Part 2 of 4
The sun was strong today as it bore down upon the people as they went about their business amongst the heated up stench of the litter scattered streets. The thick summertime smell of the city filled the air and gave Gabrielle stomach’s an unsettled queasy feeling which she dealt with by taking deeper drags on her cigarette.
She coughed up some greenish phlegm, leaned over and spat it out onto the step just below her feet making a horrible noise in the process. An old man clutching a grocery bag gave her a disapproving look as he gingerly made his way by her. She responded by sticking out her tongue followed by the finger for added emphasis. Unaware, he continued on his way taking caution with each step while making his way carefully down the busy sidewalk. Gabrielle recognized him from her building but had never acknowledged him before. She kept to herself.
Father Michael was good for a loaf of bread and some canned goods. Gabrielle was supposed to come on Saturday’s and wait in line with the rest of needy but she just didn’t have the patience to wait. Awhile back she had gotten into a fight with another women in line. Gabrielle tried to cut, although later she denied this to father Michael and when the woman challenged her things got ugly fast. Gabrielle grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the ground and started kicking her in the stomach before some volunteers were able to pull her off of the woman.
Father Michael knew about this and ever since had been putting some food aside for Gabrielle. She would have to sit through a lecture about the “error of her ways” and would probably have to do some chores around the church; making sure the hymn books were stocked in the pews and such. She didn’t mind, it was better than spending a Saturday in a line that usually went half way around the block.
The anxiousness in combination with her unsettled stomach brought upon impatience. She considered getting up and heading back home but she needed some food - anything really. She never ate very much or thought about where her next meal would come from until there was no next meal to have - then it was all that her mind knew.
She spotted Father Michael making his way down the street towards the church - cigarette in hand. Something about a priest smoking seemed wrong; a kind of weakness that you’d rather not think about she thought. Father Michael was a young man with the expected priest attire - casual gear - black with collar, an unusual outfit for somebody quite so young. Gabrielle tried to guess his age, thirty, thirty-five at the most. She thought he was handsome.
“Hello Father,” she said. “You got a cigarette for me?”
Father Michael stopped in front of her and gave a hard look, as if he was weighing heavily how to respond to her request. He took a pack of cigarettes and from it handed one to her. “Hello Gabrielle,” he said and sat down next to her on the steps.
The both sat silently for a few minutes watching the people going about their business while taking drags off of their cigarettes.
“So how are you doing?”
“I’m hungry, Father.” She absently picked at one of her scabs on her legs.
“So you’re here to pick up the food basket?”
“Yeah.”
“Then what?’
Gabrielle turned towards Father Michael. “Then nothing,” she said and took another drag from the cigarette.
“You must do something with your time.”
Gabrielle’s stomach lurched and then knotted itself, get high she thought to herself. She could feel her heart rate increase. “Come on Father, what’s with the third degree?”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t realize it was a tough question.”
Gabrielle didn’t want to be there anymore. Just give me the Goddamn food, she thought to herself. “I just don’t get why you’re asking.”
“Can’t I take an interest in you?”
“If that’s what it takes to get the basket.”
Father Michael put his cigarette out on the step, let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “Give me a minute; I’ll be right back with it.”
“Don’t you want me to come in with you?”
He took a moment to consider her question and then replied simply, “no.”
“What about the hymn books? Don’t you need me to put them out?”
“Don’t bother, Gabrielle - I’ll take care of it myself.” Father Michael turned from Gabrielle and walked into the church. A couple minutes later he emerged and handed her the basket. “There is a little something extra in it this week. I hope you make good use of it,” and then turned back around and went back inside the church.
Gabrielle took the basket and headed home.
To be continued…
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
BLOG 7 - Gabrielle's Story (Part One)
Part 1 of 4
Gabrielle lived on the first floor of City View Towers; a ten story apartment building on the unfashionable south side of town. Gabrielle was thirty-seven and freakishly skinny. Her weight combined with being abnormally tall for a woman (six foot two inches) resulted in a frame that resembled that of a skeleton. Others in the building referred to her as Bones - a nickname that was most commonly used when Gabrielle was no longer in ear shot. Her neighbors thought they were being clever. However, Gabrielle knew about the nickname and chose to keep quiet, therefore allowing her neighbors to continue to believe they were still being clever when in fact it was her who was the clever one - or so she thought.
Her apartment was small; a studio that smelled of cigarettes and dirty laundry with a fold out couch for a bed . There was a small kitchen with a sink that tended to back up and one bathroom that was in need of a good cleaning; Gabrielle dealt with the grime by always wearing shoes or socks when she was in the bathroom and flip flops when in the shower. The curtains had long ago lost their original color in favor of a yellowish nicotine shade. A large cabinet style television, caked with dust and a broken knob sat in the middle of the room - a sort of center piece.
