Read Online The Education of a Very Young Madam by Ma-Ling Lee - Free Book Online
Authors: Ma-Ling Lee
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I don't know if that was because she was too out of it or because the staff was ushering her past without stopping. Maybe it was because she just didn't want to. I hope that wasn't the reason.
They took Natasha straight to the monitored ward, where they check on people every ten to fifteen minutes to make sure they don't commit suicide. She must have been in really bad shape to end up there. When I first saw her, I let myself imagine that life was going to be better after that. She'd get out of the monitored ward eventually, we would pick up where we'd left off, and I wouldn't be alone anymore. But I never even got a chance to talk to her. She ran away as soon as she could. I cried all night when I found out that she was gone.
Even then, I think I still had some hope that things would work out for Natasha and me someday down the road, that she would come back when she was ready and that we'd hang out again like we always did. Now I realize that there was no going back for her at that point. This was the live she'd chosen for herself, and I think she knew what she was getting into, looking back, I can see that Natasha was always drawn to that life like a moth to flame: the way she was fascinated by Julio in the beginning, the way she wanted to become a prostitute and pushed Dante to let her, the way she used to stare at working girls on the street, even the ones that most ofus choose not to look at. It seems like it was her destiny. Or maybe it's just the life she thought she deserved; I may be the only person who believes she didn't.
Natasha did her best to protect me. She always found a place for us to stay. If someone wanted to take advantage of me, she'd offer up herself instead. And before she took off, she made sure I was somewhere safe. Wesley may not have been the ideal caretaker, but he probably never would have kicked me out, and he wasn't dangerous. I don't think it was an accident that Natasha set up that situation before taking off on her own. I easily could have become a prostitute too, with some pimp feeding me drugs and telling me what to do, or out on the street fending for myself. But I didn't, and I know how lucky I am. Believe me, I know. And I have Natasha to thank for getting me through my most vulnerable years relatively intact.
I think Natasha's dead now. If not from the drugs, then from something else just as bad. I found out a few years later that Julio, as well as one of his girls, had died of AIDS, and I'm almost certain that Natasha slept with him at least once. I also heard that Natasha was working in a really bad place that was full of dirty junkies. Any number of things could have finally put an end to Natasha, but whatever it was, I'm afraid it was painful and ugly. A lot of people probably wouldn't think so, but I know she deserved a whole lot better than what she got.
It wasn't long after Natasha ran away from the youth center that I did the same. I had always hated living in those places, but after having tasted freedom for so long, my last stint was unbearable. The place was basically like kid jail. Because I had previously run away, I couldn't stay in the big, dormitory-style house I'd stayed in before. Instead, they put me in another building where I had to spend most of my time in a cubicle-size room with a lock on the door and nothing in it but a narrow bed. There was no need for anything else, since I wasn't allowed to have any stuff. All the kids wore green uniforms, except for the ones, like me, who had tried to escape; we wore orange ones to make us easier to spot. Even the time we were allowed out of our rooms was strictly controlled. There was a TV, but we had to watch what the staff chose for us. We could play cards or write letters, but that got boring quickly. Besides, who was I going to write letters to? I remember spending hours at a time in my room, just pacing back and forth to get some exercise. I probably looked like a caged animal. I know I felt like one.
Now part
They took Natasha straight to the monitored ward, where they check on people every ten to fifteen minutes to make sure they don't commit suicide. She must have been in really bad shape to end up there. When I first saw her, I let myself imagine that life was going to be better after that. She'd get out of the monitored ward eventually, we would pick up where we'd left off, and I wouldn't be alone anymore. But I never even got a chance to talk to her. She ran away as soon as she could. I cried all night when I found out that she was gone.
Even then, I think I still had some hope that things would work out for Natasha and me someday down the road, that she would come back when she was ready and that we'd hang out again like we always did. Now I realize that there was no going back for her at that point. This was the live she'd chosen for herself, and I think she knew what she was getting into, looking back, I can see that Natasha was always drawn to that life like a moth to flame: the way she was fascinated by Julio in the beginning, the way she wanted to become a prostitute and pushed Dante to let her, the way she used to stare at working girls on the street, even the ones that most ofus choose not to look at. It seems like it was her destiny. Or maybe it's just the life she thought she deserved; I may be the only person who believes she didn't.
Natasha did her best to protect me. She always found a place for us to stay. If someone wanted to take advantage of me, she'd offer up herself instead. And before she took off, she made sure I was somewhere safe. Wesley may not have been the ideal caretaker, but he probably never would have kicked me out, and he wasn't dangerous. I don't think it was an accident that Natasha set up that situation before taking off on her own. I easily could have become a prostitute too, with some pimp feeding me drugs and telling me what to do, or out on the street fending for myself. But I didn't, and I know how lucky I am. Believe me, I know. And I have Natasha to thank for getting me through my most vulnerable years relatively intact.
I think Natasha's dead now. If not from the drugs, then from something else just as bad. I found out a few years later that Julio, as well as one of his girls, had died of AIDS, and I'm almost certain that Natasha slept with him at least once. I also heard that Natasha was working in a really bad place that was full of dirty junkies. Any number of things could have finally put an end to Natasha, but whatever it was, I'm afraid it was painful and ugly. A lot of people probably wouldn't think so, but I know she deserved a whole lot better than what she got.
It wasn't long after Natasha ran away from the youth center that I did the same. I had always hated living in those places, but after having tasted freedom for so long, my last stint was unbearable. The place was basically like kid jail. Because I had previously run away, I couldn't stay in the big, dormitory-style house I'd stayed in before. Instead, they put me in another building where I had to spend most of my time in a cubicle-size room with a lock on the door and nothing in it but a narrow bed. There was no need for anything else, since I wasn't allowed to have any stuff. All the kids wore green uniforms, except for the ones, like me, who had tried to escape; we wore orange ones to make us easier to spot. Even the time we were allowed out of our rooms was strictly controlled. There was a TV, but we had to watch what the staff chose for us. We could play cards or write letters, but that got boring quickly. Besides, who was I going to write letters to? I remember spending hours at a time in my room, just pacing back and forth to get some exercise. I probably looked like a caged animal. I know I felt like one.
Now part
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