text: She hadn’t even looked at the man who’d grabbed her hand, twirling her away from her last partner. The bar on the south side of Staten Island wasn’t a place she wanted to be. But her shy, dear brother had begged her to come home for the weekend and go bar hopping with him, and she’d reluctantly agreed, to arrive Saturday, explaining she had some work to do for her Middle English seminar. She'd assumed they’d just sit around and watch the action. When he picked her up and the ferry terminal, she’d tried to get Tony to tell her why he wanted to come to this place, but the best she could get out of him was a mumbled sentence about needing to get out of the house--their parents’ small cape cod in a row of similar little houses. He'd asked why she was wearing such a casual outfit, and puzzled, she'd explained that casual was normal at bars. She'd asked, "What did you think I'd be wearing?" "I thought a fancy dress, something cute...pretty. I put on a jacket, and you know how I hate ties?" Impatient with losing a night when she should be studying, she'd reached over and untied his tie, saying, "Trust me, kiddo. I've been to these places and now we look okay, unless Staten Island is so far behind the times." A few years ago, when her parents decided to move from the South Bronx because the small inheritance from her grandmother made it finally possible for them to buy a house, she’d been in her last year at Hunter College in Manhattan and had no choice but to move with them. Just turned eighteen, she was too young to do anything else. However, the moment she’d graduated, and won a small stipend to enter the graduate program and be a research assistant to a professor, she’d moved to Manhattan, to a hotel of choice for her fellow grad students. It was a short subway ride to the school, and even better easy to walk from there to the main branch of the New York Public Library, where they could research and write in peace and quiet. Her family was appalled at her decision. But they really had no choice. She’d always done things her way, and her being skipped ahead twice, her academic bent and strong arguments always won them over. They’d relaxed because she did spend many a weekend in her old attic room, especially late in the month when her money ran too low for any fun or, sometimes, food. The choice of Staten Island had made some kind of sense for her family. Her dad, a printer, worked down on Varick Street in Manhattan and it would be an easier commute for him than Long Island, the only other option in their price range. It also would be a way to get her much younger, surprise change of life twin brothers into a safer area and a better school given how the Bronx had changed, with the Italians and Jews moving to the suburbs thanks to the GI Bill, only to be replaced by new immigrants in the now decrepit tenements of the South Bronx. So here she was doing some kind of dance in a bar on Staten Island. As the dance ended, the man she’d been dancing with asked for her name and phone number. She smiled, saying that her boyfriend wouldn’t like that and quickly went back to the table where Tony sat, nursing a beer. "Tony, we're leaving. Now.” Tony said, “Are you sure...you’ve had a lot of guys ask you to dance, Barb.” She gave him a dirty look and started walking toward the door, knowing he’d follow. He did and quickly opened the car door for her then came around and got in, looking very unhappy. She grabbed the keys as he reached to turn on the engine, and said, in her most steely voice, “Okay, kiddo. What was this all about? We’re not moving till you look me in the eyes and tell me.” He slumped down, breathing hard, and said, “It’s Mom.” “And what does that mean?” "She wants you to meet somebody and stop with this--and it’s her word-- “nonsense.” You know, moving out, spending time in grad school when she thinks you need to become a schoolteacher and find someone, and again her words-- “settle down.” I was so furious I commanded Tony, “Drive me back to my place now. If I see her, I’ll explode.” “No, it’s late and you need to talk to her. I’m tired Barb, tired of everything, especially my job. I can’t deal with all this,” and the tears running down his cheeks undid me. I’d always been protective of him, the baby brother I’d originally told mom to bring back to the hospital because I had asked for a sister. But someone whose smile and dimples, and hugs I’d come to adore. “Okay, I’ll stick with her plans for the night, but not this place. There are all sorts of these places out here.” He looked at me, almost frightened, and asked what I was going to do. I said, through gritted teeth,“ I’m going to get mom off this insane notion. Come on. Trust me.” “Barb, please, whenever you say that, it’s trouble in the making.” “Onward, Tony.” He started the car as I studied the places we were cruising past. I finally saw a place that looked promising and told Tony to pull in but to park at the far edge of the parking lot, and then to stand outside the car for a few minutes. I quickly got to work, adding enough makeup to have cat’s eyes and pouty lips, then I proceeded to squirm out of my bra, tear the back of the tee shirt I was wearing so I could knot it in back, exposing a lot of midriff in front. The final touch was to ruthlessly tear a few inches off the bottom of my denim skirt. Not too much because my thighs were a bit