The Client List

Lena sat on the edge of the bed clutching the phone. She felt fine, a bit run down, but that was nothing unusual, she kept strange hours.

She stood up and took a pen and paper from the top drawer of her dressing table. She examined her reflection in the mirror. She looked okay, a bit peaky, but again this was normal for her.

She began her list of names.

Tom. She smiled. Poor old Tom. She saw him yesterday. He had told her his wife was making masks for the grandkids.

“Harry Potter ones,” he said as she helped him onto the bed.

“I love Harry Potter,” Lena had said.

“I’ll see about getting you one,” he said winking and touching his nose.

Lena laughed and clapped her hands, which caused Tom to laugh and then to cough. Lena sat behind him rubbing his back, his skin moving with her palm. Sometimes, she could spend most of his appointment trying to ease his chest.

“Started smoking when I was ten,” he told her and she had tutted, shaking her head.

“Poor Tom,” she said looking at his name on the paper.

She wrote the next name.

John.

She envied John’s life so much. She listened intently to his tales of family life, convinced that in another parallel universe, she is married to someone like him. John loves to cook. Cas, his wife is a terrible cook.

“I have to get Jack to guard the pots if I leave the kitchen. She’ll come in and poison the dish with salt. She’s mad for the salt. We’ll all be dead with heart coronaries if she was let do the cooking,” he told her.

John has a four year old daughter as well as his teenage son. The daughter has cystic fibrosis. John loves his wife and children dearly. When he first came to her, he told her he specifically picked an Eastern European. He thought of them as a cold race. Lena had heard worse about her race.

“I don’t need comfort, I’m not here for false love. I have everything I need at home. Except this,” he said.

Lena had nodded, it was nothing to her.

Each time John left her, she would imagine she was Cas, play out the scene of her trying to do the cooking and the son blocking her, calling for his dad. In her mind, they were always smiling and laughing.

He told her their life’s revolve around their daughter’s illness. Endless hospital visits, physio. He said they had no time for each other, a fact that broke his heart.

His words.

Lena longed for that type of relationship. She longed for a lot she didn’t speak of.

Sitting on the edge of her bed she continued her list.

She wrote Maurice on the page and stopped.

Maurice.

She smiled.

Maurice was in his fifties, but to Lena he was like a child. He was so awkward when he first came to her. He worked in a care home for the elderly. He lived alone, except for his cat. He liked to show Lena photos with each visit.  Lena was not a cat person.

It had taken several visits before Maurice had relaxed with her. He now was her most regular client. She liked him, he didn’t say much, was no trouble. Some of her clients could be mean.

She counted the names on her list. Twenty-seven. She sighed and made her way downstairs.

Oscar looked up from his phone when she walked into the kitchen.

“Food?” he said.

Lena opened the oven and took the meal out she had prepared earlier. She dished up the food looking over at him. His eyes stayed on his phone.

She placed the plate in front of him and sat across from him.

“I tested positive for the virus,” she said.

He put the phone down and picked up his knife and fork.

“You sick?” he said.

“No. A bit run down, but otherwise…” she said.

“Good,” he said shoveling the food into his mouth.

Lena looked away, her stomach turning.

“I have to tell my clients. They said I’m to isolate. Not leave the house.”

“Hah,” Oscar said, spitting food across the table.

Lena looked at him.

“I can’t work. Some of my clients are at risk… their families,” she said.

“Money is money. You work,”

“Oscar please. I have a responsibility. I could infect them.”

Oscar put his knife and fork down. He sat up straight in the chair.

“You work until you can’t work, not up for discussion.”

Lena put her head in her hands.

Oscar banged his fist on the table, making her jump.

“You work, ok?” he said.

Lena’s phone beeped. He took the phone from her, but she saw the message. It was John.

Order for Thursday 27^th?

Oscar texted back.

Yr order will be ready @ 3pm Thurs 27th. Usual pick up place

He threw the phone back at Lena and smirked.

“You work till I say you don’t. Wear a fucking mask if you want, or even better, take it from behind, some will pay more for that,” he laughed then stopped as quickly. He waved her away.

“Get yourself ready, tell the other girls too. I have guys coming over later, empty heads, but pockets full of money.”

Lena stood up.

“It’s going to be a good night,” he said.