topic: GOSSIP medium: TEXT
The next morning when I wake up, Mario is outside my room smoking.
He starts telling me all about this girl who spent the night.
He didn’t really want her, but he was feeling especially lonely.
When Kia,the girl, asked him, “Do you want me to go out on the street?”, he relented and invited her in.
He should have told her yes, but he didn’t have the heart. He was selfish and wanted to be held, possibly even loved, if only for the night.
In the morning, she fixed herself up and he gave her 3000 pesos.
Kia went home to her 3 year old son.
Mario told me these things sin vergüenza, without shame.
He told me he was falling in love with this hooker from Santo Domingo.
He hadn’t been the first.
Before him, Kia used to have an American, Dave from Wisconsin.
Dave would send her $500 a month, every month, and visit her every 8 weeks.
This went on for 2 years and 2 months.
Eventually, the money started coming every other month and the phone calls became less frequent.
One day it all just stopped and Kia was left out to dry.
She got dressed up, put on her best broken down high heels and went looking for a new John.
She met Mario.
52.
Single, lonely and desperate to be found youthful and attractive.
They met at a discoteca.
Now he was addicted and has been funding her for the past year.
He told me that a friend of his from LA had recently moved down to the DR.
He had hated LA.
Hated the freeways and the people and his life and himself.
He left it all behind.
Sold most of what he owned, packed up the rest and shipped his ass to the Caribbean.
Now he was here, living in a house on the beach in Cabaret with a new lady.
And he hated it.
He hated the Dominicans.
He thought they were stupid pieces of shit.
He hated the roads.
He had to commute 30,000km a year back and forth to a job he couldn’t stand.
“So, you see,” Mario said, “We can run, but we can never really escape ourselves.”
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