She sat across from me on the subway... twitching. Not light trembling, or slight rocking, but hard muscle jerking twitches that slammed the back of her head into the window a couple of times. No wonder I found a seat on the crowded subway.
She was black, and skinny. Not bulimic skinny or anorexic skinny, but almost as if her body was feeding off of itself. Skinny, to the point that her skin seemed to be wrapped lovingly around her almost protruding bone structure. Sunken eyes stared through me from the depths of dark circles and her mouth, which hung open jack-o-lantern style, was missing a number of teeth, the remaining ones a bizarre Halloween assortment of yellow, orange and black.
She was wearing an enlarged white T-shirt, stained with an assortment of colors, and a pair of dirty, ripped jeans. Her grim-caked feet were shoved into decaying sandals that were falling apart around her toes, the stitching sticking into the air. Yellowed cracked toenails peaked out sporadically through the dirt.
Was I the only one who noticed her thrashing? It was a crowded train, but as if she was an apparition, the rest of the train seemed not to notice. Sighing, and hating myself, I crossed the packed car and sat next to her, I don't know if she noticed at first, her eyes never shifted.
'Are you okay?' I asked, I'll admit non-to-loudly. As much as I like being the hero, sometimes you know it's just going to be more trouble than it's worth.
Her head rolled towards me. I mean that. Not like, her eyes shifted, or she turned... her head rolled over so that she was staring at me sideways, a pool of saliva gathering at her gums. 'Do I look like I'm okay cracka?' she stated. Not asked, the question mark there is purely placed by me.
Myself, being the glib tongued lawyer to be, simply responded with an apologetic shrug.
'Look at the lil honkey, tryin' to be all noble,' she laughed, which succeeded in spilling the pooling saliva out of her mouth and onto her shoulder... the causes of the stains suddenly became readily apparent.
'I was just making sure you were okay, sorry.' Ah, that spine of mine.
'Oh sit yourself kid,' her bony hand patting where my ass had just left. 'Not often someone sits next to Glenda.'
I sat back down and she started speaking, it was like a republican commercial against the welfare state. Her dad used to beat her mom and herself, and after awhile she ran away and got pregnant from some drug dealer. The same dealer who introduced her to crack. Not wanting her baby to come out addicted she performed the abortion herself, the first of three. She hated herself, hated the crack, but she couldn't give it up.
'Why not?' I asked, despite knowing a good amount of the ridiculously addicting drug.
'How do you feel right now son?'
'Okay, tired.'
'You feel like yourself though?'
'I guess.'
'Well, I've been smoking the rock fro so long; it's the only way I can feel normal. When I'm not smoking it, I think about it. When I'm sleeping, I dream about it. If I try to kick it, and once I almost made it a week, this was after losing my second baby, I had nightmares of smoking it, and woke up needing it. It's a part of me now... I'll do whatever it takes to feel normal... I don't even feel good anymore, the ride lasts seconds.'
'Well... that sucks.' God, I am eloquent.
'HAH!' Think of a donkey braying.
'Ever think of going to a clinic?'
She stared at me incredulously, 'You're dressed like a smart kid, but are you a fucking idiot?' She gestured to herself, 'Do I LOOK, like I can afford a clinic? Like I can go rub shoulders with the celebrities?' She sighed, 'I'll take my rock, I'll try to feel normal, and eventually someone will find me sitting dead on a subway. Life isn't glamorous, but hey, it's life.'
'Can I do anything?'
She starred at me for a long time, her dark eyes sullen and hopeless. 'You can't do shit for me boy, what, you going to change the world one fucked up nigger at a time?'
'No... I...'
'Fucking white man, always trying to impose.'
'What?'
'What you think a fucking crack head can't take care of herself!?!?!'
'I didn't-'
She starts thrashing around on the bench, gibberish and spit flyuing from her mouth, 'HfhFHJD fjhsdfsgh HSFkgHSDf!'
I jump back and work my way away from her, pushing through the crowded train. I hear her yell from behind me, 'Fuck the people of the world college boy, concentrate on saving yourself.'
I sat down a train car later, defeated and somewhat embarrassed. Across from me, next to her mother, sat a young black girl who looked over at me, frowning.
I stuck made a funny face and smiled at her.
She hid her face in her mother's side, then peeked out at me and I crossed my eyes.
