Yulia the Jerboan
In her own words that begins her story:
It was a busy Saturday night at the Kitty Korner. This night club had been my employer for years. The kind of environment it provides patrons was not really my kind of environment. There was the bar to the far left of the club and torward the opposing side the tables could be found. Most night seats were occopied by men, mostly. Sometimes women occupied a few at a time. It paid well though. Tips in cash were better than other joints I've worked at, small restaurants and a few diners during twelve years of my adult life behind me now.
The toughest part of my job to get passed wasnt the awful clingy toxic air filled with cigarettes and ashtrays, though a close second. It was the stage show. Women dancing on stage with not a single article of clothing. My cheeks must have been blushing the very first straight week through. The loud pounding speakers didn't help too much. Music for dancers making sexy swaying snakey moves is what customers paid to see. I really didn't want to be here. It wasn't anything like, I hated this place. It was fine for what it was. George, the owner, took good care of everyone. No one was left out. The broad shouldered canine male sure we were all safe, not just the ladies on stage. Still this wasn't enticement enough to remain here. Plans to leave earlier this year had been abrupted by duty outside these walls.
My mother had become ill. Work had not been an option for her. Before she got worse though, my father and I had to keep arguing with her to take her leave of absence. We knew where early symptoms were leading to. I had to beg on my knees until every pleading word turned into incomprehensive sound sounded like choking squeals. The memory of my head laying on her leg, a full grown woman afraid to lose one of the two most important anchors to my existence. Finally she broke. I felt her hand fixing my hair around my tall tapering jerboa ears, comforting my heartache as she always had. She kept herself together with composure to get me back into my own composure. She is why I stayed here. My father is why I stayed here. Until we saw our way to through to the end, so it would I remain. One income was not going to get them through any of this cruel circumstance.
For years life had been routine. Even after my mother's health had been swept away from her compensated with important medical appointments. Going grocery shopping with my father. Spending time with both of them. Calling every day or night at least once to check in on them both. Sometimes I would spend nights during the week, and before I go any further, I will not speak of what my mother's illness was. Even were she to not be mad at me about naming her condition. She is my mother not a subject for tell all gossip.
That routine however tiring was dependable without surprises. Like the story of many lives around the globe though, something shifts the prism altering the direction life passing through into a direction out of sight until a very specific juncture. Which begins on a weekend when tips were at its weekly peak, Saturday. The music stopped. Not the odor of burnt tobacco and tar though, God how I couldn't wait to get out its invisible cloud. It had been so bad this time, it had me coughing here and there. Table staff besides me cleared up alldisgusting ashtrays and plates of unfinished meals off the tables. We washed our designated sections. I couldn't spray enough lemon scent upon each surface. What started as a full bottle went back into the supply closet half emptied. The apron came off and placed into the cloth laundry bin, followed by the low cut shirt displaying a "K.K. emblem to the right below the collar. It was a little tight but so was my own T-shirt hidden underneath. George came out of his office mingling with everyone with unneeded gratitude he gave out selflessly. For all there was to the environment created within these walls, he was still a good man. None, waitress, dancer or even prostitutes passing though every became the subject of unwanted attention. I wanted to say hi to him as he had not been out of his office all night. I did need anything from him. On the way out I we all let him know we were leaving. It was part of everyone looking out for each other. While he was bidding nightly farewells, I went to our lunchroom in the back. On the way back I would let him know I would be leaving.
Into the break room I went. It was good size that would fit staff on duty all at once if need be. I grabbed my denim jacket then looked along the wall to the cleared area to see it. There it was. Two fat wheels with a throttle and a large battery built into a black and yellow cafe style frame. With a swift heel back, I kicked the stand, feeling it socket upward into place while holding both grips. Out into work space I walked it. My bike coming right into shined upon by overhead highlighting all its dimensions.
I saw George talking to Shelly Hine. She was one of the lead dancers and unofficially head of coordination. It only affected those doing stage work. So I didn't know her too much. I really didn't know anyone here well. Not even George. There was just enough understanding for me to know what each of them were like. All I wanted was to get my ride home started.
Once Shelly was done with him I made my way forward. George made eye contact with me up close. I had to fight against the urge to look away. Not for any real reason. That's always me though. This was with anyone who's eyes were a straight path into my line of sight. He smiled his canine smile. It a was warmth he shared from it. Not one of those uneasy smiles or grins some customers occasionally would give me. His was a 'Hey how's it going, glad you could make it' kind of smile. I did my best to smile back. My lips could have spread a little wider but shyness always had been constraint when I'd like to find the way to show more appreciation to others.
"Hi Yulia." George's voice was a reassuring one. It made one feel like they were in the right place at the end of the night. It changed nothing for want to leave this place behind one day, the sooner the better but my parents came first. You don't grow into a full grown woman only to forget who put bandaids on your cuts. You don't forget the ones who hugged nightmares away in the middle of the night after an awakening screaming loud enough to echo across the entire homestead. You don't forget who stood out in the crowd of everyone else's parents at high school graduation with diploma being placed in hand.
"Hello George." I said still trying to look away. "How were the tips tonight?"
I took out a huge wad of bills. He never asked to look. George never tapped into anyone's tips, least not from the waitresses. I can't speak for the dancers. It was out of some sort of thought up manners I guess on my part. He gave me a thumbs up.
"Not bad. I think you get more tips than any of the others." He was about to harmlessly pat me on my right shoulder, then pulled back. It didn't mean anything. In his case, it only meant he was comfortable with someone. Some dancers who had been here as long as I have felt comfortable with him being like a coach congratulating a team for a hard earned victory. I suspect he pulled back because he'd never reached over before and likely my comfort level clear on my face. Sliding the bills back into my shoulder bag, "Biggest stack this month.'
"You earned dollar of it." Let me get the door for you." I wheeled my bike over to the entrance where the bouncers stood. They'd have opened them for me. This wasn't the first time for George to. Anytime I was ready and he had the moment to, he always took consideration of my bike and I. As I walked through the wide open doorway he said. "Goodnight. Be careful Yulia."
Looking back over my shoulder to him, "I will George. Thank you."
With that, I swung a long shapy leg over the seat placed an ear bud into my right ear while straddling the seat tight. I flipped the power on, waved goodbye. I hit the throttle. In my right side mirror I could see the doors didn't close until I was just about out of sight of him.
