Marcus Is Drowning: Pt. 2

CW: Suicide

Him: A friend of mine was throwing a bachelor party here, so I came and paid for all of his dances, something like $2,500 at the time, but I didn’t start coming regularly until 2013, I think.

Me: What happened in 2013?

Him: Good question. Well… I’d been working my way up at Viacom for the last decade. I thought I was going to retire there, and then suddenly they decided to get rid of my department. We all lost our jobs and got shuffled to subsidiaries. I ended up at Focus Features. At Viacom, everyone knew me. I could walk into any room and they would know, “Oh, that’s Marcus.” I worked hard for years building all of those connections, and then suddenly I was in a place where not only did nobody know me, but they didn’t care.

Me: It’s hard starting new after working so hard to build a reputation somewhere.

Him: People would look at what I was making and think I was making a lot of money, but that’s not how it works. When they switched me over, they only agreed to take me on as a contractor, so I took a paycut, and a raise freeze. And I got the job through a friend, so I’m paying a portion of every paycheck back to him. It’s kinda like you guys, how the club takes a percentage.

Me: That’s not fair.

Him: It’s not. On top of that, all of this happened right before Katie started college. So I started going to the club, just to get away. That’s when I met Hannah. At first it was once or twice a week, but then it became three or four nights a week. I was coming up with all kinds of excuses for why I was coming home late. It was traffic or I had to stay overnight working on a project. In a way, it was good for Carol because she started making friends and going out more. She still asks me if it’s okay to go out, and I always say, “Of course!” I’m not the kind of person who needs my wife to tell me everywhere she goes. I want her to have her own life!

Me: It sounds like that’s how she was raised.

He started prickling up again.

Me: Not in a bad way, it’s just the example she saw. We all learn how to be in relationships from our parents. It sounds like her parents were very traditional that way. It sounds like asking her husband’s permission is one of those languages of respect for her.

Him: It’s not something I wanted or asked for.

Me: Yeah, of course. I mean, my parents always taught me that wives must defer to their husbands, like the husband is the head of the household, or whatever. Anyway, then what happened?

Him: I couldn’t stop myself. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I didn’t want to stop. It’s gonna sound cliche, but after Katie left, I didn’t know what I was doing. I was a parent for so long, and I gave up everything to be a father. When they were both gone, I didn’t know what to do with myself. It sounds silly.

Me: It doesn’t. You experienced a lot of major life changes all at once. It makes sense that you would need an escape. What happened with Hannah?

Him: She switched to working at 4Play, and I don’t like 4Play.

Me: Neither do I.

Him: Why is that?

Me: They engage in a lot of predatory practices. Like, for example: for every VIP set, which costs around $200, they take half, and then on top of that they expect you to tip the DJ and the bar $20 each per VIP you get.

Him: That’s criminal.

Me: Exactly! They take 70% of your earnings.

Him: That’s even worse than I thought. I don’t like their dance areas because none of them are really private and they’re so strict about no touching.

Me: Yep.

Him: I continued going to see her there until after a while I think she quit dancing. She said something about not wanting to still be dancing once she hit twenty-seven. Then after that I started coming back here and I met Valerie and started seeing her, until, well you know.

Me: You found her personal Insta after she gave you her dog’s handle?

Him: She got so angry, and it was never my intention to violate her trust. I feel so bad. If I could take it back, I would. It was that, and well, I always understood the one rule with strippers is that there’s no kissing. Hannah was always firm about that one, and I understood why. But then Valerie and I kissed, and it felt like it was because she wanted to. It didn’t feel like it was because she felt like she had to or anything. But I should have known better.

I wondered about the kiss. What had happened? Was it just a kiss, or was it more? Did she kiss him because she knew he wanted it so badly? Did she kiss him because she wanted to? Did she kiss him because she felt she had to to maintain the relationship? I kiss clients sometimes, if I want to or if I’m paid enough. Most of the time it’s unpleasant. Some affection starved dad hasn’t been touched in years, and he wants to feel wanted again. There are a handful of other occasions I’ve managed to dance with a hot man I wanted to kiss.

Me: It’s kinda obvious that if you share your dog’s account, people will be able to find your account. I get wanting to maintain her privacy, but that’s a bit unrealistic.

Him: I understand her being protective. I just wish she’d told me before all of this. I mean, she knows me. We’ve done so much together. She knows I would never intentionally hurt her.

Me: I’m sorry.

Him: It’s okay!

His lips smiled in spite of the frown in his eyes.

Him: What else?

Me: Hmm… You started coming here in 2013 after your company abandoned your department and your daughter left for college…

I was searching for what my next question would be. I knew there was more I was missing, but I couldn’t quite figure out what that missing piece was.

Me: So, it was like you lost all that you had spent a decade working for, and suddenly you were nobody, and on top of that you also lost the other primary part of your identity when Katie left and you didn’t have to be a dad anymore. That must have been a confusing time.

Him: I hadn’t thought of it like that, but yes. It was. I felt like-- like such a failure. I started thinking about getting away from it all.

Suddenly everything clicked.

Me: What do you mean, “get away from it all”?

Him: What do you think I mean?

He responded evasively.

Me: Do you have a plan?

Him: I don’t have any plans anymore.

Me: I mean, do you have a plan for how you would “get away from it all”?

He looked at me, almost bashful.

