Down

What was she doing here in this hot weather? The day was hot and humid, yet going in and out of the subway would have been too expensive. Her chin hit the sidewalk. It happened almost without her realizing it. One minute she was up and the next down on the ground. Her whole body hurt but the chin got the worst of it. She hoped someone in the street full of people would offer to help her up. No one did. She struggled up again as best she could, picking up her purse. She shook her head and on she went. The day was too bright to think about heartlessness. She had to keep going.

Few Minutes

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Somebody Else

She thought; she couldn’t think of anything but that. Was it supposed to end like this, with nothing to show for it, for all the hard work she’d done? Was that called good? Fair? She had asked for help so often from so many people. And they all had said somebody else. Sorry. I can’t do it or I can’t deal with it. She was tired; often she’d fall asleep without realizing it. Something would wake her up; her body felt something like an electric shock and she’d sit up again, pretending to be alert. Her face would put on a smile. She hated it and called it her bright little nowhere thing, her secret lie. But it had to be done. Now she’d somehow have to come up with something. She didn’t know what and she didn’t know where she’d get it. She only understood that her life couldn’t end in defeat. Not for her, not after all the years of harsh struggle and well-travelled, worn out feet.

The Cat

She loved the cat, the first cat she’d ever had. It was a simple rescue story; during a walk she had seen the little one on the street. She was grey and white, her eyes were wide, the tail fluffy. She bought her food and fed her that day and for several days after. One time she didn’t see the cat; she smiled thinking that maybe she’d been adopted by someone working in the hospital across the street or one of the shops nearby. But then, there she was again. She petted the cat as she ate. The cat looked at her and continued eating. “That’s it. You’re coming home with me.” From that day they were inseparable. Her cat was family, the family she could live with. She went through many difficult events in her life. Her cat stayed with her, providing comfort. She couldn’t speak, but her little heart understood that life wasn’t easy for the person taking care of her. One day the cat got sick; she had never been sick before. An appointment was made with the vet. The news wasn’t promising; the vet tried hard and she did as the vet instructed, giving her cat the medication needed. Her cat died. She cried for days and days. The vet sent back the ashes in a small box. “I will never be parted from you,” she told the contents of the box. “Even if this didn’t exist, you’d still be here with me.”

Forever

That memory. She thought about it. Another important day. It had happened long  ago, but it was something that she could never forget. Back then she dressed well, like a fashionable young lady. She smiled when she wondered what that young lady would say if she saw her now, dressed bum-fashion, with the skin on her arms hanging out. She remembered that she had bought that beautiful suit, the medium green wool suit, especially for him. She wanted him to see her radiant and confident. No one knew about the appointment; they probably would have said” Oh no, don’t go.” But she loved him and she had to see him, maybe one last time. The bus was crowded that sunny afternoon in August. No empty seats but her suit did not get wrinkled. The weather was good, not too warm, not chilly. She got off at the corner and she walked up to his place. “I’m here,” she told the secretary when she opened the door. “Right through here,” the secretary said walking ahead of her to the waiting room. Her heart was beating hard; she put her left hand on it to make it stop. Half an hour went by, then an hour. She looked around for something to read, a magazine, a newspaper, anything. She noticed his picture on the wall next to Mother Teresa. Everyone knew he’d go far maybe even become a bishop. He knew she was there. Why wasn’t he coming? Please. Please, she thought. Come.Hurry. I want to see you. We have to talk. At last, there he was, standing by the door. She swallowed hard. She was afraid but she didn’t know why. “Hello.” Her smile tried to be cheerful. “What are you doing here?” “I’ve grown up. I’ve matured.” “Good to know.” He didn’t move from the door. “Well, if that’s how you feel, maybe we can talk?” “No. Not now.” She sighed. Her hands picked up her black leather purse, the expensive designer purse.  She had so wanted to look like class for him. “Fine. Then, I’ll go.” She lowered her head and walked out. The sun outside didn’t feel warm.

50 Cents

Two coins. She heard the sound of money. A young man, maybe 20 or so, looked at her. She looked inside her clear plastic donation container. Quarters—he had dropped 2. 50 cents total. “Thank you,” she said, but her eyes denied the words. That was it—the coins were all she had received after sitting by the curb of the busy avenue all afternoon. The foot traffic, as almost always, was heavy. People with suitcases visiting the city from another state or another country, office workers, businessmen chatting with one another or on their cellphones. Yet to them she did not exist. She was invisible. And then the 50 cents had made their appearance. That was the last straw. Time to quit. Time to go for the day, she thought. It will not get better. Her bag was large but she could carry it. She got up from the crate and walked away. Somewhere, anywhere for an hour or so before going back to her room.

