The Girl Downstairs
OK. Let's suspend the pretense here and suppose that who I'm writing about is really someone other than myself. Life is like dream interpretation. The characters are always facets of ourselves. That being said...
I was on my way into the garage, a little rushed this morning, but when she told me she needed to talk with me, I pulled out that extra patience saved for a rainy day in my pocket. She went to put on a robe, then slid open the patio door to ask me why I took her bike. I told her I moved it because I saw it sitting there for a couple of days unlocked and I didn't want it to get stolen; that I just slipped it behind my bikes and it's not locked up or anything.
She thanked me. And I went on my way.
Just shows you what some people assume about others.
Just now I was doing the laundry and I found one of my socks in the trash in the communal laundry room. How sad. That's how she expects to be treated. She expects her man to hit her; he does.
Then a memory surfaced of how my friend Ann had found my laundry in the drier and rather than just take it out and leave it in a pile, she carefully folded it and left it in my basket. Ann's simple act taught me something. That some people will treat you better than you'd treat yourself. And the sky's the limit on how much compassion and generosity others have.
...Which will come in handy at this next teaching job.
I think she's turned a corner. She put him in jail for hitting her; she straightened her plants on the back patio, and she's ready to make a brand new start.
I was on my way into the garage, a little rushed this morning, but when she told me she needed to talk with me, I pulled out that extra patience saved for a rainy day in my pocket. She went to put on a robe, then slid open the patio door to ask me why I took her bike. I told her I moved it because I saw it sitting there for a couple of days unlocked and I didn't want it to get stolen; that I just slipped it behind my bikes and it's not locked up or anything.
She thanked me. And I went on my way.
Just shows you what some people assume about others.
Just now I was doing the laundry and I found one of my socks in the trash in the communal laundry room. How sad. That's how she expects to be treated. She expects her man to hit her; he does.
Then a memory surfaced of how my friend Ann had found my laundry in the drier and rather than just take it out and leave it in a pile, she carefully folded it and left it in my basket. Ann's simple act taught me something. That some people will treat you better than you'd treat yourself. And the sky's the limit on how much compassion and generosity others have.
...Which will come in handy at this next teaching job.
I think she's turned a corner. She put him in jail for hitting her; she straightened her plants on the back patio, and she's ready to make a brand new start.
posted by D Ed. | 7:08 PM
2 Comments:
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Well as it turns out, she has not turned a corner. Last week sometime, the police were at her apartment. She was bleary teary eyed and this time I decided I would talk with her about it if the opportunity arose.
She apologized to me for the noise their fights make (I never heard a thing, really). Sure enough he beat her and she now has him behind bars (again) and the court date was set for the next day. She would never let him back again and her buddy (who now came out from the apartment) would see to that.
OK. I'm getting the picture. "This never happened before." Sure enough, he's back within 2 days. Now the guy is skulkier than ever. He keeps a low profile.
I don't like the tone I feel about it--cynical rather than sympathetic. I'm not terribly fascinated anymore--I'd probably rather think about other things.
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