HUSTLER
HUSTLER
7.45
A smallish woman in her mid-thirties stumbles into the kitchen. Her lean body is wrapped in a green satin bath robe that has seen better days. She is holding a tea mug in one hand, pressing a wet towel against her forehead with the other. For a little while, she stops and leans on the sink as if all the burdens of the world lay heavy on her shoulders, observing her bewerage with idle eyes. Ironically, the mug is painted with dancing flowers and fat happy notes skipping above them. It says „Good morning sunshine“.
Without switching the light on, the woman opens one of the kitchen unit drawers and retrieves a small bottle of pills. It pops open with a noise that seems inappropriately loud. And indeed, someone has heard it.
Only now do we find out that the kitchen has another occupant: a young girl that may be any age between fourteen and seventeen. A fall of auburn hair is almost covering her pretty face. She watches the woman swallow three of the pills at once and shakes her head. „This is your dinner?“
At first, her voice seems to have startled the older woman. She jerks and turns her head in its direction, finally switching the light on. However, she regains composure very soon. It is obvious that this isn´t the first time they have had this argument. „Yes. At least it doesn´t make me fat.“
The low hanging lamp casts yellowish light on their faces. Their features are so similar that they must be mother and daughter. The girl is pretty as a picture, with potential to become a beauty once, perhaps very soon. She possesses a certain childish charm that has yet to be polished and enhanced. The mother used to beautiful, too, there is no doubt about that, but time has not been kind to her. Or perhaps she has not been kind to herself. There are way too many lines on her face, and her eyes seem more burnt out than they should be at her age.
„But you shouldn´t...“ the girl starts. She is not allowed to finish her sentence.
„You know what? I don´t give a damn about your advice. It´s you what gives me headache, anyway.“
„We barely see each other...“
„Thanks God! It´s bad enough as it is.“
„Would you please stop complaining for a little while?“ The girl gives an exasperated sigh. She has grown impatient with the discussion. That causes an explosion...
„But of course! I am sorry to have confided in you.“ A cynical grin. „Maybe you´d rather I stopped talking to you altogether?“
„Mom, that´s not what I meant...“
„So what did you mean? What´s your problem?“
Now, it is the daughter´s time for irony. „I don´t have any problems... or headaches.“
„That´s it.“ The mother looks at the daughter with the expression of someone who has just made a discovery worth a Nobel prize. „You don´t have any problems. You´ve got everything you want. I never forbid you anything. You can go wherever you please...“
„This is pointless“, says a small voice, announcing defeat. But the other party does not want to stop.
„Sure, it´s pointless. All our arguments end like this. Just you wait, life will show you what is and what is not pointless.“
„I know.“
„Of course, you know everything. But do you know what you really want?“
There is a long moment of pronounced silence. It almost seems the daughter doesn´t know how to answer, but surprisingly, the expression on her face shows she has only been daydreaming for a second.
„Oh yes... Yes. I can´t really say... It´s more like a feeling. How to put it... I know what I do NOT want.“
A bitter laugh. „And what do you NOT want?“
„To end up like you.“
In that instant, the letargy leaves the mother´s body. The anger she experiences then is the only fuel on the world that can still make her run. She moves so quickly that the daughter instinctively ducks away, afraid she would recieve a blow.
„What a brilliant thought! And what the hell am I supposed to do?! Do you think I wanted this? Your father run away before I could have told him. Coward. Everything was left on my shoulders, even you! Young lady, you know nothing. Nothing about men. Nothing about life. NOTHING.“
Every word is as sharp as a gun shot, and the last one marks the end of debate.
8.30
The girl lifts her eyes from the book she has been reading (Romeo and Juliet, the cover says), listening to the familiar sounds from the living room. A zipper being drawn. Another one. Quick steps on high heels, undoubtedly leaving severe scratches in the wooden floor. The hissing of hairspray, applied in unnecessary measure. Make-up appliances being picked up, used in a haste, and put back onto the mirror shelf. Keys falling into the handbag.
She crawls over the bed to reach the window and pulls the edge of the curtain away with utmost care, looking out. As expected, her mother passes by a minute later, dressed in a skirt that barely covers her ass (admittably, it is still a pretty ass) and a washed up leather jacket. It is too cold for her see-through top. Soon, she disappears behind the corner, and for a while the clicking of her heels echoes through the night. The girl grabs her mobile phone and pushes a few buttons.
11.45
A fortyish man with a well-kept, charismatic face, is sprawled on the bed, smoking. His eyes are devouring the young body of an auburn-haired girl, who leans over him to open the window. They are both naked and sweaty. An odour of sex hangs low in the air.
„You shouldn´t be smoking in here“, she says. There is no answer. Instead, the man grabs her around the waist and pulls her closer, demanding a kiss.
„Can I stay till the morning?“ he asks, which is mildly surprising. His strong features hint he is not one who often needs to ask for approval.
The girl shakes her head with a trace of regret. „This is the time she comes home sometimes, when she cannot find a customer“, she says.
The man slowly leaves the bed, gathering the pieces of clothing he had thrown carelessly on the floor upon his arrival. All buttoned up, he turns to his young lover to say good-bye. She is waiting with an outstretched hand, the blanket pulled up to her chin, as if her nudity suddenly became unwelcome.
„Why are you doing this?“ he asks dejectedly, but opens his wallet, extract three hundred notes and places them into the small hand, which immediately closes. „I thought you liked me.“
„I do like you“, she admits. „But nothing in this world is for free. Not even love.“
5.15
Disheveled, soaked to the bones, the woman makes her way to the front door. She curses under her breath, trying to find the pack of keys. Her make up is runny and she is sporting a black eye, partially covered by wet har clinging to her face like spiderwebs.
„Let me help you.“
Startled, she looks up to discover a silhouette of a man in his early forties, leaning on the wall in the little niché surrounding the entrance. He unlocks the door for her, holding it open, but makes no attempt to enter himself.
„Thank you...“ the woman says, feeling she should say more, maybe apologize for her looks, although it seems irrational. There is no reason why this would be any of his concern. Still, she smiles, pointing at the mess of her hair. „Stupid rain.“
He nods, as if digesting her statement. „I like rain. It reminds me of tears.“
With that, he resumes his position at the door, looking into the dripping darkness. Oblivious to the sound of high heels on the stairs.
