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A New York Escorts Confessions
The Grate
Two days ago my Mom called with bad news. Our old neighbor, Mr. Marcus, had died.
What does my nine-year-old brain remember about Mr. Marcus? That he was nice. That he used to walk his two dogs Mike, a border collie, and Mike, a miniature poodle, around the block in the morning. That I would see him from the bus stop and he would always greet me with a, “Hello Alexa of the Red Hair.”
I never did learn why the two dogs had the same name. That’s the thing about nine-year-old brains. Stuff like that just doesn’t register as weird.
Mr. Marcus was a father. And here’s the thing about every father’s death when you just had your own pass in the last year. You relive that first death, every bit of it, all over again. I remembered just how much my own father disappointed all of us and just how much I missed him.
And then I thought of the three Marcus kids. There was Caroline who was two years older than me and easily a candidate for most popular. She was stunning, a student council president, a state ranked gymnast. And boy did my brother Pete ever have a crush on her. He used to walk our dog around the block just to try to get a look at her through her bedroom window. She was way out of his league, though, and he knew it. The fact was, she was way out of my league too. Sometimes I would walk the dog to try to get a look at her wardrobe. She always had the best clothes.
The younger Marcus daughter was Callie. I don’t remember much about her at all since she was three years younger than me. But I think she was a tomboy. I remember baseball hats and that maybe she ran track.
And then there was Jesse, the middle child, who was my age. And who was retarded.
I remember Jesse was especially close to Mr. Marcus. He would sometimes go on those morning walks with him and Mike and Mike. And when Mr. Marcus would address me, Jesse would repeat him, “Alexa of the Red Hair.” And I would say, “Jesse of the Black Hair” back and he would laugh.
I think after Mrs. Marcus died he was Jesse’s primary caretaker. I wondered who would be responsible for him now. My heart went out to him.
It’s funny. I hadn’t thought about Jesse in ten years. And now all these specifics came back to me. How he had ears that stuck out and a big gap between his front teeth. How he rode a big red bicycle. How when his body started changing he turned out to be really good looking—a strong masculine build and an a killer jaw.
But when I went out over the weekend in the midst of the intense rain and looked at the overflowing sewer grates, I remembered something else. Jesse’s favorite thing to do was to lay down over the grates just like those around our block. He would lay there for hours and hours and watch the water rushing by underneath.
I think my nine-year-old brain did think that was weird. But now? Wouldn’t it be great if something as simple as that could be so mystifying and involving? It was almost a perfect zen exercise.
But the thought of Jesse over the grate also made me also feel sick to my stomach. It was such a lonely image.
I called my Mom and asked her if she could find out where Jesse was living now. I wanted to send him a condolence card. And not just any old one from the store. I wanted to make him one. With a picture of a red bicycle on the front, and a picture of me as a nine-year-old on the inside. I would sign it “Alexa of the Red Hair”. And I would tell him just how much I was going to miss his dad too.
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confessionsComments
You are really not dead in your heart,
and this is great and wunderbar.
Greetings from Southwestgermany,
and thank you, Wolfgang
At this sad and difficult time, I think Jesse really needed that card.
Posted by Hijackqueen on May 24 03:34AMI once stayed off junior school and hid in the coalshed to witness the funeral of the man next door who was a mate. These people are all part of our lives and it is good that we remember them.
Posted by birdman on May 24 09:34AMThat was so sweet to even think to send a thoughtful card like that. I hope you send it. I think Jesse would really like that. It's nice to know other people care.
Posted by Diva Moon on May 24 01:34PMPost a Comment
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about me
So why am I writing this blog? I have an inner exhibitionist that just needs to be let out. I've always wanted to bare myself completely in front of strangers but have always been held back by fear.
As strange as it may sound, I've never really truly bared myself in front of any of my clients. For all that they've seen, they've never seen me be me. And for all that I've seen, I simply need to share it with you!
So why should you come? To be tantalized and teased. To get release by knowing the true me.
I promise that I won't bite, and if I do bite, I'll make sure you like it!
my favorite posts
- Caveat Vendor - Part II
- Selling Out (Part III)
- Poops!... I Did It Again!
- My First Escorting Experience
- My First Lesbian Experience
- Daddy's Little Girl (Part II)
- Selling Out (Part III)
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I hope you can get in touch with Jesse. And please make that card. That was the most thoughtful and heartfelt sentiment I've heard in awhile.
Posted by TobyCrowsfoot on May 23 05:52AM