Cheese

One thing she would never forget—the way the plastic wrap of the cheese made noises when she took a pair of scissors and cut it open. She read the words: it said Vermont Seriously sharp Cabot cheese—one of her favorite brands. It was late at night and she needed for the noise to stop. It could bother someone in the room; he’d wake up. Quiet; that was hard to come by. Her mouth took one small bite, then another, a larger one. She felt guilty. How could she enjoy her small snack if the plastic was annoying the man in the room? But she couldn’t deny it—the cheese tasted good. She took a third bite and a fourth. She opened the small drawer by the stove. After the rubber band was around the cheese, she put it in the fridge Her favorite chair, the gray one, was nearby. With a sigh of relief, she closed her eyes. The man was still sleeping. Now tea and a piece of bread, her other guilty pleasure.

Teeth

 She would not open her mouth. She did not want to say anything, not that she had anybody to talk to. There was no one in the room except for her books. Her eyes closed. In her mind she saw green grass somewhere far. Her teeth and her mouth felt tense; she imagined them as prisoners wanting out of her body. Her teeth gritted and her thin lips were full again.  Her left hand touched her face; it went from her jaw to her forehead. Quiet, quiet, her thoughts told her. We want tranquility—you want tranquility– a place with no stress. That was impossible in real life—her real life. Everything had come at once—the phone calls to and from the doctor, the other phone call from someone in another state, his chronic illness—all happened in a matter of 15 minutes or less. It was a lot for her to handle. She needed more time, but there was none. Pretend. She would pretend that everything would be fine, then she’d open the door and maybe her teeth wouldn’t bother her. They wouldn’t shake and she wouldn’t feel like she was 100 years old or more. She didn’t want them to have a life of their own. That was unpleasant—unpleasant and harsh. The doctor’s calls; she’d think about that, about the things she needed to do for herself ASAP. But not now; now she had to open the door, take out the garbage and walk as fast as she could to the nearest bookstore. They were her comfort, the only tool she had within reach. They wouldn’t let anything really bad to happen to her.

Whore

One word—one hated word. She heard it the minute she walked back into the room. The face of the man was red, his voice was loud and harsh. “Why are you calling me that?” she asked. “You know why. Don’t try to play dumb with me.” She didn’t know why; her brain had frozen. Lately she had noticed that he was eating more, but not going out much. The room had become his world, the only world he was prepared to accept. The outside, the rest of the city didn’t exist for him anymore. “Please,” she pleaded. “ You have to take care of yourself. How do you feel?” She didn’t need to ask the last question, just by looking at him, she knew. He looked like a very old man. “Don’t try to distract me. You lied to me.” “What are you talking about? I told you I’d be coming back late because of my doctor’s appointment.”

“It’s after 11. Where were you?” She closed her eyes. It was no use. He wouldn’t believe anything she said. “I’m so sorry you are not well.” She shrugged her shoulders and went to the tiny kitchen. “I’m not done yet,” his voice was louder. She went back to where he was seating. The dirty blue comforter needed washing, but he wasn’t going to do anything about it. She’d have to go to the laundromat and get it cleaned. “Please, please. Try to get some sleep.” There was nothing else for her to say. She was tired; reasoning with him was pointless. She opened the fridge and got him a bottle of water. “It’s still hot. This will make you feel better.” Her legs rushed her to the bathroom and she turned on the shower and closed the door.  

Cage

Go out? Stay inside? Don’t be seen—that would be best. The man has a loud voice. Loud voices are not always pleasant. The cat stood by the door of the cage, in but not quite inside. He watched the man seated  on a thick winter blanket next to the bed. What will the voice do next? What other words will be harsh? The cat didn’t know. He was not taking any chances. A woman’s hand touched the cat’s head. “Go by the window,” the woman said gently. “Hurry up.” The cat looked at her; he didn’t move. The woman petted the cat again. Her smile attempted to be reassuring. “Whenever you want,” she told the cat. Sometime later the man lay down on the blanket and fell asleep. The cat jumped to the bed and reached the window. The woman watched him look out at the few people walking by the block. “I’m glad,” she muttered. “ Better for him to be distracted for a while.”

36 Minutes

Not much time. Not much at all. She used it wisely, as wisely as possible. She got everything that she needed to do. As she left the library, water started to come down—and come down. It wouldn’t stop. There was nowhere to hide except for the outside of the supermarket next door. She stood against the glass windows. She waited and waited. The rain kept coming down. Other people waited with umbrellas near her; she didn’t have one. She’d forgotten it before she left the room. A couple of girls approached her and held their umbrella over her head. “Thank you,” she said. They nodded. One of the girls smiled. “We’re going to the bus stop to get the first bus that comes. Would you like to come?” She nodded and smiled. Her short tee shirt was wet, it stuck to her back. Her black jeans were damp. She couldn’t wait to get somewhere, anywhere, that was safe. “Let’s go,” one of the girls said. They walked 2 blocks to the bus stop. The bus! She was happy. It was a miracle to see it come and stop near the curb. The girls motioned for her to go in first. She sat and shivered until she reached her stop. “Thank you,” she said to the driver as she got off.