I went to the square hoping for the usual now, to get some interaction that I needed. I had a bizarre urge to go down the alley by Water Monkey. I did. After I came back a small older woman called my name. It took me a second to realize who it was, as I had seen her in 11 years. It was my friend Mary, who is just a walking battery of hope, light and positivity. I wrote this piece about an experience with her a few years ago.
I work at Richardson’s, because they were needy enough to hire me, and I was needy enough to stay,For two years;
My bad leg hurts worse than normal, I have strange bruises, there are parts of the floor in the store I dare not step on, and my coworker is a two legged Irish Setter of a man who forgets what he was just telling you five minutes ago;
My head is throbbing, because as usual, the night before I tried to replace all of my blood with Southern Comfort, and I am a walking over reaction: I want to smack the owner for not letting me sit when my leg hurts, though I haven’t told him it does, and I think I can knock him unconscious without him noticing, even if he is the fastest moving most sadistic man in town;
My girlfriend is crazy, because like attracts like, and the girl I’m sleeping with is giving me the run around, if you can imagine a semi-professional cheater being evasive;
I have “borrowed” almost an entire stack of scratch tickets from under the counter, and have won maybe $10, and have already spent my paycheck, so I have to play more scratches to hope to pay for the ones I’ve played;
I want no one to enjoy themselves, they must all suffer with me, and anyone who asks how I am will find out, because I can’t stand insincerity;
My friend Mary comes in, buys her wine, her cigarettes, her scratch tickets, turns in her winners, and says “How are you?”
So I tell her. It takes five minutes for me to finish my complaints, and a look of kind pity crosses her face, and I want to drag up any further horror from the pit of my life to change that look into scorn or horror, or anything that isn’t pity, but I run out of steam and breath;
“I’m sorry to hear that” she says.
And remembering a trace of civility, learned by careful observation of humans, I ask how she is;
“Oh well, you know. The chemo is really rough this time around. I was in remission for years, and then the cancer just came back. I haven’t lost my hair yet, but that will happen I’m sure. I haven’t been able to eat for days because I’m so sick, and I can’t stay home from work because I have to pay rent. But my daughter is coming over tonight, so we should have some fun. I hope things go better for you.”
She grabs her stuff and heads down the street, and I stand, lips numb, ego gone, and start absorbing a lesson that is still sinking in.
Chris Walters, Aught Four
Here she was, after all these years, when I thought she might have died. We stopped and chatted. Being around her made my current situation a little less urgent. I told I had just split with my wife, and was a mess. Nothing more than that, no tears, no shaking. She said in that absolutely certain tone "Oh, you'll survive! You always do! I always survive. I've survived death twice! If you're alive it can all get better!"
And I knew she was right. She's one of these Total Mom types, all caring and nurturing, and hope. Those of us who's mom's were defective from the start really respond to this; this is how those are supposed to work! No kidding!
We talked a few minutes, and she told me she still had the walking stick I made for her when she'd hurt her leg ages ago. It travels with her, but isn't need. This two time cancer survivor has no trace of this other injury, in spite of working in restaurants 12-14 hours a day. She believes she can heal, so she does.
She asked if I was working, and I told her no, I'm on disability, but thinking of going back to school. She said "That would be great! Oh hey! Claire just graduated medical school!" Claire is her daughter, who is one younger than me, and has an 11 year old. Med school with a little one. Wow. I was suddenly struck by the notion that, truly, anything you want can happen.
Mary had to go, but she is back in the area, and I am thrilled.
Three days in a row I said give me what I need because what I want is probably a bad idea, and I have gotten exactly that.
Perspective 3: Right Back ‘atcha
1995; 23 years old, attempting to grow my hair long and in a very foolish looking in between stage;I work at Richardson’s, because they were needy enough to hire me, and I was needy enough to stay,For two years;
My bad leg hurts worse than normal, I have strange bruises, there are parts of the floor in the store I dare not step on, and my coworker is a two legged Irish Setter of a man who forgets what he was just telling you five minutes ago;
My head is throbbing, because as usual, the night before I tried to replace all of my blood with Southern Comfort, and I am a walking over reaction: I want to smack the owner for not letting me sit when my leg hurts, though I haven’t told him it does, and I think I can knock him unconscious without him noticing, even if he is the fastest moving most sadistic man in town;
My girlfriend is crazy, because like attracts like, and the girl I’m sleeping with is giving me the run around, if you can imagine a semi-professional cheater being evasive;
I have “borrowed” almost an entire stack of scratch tickets from under the counter, and have won maybe $10, and have already spent my paycheck, so I have to play more scratches to hope to pay for the ones I’ve played;
I want no one to enjoy themselves, they must all suffer with me, and anyone who asks how I am will find out, because I can’t stand insincerity;
My friend Mary comes in, buys her wine, her cigarettes, her scratch tickets, turns in her winners, and says “How are you?”
So I tell her. It takes five minutes for me to finish my complaints, and a look of kind pity crosses her face, and I want to drag up any further horror from the pit of my life to change that look into scorn or horror, or anything that isn’t pity, but I run out of steam and breath;
“I’m sorry to hear that” she says.
And remembering a trace of civility, learned by careful observation of humans, I ask how she is;
“Oh well, you know. The chemo is really rough this time around. I was in remission for years, and then the cancer just came back. I haven’t lost my hair yet, but that will happen I’m sure. I haven’t been able to eat for days because I’m so sick, and I can’t stay home from work because I have to pay rent. But my daughter is coming over tonight, so we should have some fun. I hope things go better for you.”
She grabs her stuff and heads down the street, and I stand, lips numb, ego gone, and start absorbing a lesson that is still sinking in.
Chris Walters, Aught Four
Here she was, after all these years, when I thought she might have died. We stopped and chatted. Being around her made my current situation a little less urgent. I told I had just split with my wife, and was a mess. Nothing more than that, no tears, no shaking. She said in that absolutely certain tone "Oh, you'll survive! You always do! I always survive. I've survived death twice! If you're alive it can all get better!"
And I knew she was right. She's one of these Total Mom types, all caring and nurturing, and hope. Those of us who's mom's were defective from the start really respond to this; this is how those are supposed to work! No kidding!
We talked a few minutes, and she told me she still had the walking stick I made for her when she'd hurt her leg ages ago. It travels with her, but isn't need. This two time cancer survivor has no trace of this other injury, in spite of working in restaurants 12-14 hours a day. She believes she can heal, so she does.
She asked if I was working, and I told her no, I'm on disability, but thinking of going back to school. She said "That would be great! Oh hey! Claire just graduated medical school!" Claire is her daughter, who is one younger than me, and has an 11 year old. Med school with a little one. Wow. I was suddenly struck by the notion that, truly, anything you want can happen.
Mary had to go, but she is back in the area, and I am thrilled.
Three days in a row I said give me what I need because what I want is probably a bad idea, and I have gotten exactly that.
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