Page 19 of Rat Park
Dominic stayed silent as Cat went slowly through the streets. She knew most of the women waiting for johns, and the few new ones she greeted kindly and gave her phone number to. Dominic didn’t know if Cat was kind or crazy or a little of both.
It was late by the time they had finished their rounds and given away all their paper bags. Dominic felt like he had been privy to a secret, to small, soft slices of the lives of these women Cat accepted so freely, who trusted her in return.
“Okay, time to head back. You okay with me driving you home?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“All right,” Cat said, and Dominic pointed her in the right direction.
The Latino voice on the radio filled the silence for a while.
“So, how has it been since you got out?” Cat asked. The questions would have confirmed his suspicions of her if she had asked him in the beginning. Now, after seeing the genuine way she interacted with people, he wondered if that was just her personality.
“Fine.”
“That tough, huh?”
Dominic glanced at her. “I said it was fine.”
“I read between the lines,” she said, throwing him a grin. Dominic couldn’t help but snort.
“The world is my oyster,” he drawled sarcastically.
“Damn right it is,” she said. For a second, he almost believed it.
They reached the outside of Dominic’s housing estate in amicable silence.
“See you next week,” Cat said in lieu of goodbye. Dominic let out an amused breath from his nose.
“Yeah. Sure,” he said as he stepped out of the car. “Thanks.”
Cat smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it. Just come next week.”
Dominic looked at her for a moment before nodding and shutting the car door.
He walked towards his apartment, feeling something strange and warm in his chest.
For once, he just let it be.
**********
Dominic programmed Prince’s number into his phone, so he’d know it was him when he called. He’d watch the phone ring, his stomach tight, until it fell silent again. Dominic never answered, but he didn’t change his sim card either. Eventually, the calls died out.
Dominic attended the volunteering program every week.
“You going to therapy?” Cat asked one night.
“No.”
“Something to think about. It’s helped me in the past.”
“Why’d you go?” Dominic couldn’t help but ask.
“Life is tough.”
Dominic couldn’t argue with that.
Even as months passed, and knowing what returning to his old life would mean, Dominic still felt the itch for a score almost every day. He looked for a therapist on his medical plan late one night and made the call the next day. He didn’t think much about it, letting his numbness mask the fear.
