Then George heard Sadie was miraculously out of jail, so she hurried home to the brothel to see her. On the way, George stopped at the carpenter’s to pick up a dildo she had ordered. She wanted a dildo that was bigger than the penis of any of the men Sadie had been with. She carried it under her arm as though it were a magic wand. She thought of it as belonging to her. As being part of her body.
George loved when Sadie did things to her that a woman might traditionally do to a man. It thrilled her. Sadie came up to her and fastened the ascot around her neck. She felt such a sense of belonging. Another time Sadie leaned forward and used the hem of her sleeve to wipe a chocolate mustache off her top lip. George blushed with delight. Sadie was stepping down off a flight of stairs. She inadvertently put her arm out for George to hold her. And George never wanted to let go.
Whenever they made love, Sadie asked George to put the dildo on. She clearly liked to be penetrated. Once, Sadie requested she get a larger dildo. This was a request that would break the ego of many a man. But George merely had to go down to see the carpenter and have him fix this problem for her. The artisan told George the size she was asking for was far too big. But George told him to go ahead with it.
* * *
George bumped into Marie as she was leaving the building. Marie was confused by this young man. She usually felt her body tense up and become defensive whenever she was in the presence of a man, but she didn’t feel that now. She was looking at a peculiar creature. She knew Sadie might be infatuated with this personality. Whoever they were, she wanted to get this peculiar being out of her way.
George stepped to the right as Marie simultaneously stepped to the left. George moved quickly to her left and Marie stepped to her right. George stepped to her right and Marie stepped to her left. This either went on for a few seconds or it went on for an eternity. And somewhere in an alternate reality, Marie and George were facing off against each other forever.
They both stopped finally and looked up at each other. George stepped to the side and lowered her head like a gentleman and allowed Marie to pass by.
Marie thought she should have reminded the person of how her name was on every sugar bag in the city. And everyone in the whole city was stirring a small scoop of her into their teacup. And they were drinking a little bit of her sweetness. Then she moved past as though George were a pesky, fleeting thought Marie was brushing out of her head.
But George immediately went from being irritated to being devastated. She was seized by loss and disbelief when she saw Sadie step out of the brothel wearing her cloak and carrying a portmanteau in her hand. It was partway open and she could see Sadie had all her writing materials inside. But why? She always knew Sadie came back home to her stacks of writing. Why was she taking her writing material with her? Was she planning to be gone for a day or two?
George couldn’t bring herself to ask, in case the answer was yes. But she didn’t have to because Marie’s footman stepped out of the brothel carrying a trunk filled with Sadie’s books, followed by a twelve-year-old prostitute carrying a box filled with Sadie’s clothes and a stack of Sadie’s hats on her head.
“George, darling. I’m going to go spend some time with Marie. We have so much catching up to do.”
“You’re taking all your things.”
“Yes, of course. But I need a change of scenery. It’s too difficult for me to be here. The police might barge in any day. I can’t go through that again.”
But she could tell by Sadie’s demeanor she wasn’t leaving because she was frightened. She was animated and excited. It was the first time she had seen Sadie giddy and enraptured by someone. She had assumed Sadie was incapable of these types of feelings. But now she knew better, and it broke her heart. She was capable of feeling these things. Just not for her.
“I thought you hated the Golden Mile,” George said timidly.
“I do. I’m not going to the Golden Mile, really. I’m going to Marie’s mansion. It’s a world unto itself. I’ll come see you again soon. I’ll have a new draft of a book we can edit together.”
George winced at this. She wished Sadie had said she would come back to visit or hold her. But she would come back for something self-serving and practical.
“Anyhow,” Sadie said, “if I stay here, I’ll wake up to an army of Marys trying to slit my throat.”
George heard Marie’s peal of laughter from inside the carriage. Obviously this statement had been made for Marie and not her, as George had no idea what it could mean. And then Sadie climbed into the carriage without even looking back at her.
The twelve-year-old was still on top of the carriage fastening the trunks as it began to drive off. Who knows how far it went before she was able to jump off.
George stood outside the brothel for a few moments after Sadie left. She realized it was Marie who had gotten Sadie out of prison, and this meant the two women were in each other’s lives again. She would never be able to compete against Marie’s power and charm. George’s eyes were watery. As though the surface of a very still pool had been disturbed by a single stone.
* * *
George went to her room. She sat on the bed next to the box. She opened the lid of the box and then closed it quickly. She found she couldn’t look at it. Who was she to think she could ever have any use for a dildo that big? It had nothing to do with her. She was ashamed of it. She sat with her sexual organs in a little box. As though she were something you ordered from the store and you were meant to put together on your own.
She wondered whether Sadie preferred Marie because she was more typically a young woman. She loved the way Sadie described the female body in her books. But how did her body fit into this narrative? She did not see herself anywhere in fiction. And she did not see herself in Sadie’s books either. They were a celebration of the female body, but they were not a celebration of hers.
There was a pile of new stockings lying on the floor like a group of condoms discarded after an orgy.
But Marie represented everything about the Golden Mile she hated, George thought with frustration to herself. George and Sadie were a team. Working and writing in the brothel had been what had inspired her novel. Why would she just drop it all? Hadn’t her home been a home to Sadie? Had she, all this time, been regarding this place as a run-down dump? She was just staying here as some sort of lark and experimentation. Until she had an opportunity to go back to the Golden Mile.