Elisa's Lullaby

She tries to pay for everything with pesos. "This is American, Elisa," I always say before the cashier gets angry or confused and asks the two of us to leave his family owned gas station. I tell her not to worry because the place was a wreck anyway. The bathrooms smell like used diapers and rotting flesh, ivory paint chips fall into sandwiches with cheap mayonnaise, and the air is heavy with cigarette smoke and racism. "It's not worth the trouble." I usually rub her back afterwards to make her feel better.

Elisa was cheap, I found her waiting on a street corner with used condoms and birth control in her pockets. That day I gave her money and she grabbed hold of my sweaty hand and pulled me into the supermarket restroom, unzipping my pants and falling onto her raw knees just as the door to the stall slammed closed. I kept pushing her away and she kept shouting something in a different language as she reached for my throbbing member. Elisa ended up hitting her head on the door, her forehead bled for quite some time before I bought her a roll of bandage.

I offered to walk her home but she only talked in Spanish, so I took her hand and led her to my house where she slept on the victorian couch near the cat's litterbox. She didn't seem to mind the smell, but then again, I wouldn't have understood her even if she objected.

"Thank you," her words tumbled out like war with bloodshed and murder and rape. I don't understand any of it, and I didn't understand her. She stared at me for a while and ran her fingers over everything in my house, there was no use telling her to be careful with my things. I asked her where she was from, just to hear myself talk. I even asked her what religion she followed, then figured it probably came out of a brand name cereal box or something of that sort.

Elisa smelled like sex and wet dog hair, I gave her a towel and a bar of soap as I sent her to the shower. To make sure she didn't leave, I sat on the toilet seat and watched her bathe herself like the shameless man I was. When she was finished I gave her a shirt that she nearly swam in and offered her everything I had, food, money, drugs. But nothing satisfied her, she probably thought that I wanted sex in return for everything I had done for her.

In fact, while I slept that night she climbed into my bed and rubbed her naked body against my back hair. I ignored her and tried to go back to sleep but her grinding and moaning kept me awake for several hours until I couldn't stand it anymore. "Stop! Stop doing that and go back to the living room!" I shouted.

"But, I am au naturel," she said with faults in her words.

I slapped my forehead and groaned, "You've got to be fucking kidding."

Her pimp found her the next week and he beat me senseless and took Elisa away while she screamed my name, flailing and kicking. I begged him to let her go but there was so much blood boiling in my mouth and I stained the antique carpet my grandmother made me and I clawed across the floor, trying to chase after him but I was so weak. Each time she broke away he would punch her across the face and I swear I even heard the bones in her nose start to crumble, she kept fighting to get away though.

I screamed and I cried and I bled for hours even after she was gone. My neighbors called the entire sheriff department to my house to find out what was going on and a stew of words bubbled and fell from my bloody mouth. "He took her and he beat her and he beat me like we were animals! But all we are is human! He took Elisa and he's going to treat her like she's nothing but she's everything to me!"

One sheriff—a pretty lady with thick eyebrows—held my hand and cooed to me like she was my mother. She stroked my hand and gently pried the story from me without making me nervous, then she broke my heart when her deep voice silenced everyone in the house. "There are a lot of pimps out here, it's hard to catch them all. It's even more difficult to find the ladies that they profit from, I'm sorry."

The whole world stopped and I realized that never again would I see that beautiful girl who sung Spanish lullabies and always had a smile on her face no matter what happened. I thanked the officers and after they left I ran around town looking for Elisa. Under every ditch and down the deepest snake holes that I could find, I searched in clubs and bars until I found her healing in a homeless shelter. She hugged me and kissed me, bourbon tasted sweet on my swollen lips.

"I am glad you found me." And I understood every word of it.