Night Shift
Rays of sun through the window, and land majestically on my unsuspecting napping cat. Before I have time to wishfully hope my life was closer to hers, especially around a sleep schedule – my alarm takes me out of my reverie. Back to work I go. It’s Sunday evening, close to 8pm but thanks to spring, I relish in the last bit of sunshine. My living room is quiet other than the gentle snores of my cat and faint murmurs coming from the neighbours across the hall.
I technically shouldn’t be working today, but I haven’t been able to distract myself with anything else. I tried cleaning, swept the floor and ended up sneezing seven times in a row. I watched TV but had to turn it off, there were too many reminders. On days like today, it’s better I keep to myself. I’ve always been a slight workaholic… Ok, fine, slight is a bit of an understatement. It’s my way of escaping. I look down at my computer as the sun highlights settled dust I hadn’t noticed on my keyboard. This piece of technology is incredibly unreliable, has a mind of its own and ignores me at a moment’s notice and yet, I couldn’t fathom being away from it for too long. It’s become an extension of me. Before I get to daydream more about becoming a futuristic cyborg, the sleeping tabby emits a small growl and twitches off to dreamland. As I wonder what she’s dreaming about, I stare back at my screen. Spreadsheets and emails, edits and drafts – my life is filled with these things and yet none are really substantially filling my soul. If by now you haven’t guessed it, my life isn’t really fulfilling and I’m no stranger to loneliness. It didn’t always seem to be this way, not sure what changed, but at some point life just became a series of routines I couldn’t get out of. When I was younger, I … lost in thoughts and uncomfortable memories, I notice her whiskers twitch again.
I look at the clock again, it’s almost time for my night shift.
I work a couple of jobs; by day I’m a consultant, helping clients assess their policies to ensure the most marginalized populations are adequately implicated in the vision and mission of the organization, and by night I’m an escort. Seems like I couldn’t shake off that penchant for customer satisfaction… I became an escort to pay for my tuition and though I graduated a while back, I kept it as a part-time gig. I realized I would look forward to my shifts more than other things in my day. I was paid to be someone’s company, offer the girlfriend experience and feel as if I was just as wanted. Since I could work, I always had multiple jobs. I enjoyed working but I think deep down, I was running. Running from memories, from nostalgia, from myself. So I dove deeper into the only thing I found solace in: my jobs. Too often, I would stay at the local café until I had a night shift – freshened up, put on some lipstick and headed out. I didn’t always feel comfortable bringing my laptop with me, but it was my technological safety blanket, not to mention it gave me a much needed confidence boost. Always in my bag, like the magical friend I knew I craved. Over the years, I lost touch with people I had been close with but Raquel stood the test of time. She was one of the few people who knew about my night shifts and would be my safety contact.
Raquel was like a cousin, we met years ago and before we knew it, we had both proved to each other that we had the other’s back. I remember once, hiding in the alleyway, looking for an escape route as the screams kept getting closer. From the corner of my eye, I spot her and before she turns to deal with the threatening voice, she winks quickly.
“YANI! Excuse me little girl, have you seen Yani?”
“No one’s been around here for a while.”
Frustrated, the person left. I cowered behind the car I had used as cover for what seemed to be an eternity until she came by. “You’re safe now” she said simply. I looked at her with apprehension and admiration, no one had ever told me those words before. Safety was such an unknown notion, it was almost shocking to hear it in relation to me. Since then and many other times, Raquel and I grew closer.
My second alarm beeps and my cat rolls even further into a ball. Though I’m glad I’m working tonight, I’m just not feeling up to it. I check my phone, hovering over it while I figure out if I can cancel last minute. Before I can come up with anything remotely valid for an excuse, I get a text: “looking forward to tonightJ”. Generally, even if I specifically provide the girlfriend experience, I don’t get those kinds of messages. Nice touch.