She spent most of her disability check on cigarettes, coffee, and crack. On Sunday morning she would attend church to ask for forgiveness. On Sunday night she would go to her friend Manny’s to smoke crack. Once her disability check ran out, which it did rather quickly, she would pay for the crack with a hand or blow job. Some days she would pan handle for the money but most often she found it easier just to give head. The rest of the week remained pretty much open but usually involved more crack, more coffee, more cigarettes, and more blowjobs (when the opportunities presented themselves). Gabrielle was a resourceful woman and always remembered to thank God for giving her the strength to not “go all the way” for her wants, therefore allowing her to keep just enough of her dignity to get her through to yet another day; a vicious cycle that eventually brought her back to the next Sunday morning and yet again asking for more forgiveness.
She used the bus for transportation, since she was furnished a bus pass by the state, but tended to avoid it during certain times of the day - for instance when school let out. Kids could be cruel and Gabrielle knew this first hand and did her best to avoid them especially when they were gathered together in packs - that was when they were the most dangerous. The whispers and giggles were too much for her to handle and usually resulted in an uneasiness followed by rapid heartbeat and a tightness in the chest. She often found herself back home gasping for breath and holding back tears. Now, she knew to wait and take a later bus, or if needed to just walk home.
Luckily church was walking distance from her apartment.
The church itself an ancient structure from another time; a time when families consisted of both mothers and fathers - when mothers were adults, father’s were present, and children knew of guns as a game you played with friends. It stood out on the busy street, surrounded by check cashing places, pawn shops and liquor stores, adorned with graffiti and surrounded by fast food trash and used condoms gathered about on the ground along curbsides or caught on the base of city planted trees and shrubs.
Gabrielle sat on the steps of the church smoking a cigarette waiting for Father Michael. There weren’t any services today but Gabrielle knew Father Michael would be arriving at the church eventually and she had nothing else to do anyway. She smoked and watched the people going about their business. She was feeling particularly anxious today as she fidgeted and picked at the scabs on her legs.
To be continued…
Gabrielle lived on the first floor of City View Towers; a ten story apartment building on the unfashionable south side of town. Gabrielle was thirty-seven and freakishly skinny. Her weight combined with being abnormally tall for a woman (six foot two inches) resulted in a frame that resembled that of a skeleton. Others in the building referred to her as Bones - a nickname that was most commonly used when Gabrielle was no longer in ear shot. Her neighbors thought they were being clever. However, Gabrielle knew about the nickname and chose to keep quiet, therefore allowing her neighbors to continue to believe they were still being clever when in fact it was her who was the clever one - or so she thought.
Her apartment was small; a studio that smelled of cigarettes and dirty laundry with a fold out couch for a bed . There was a small kitchen with a sink that tended to back up and one bathroom that was in need of a good cleaning; Gabrielle dealt with the grime by always wearing shoes or socks when she was in the bathroom and flip flops when in the shower. The curtains had long ago lost their original color in favor of a yellowish nicotine shade. A large cabinet style television, caked with dust and a broken knob sat in the middle of the room - a sort of center piece.
She spent most of her disability check on cigarettes, coffee, and crack. On Sunday morning she would attend church to ask for forgiveness. On Sunday night she would go to her friend Manny’s to smoke crack. Once her disability check ran out, which it did rather quickly, she would pay for the crack with a hand or blow job. Some days she would pan handle for the money but most often she found it easier just to give head. The rest of the week remained pretty much open but usually involved more crack, more coffee, more cigarettes, and more blowjobs (when the opportunities presented themselves). Gabrielle was a resourceful woman and always remembered to thank God for giving her the strength to not “go all the way” for her wants, therefore allowing her to keep just enough of her dignity to get her through to yet another day; a vicious cycle that eventually brought her back to the next Sunday morning and yet again asking for more forgiveness.
She used the bus for transportation, since she was furnished a bus pass by the state, but tended to avoid it during certain times of the day - for instance when school let out. Kids could be cruel and Gabrielle knew this first hand and did her best to avoid them especially when they were gathered together in packs - that was when they were the most dangerous. The whispers and giggles were too much for her to handle and usually resulted in an uneasiness followed by rapid heartbeat and a tightness in the chest. She often found herself back home gasping for breath and holding back tears. Now, she knew to wait and take a later bus, or if needed to just walk home.
Luckily church was walking distance from her apartment.
The church itself an ancient structure from another time; a time when families consisted of both mothers and fathers - when mothers were adults, father’s were present, and children knew of guns as a game you played with friends. It stood out on the busy street, surrounded by check cashing places, pawn shops and liquor stores, adorned with graffiti and surrounded by fast food trash and used condoms gathered about on the ground along curbsides or caught on the base of city planted trees and shrubs.
Gabrielle sat on the steps of the church smoking a cigarette waiting for Father Michael. There weren’t any services today but Gabrielle knew Father Michael would be arriving at the church eventually and she had nothing else to do anyway. She smoked and watched the people going about their business. She was feeling particularly anxious today as she fidgeted and picked at the scabs on her legs.
To be continued…
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