Eight The Beginning of the End
eight f
The Beginning of the End
D r. Wendell, a family physician, trained me in every aspect of his practice. I was a quick learner and appreciated the job. We developed a business-friendly relationship, and I looked forward to coming to work. I knew I had no chance for advancement, but I didn’t care. I was earning my own money.
Dr. Wendell was well-connected with medical specialists in the area and often sent me to drop off X-rays and patient files, which is how I met Dr. Bendar, a pediatrician.
Dr. Bendar was handsome; we enjoyed flirting with each other. Flirting was as far as I wanted our relationship to go. My priority was my kids. He had other ideas.
I was relaxing in my apartment one Saturday afternoon when I saw Dr. Bendar walking through my complex. I didn’t exactly live on poverty row, but my home was on the low end of the economic scale. He had no reason to be there except to see me. I waited for a knock. None came.
Two weeks later the knock came. It was a Saturday evening, about seven o’clock. My kids were in bed.
“Dr. Bendar, what are you doing here?”
“Hi, Ava, can I come in?”
“Sure. Have a seat.” I motioned to my one chair.
He ignored the chair and plopped next to me on the couch.
Flashbacks of Tom flooded my mind when I realized he’d been drinking. He draped his arm behind me. I slid away from him. He moved closer. I stood.
“I think you should leave,” I said. “I need to get ready for bed.”
“I’m ready for bed.” Dr. Bendar dragged me into a stifling embrace.
“I didn’t mean with you.” I kept my voice soft.
I may as well have said nothing. He pushed me onto the floor and tore at my clothing. I knew if I struggled or screamed, I’d wake my kids. They’d seen enough horrors in their short lives. The last thing they needed to see was their mother being raped.
I lay there like a dead fish.
“That’s better,” he said, as he pulled down his pants.
As so many women of the time, my mind drifted elsewhere while he did his business. He wasn’t violent. All he left was another emotional scar on my soul.
After Dr. Bendar left, I threw my clothes in the trash and lit a scented candle to remove his stench from my apartment. I soaked in the hottest bathwater I could stand, then watched the water drain from the tub, carrying my tears and his filth into the city sewer.
I thought about buying a gun for protection but knew I could never summon the courage to use it. Instead, when I returned to work on Monday, I told Dr. Wendell what had happened.
“I want to press charges and sue him.” It was time I fought back. “I’ll do what I can to help you,” Dr. Wendell said.
Dr. Wendell kept his word. I filed suit and won. Dr. Bendar lost his position at the hospital, and I was awarded $5,000, a huge sum in the late 1960s. I paid off my debts and bought a “new” used Mustang.
Even with my settlement and child support from Tom, I couldn’t make ends meet. My salvation came from Rose.
“Hey, Ava, did you ever think about dancing?” she asked.
“You know I love to dance. I just don’t get much chance to these days. Why?”
“Tina, my upstairs neighbor, told me they’re looking for go-go dancers at Gentleman’s Delight,” Rose said.
“I don’t know—”
“Tina says you can make thirty to forty dollars a night. The work’s easy, and the bouncers make sure the customers keep their hands off,” Rose said.
“But what about my kids? They’re with a sitter all day. I can’t leave them at night, too.”
“Ava, think about it. One or two nights a week is all. Your kids’ll be in bed before you leave, and you’ll be there for them in the morning.”
I had nothing to lose. I’d have to pay a sitter and buy costumes, but it was a chance to get ahead and give my babies things they lacked.
Tina helped me get started. She lent me a few costumes—complete with fringe and sequins.
Stepping out in front of the customers the first time was beyond frightening. I watched the other girls and mimicked their movements. Before the first song finished, I’d found my rhythm, but I was still a wreck inside.
“You’re a natural, Ava,” Tina said.
“I don’t think I can do this. Some of the customers look like they want to grab me,” I said.
“That’s the whole idea. You’ll learn the business. Give it a couple of weeks. It helps if you have a few drinks before you go on.”
I took Tina’s advice and sipped a weak vodka and orange juice in the dressing room. I made one drink last through my five-hour shift. I figured I’d sweat out the alcohol.
By the time I got home, I was wiped out. Mornings came way too soon.
Dr. Wendell noticed a change in me.
“Are you feeling okay, Ava? You seem tired.”
“I’m okay, Dr. Wendell. I had to take a second job. I’m barely making ends meet.”
“I don’t see how I can pay you more,” he said.
Women made less than men, especially women with only a high school education and no experience. Dr. Wendell was paying me close to minimum wage despite everything I did for him. Dancing could be my chance to make a living wage.
Dr. Wendell thought for a minute. “You’ve been here a year now. I suppose I could give you a twenty-five-cent-an-hour raise. Would that help?”
Ten dollars more a week before taxes? I can earn that in a couple of hours dancing.
“To be honest, I’ve started dancing two nights a week at Gentleman’s Delight,” I confessed.
Dr. Wendell’s face said it all: surprise, confusion, disgust.
“Ava, how could you? You know the type of men who frequent those places. What if one of my patients saw you? I’m sorry, but medicine and dancing don’t go together.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Wendell, but being a medical assistant and being broke don’t go together.”
My heart pounded in my chest. My breathing stopped as I waited for his response.
“Your choice, Ava. Medicine or dancing.”
“Dancing, then. I’m giving you my two-week notice.”
With that, I ended one career and began another.