I'm Not Afraid
"You'll be fine, Alex." He said in a comforting tone, his gruff fingers passing up soft fabric and buttoning up each piece of plastic. He bound it with the opening on the other end of the blue fabric.
"Dad, I can do it myself," Alex said and batted his hands away. She took the buttons in her hands and fixed it up, pushing her blonde hair, long and coated with sheen, out of her collar. Her hair flowed around her small shoulders.
Her father looked at her, pursing his lips. "Okay." He stood up. Her bright blue eyes followed him as he went to the other side of the cramped room, picking up his keys and sliding him in his jean pockets.
"This move is hard on me, too." He said, leaning against the table on one burly hand, picking off his glasses with the other and using his wrist to rub his eyes. He placed his glasses back on and ran through his thick hair, the same color as his daughter's, and looked back at her. "This is only temporary. You have to remember that."
"It's fine, Dad."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm just a little bit worried about the school."
"You're a big girl now. I'm sure you'll do good."
"Okay."
She slid off the white bed. While her father took a last glance around the motel room, seeing if he forgot anything, she pulled on her shoes. The motel was split in two: one side was for him and the smaller part for her, both connected with a miniature kitchen and bathroom.
"Ready?" He asked her.
"Yes."
They exited the room. He locked the door behind him. Morning light poured in on them, catching in the tall, dry trees and the earth. Cars stood lined up in the parking lot below, visible from the railing. A woman in the room to their left was outside. She leaned against the railing, her arms dangling over the edge and a cigarette burning at her lips. The door behind her was unlocked, showing an untidy bed.
"Hi Alfred," she said with a broad smile. Her brown hair fell into her face several times, obstructed her heavily defined eyes.
"Hi," Alfred said. "I'm taking Alex to school. Tell the boss I'll be there in a few. I still have to get dressed." He was wearing plain jeans and a baggy shirt.
Her eyes swept over him and she nodded. "No problem."
"Thanks."
"How was your first night here, Alex?" she addressed the girl, standing by her father's side as though she was afraid. She had seen the woman many times before, but something about her both attracted the girl and terrified her.
"It was alright, Miss May," she said, "I slept right away since I was so tired from the long drive."
"I would imagine," Miss May laughed. "I live here all the time. It really isn't so bad. Plus, you see all these different people flow in and out of this place. It's interesting, really. You get to see all these different faces and new personalities. Sometimes, if you pay attention at night, you can hear what they talk about. I don't mean to pry but I have a hard time sleeping sometimes."
"Don't give her ideas, May." Alfred warned, "She's still young. I don't want her to think of these things yet. We better get going," he added with a glance at his watch, "I don't want her to be late. See you!"
He grasped Alex's hand and they rushed down the stairs, their figures reappearing down below, heading to a truck that had seen better days. Alfred unlocked it and climbed in, waiting for Alex to secure herself into the seat. The truck roared to life and pulled out of the parking lot and then out of May's line of visibility.
May crushed the cigarette and tossed it on the ground, smothering it with her foot. She went back inside and began to prepare herself for work, applying make-up, adjusting where she needed to, and dressing into uniform. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It showed the name of her boss in bold, yellow letters. Flipping it open, she held it to her ear and fixed her bed. Light poured in from the open door, along with copious amounts of fresh air. A fly buzzed about the edges, hesitant at the scent of insect repellent.
"May, I hope you know we're starting in an hour."
"I know, I know."
"Are you out of the building yet?"
"No, not yet." She shifted the phone from her right ear to the left, holding it up with her shoulder. "Al said he won't be there for a little bit. He has to take his daughter to work. Don't be harsh on him. He's had to move three times in the past month and he has that poor girl to care for."
"I see. Well he's not until a little later."
"Was that a hint of sympathy?" She grinned.
"Maybe, now get going."
The phone line went dead. She slipped the device back into her pocket and went to work.
