“But why does he have to do that?” I asked, my voice high-pitched. I sounded whiny. I hated it. I hated myself for thinking about Yoss with disgust. Because I was disgusted. Sickened. Appalled.
“You really need a wakeup call, Imogen. Kids out here have only a few options. A, we can sell drugs. B, we can sell our bodies. C, we can starve to death and become just another statistic.”
I was shaking so hard my teeth were chattering.
“And Yoss always makes sure to share what he earns. He’s a good guy. Because he gets on his knees, you’ll have something to eat tomorrow, cupcake.”
I was going to throw up.
“Don’t call me cupcake,” I growled. Okay, I was focusing on the wrong thing, but I couldn’t think about Yoss out there—
“I’m gonna be sick,” I gasped.
I covered my mouth with my hand and tried to breathe normally.
That’s where he is tonight. Letting men…do things to him.
I grabbed a bag and vomited the contents of my stomach.
“Gross! Shit, that’s nasty!” Karla squealed, getting to her feet. “Screw this, I’m not hanging out with you if you’re going to puke all over the place. You’d better tell Yoss I was here though. But I’m out. Later.”
When I was sure I wasn’t going to throw up again, I quickly threw out the bag of sick. Then I curled onto my side and replayed Karla’s words over and over again.
A hustler. A commercial. A pro.
Yoss was a prostitute.
And I had been worried that he was selling drugs. I was such a dumbass.
I barely registered the first tears that slid down my cheeks. I soon was lost in miserable, horrible thoughts of Yoss in back alleyways doing awful things with awful men.
I could only assume that Manny was his pimp. That in return for keeping him safe, Manny secured Yoss’s services.
Oh god!
How long had Yoss been…hustling?
Since he was twelve?
I was going to be sick again.
I bent over and heaved until there was nothing left in my stomach.
My heart broke into tiny, bitter pieces.
I curled into a ball and let the tears fall.
Not for me.
Never for me.
They were all for Yoss.
I couldn’t fall asleep until Yoss came back. I kept my back to him as he slipped under the covers beside me.
Like always, he never touched me. We lay side by side, feeling each other’s heat.
I had wondered why he had never tried anything with me. At first because I was scared he would. Then later because I wanted him to.
Now I understood why.
How could he want sex with me when he was selling it to strangers?
Did I want him to touch me now that I knew? Did it change the way I thought of him? I wasn’t sure. I hated that I questioned my feelings at all.
It wasn’t his fault that he was forced to make the choices he had. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the men—Yoss on his knees—dark, secluded places where they wouldn’t be caught.
I bit down on my lip so I wouldn’t cry again.
Yoss scooted closer so that his arm brushed against my back. I expected him to move away like he always did, but this time he stayed. He pressed the length of his arm along the curve of my spine and I kept myself perfectly still, pretending to be asleep.
I knew the second he thought I was awake, he’d move. And I didn’t want him to.
Even after what Karla had told me.
There was something different in the way he smelled tonight.
Like sweat and dirt and tears.
I wanted to look at him, to see if I would find the sight of him less appealing now I had learned his secret.
But I was frightened to. I didn’t want to lose what I felt for Yoss. It was good. It was pure. It was the only light in this dark, horrible world.
I was terrified that if I did feel differently, what that would say about me.
So I stayed on my side and let him take comfort in the barest of touches.
That night, he didn’t hum to go to sleep.
Instead he cried.
Present Day
“Good morning, Mr. Frazier. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Howell asked, checking the monitors and making notes in Yoss’s chart.
That morning I was attending rounds with the doctor for each of my clients. Yoss was first on the list now that he was conscious. He had woken up that morning and stayed awake for the first time since being admitted. Cheyenne, the nurse on duty, said he had even eaten some breakfast.
I kept my back straight and my clipboard pressed to my chest. Yoss glanced in my direction, but there was otherwise no expression on his face.
“Like I got hit by a bus,” he muttered, trying to sit up in bed, wincing when he moved.
Dr. Howell moved to his side and helped him into an upright position. He readjusted the bed so that Yoss was no longer reclining. “I’m sure you do. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.” Dr. Howell looked back at me. “This is Imogen Conner, one of the hospital social workers on staff. She has been assigned your case.”
Yoss snorted, but didn’t respond. Dr. Howell pursed his lips and continued, “Imogen will be the one coordinating your care and services. She can help you find a place to stay. She will also liaise with the local police department in regards to what happened.”