Souvenir - Chapter 3.5
It had been an expensive purchase, but when I passed the New York State Bar Exam on my first attempt—graduating from law school in the top percentile of my class—my father had been proud enough to cover half the cost as a gift.
That might have been the only time he ever felt truly proud of me.
For once, I had earned his approval, and I had been overwhelmed with joy.
I had always been a child desperate for his father’s validation.
Even as a university student, I had been recruited as an intern at a major law firm.
I had saved up a small salary from those years, and when combined with my father’s contribution, it had been enough to buy the car outright.
Many law graduates had to pay off their massive student loans with their first salaries as associates.
But since I had been fortunate enough to avoid debt, I had been able to save.
Tomorrow was my day off—perhaps I would take the time to wash the car properly.
—
I had been so lost in thought about my car and my father that I had completely forgotten about Vera sitting beside me.
I must have had a particularly harsh expression because when I glanced at her, she looked uneasy.
“Um… are you okay?”
“Ah—sorry. I was just thinking about something.”
At a red light, she leaned in slightly, peering up at me.
I caught a glimpse of her pale, slender legs—her short skirt had ridden up, leaving her nearly exposed.
Her skin was eerily white, like it hadn’t seen sunlight in weeks.
Under the dim glow of the streetlights, her legs reflected a faint blue, making her look almost ethereal.
And then there were her eyes—those unforgettable green eyes.
I knew I was attracted to her.
That much was clear.
But I had always hated prostitutes.
Even if I smiled politely on the surface, deep down, I had always looked down on them.
And yet, here I was, with one seated beside me.
Even though there was a subtle desire, I had no real urge to go through with anything.
Alex had dragged me to high-class brothels before, urging me to try the experience, but those encounters had been disappointing.
The women were beautiful, well-groomed, and accommodating, but everything about them was clinical, impersonal.
They listened, they performed, but for someone like me, who was naturally reserved, their detached politeness had only left me bored and dissatisfied.
But with Vera…
This was different.
I didn’t know what this feeling was.
—
“How did you end up in this line of work?”
The question slipped out before I could stop myself.
It was rude—I knew that.
But something about her presence in my car had made me more assertive, more dominant.
I had been feeling frustrated all night, and she was beneath me, so why not ask?
And yet…
I genuinely wanted to know.
“I suppose it just… suited me,” she replied, her voice soft but unwavering. “This is the life I was meant for.”
I clenched the wheel.
So, she had resigned herself to being an object—a tool to satisfy men’s desires.
I couldn’t comprehend it.
“And your daughter? How old is she?”
“She just turned ten last month. She’s a quiet, intelligent girl—I’m lucky she doesn’t cause trouble.”
Her expression brightened when she spoke about her daughter.
But just as quickly, her eyes darkened again.
Why?
“Would you like to see a picture? I’ll show you when we get to the bridge. She’s beautiful—my pride and joy.”
“And her future? What do you plan for her?”
Vera hesitated.
“I’d love for her to go to school, maybe even college… but I don’t have the money. It’s impossible.”
“So you’re homeschooling her?”
“I share a tutor with some of the other women who have kids.”
“I see.”
“I love her more than anything, but every day is just about surviving. I never have time to think about the future.”
—
The apple never falls far from the tree.
A prostitute’s daughter would grow up to be a prostitute, just as I had grown up to be a lawyer, like my father.
Generational cycles repeated themselves.
No matter the social status, the hierarchy, the circumstances, patterns of behavior always carried on to the next generation.