Short Story: Dissociate

Dissociate

A frame of Movie Star light bulbs encircles the pink tinted mirror placed inside the overly crowded dressing room. Marie picks up the paint, her foundation, and plasters it over her face covering every mark and crack. Next she finds the brightest red on the table and smears it where the cheekbones her mother gave her used to stand out like apples. Marie’s face is gaunt and she does not resemble the girl that her mother gave to the world. A black pen marks up her eyes to circle the holes that wish they no longer had the ability to see leering men grabbing at her ass or the bills she can no longer pay. The only thing those eyes can see are the bills she picks up from the ground.

“Marie! You’re on in 10! Remember to pay attention to the man in the Hawaiian shirt dead center. You can only fuck up someone’s birthday so many years in a row. Charlie, a veteran of war and also a veteran customer at The White Rabbit Strip club, always snubs his way out of the bill every time it’s his birthday. He tells the manager that all his friends tell him that the strippers treat him disrespectfully.

Taking the stage, Marie looks out and sees only a field of white fluorescent. In heaven she starts dancing over and seemingly above the stage. Creating an audience before her eyes she dips and twirls for the grade A audience. Alive for a moment until she spots Charlie leering up at her rhinestone and feather covered breasts. Marie’s eyes adjust her back into reality, she is queen and this is her domain. Sauntering slowly to the end of the catwalk Marie bends over to sing “Happy Birthday,” to Charlie. At the close Charlie claps, hands Marie a bill and looks around to see if everyone in the joint could see the amount of attention he was receiving.

After the act, Marie exits the stage to sit beside Charlie as she was told to do earlier in the day by her boss. Charlie always had the most fantastic stories of what it was like Vietnam. He told me about his heroin addiction, his experimentations, and he never forgot to bring up the story from the scar on his left leg.

Turning to the empty chair beside himself, Charlie explains, “They’re strippers, they’re paid to listen to us talk Mark!”

Marie looks at the open chair beside Charlie, “Who’s your friend? I haven’t seen him around here before.”

“You’ve met him before, but this is Mark. We were in war together. He doesn’t like strippers, but he has always had a crush on you.” Charlie smiles and looks between Marie and the empty seat.

Marie gets up from her chair and sits in the one that “Mark” is sitting in. Charlie’s eyes puff out of his face and lips start sputtering saliva.

“What are you doing? Mark does not like lap dances! He’s married, you know.” Mark gasps out.

“Honey, we all believe our fears and dreams to be real. It’s your ability to filter reality from your internal universe that will give you actual happiness.”