Her name was Candy.
She used to be the source of all of the problems in my life, yet she knew exactly how to make me feel as if my life was perfect as well. I'm not quite sure how she did it, but she was rather good at it. Most of the memories I have of her are small ones, little moments in time that don't make much of a difference to the way I remember her. However, one sticks out in my mind quite prominently. I discovered many things about her that day. To start, I learned about her "job", and her "bad habits." She really was not someone with morals, or and self-respect. Still, that moment I will never forget.
"So, Candy, do you want to go out to get dinner with me?" I asked her on the phone.
"Wait what? No, you don't know what you're asking. Or even who you're asking, to tell the truth."
"Yes I do. You're Candy. The girl I really want to date but no matter what she always turns me down," I dejectedly responded.
"No, that's not true I really do like you, I just don't want you to know who I am. Heck, I don't even know who I am," I heard a loud man scream something in the background. "Oh no! I have to go I'm sorry I have work to do. Meet me in Central Park at 6? Please?"
"Of course…" I trailed off. She could ask me to die in a ditch and I would have. I receiver clicked, and I knew she hung up. What is so wrong that she can't just come to have dinner with me for once? Am I really that repulsive? My mind trailed for a while as I made burnt toast to pass the time. Soon, six o'clock was about fifteen minutes away. As I began walking down the street to meet Candy, my mind raced, attempting to decipher what she could possibly mean when she said she doesn't want me to know who she was. When I arrived, Candy skipped over to me as the sun glistened off her coca-cola-red hair.
"So you did show up," she smiled her bright, shining smile. I wrapped my arms around her skinny body and embraced her in a hug. We sat down on the nearest bench and she got a rather saddening gleam to her eyes. "I'm sorry I can't stay long I have work to do tonight," she mumbled.
"Who works at 6 o'clock at night?"
"I do,"
"What then could you do? You know you never told me," I spoke. She turned her face towards the ground and played with the hemline of her skirt.
"Nothing to be proud of myself for. Just look at my clothing. When you first saw me what popped into your head?" She turned her face towards me.
"Beautiful, perfect, gorgeous, and that I wanted you to be mine,"
"See, and there is our problem. I can never be yours. I can never be anyone's 'girl.'"
"Why not?"
"Jesse, look at my clothes. What kind of person do I look like? I'm wearing silver leggings for God's sake! I have the shortest skirt imaginable, and the biggest hoop earrings I think it's even possible to buy,"
"Candy, I don't know what you're getting at,"
"Jesse, I'm a prostitute. I sleep with men and women for a living. I live in a house with my "sisters" when I'm not working at night. Now tell me you still want me to be yours. Tell me you want all of this," she pointed down her body and bent down to fix her silver stilettos. I noticed something fall out of her shirt and onto the ground and picked it up. I gasped at what I was holding in my hands.
"Candy you're… you're…" The rolled up dollar bill in my right hand was covered in white powder and the small plastic bag I held in the left was halfway filled with a white powder. The bag seemed to vanish as she whisked it out of my hand.
"That's the purest stuff you can get," she stared at the ground. "Jesse, I'm sorry I didn't want you to know any of this. Now you can go back to everything you had before I came along and just forget about me." Slowly, she began turning around. "I need to go do something," I pulled on her arm and brought her towards me.
"No, I can't. I don't think I ever will. Don't ask me to do something that is not possible." I whispered. I reached my hand up towards her face and cupped her chin in my hands. "I'll take you exactly the way you are." She flashed me another brilliant smile and I couldn't help but smile back. Fading slowly, her smile evolved into a look of pure hatred.
"You don't even know me. I don't even know me. All I know is these shoes," she spoke.
"Explain please?"
"I used to be a good kid, you know. I got all A's in school, I was in honors courses and I had such a life ahead of me. I think I was part of the best family in the world. I truly loved them; honestly I still do love them. Yet, I haven't seen any of them in years. My parents died in a plane crash six years ago and I was sent here, to live with my uncle, who used to harm me in any way he thought fit. Anything you can name, he did to me. At some point, I ran away, and Iz found me," she sat back down on the bench. "Iz is the man who started me in all of this business. He took away all the clothing I had and gave me everything new. I didn't even like any of it. However, one thing stayed. He told me I could keep the shoes; that they would work fine for the job. I picked them out for my parent's funeral. I thought they would want me to still be happy on that day somehow, even if it was simply my shoes. Anything left from my old life is in these shoes. None of the beads are left, and the silver is starting to wear down, but I will always wear these shoes. You realize I never wanted any of this to happen to me? I never wanted to be a crack-addicted prostitute. I wanted to be a psychiatrist. Really, now I'm the one who needs a psychiatrist," streaks of mascara were running down her face and she rested her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders protectively. "Why are you so different? I've never told anyone any of that and yet, I've know you for almost 4 months and already I've poured my heart out to you. And how are you still here? Don't you think I'm a freak or a nut job or just a sad excuse for a human?"
"No, I don't. You want to know why? When you told me everything, I saw someone else in you, not this persona you put on in silver pants and big hoops earrings. Truly, you're an amazing person. None of the things that you've gone through should have happened. Really, you deserve so much better." Tears still flowed down her cheeks and her grip on my torso got tighter.