Not far away Alfred arrived at the front of Alex's new middle school. Students flowed around the school like water in a river, going in there, coming out from there, stopping here, huddling, and chirping with excitement. Friends had already collected in Alex's grade, grade eight, and she felt distinctly alienated. She got out of the car. Alfred leaned forward and kissed her forehead before she left.
"Do your best, okay? You know my number. Call if you need anything. How do you feel?" Alfred said.
Alex had one leg out of the car. She was blushing furiously. She was certain someone had spotted her father giving her affection. At this point she shouldn't have cared one way or the other, but this was a new school and she needed to make an impression. If they found out what her father did to provide food for them then things would worsen significantly.
"Okay, Dad, I'll see you soon." She shut the door and turned to face the school. Her backpack hung off of one shoulder, heavy with supplies even if they were the cheap kind.
The school proved to be an average public school: the same carpet you see everywhere, the monotonous walls, the students, and the sounds of lockers shutting. Alex migrated through the halls timidly, keeping introverted. She discovered that her locker, a square cabinet above another one just like it, was near many of her classes.
Her locker neighbor to the bottom was a rough girl with hair that covered half of her friend. Later this girl would become her most trusted friend. That is, until they moved again and settled finally in a comely house in the mountains. The time between now and then would become Alex's favorite moments.
Motley groups of students went by her. She felt out of the loop on that first day, going to her classes and quietly participating. Every word was etched into her brain, every thought implanted there to grow and be nourished or perhaps forgotten and die. A sense of decay floated through the halls and around the teachers, who scarcely smiled. At her previous school, Alex was usually greeted with terse nods and dimmed voices. This school seemed livelier, but at the same time it provided less education than her previous one promised. It didn't matter to Alex. She went with the wind, just like her father and his brother. His brother danced with a girl named Mary Jane, he liked to hide, and he didn't talk much. When he got a job he performed well and if he needed to move he did, always drifting like a leaf in the turbulent winds. Her father had no choice but to submit rather than fight. When he fought things went bad.
Her father thought of these same thoughts as he dressed back in the motel. When he was confronted by Alex's presence, when she was still a baby, he was shocked. He never remembered giving her life, let alone meeting her mother. These thoughts were muddled and fragmentary. They danced in his mind, unable to take a certain shape or form. He couldn't recall her mother, he knew it was an accident, but it wasn't a mistake. He loved Alex more than he could imagine. She was his light at the end of the tunnel. He would have given up a long time ago had she not been there to push him on and on and on.
He applied eyeliner, making his eyes bolder. He brushed his hair back and dressed in a g-string that curved around his hips and framed his abdominal muscles formidably.
In a matter of minutes he was at his work place. Despite moving constantly he always worked in this particular area. He parked in the back and slid in through the rear entrance. The dimly lit hallway led him to a dressing room. Inside May was changing costume, this time putting on a leather jacket and large hoop earrings. She nodded at Alfred, who then organized a few of the appliances. The other three people in the room, two women and one man, greeted him. The women were twin sisters with identical black hair and high cheek bones. They chatted and giggled, waiting for the manager to call them on stage. The man looked nervous, playing with the end of his shirt. His lips, rouged, twisted in and out of a pout.
A man in a suit and dark gasses pushed apart a curtain, pouring in bodily scents and the heavy tang of cologne. Red and purple lights crawled through the main room like snakes, twisting around faces and individuals who laughed and dug through their wallets. His glasses caught some of the lights, reflecting back the faces of the workers; three of which came up from behind them, sweating and panting. They slumped down on the couch. One, a redheaded mother of two, tossed her head back, her eyes fluttering shut. Her hair, long and flat like flattened coils of copper, flowed behind her. Her breasts heaved with each breath, new read marks dotting them.
Alfred and May stepped out. Each took a separate stage. May grabbed the slick silver pole, knocking her hip against it, and commenced to entertain the viewers. Alfred took to his own pole, a black one. The two went on different paths, exposing different portions of their anatomy.