Him: I do. After I get everything in order so that my wife and daughters are taken care of, I’d take a trip somewhere far, to a lake. I’ve never been a good swimmer, so I wouldn’t be able to change my mind at the last second. The one thing I never wanted was for my family to find me. I feel like that’s the worst thing, killing yourself in a place where your family has to find you and live with that image. I just want to disappear so nobody has to worry about me anymore. I don’t want to burden my family anymore.

I watched tears welling in his eyes as his hands whipped up to swipe them away before I could see, but I saw.

Me: Have you told anybody else?

Him: No. You’re the only one.

I didn’t know what to do, or where my place was in this confession. It’s not the first time I’ve been the lifeline for someone planning to commit suicide. I felt the familiar iciness of dread creeping through my veins. It wasn’t like I could rationalize with him. I’d spent a year on call with my sister. They were approaching graduation after four tumultuous years characterized by sexual assault; systemic failures to address the problem; and alcohol abuse to soften the insuing alienation. I didn’t know where to be or how to be, and I was across the world, in Brazil while they were in Rhode Island. I wanted to support them, and I knew I had to, but it took everything. I felt helpless. My sister would apologize for burdening me, but feeling like a burden was part of why they felt dying would make life easier for everyone-- except that that’s not how it works. I was terrified of losing my sister. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing them, because they are truly my only immediate family. We could never depend on our parents. We survived the abuse together, and there is nobody in the whole world who will ever understand me like they do. If they died, part of me would die too.

Aside from assisted suicide in the case of terminally ill people, suicide is the kind of death you can’t rationalize away.

Why didn’t he tell me anything? How was I so blind to the signs? How long was he suffering? Why wasn’t I there for him? How did I fail him? What could I have done?

You don’t get answers, you just get endless time to speculate and imagine every possible reason you failed to be there. Even with a note, there’s no closure. In spite of the pain and powerlessness I felt with my sister, I would do it again without hesitation. My sister is alive, thankfully. My cousin is alive, thankfully. There’s no way to disappear when people love you. It’s hard for me to remember sometimes that being suicidal isn’t selfish. It’s mental illness that needs treatment. There are professionals with tools and strategies to help. But, I’m not that kind of professional.

Me: You need to tell someone.

Him: I told you!

He said with an offhand laugh.

Me: I’m not a professional.

Him: I know… It’s okay. I’ll be fine.

Me: No, you’re not. You just told me you had a plan to kill yourself. That is not okay. Okay people don’t have suicide plans.

Him: I shouldn’t have told you. I knew you’d overreact. It’s nothing, really!

Me: You’re crying. It’s not nothing.

Him: I hoped you wouldn’t see. I won’t bring it up again.

The bouncer knocked on our door. Marcus plastered a broad smile on his face and hopped up, gathering his things. It was disturbingly familiar, like seeing myself. I remembered my mother slapping me across the face an hour before I was set to perform my first major role on stage in middle school, how I’d swallowed the lump in my throat and put on my costume repeating, “I’m fine. It’s nothing.” over and over again internally, only to walk on stage and realize I couldn’t recall a single word.

Me: You don’t have to smile like that. You don’t have to pretend.

Him: Really, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.

Me: I know I can’t control you.

It’s one of those phrases I have to repeat as an empath. I can’t control anyone. I can’t make Dale save his money instead of blowing his retirement fund and disability settlement on lottery tickets and sex work. I can’t stop Danny from wasting other sex workers’ time to get off. And I can’t make Marcus get the help he truly needs. I can’t make Marcus tell his wife and daughters. I felt winded by the mental gymnastics we were both performing.

Marcus looked at me and noticed my weariness.

Him: Oh, no don’t get sad. Don’t let me ruin your night.

He rubbed my arm in a fatherly way. We walked downstairs and he took a seat in the back. I tailed him, because even though I knew I had my limits, I wasn’t done with him.

Me: Promise you’re going to talk to someone.

He grins at me like an uncle playing a practical joke as he shakes his head.

Him: Maybe.

Me: You need to tell someone who isn’t me. I can’t be the only one who knows.

He didn’t respond.

Me: Marcus. Promise me.

Him: Now, don’t you worry about me! I’m gonna hang around for a while. Go hustle, girlie.

At that point, I was over it. I didn’t appreciate his inadvertent condescension. He’d flipped from treating me as his equal and a witness to one of his darkest hours, to a misguided attempt at parenting me, a stranger. He decided decided denial was the best cure for my concern.

Was I okay? It’s a hard question to answer as a person with an almost inhuman ability to compartmentalize my emotions. I knew I would be able to not only function through the rest of my shift, but that I would leave the club with more money than 95% of my coworkers. I’m good at my job, even when I’m dying inside. In retrospect, much like Marcus, I was not okay, but I was fully functional, and spent the remainder of that night getting dances in spite of everything, until Marcus pulled me aside.

Him: Can I have you for one last dance?

I think we both needed some closure. I decided it would be the last dance before going home. He spooned me, trying to keep me warm. He kissed my head like a father, and my neck like a lover. I didn’t know which one he wanted to be, and I don’t think he knew either.

Him: Sometimes I wonder… You, Hannah, and Valerie are all a little younger than my daughters. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me, to be like this with you all.

Me: Maybe you like us because we’re the age you were when you decided to settle down? Maybe we speak to that younger piece of you.

Him: Maybe, but I don’t think it’s that.

I wondered too.