Page 532 - A Little Life: A Novel

filled with milk. “I normally don’t get fast food,” the man said, and looked
at him.
He wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you,” he said, and the man nodded.

“Eat,” he said, and he did, and the man sat at the head of the table and
watched him. Normally this would have made him self-conscious, but he
was too hungry to care this time.
When he was finished he sat back and thanked the man again, and the
man nodded again, and there was a silence.
“You’re a prostitute,” the man said, and he flushed, and looked down at
the table, at its shined brown wood.

“Yes,” he admitted.
The man made a little noise, a little snuffle. “How long have you been a
prostitute?” he asked, but he couldn’t answer him and was silent. “Well?”
the man asked. “Two years? Five years? Ten years? Your whole life?” He
was impatient, or almost impatient, but his voice was soft, and he wasn’t
yelling.

“Five years,” he said, and the man made the same small noise again.
“You have a venereal disease,” the man said, “I can smell it on you,” and
he cringed, and bent his head, and nodded.
The man sighed. “Well,” he said, “you’re in luck, because I’m a doctor,
and I happen to have some antibiotics in the house.” He got up and padded
over to one of the cupboards, and came back with an orange plastic bottle,
and took out a pill. “Take this,” he said, and he did. “Finish your milk,” the

man said, and he did, and then the man left the room and he waited until he
came back. “Well?” the man said. “Follow me.”
He did, his legs stringy beneath him, and followed the man to a door
across from the living room, which the man unlocked and held open for
him. He hesitated, and the man made an impatient clucking noise. “Go on,”
he said. “It’s a bedroom,” and he shut his eyes, weary, and then opened

them again. He began preparing himself for the man to be cruel; the quiet
ones always were.
When he reached the doorway, he saw that it led to a basement, and there
was a set of wooden steps, steep like a ladder, that he would have to
descend, and he paused once more, wary, and the man made his strange
insect-like sound again and shoved him, not hard, against the small of his
back, and he stumbled down the stairs.