During all this, Alfred's mind went blank. It was a physical act that activated no sense. He smiled when he went on one customer's lap, feeling money slipping into his g-string strap. Hands touched his stomach and his chest, defiling him and examining rotten goods touched by a million other hands. The first time he had to do this, in college to collect a bit of money, he was horribly shy. He blushed constantly. He was the football player, the sports guy, the kid that led the teams, the prom, the heartthrob, the man who held the school in his fingertips, and now he was reduced to a circus performer. Someone exploiting their body for the pleasure of others. Some dragged him to the back room, exposing him to pain and a muted sense of pleasure.
Alfred picked up a coiled black whip and used it, his fingers trained to flick and twist exactly how his customers liked it. The women howled in pleasure and the men grinned, calling him closer and closer. Lips touched him, eyes perverted him, and nothing made any sort of difference. Alfred wondered how Alex was doing. He hoped no one was picking on him.
Nimble fingers violently snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked over dreamily at the person below him. He could barely make out their face through the clouds of smoke and flashing lights. The fingers examined him like a specimen.
In what felt like a minute it was all over. Exhausted, Alfred returned to the dressing room. He pulled all the money from his cleavage and counted it. It was a decent amount. The club paid its workers well. Most of the pay came from what they earned, but some of it came from a net sum the club made from the memberships.
"What a weirdo!" May said, putting up her hair. The day shows were over.
"Which one?" Alfred said, taking a wet towel and wiping his face.
"I saw you with him. He was this strange man. He asked for a lap dance and touched you in a weird way. I felt like he was testing me or something." May said.
"Oh I had him too! He's filthy rich too, I'll tell you. He must have a stash of cash somewhere to do this." One of the twins said.
Alfred nodded and, with his new cash, went back home. He still had an hour before Alex returned. A long shower and a change of clothes later, that hour had elapsed like nothing. A couple was arguing in the room below him. Or maybe it was above him. He couldn't tell. As much as he knew, it could have been inside his head.
He made himself a sandwich and opened the beige fridge. Bottles of soda, water, and some packages of food sat there. He found some fish and decided on that. Alex could do her homework while he cooked it. Standing back up he rubbed his back. The wall that separated his and Alex's room had a door with a broken handle. The lock was functional, but he had to ram his key into it and move it up to get it to work. The bathroom was interconnected with Alex's room as well. If he wanted to finally get that house in the mountains and find a better job he would need to do some extra work. He didn't mind. He just wished that Alex was in no danger.
Scratching his neck, Alfred considered this. Alex was desensitized to his job and what he had to do with his body. She didn't think it was a pleasurable or remotely interested thing anyway. It was something Dad did to keep a roof over their head, and that was good enough for her.
When he went to collect her, he began to tell her about his plans.
"It's fine, Dad," she said. "I'll be fine."
"But you can't go into my room."
"I know."
Back at home he kissed her forehead again. She didn't back away. No prying eyes were around to scoff and mock her.
Slapping the two slices of fish on the pan, he asked how Alex's day went. The tender white flesh sizzled. Bubbles formed and popped along its center, made of oil. Alex sat on the table behind him, pouring over a math textbook and scribbling down the answers.
"It was fine." Alex said.
"Did you make any new friends?"
"No."
After they ate and she finished homework, they played cards for an hour. She won most of the time. Then they relaxed on the bed. She lay her head on his lap and read a book. He petted her hair and smoked a cigarette. Bluish plumes of smoke curled around his face and puffed out of his nostrils like steam. The clock on the table ticked away the minutes after the other, cutting them away cleanly. Alex's eyes began to flutter shut. He picked her up and placed her in her bed.
She sat up right away, looking at him.
"Yes?"
She yawned and shook her head, curling up in the fold-up bed, wrapping the bleached cloth around her. Alfred locked the door and went back to his room, quickly preparing himself, and vanishing from the motel room. Alex was asleep, but in such a sleep that she was conscious of all the sounds outside of her. It always scared her when Alfred brought home a stranger. She worried that someday things would get too rough and he would be killed. Eventually, when nothing stirred, she couldn't focus on anything anymore. Her conscious slipped away from her like a rug from under her feet, sending her tumbling back into sleep.