I save my work, which will now be slightly overdue because I decided to reminisce instead of work. Of all days, today is not the day to remember the past. Not today. I walk over to my closet and pick up a pair of dark wash jeans and a nice light blouse. Today, this client is seeking an escort for his work event. We’re joining the rest of his coworkers at a new trendy bar to celebrate a successful quarter and a coworker’s pregnancy announcement. I pause for a bit, as I realize I don’t usually know these many details. This one’s a chatty one. The main reason they wanted me to come seemed similar to a lot of my dilemmas – they started the job less than a year ago and preferred to overwork rather than socialize. I was told I was in part an escape route and was briefed on what each signal meant and what excuses I could use to get them out of a situation. I wondered what they were running away from.
I feed the cat as I check the weather, nothing but clear skies tonight. Since I was working from today, I’m leaving my trusted safety blanket here. I trade my usual bag for a smaller one and start my regular routine to make sure all essentials are in: business cards, keys, make up, phone, wallet with money, and protection: condoms, pepper spray and a Swiss army knife. My fingers rest of the last piece going in my purse. I didn’t always carry this, I used to want to believe the best of people but too many trips down memory lane made it impossible to think otherwise. As I start spiraling down into vivid imagery from a few years back, I speed dial Raquel.
“Hey girl, you on your way out?”
“Yes”, I say with a small voice
“Is everything ok? Are you having those dreams again? Remember what I told you the first time I met you – you’re safe now, they can’t came for you anymore.”
Raquel knew I had night terrors that would rear their ugly head around this day. Breathing a little more easily, I tell her about tonight’s shift and how I feel oddly connected to this stranger. We talk some more, she makes sure to check on my mood and tells me to message her when I make my first round to the bathroom. I look out the window and notice the moon is in its crescent shape, seemingly smiling down at us. I’m oddly calmer today than I usually would be. For years, I couldn’t get through today without fully working 24 hours, sleepless or do the exact opposite and sleep the full day off other than breaks to feed the living furball. A tear stained pillow would quickly get washed the morning after, to wash the day away and pretend like it never happened. As I wait for my cab, I check the address to this new restaurant, aptly named Night Shift, which was advertised as a “perfect after-work ambiance without the douchiness of the corporate world”.
I distractedly pet my tabby, fast asleep on the couch after her feast. What I would give to take her place for just a peaceful moment. I get another message from my client:
“If you’re taking a cab, let them know to let you out in front of the bar – if you’ll let me, I’d like to pay for it. I’m not sure how interesting or fun tonight will be, so it would be the least I could do”.
The cab fare is always included in my service fee, clearly this client is new at this. I respond with a platitude and accept the offer. The more anxiety they show, the more affinity I feel towards this stranger. I lock the door and check twice that it’s fully closed before I walk down the long hallway to the elevator. This building isn’t entirely finished, patch jobs pepper the walls along with the words “Paint Me” etched from keys, a clear indication of less patient neighbours. I exit my building and get in a taxi to take me to another night shift. As my cab winds down city streets, I realize it seems busier than usual. There are more people out, more than usual. People walking their dogs, walking in groups, walking from dinner, walking. Then I remember, it’s because of this day. Lightheaded, I try to focus on bright street lights and other passersby before my mind torments me with suppressed memories. I fish for my phone in my bag, feeling unfamiliar because my laptop isn’t in it, to let Raquel know I’m arriving at my destination. She knows my brain so well by now that she tells me to take deep breaths and to focus my attention on the melodies coming from the taxi’s radio. I look around and focus on the meter, were close to twelve dollars now. At low volume, I hear a medley of Motown – it’s hard to be in a bad mood when Aretha expects respect. Before I knew it, the taxi was pulling up to a busy street with small boutiques, bars and cafés. The surrounding trees were decorated with lights. My client, sporting a smile of relief and excitement, opened my door and handed the driver a twenty. As I made my way to the door, my client - androgynously attractive with deep eyes that had seen far too much - grabbed my hand and said:
“Before we go in, I want to be totally transparent as to why I asked you to come with me. As I already shared, I work a lot and don’t socialize much with my coworkers so I wanted a third party to be with me when I interact with them, but truly it’s because I can’t stand to spend this day alone. I just can’t…” They said in one breath as their voice broke from the weight of their words.
I silently gazed at their face, the look of pain hidden for far too long that would make one openly share deeper fears with a perfect stranger. Only I was exactly that – a stranger perfectly suited to escort a soul just as lost as mine, just as lonely and searching for purpose. With the most earnest smile I have been able to give in a long time, looking down at our locked hands, our black skin glistening under the moonlight, I whispered “neither can I”.
