Chapter 4: Finally, the Truth

The truth came out then. The constantly asking for and expecting Samuel to give her nice things, take her to exotic places, overseas trips and holidays, and nights on the town, all without contributing a damned thing except being a pretty woman on his arm and a ready and willing fuck. However, Sam’s trajectory was towards increasing wealth, and she was a depreciating asset—a forty-five-plus-year-old woman whose best years were behind her. He had money, power, and prestige. There were many much younger women who looked equally as good on his arm, whom he could date and spend his money on, and who could give him an heir. He gave her a week to get out.

She was already on her third man when she tried to get some of Dad’s money so she could move out from him, too. The months passed, and she moved from man to man, milking each of them for what she could, but keeping nothing for the future—always living in the present. But it was a downward spiral. Each month, she was a little older, a little more worn, and each man was progressively poorer and less able to look after her than the previous one until the last one did make her hook for him and beat her when she didn’t.

In protest, Mum stopped taking care of herself. She stopped removing her body hair, bathing, dying, or even combing her hair, and eventually stopped eating. Mason, her last man, the one who whored her out, kicked her out. She waited until he’d gone out and then broke into his home. She was owed, or so she thought. Mason had a cashbox full of the money he earned from whoring her out and selling drugs. She wanted what was in it; she was owed. He found her before she’d gone two blocks, dragged her back to his house, and he and another prostitute punched and kicked the hell out of her. They dumped her on the street.

A kindly officer of the Salvation Army found her and took her to the hospital. She, stupidly, fled the following day because she thought Mason wanted to kill her. She tried living on the streets, but even starved, unkempt, and smelly, she was still a step above most of the homeless on the streets, and she was repeatedly raped. The last part of her original story was almost true—she was walking the street hooking when a man offered her fifty dollars for a blowjob. The stupid bitch took off with his wallet when she had his trousers around his ankles.

She didn’t even get a block away before the man caught her, beat her, and took back his wallet. The same man from the Salvation Army found her again. Another hospital visit ensued. This time, the officer stayed with her. In the morning, he asked if she had any family, and I suspect he paid for her airfare to Brisbane from his own money. That’s where we were now.

“I suppose you’re kicking me out now?” Mum said fearfully. “Now that you know your mother is a commons street whore who has effectively descended from being a high-priced one.”

“Dad’s angry at you still for abandoning him,” I pointed out. “But I know that he hasn’t stopped loving you. It’s when he’s reminiscing about you and the times you had together and blaming himself for making you leave that I fear that he’ll fall off the wagon the most. It will take time, but if you’re genuinely sorry for abandoning him, I’m sure he’ll accept you back.”

“But he won’t want me sexually. What kind of marriage is that?”

“He wants me,” I calmly stated. “All I have to do is march in and demand he do something for me, and along with a little blue pill, he’s harder than sunbaking in a snowstorm.”