I was just looking for weed. I want to smoke, it will make me less frustrated and more excited to dance.
How hard can it be? I can just ask people. It will be ten minutes before I get to Market Street. I’m going dancing. Who knows who I will meet tonight or what will happen. In my head everyone is smiling and jumping. It seriously can’t go badly, I just need some trees or a cigarette (more of an and) and I’m good to go.
I’m shivering now. It s a little chilly in the city at night and its December.
I’m almost to Market. There is a huddle of people near the station wall and lights from the bank behind it.
I walk past and make eye contact. “Do you know anyone who has trees?” I smile.
Mostly negative, five or so say, there’s one guy eager to help. He goes and asks a friend coming up the street.
“No, but I have a friend if you don’t mind walking with me.”
“Oh, sure. That’s fine, I don’t want you to go out of your way.”
“No, its no trouble. I have a friend, he’s usually over here. But, maybe he moved for the night. I usually know where he’s at.”
“Ok, thanks for walking me.” I’m a little quiet. I can’t quite see myself not having a place to be found in. I’d probably wouldn’t be in the financial district. But I can see that they are able to take care of each other this way.
He’s still talking about where his friend might be, his name is Richard, by the way. I chatter a response, it’s really chilly.
We are stopped at the street sign, I let him walk ahead into a group that is in the shadows.
His friend has already gone to sleep. But, we can walk to 7th and he thinks he knows someone.
I’m going that way anyways. I’d rather not walk alone. I am wearing a short skirt, but I don’t look like I’m going clubbing really. Grey leather jacket and Toms, talking to a guy towing his luggage.
I almost laugh. But, it is really nice to talk to him.
He’s having a hard time getting his suitcase up the curb. Its heavy and awkward, I go to help but he already has it.
He’s telling me that he would have left it back there. But earlier he had someone watch his stuff and didn’t get it back.
“I’m a little upset about it. But, what can I do. And, it wasn’t that much, it was just a little lotion, a toothbrush and a razor. Just things that help you keep sanitary.”
I’m all for stopping at the next Walgreens. His hands are cracked and they look painful to me. He looks pretty good otherwise. His clothes are worn in, but not dirty. I’m not sure how many sweatshirts he is wearing.
He’s telling me about his friend now. He says I remind him of her. Once when he was really down on his feet bad, on really bad shit, that girl, she got him out of the gutter. She dragged him to safety even though her man was yelling at her and telling her not to help him. Thats why he wanted to walk with me tonight. He was about to get some rest, he’s been out on his feet most of the day since he woke up.
I apologize. I didn’t mean to disrupt his rest.
Oh, no its fine. It’s really no trouble. He just want to help and is glad to have met me.
I’m glad he’s walking with me. I wouldn’t worry about anyone bothering me. But, when you are alone. People you don’t want to talk to always seem to be there.
I don’t like walking by myself in the tenderloin.
He’s been asking people we walk past. There is a large group and someone can take care of me.
He’s saying that I’ll be real pleased and he counts out some nugs for me. I slip him some cash and we keep walking.
Now we are walking to my destination, a few blocks away. We’ll stop for some lotion first.
Richard is telling me about a recent holiday. He’s a little choked up.
He went to his place of worship to give penitence and respect. The priest pulled him aside. He told me how humiliating it is to be judged by what you are wearing. He just wanted to give his thanks to the Lord, he’s not dead and he is getting his life together.
I am sad for him, that the experience happened.
“I think that his reaction is wrong, but it happens a lot. People look at you and they don’t see you for who are and who you want to be or what type of person you are. They see what you look like and even if they don’t want to, they react.
The church and religion generally seeks to be loving and not to judge, yet the opposite happens too often.
I like to look at it like this. I know many people studying to be therapists or psychologists, they all have a very deep connection with mental illnesses. They are either struggling with something themselves or someone very important to them does, which makes them able to relate.
I am not trying to generalize and say all people who work in mental health have mental health issues, I am just saying that they may have had more experiences than others to lead them into the field.
People who work in the business of the the Lord are just people like everyone else. They may in fact be the ones who need the most help, love and acceptance.
All I am trying to say is that what they did wasn’t holy work. It was fear: fear comes from the devil. You see, these people need God more than you or I do.
They are just people, not holy. Just people who made a bad decision. You shouldn’t let that affect you. You are better than that.”
His reply really does make me happy. He understands, he was just hurt. Life hasn’t been very kind recently. I’m sure a lot of things hurt.
“Yes, but being seen as less than who I really am is the worst. I didn’t take help or food stamps for the longest time. I wanted to be ok by myself. I’ve learned to not feel ashamed.”
I don't really want to go in and dance for her birthday anymore. I really only know her. We smoke a cigarette and continue to talk. I love that it is a real conversation, he is candid and blunt. I tell him that meeting him has made me night and I go in.
It went back to being a normal Saturday night really fast. Tons of bodies dancing, drinking, laughing and moving.
I’m there until 3:30am and I am meeting my ride on Market Street. There’s a surprising amount of people on the streets.
I just get to the corner that I’m meeting him at and I look up. There he is, Richard, walking with his luggage.
I guess its not that hard to find someone who doesn't have a place to be found at.
Back to square one.
This post is a response to a writing prompt created by +Taylor Lavati, writer of The Curse Books. ‘Free write, no limits in time or word count. All you have to do is base it off the cliche, back to square one.’