Alfred visited three different people that night. The first two were together, exploiting him like a doll, infiltrating his body. But there were no secrets to hide. He fell limped at some points and hard slaps sent him back to a more active state of mind. He felt every movement and at the same time felt nothing.
Those two lay around him, panting and elated.
"Do you ever regret getting this job?" one asked.
"No." Alfred responded, looking up at the ceiling. It was a fancy hotel. He rarely visited these. He usually got more money from them. The bed sheets were softer too.
"Really? Why?" The other inquired.
"I don't know. I guess it just never struck me as bad or unethical. It's just a job like everything else."
"Huh."
Alfred got dressed, collected his pay, and left. His legs ceased hurting him. Nothing hurt anymore.
The final person he met with was in an alleyway. A cat sprinted from behind a foul smelling dumpster when Alfred was shoved into the musty space. The man, smelling heavily of alcohol, pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and shoved it in the bag Alfred carried with him. Then, shoving him against the wall, he proceeded to have his way with Alfred's body. Alfred went outside of his body. It wasn't hard. All he had to do was step outside of the physical realm of being and allow his memories or thoughts or the future consume him.
He thought of his mother. It was an odd thought to think of at the moment. He never really thought of family during these types of confrontations. The man's hot and sweaty hands pressed against his chest. Alfred tilted his head back, groaning and moaning for added affect.
In his memories his mother didn't have a distinct shape. She seemed to be made of feelings rather than atoms and cells and organs and flesh and bone. She moved easily through his thoughts, a constant comfort. There was no doubt that she would have wept at his and his brother's life choices. She knew in the back of her mind that they would not go on to raise proper families, but she knew they would somehow find happiness.
Alfred remembered how she died. She was driving in the night, coming home from her other job at a convenience store. Someone, drunk, rammed into her car. She fell forwards, her seat belt having been improperly buckled, and hit her head on the dashboard. The shattered glass cut her and the steering wheel impaled her. But it only took that one strike to get rid of her. When the news arrived, Alfred's father reacted violently. He mercilessly beat both of his children and then wept for the rest of the night.
Maybe that's when their fates were decided. Maybe their fates were decided long before.
The man grabbed Alfred's shoulders and twisted him around, so that Alfred's face met with the wall. He winced at the sudden impact, but remained unmoving. He was conscious of all the physical acts taking place and the stranger's body connecting with his.
When it was all done and the man left, leaving Alfred on the dirty floor, Alfred started to cry. The tears disturbed his cosmetics and blooms of black and red flourished on his face like ugly burns. When his tears subsided, he turned his head to the ribbon of sky visible overhead. Light pollutions rendered the stars invisible. The darkness of the sky, splattered with wispy clouds, greeted him instead. Alfred looked at it for a long time, imagining just how far away and endless it really was.
His energy slowly returned, seeping into his veins and trickling into his bones. Forcing himself to stand, Alfred got on wobbly, throbbing legs, and started the long walk home. He kept his face hidden, trying not to attract another customer.
At home, or what would be home, he slumped down on the bed.
Alex heard him arrive and peeked through the door, her eyes heavy with sleep. He was alone. She pushed the door open and found him there, tears bathing his face and a pillow tucked up to his cheek. She sat next to him and looked at him for some time. She wanted to be a little kid again and hug him, try to comfort him, but there was nothing she could do. His troubles were internal.
He looked up at her and smiled weakly, taking her hand in his. He had washed before finally getting in bed, but his hands never felt clean anymore.
"I promise in a little bit we'll smell the sweet scent of pine trees and not the foul smell of the city. Just wait a little bit more."
I do not own Hetalia
this was inspired by Metallica's Turn the Page.
I've been meaning to write this story for ages, or at least something to do with Alfred being a father. I hope you enjoyed. If you did, I wouldn't mind a review. Don't feel that you have to. (in fact I doubt anyone will even give this story a chance) but if you did, thank you!