chunky. But my boobs were a solid double D and firm enough to scream sexy when going braless. I was ready, but when I emerged Tony blinked a few times, then muttered, “Who are...?” then moaning, “Barb, what the hell???” “We’re going in, now,” I said. I’d seen the sign saying, “Dancers needed.” Tony, concentrating on driving, hadn’t noticed it. When we walked in, I quickly found a table and left Tony there explaining I needed the lady's room. Instead, I walked over to the bar and asked where the manager was. What I thought was a bartender looked me over and said, “You saw the sign. Looking for a job?” I said, “Dancer.” He looked me over, then asked, “Floor or cage.” One of my friends at grad school was a go-go girl in a cage in Manhattan to earn money. I’d gone with a group of my pals to see her, and it looked like fun, which was what gave me the idea to do this. “Cage,” I said, and he looked me over and said, “Those boobs make you worth a try. No promises, though.” “A try-out? I keep what they give me?” “Sure,” he said, leading me backstage. I got in the gilded cage, and tried not to throw-up as he raised it, swung it around, and turned it to hover a few feet above the dance floor. Then the music started, and a colored light was shining on me. I wasn’t a great dancer but could wiggle and wave my arms around to the music--boobs bouncing and, as Maria had done when we went to see her gig, leaning over every few minutes to let the boobs jiggle. Having hands reach in and touch me as money came in--into my shirt, panties, and sometimes landing on the floor of the cage interested me at first, then boredom set in, and I let my mind drift to the paper I was writing on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. I must have zoned out and didn’t even realize how long I’d been going, when the lights went out and the cage rose up and took me backstage. The manager was standing there, grinning, then said, “Time to see what you raked in.” I plucked money from my clothes and picked up what was on the floor of the cage. I was sore all over, so I asked him how long I’d danced. He gave me a chair and laughing said, “An hour. Time to count. If it’s enough for you after the house gets fifteen percent, you’ve got the job.” I’d earned sixty-nine dollars. But it absolutely was not what I wanted to do with my life, or even a couple of times a week--but it would be useful for the coming argument with my mother. “Not bad,” I said to the manager, saying I’d let him know in a day or two. He gave me his card and said I'd be on three times an evening, if I wanted it. I smiled and thanked him and went out to find Tony. He was at the table where I’d left him, in deep conversation with some guy, a pretty good looking one. Interrupting, I said, “Hey there brother mine, I’m exhausted. Can we go now or? The man handed him a card and said, “Call me.” As I got in the car, I asked what that was about. He lit up, and to my utter surprise, said, “He’s a Marine recruiter.” “Tell me you aren’t thinking about...” “I am. I hate running a press. Hate it so much. Dad got me into the union, so he'll be disappointed, but not as upset as when I refused to go to college. Somehow, sister mine, I feel strong enough to push out of the nest. Watching you all these years doing what you believed in, protest marches, sit-ins must have rubbed off on me. I don’t know how you plan to handle Mom, but knowing you, when she blows up, I can jump in and distract her.” I reached over and kissed his cheek, so pleased and proud. When we arrived at the house, late as it was, the living room lights were on. And, of course, Mom was at the door to welcome us. She took one look at me and quickly backed away. Shaking her head, she shrieked, “What the hell are you wearing.” “Oh, I found a job. Pays well.” “What, as a hooker?” “No, as a go-go dancer.” “What did you just say?”, she demanded. “Dancer in a bar, in a cage. The men loved it, and it pays a lot.” “Tony, she’s just kidding, right?” “No Mom. She’s good. Made quite a lot.” “I don’t care, no daughter of mine...” Mom’s voice had woken Dad who came out demanding to know what was going on. By the time Mom finished, Dad, who knew me far better than she did, had winked at me and was trying not to laugh. He coughed to get her attention, and said, “Look, Barb, I can help you out a bit with money, but you’re not going to do this. It’s back to school. And don’t say a word.” Mom seemed to be relieved, asking if we’d had fun,” looking at Tony. Tony, exhibiting an unusual for him amount of bravery, said, “I met this guy, he’s really interesting...” I jumped in and said, to stir the waters a bit, “And awfully cute. You two seemed to really hit it off.” The looks my parents shared almost cracked me up. I winked at Tony and ran up the stairs to my room. I figured that Tony finally had the courage to handle them. The noise from downstairs was loud, but I was so tired from all the dancing, I fell asleep. Progress had been made. The poor dears had no idea how the boredom I had always felt when with them had turned me into an adventurous soul. After all, to me, the right way to raise kids is to teach them, like our feathered friends did with their offspring, to fly free. It makes me wonder what the two little birds still in their nest will do. Well, maybe, being raised in Staten Island, staying in the nest won't trouble them. Sad.