper and deeper into his problem, and he kept messing up with his schemes. Then, he was taken away: it was good for everyone. We stayed in touch for a bit, but we weren't right for each other, and my life was moving fast. I had work, and I had met someone else. We got married: you see, it worked out in the end. Then kids came. And here I am.'

'And here you are,' Alice echoed.

'Does your husband know?'

'Yes, he does.'

'Does he mind?'

'He's smart.'

She thought about it, then added:

'He's a metal worker: it's hard work, and his tendons are nearly shot. He may not be able to do it for longer. So… he has to be ok with it.'

Alice wondered if Athena was not the one with bigger bruises, even though they weren't visible like hers.

'Thank you for taking me in,' Alice said again.

She was another mouth to feed, another quote of iron to bend into shape, another client to lie with.

'So,' Alice wanted to change the subject, 'What happened when Phil came in?'

Athena stood up and went to the other room. She threw a newspaper onto the bed, and for the second time Alice saw Vincent on the front page:

Disgraced Financier Throws Himself Off Bridge

'Don't ask me anything else,' Athena said, raising one eyebrow and running two fingers along the length of her lips to show they were sealed.

Alice stared at the page. Phil! He had killed a man for her. Another debt to repay, another string she was now bound by. But she didn't mind: she wished she could soon repay them all many times over. She was ready to do for them what they hadn't hesitated to do for her.