No Assist

It was around three-thirty when I received a phone call from my daughter. Simultaneously, my mother called.

I missed both calls.

I am upset with my daughter who texts while driving my grandson around. She’s told me I need medication for anxiety. I’m unaware of a magic pill that can reverse worry over texting while driving with a baby?

Minutes later, I do call my daughter back. I learn that she’s taken my grandson for a medical appointment to get shots. He’s crying because he now knows what’s ahead. He’s eighteen months old.

I’m consoling him over the phone, my mother and brother walk in. She’s telling me he offered to drop me off at a local casino to get out of the house.

I’ve been hoarded up and dependent since August. Because of a car accident totaled my car and insurance will not pay for repairs.

I’m living a high school kid lifestyle complete with relying on my mommie to pay bills.

I still have some Stimulus money, since January. (My third check was mailed on March 19th), I’ve not received it yet.

I change, put on a jacket. The temperature has dropped from seventies to forty-eight today.

I remove my identification, and two bank cards from my purse. I’m not bringing a purse into the casino.

My brother locked my purse in the trunk.

I rode with him to the casino.

He dropped me off and took my phone number again. So when he was finished with a job, he’d call me to see if I was ready to go.

I didn’t intend on spending all my measley savings. I only intended to play and go.

I checked the time, it was three twenty p.m.

I played slots; I didn’t win. But many around me did.

At four-fifty, I headed toward the door to go back to my mother’s. I did not call my brother for a ride.

The cold north wind hit my masked face, I almost turned around. But I kept walking. “Was I being stubborn or throwing a tantrum by not calling my brother?” I wondered.

Was I trying to make a point by walking in the cold?

I don’t know for sure.

I think I walked on because I hate relying on someone. They always let me down. Now I’m so used to the disappointments, I can’t put myself into those shoes. I am well versed in what’s coming.

I didn’t know then, the walk back was 5.9 miles.

I’m not even a gambler. But I’m paying double for wanting a break from the prisoner like walls built around my life: car wrecked, job fell apart, and a host of weird things that only happen in hundreds of years but were combined into my life over a period of ten years. Or longer.

I wanted to walk. I need to get stronger.

So I trudged across horrible streets, grass, weeds, ant beds. Cars passed me by, with no offer for a ride.

Were they scared of me?

As I was of them.

I saw patched up cars with plastic taped windows. Expensive cars. Regular cars. Trucks. Work vehicles. Buses.

Not one driver asked to give me a ride. Was that my ulterior motive in walking? To find out if anyone would give me a ride.

In the past years, I’ve had more than multiple flat tires. Which left me in binds. I’ve been dropped off and not picked up. I’ve walked.

In doing so, no one but two people offered to drive me. Both of which had the worst damage. In one car, I could see the road from the passenger floorboard.

In the other car, there was junk everywhere. The driver actually told me I had a bad attitude.

I do? Wow, really.

Talk about Male psycho chauvinism.

But anyway, no one ever offers me a ride. I’ve been passively told, “You think you’re too good.”

Maybe I am.

So what? Is that a crime to have confidence in your abilities. To have high self-esteem.

Guilty as charged.

So, I walk. And walking showed me things about the city I was unaware of. Such as: Snobbery, it stinks, there’s trash thrown all along roadways, residents don’t care about their property, etc.

I consistently winced at the smells coming from cooking. I’ve never experienced anything as brutal.

I can’t even begin to suggest similar smells. I hope this memory goes away.

I actually got vomit in my throat.

I had no trouble until I was blocks from ending my walk. I crossed the street to walk in the church lot. A black truck blew a horn. Not at me or no one. Just a driver blowing his horn.

I lifted up my middle finger to thank him. How cordial of me.

As I past through the church I was reminded of the city’s unwillingness to lend a ride to a super nice person who has supplied rides and aid without fail.

All these churches and everyone is still secluded into their own little world. They pray for things. But cannot give.

I walked the 5.9 miles. It took me an hour to thaw. I was freezing and didn’t even know.

Will I walk again that far? Yes. No doubt. And I’ll be shown what a lousy city this is.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s