"Jesse, don't leave me all alone, please. I don't want to be like this, but this is all I have. Crack head or not, I can't stand it."
"I will help you if you let me in, but you must let me get you through this. Getting away from everything is going to be one of the hardest things to do. I'll be here for you every step of the way."
"Really? You promise?"
"I promise. And I'm not one to break a promise." Slowly, she and I stood up and we walked toward the exit of the park. "Why don't you come home with me? I don't want you on the streets anymore."
"No, I couldn't possibly do that I'd be such a burden and I don't know how to act in a house and…" I quieted her by placing my finger over her cherry-red lips.
"You'll be fine. It's only me anyway."
"How old are you anyway?"
"I'm eighteen. I have an apartment down the street, not too far from my parents. It's easier to go to college from where I live. I don't have to pay for the subway or anything, I can walk."
"Oh, alright. I really don't want to be…" I silenced her again.
"Don't worry about it, Candy. It's fine. You won't be a burden at all." I think we may have sat there for a good 2 hours talking before I decided it was getting dark and late and we should be going home. We walked to my apartment, and that night, the true trials of detoxing became apparent to both of us. Angrily, she stomped through the apartment mumbling about her "coke" and how I wasted it by flushing it down the toilet. By the end of the week, she was shaking uncontrollably, and profusely sweating with a fever of 102.4. I couldn't keep her still, and there weren't enough blankets in the house to settle her shivers. Talking for a while one day became a burden and she didn't bother trying to speak or eat. This seemed to be the climax of her detox. Slowly but surely afterwards, her fever began reducing and the shivers stopped and the shaking became less apparent. Smiling again, she talked to me about anything and everything she could think of. During that time, I gave her my bed to sleep in and I slept on the couch in my room, just to make sure nothing happened to her. One day, I was awoken by a hand brushing my cheek, and "Jesse wake up" whispered in my ear. Groggily I sat up and opened my eyes to a radiant Candy, standing in the new clothes I bought her the day before.
"I don't feel like I need it at all," she beamed. "The feeling completely disappeared!" I stood up quickly and put my arms around her. "Thank you, Jesse, thank you so much. You have no idea what you've done for me. I don't think I can ever repay you."
"How about that dinner?" I smirked. She giggled and put her hand on my cheek.
"Of course, you silly!" Jesse was clean for 2 years from that day. Not once did she bother me about it, and not once did she ask me to give her something. No matter what I did or said, she always thanked me rather often. Soon after, we started officially dating. Over the Christmas holiday, she was supposed to stay with my family and me as our official first Christmas as a couple. On our year-and-a-half anniversary, we got into an enormous fight.
"You're such a jerk, Candy!" I screamed at her.
"I'm a jerk? Really? Look who's talking now! Do you care at all about how I feel about this? Oh wait, I can answer that myself. NO!"
"You're losing your mind over nothing, Candy. Why don't you just listen to me for once?"
"I don't want to hear what you're saying because I know what you're going to say next!"
"Really? I don't think so because then you would have known what I'm going to do next!" I yelled, walked out the door and slammed it shut. I ran to Central Park, curled up under a tree, and cried for 2 hours until I realized I needed to go apologize to Candy for what I did. I walked slowly towards the apartment, afraid of what she was going to do when I walked in. As I creeped up the steps and opened the door, I heard no sound coming from inside. I expected Candy had gone to run errands or just go take a walk, so I thought nothing of it. I walked into our bedroom and saw a lifeless body lying on the floor. I ran towards her, and kneeled down next to her
"Oh, God no. No, no, no, this can't be right. No! I screamed. Candy, no wake up! Please don't leave me, dear God, Candy wake up!" I pulled a needle from her left arm that was fully emptied. There were two more exactly similar that rested beside her awkwardly place her arm. I picked her head up and placed it in my lap and stroked her hair a few times. "Please, Candy, you can't leave me here alone." I placed my fingers at her neck and felt a pulse. "Candy? Can you hear me? I'm going to fix this I promise you. You'll be up and storming around the house in no time." I ran from corner to corner, gathering blankets and water and washrags to soak and lay on her forehead. I picked her up, placed her on the bed, wrapped her in several blankets, and placed the comforter on top of her. Her eyelids fluttered slightly and opened only slightly.
"Jesse? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" she trailed off.
"Shh Candy it's alright, don't try to talk. You scared me so very much." I spat out.
"I saw them. I saw my parents. They want me to come with them. They told me they miss me, and they love me," tears began rolling down my face and onto hers. She smiled slightly.
"No, Candy, no, you can't leave me now. Please no, don't leave me. Let me keep you a little longer, please Candy."
"Jesse, I love you so much, so much…" her eyes shut quietly and her breathing slowed for a while and then stopped.
"I love you too, Candy. Forever and always," I lay down next to her and placed my arm protectively across her chest. I cried myself to sleep that night. The next day, her body was moved to the funeral home, and I had her buried next to her parents in a different part of New York in Albany. I visit her grave on a semi-regular basis. Today would have been 2 years, and I cannot get her out of my head. I can't say I'd go back and change things if it were possible. I think everything would stay the same. Everything happens for a reason. Honestly, I'd rather have been loved once than not loved at all.