She giggled.
I don't need to save the world, I'll be happy making little changes.
She was black, and skinny. Not bulimic skinny or anorexic skinny, but almost as if her body was feeding off of itself. Skinny, to the point that her skin seemed to be wrapped lovingly around her almost protruding bone structure. Sunken eyes stared through me from the depths of dark circles and her mouth, which hung open jack-o-lantern style, was missing a number of teeth, the remaining ones a bizarre Halloween assortment of yellow, orange and black.
She was wearing an enlarged white T-shirt, stained with an assortment of colors, and a pair of dirty, ripped jeans. Her grim-caked feet were shoved into decaying sandals that were falling apart around her toes, the stitching sticking into the air. Yellowed cracked toenails peaked out sporadically through the dirt.
Was I the only one who noticed her thrashing? It was a crowded train, but as if she was an apparition, the rest of the train seemed not to notice. Sighing, and hating myself, I crossed the packed car and sat next to her, I don't know if she noticed at first, her eyes never shifted.
'Are you okay?' I asked, I'll admit non-to-loudly. As much as I like being the hero, sometimes you know it's just going to be more trouble than it's worth.
Her head rolled towards me. I mean that. Not like, her eyes shifted, or she turned... her head rolled over so that she was staring at me sideways, a pool of saliva gathering at her gums. 'Do I look like I'm okay cracka?' she stated. Not asked, the question mark there is purely placed by me.
Myself, being the glib tongued lawyer to be, simply responded with an apologetic shrug.
'Look at the lil honkey, tryin' to be all noble,' she laughed, which succeeded in spilling the pooling saliva out of her mouth and onto her shoulder... the causes of the stains suddenly became readily apparent.
'I was just making sure you were okay, sorry.' Ah, that spine of mine.
'Oh sit yourself kid,' her bony hand patting where my ass had just left. 'Not often someone sits next to Glenda.'
I sat back down and she started speaking, it was like a republican commercial against the welfare state. Her dad used to beat her mom and herself, and after awhile she ran away and got pregnant from some drug dealer. The same dealer who introduced her to crack. Not wanting her baby to come out addicted she performed the abortion herself, the first of three. She hated herself, hated the crack, but she couldn't give it up.
'Why not?' I asked, despite knowing a good amount of the ridiculously addicting drug.
'How do you feel right now son?'
'Okay, tired.'
'You feel like yourself though?'
'I guess.'
'Well, I've been smoking the rock fro so long; it's the only way I can feel normal. When I'm not smoking it, I think about it. When I'm sleeping, I dream about it. If I try to kick it, and once I almost made it a week, this was after losing my second baby, I had nightmares of smoking it, and woke up needing it. It's a part of me now... I'll do whatever it takes to feel normal... I don't even feel good anymore, the ride lasts seconds.'
'Well... that sucks.' God, I am eloquent.
'HAH!' Think of a donkey braying.
'Ever think of going to a clinic?'
She stared at me incredulously, 'You're dressed like a smart kid, but are you a fucking idiot?' She gestured to herself, 'Do I LOOK, like I can afford a clinic? Like I can go rub shoulders with the celebrities?' She sighed, 'I'll take my rock, I'll try to feel normal, and eventually someone will find me sitting dead on a subway. Life isn't glamorous, but hey, it's life.'
'Can I do anything?'
She starred at me for a long time, her dark eyes sullen and hopeless. 'You can't do shit for me boy, what, you going to change the world one fucked up nigger at a time?'
'No... I...'
'Fucking white man, always trying to impose.'
'What?'
'What you think a fucking crack head can't take care of herself!?!?!'
'I didn't-'
She starts thrashing around on the bench, gibberish and spit flyuing from her mouth, 'HfhFHJD fjhsdfsgh HSFkgHSDf!'
I jump back and work my way away from her, pushing through the crowded train. I hear her yell from behind me, 'Fuck the people of the world college boy, concentrate on saving yourself.'
I sat down a train car later, defeated and somewhat embarrassed. Across from me, next to her mother, sat a young black girl who looked over at me, frowning.
I stuck made a funny face and smiled at her.
She hid her face in her mother's side, then peeked out at me and I crossed my eyes.
She giggled.
I don't need to save the world, I'll be happy making little changes.