You’re safe now. Raquel’s words never resonated more in my head than as I walked into Night Shift.
I technically shouldn’t be working today, but I haven’t been able to distract myself with anything else. I tried cleaning, swept the floor and ended up sneezing seven times in a row. I watched TV but had to turn it off, there were too many reminders. On days like today, it’s better I keep to myself. I’ve always been a slight workaholic… Ok, fine, slight is a bit of an understatement. It’s my way of escaping. I look down at my computer as the sun highlights settled dust I hadn’t noticed on my keyboard. This piece of technology is incredibly unreliable, has a mind of its own and ignores me at a moment’s notice and yet, I couldn’t fathom being away from it for too long. It’s become an extension of me. Before I get to daydream more about becoming a futuristic cyborg, the sleeping tabby emits a small growl and twitches off to dreamland. As I wonder what she’s dreaming about, I stare back at my screen. Spreadsheets and emails, edits and drafts – my life is filled with these things and yet none are really substantially filling my soul. If by now you haven’t guessed it, my life isn’t really fulfilling and I’m no stranger to loneliness. It didn’t always seem to be this way, not sure what changed, but at some point life just became a series of routines I couldn’t get out of. When I was younger, I … lost in thoughts and uncomfortable memories, I notice her whiskers twitch again.
I look at the clock again, it’s almost time for my night shift.
I work a couple of jobs; by day I’m a consultant, helping clients assess their policies to ensure the most marginalized populations are adequately implicated in the vision and mission of the organization, and by night I’m an escort. Seems like I couldn’t shake off that penchant for customer satisfaction… I became an escort to pay for my tuition and though I graduated a while back, I kept it as a part-time gig. I realized I would look forward to my shifts more than other things in my day. I was paid to be someone’s company, offer the girlfriend experience and feel as if I was just as wanted. Since I could work, I always had multiple jobs. I enjoyed working but I think deep down, I was running. Running from memories, from nostalgia, from myself. So I dove deeper into the only thing I found solace in: my jobs. Too often, I would stay at the local café until I had a night shift – freshened up, put on some lipstick and headed out. I didn’t always feel comfortable bringing my laptop with me, but it was my technological safety blanket, not to mention it gave me a much needed confidence boost. Always in my bag, like the magical friend I knew I craved. Over the years, I lost touch with people I had been close with but Raquel stood the test of time. She was one of the few people who knew about my night shifts and would be my safety contact.
Raquel was like a cousin, we met years ago and before we knew it, we had both proved to each other that we had the other’s back. I remember once, hiding in the alleyway, looking for an escape route as the screams kept getting closer. From the corner of my eye, I spot her and before she turns to deal with the threatening voice, she winks quickly.
“YANI! Excuse me little girl, have you seen Yani?”
“No one’s been around here for a while.”
Frustrated, the person left. I cowered behind the car I had used as cover for what seemed to be an eternity until she came by. “You’re safe now” she said simply. I looked at her with apprehension and admiration, no one had ever told me those words before. Safety was such an unknown notion, it was almost shocking to hear it in relation to me. Since then and many other times, Raquel and I grew closer.
My second alarm beeps and my cat rolls even further into a ball. Though I’m glad I’m working tonight, I’m just not feeling up to it. I check my phone, hovering over it while I figure out if I can cancel last minute. Before I can come up with anything remotely valid for an excuse, I get a text: “looking forward to tonightJ”. Generally, even if I specifically provide the girlfriend experience, I don’t get those kinds of messages. Nice touch.
I save my work, which will now be slightly overdue because I decided to reminisce instead of work. Of all days, today is not the day to remember the past. Not today. I walk over to my closet and pick up a pair of dark wash jeans and a nice light blouse. Today, this client is seeking an escort for his work event. We’re joining the rest of his coworkers at a new trendy bar to celebrate a successful quarter and a coworker’s pregnancy announcement. I pause for a bit, as I realize I don’t usually know these many details. This one’s a chatty one. The main reason they wanted me to come seemed similar to a lot of my dilemmas – they started the job less than a year ago and preferred to overwork rather than socialize. I was told I was in part an escape route and was briefed on what each signal meant and what excuses I could use to get them out of a situation. I wondered what they were running away from.
