The Life of a Working Girl
It's early spring. Not quite warm enough to be outside without a jacket, but warm enough that no one could stand to stay in the cramped tenement.
"So what is it, Sarah? Another guy?" Jack asks, leaning against the railing, trying to sound calmer than he feels.
"I told you, Jack." She sounds hurt, and gives him this look like she can't decide if she'd rather kiss him or kick him off the fire escape. She doesn't do either, just walks over to stand next to him, turns away from him, and stares out at the city. "I told you," she repeats. "It's just my job."
"It ain't just a job," he insists, putting a hand on her shoulder. She pulls away from him. "You used ta have just a job, an' you used to have time for me."
"I still do," she says flatly.
"The hell you do." He finds a cigarette in his pocket and lights it, knowing that if nothing else, this will make her look at him. And she does, in disgust, and plucks the cigarette from his hand. She drops it and crushes it under her foot.
"I hate it when you smoke," she says. "You know you got David started? And Les–Les wants to be you, Jack. You need to be more responsible."
"Don' you dare talk to me about responsible, Sarah, not when it comes to Les. I see him more than you do, an' you're his sister, Christ's sake."
"And don't curse at me, Jack!" she ads, and turns away from him again. "You think I don't know what I'm missing? I missed his birthday yesterday."
"I know you did. I was there, remember? He wanted to wait up for you to get home, but Mama wouldn't–"
"She's not your mother, Jack, she's mine, don't call her that."
"She told me to."
"She shouldn't have."
"Yeah, well, she did."
They don't say anything for another minute.
"So when are you finishing with this… project?" he asks.
"End of next week." She pulls the hair out of her eyes. "Mister Addison says that I'm doing a good job; he wants me for his next project, too."
"So you gonna take him up on it?" he asks, trying not to sound desperate.
"Do I have a choice? Papa still isn't working, someone needs to pay the rent. It pays so much better than the sewing did…"
"David an' I take care of you, don't we?" he asks, turning to face her. He dares to put a hand over hers, and this time she doesn't pull away.
"It's not enough to feed five people–six with you–and rent and everything else."
"I take care of myself," he reminds her. "Your family doesn't need to."
"Jack," she sighs, "you practically live here now." Her voice breaks suddenly, like she's going to cry. "And it has… It's got nothing to do with me."
"Whaddaya talking about, Sarah?" he asks, concerned. She's brought this up before, and he doesn't understand.
"I can't be what you need me to, Jack," she murmurs. "You don't love me, you never have."
"What?" he asks again. "Of course I do, Sarah. I love you–I've loved you for months now. I'm crazy about you. If I wasn't, why would I…" He trials off. "Why would I care so much that you ain't never around no more?"
"You don't love me," she insists. "You love my family."
"Yeah," he agrees. "Your parents are great, your brothers–I mean, David's my best friend, an' Les is like a little brother."
"I know," she says. "I know, and I–Jack, you don't want a girlfriend, you want a mother." She reaches up and brushes the hair out of his eyes for him, and the light catches his locks. She smiles faintly; she loves his hair. The light catches her eyes, and he can see that she's trying not to cry.
"What're you talking about?" he asks again, confused.
"You want a family."
"Sure, someday."
"No, not… I don't mean you want to have kids, Jack. I mean, you want a mother and a father–you want people who love you, who'll take care of you."
"I don't understand what you're saying."
"It's just… You love me, but you aren't in love with me. You're a part of our family. That's all you want from me. You want to call my mother Mama, and for her to knit you a sweater when she finishes David's. You want what you didn't have growing up, Jack. You want them. You don't want me. I'm just… Convenient."
"That ain't true, Sarah," he says. "I love you–an' all this time, you never once said you love me."
She swallows hard. "What's the point?" she asks.
"You don't love me, do you." It's not even a question; he knows the answer.
"I wish I did, Jack. I used to… It was so exciting, last summer, back when I thought you stayed in New York to be with me… But you didn't, did you?"
"I stayed for a lot of reasons."
"I wasn't one of them."
"Of course you was!" he insists. He doesn't know why she's being like this. "Sarah Jacobs, I love you, an' I can't–I don't understand why you don't see that. Why you're always avoiding me. Like with work. You don't need to spend all those hours at work."
"We really do need the money."
"But not that bad." He sighs. "I just don't understand, Sarah. I do everything I can for you. I treat you real nice, I take you out whenever I can afford to, you know if I had the money to buy you nice things I would. What do I have to do to show you?"
"There's nothing you can do. It's just the way things are." She swallows hard, still trying not to cry. "I wish they were different, but they're not."
"Are you leaving me, Sarah?" he asks. He's been waiting for it for weeks now, ever since she started working so much he never saw her anymore. He looks over at her, and she looks back. They look each other in the eye.
She stares as deep into his eyes as she can, trying to figure out what's behind them. Maybe she's wrong; maybe he does love her. But maybe she's right, and some day he'll realize he doesn't love her and he'll just disappear. He'll break her heart, and her family's. Better not to risk it; better to end things now.
But he looks so sincere…
She'd really planned to end things that night, but staring into his eyes, her will crumbles. "No, Jack," she whispers. "I ain't leaving you."
He embraces her then, grateful to still be in her life; grateful to still be in her family. "I love you, Sarah," he promises.
"I love you too, Jack." She says it, she tries to believe it. Maybe someday, if she believes hard enough, it'll be true. Maybe someday they'll love each other enough to make things work, maybe he'll take her away from all of this, and they'll live happily ever after…
But for now, it's just early spring, and not warm enough to be outside without a jacket. She shivers. They head inside, into the apartment crowded by what remains, for now, at least, a six-person family.
[inspired by lyrics]
The Life Of A Working Girl
(By Sloan, off the album Pretty Together)
All the resumes were splendid
But she's the one they recommended
For the job but starting late in life
Means she can't celebrate
She hasn't time or energy
To spend on friends and family
She's got some catching up to do
And precious hours are few
Oh the life of a working girl
I used to see her all the time
She's young at heart but no teenager
Early thirties I would wager
I came along a little later
So I can merely carbon date her
Age, she's not keen to
It's a trap, I a door
In the stage, she can go through
Until the encore
Now she's the one who gives belated
Birthday wishes devastated
She forgot it on the day
But this is not a job that pays her
By the hour so she'll be set
Before the sun so she forgets
These things like light upon her face
Who'll spring her from this place
Oh the life of a working girl
I used to see her all the time
Oh the life of a working girl
I used to see her all the time
Now someone's had a few successes
Who, I'll give you twenty guesses
Take some credit just admit it
Everybody knows you did it
It's not that I'm not happy for her
But it's not easy to adore her
From afar, does she get lonely
Like I do, if I could only see her all the time
Used to see her all the time
Oh the life of a working girl
I used to see her all the time