I feed the cat as I check the weather, nothing but clear skies tonight. Since I was working from today, I’m leaving my trusted safety blanket here. I trade my usual bag for a smaller one and start my regular routine to make sure all essentials are in: business cards, keys, make up, phone, wallet with money, and protection: condoms, pepper spray and a Swiss army knife. My fingers rest of the last piece going in my purse. I didn’t always carry this, I used to want to believe the best of people but too many trips down memory lane made it impossible to think otherwise. As I start spiraling down into vivid imagery from a few years back, I speed dial Raquel.
“Hey girl, you on your way out?”
“Yes”, I say with a small voice
“Is everything ok? Are you having those dreams again? Remember what I told you the first time I met you – you’re safe now, they can’t came for you anymore.”
Raquel knew I had night terrors that would rear their ugly head around this day. Breathing a little more easily, I tell her about tonight’s shift and how I feel oddly connected to this stranger. We talk some more, she makes sure to check on my mood and tells me to message her when I make my first round to the bathroom. I look out the window and notice the moon is in its crescent shape, seemingly smiling down at us. I’m oddly calmer today than I usually would be. For years, I couldn’t get through today without fully working 24 hours, sleepless or do the exact opposite and sleep the full day off other than breaks to feed the living furball. A tear stained pillow would quickly get washed the morning after, to wash the day away and pretend like it never happened. As I wait for my cab, I check the address to this new restaurant, aptly named Night Shift, which was advertised as a “perfect after-work ambiance without the douchiness of the corporate world”.
I distractedly pet my tabby, fast asleep on the couch after her feast. What I would give to take her place for just a peaceful moment. I get another message from my client:
“If you’re taking a cab, let them know to let you out in front of the bar – if you’ll let me, I’d like to pay for it. I’m not sure how interesting or fun tonight will be, so it would be the least I could do”.
The cab fare is always included in my service fee, clearly this client is new at this. I respond with a platitude and accept the offer. The more anxiety they show, the more affinity I feel towards this stranger. I lock the door and check twice that it’s fully closed before I walk down the long hallway to the elevator. This building isn’t entirely finished, patch jobs pepper the walls along with the words “Paint Me” etched from keys, a clear indication of less patient neighbours. I exit my building and get in a taxi to take me to another night shift. As my cab winds down city streets, I realize it seems busier than usual. There are more people out, more than usual. People walking their dogs, walking in groups, walking from dinner, walking. Then I remember, it’s because of this day. Lightheaded, I try to focus on bright street lights and other passersby before my mind torments me with suppressed memories. I fish for my phone in my bag, feeling unfamiliar because my laptop isn’t in it, to let Raquel know I’m arriving at my destination. She knows my brain so well by now that she tells me to take deep breaths and to focus my attention on the melodies coming from the taxi’s radio. I look around and focus on the meter, were close to twelve dollars now. At low volume, I hear a medley of Motown – it’s hard to be in a bad mood when Aretha expects respect. Before I knew it, the taxi was pulling up to a busy street with small boutiques, bars and cafés. The surrounding trees were decorated with lights. My client, sporting a smile of relief and excitement, opened my door and handed the driver a twenty. As I made my way to the door, my client - androgynously attractive with deep eyes that had seen far too much - grabbed my hand and said:
“Before we go in, I want to be totally transparent as to why I asked you to come with me. As I already shared, I work a lot and don’t socialize much with my coworkers so I wanted a third party to be with me when I interact with them, but truly it’s because I can’t stand to spend this day alone. I just can’t…” They said in one breath as their voice broke from the weight of their words.
I silently gazed at their face, the look of pain hidden for far too long that would make one openly share deeper fears with a perfect stranger. Only I was exactly that – a stranger perfectly suited to escort a soul just as lost as mine, just as lonely and searching for purpose. With the most earnest smile I have been able to give in a long time, looking down at our locked hands, our black skin glistening under the moonlight, I whispered “neither can I”.
You’re safe now. Raquel’s words never resonated more in my head than as I walked into Night Shift.