Asshole

Posted: January 16, 2011 in transliteration
Tags: , , ,

You kicked me out of your house after midnight, and I had no way of getting across the city. No money. No one to call. I thought about walking. I could walk it. I’d be within the public transportation routes by dawn. I started off away from your locked door.

Asshole.

I couldn’t walk it. No. Well, I could. I could if it was just walking. I could walk the whole distance and be home by the next night at this time. I could walk it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t go through that neighborhood at night. No. I couldn’t.

Asshole.

I was young at the time…as if I’m particularly old now. I felt younger then. I’d been harassed there before. I’d been harassed every trip through that neighborhood as a matter of recollection. Every time. Because I was young, and female…and always alone. I always met with a confrontation of some sort. Some escalated out of my grasp in the middle of the day. On a sunny Sunday morning. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t walk through it at this hour. I doubted if it could even be done with accompaniment. Protection. A group surrounding me from the actual neighborhood.

Asshole.

I sat in a park on a swing trying to come up with something to do. A policeman interrupted my thoughts with a flashlight in my face. He wasn’t helpful. They were so rarely helpful in that city; always so suspicious, never willing to believe anything. They were always flashing lights in my face and telling me I was lying about my own fucking name. They were always asking for proof of my identity just for walking in the dark or sitting by myself…or being summoned to my aid from a 911 call out of county. My aid.

Asshole.

The policeman told me I couldn’t stay in the park. The park was closed after sunset. He didn’t believe my story for what brought me to the park swing. He said that if it was true, you were an asshole, but he said it with kid gloves. He didn’t say; “You’re a stupid whore and get what you deserve.” Instead, he said, “It doesn’t sound like you have very good friends.”

Asshole.

You wouldn’t answer your phone, which upset me. It was actually my phone, and I was letting you use it, because I didn’t want to pay the early cancellation fee. You wouldn’t answer my phone, which upset me, because it clearly indicated that you didn’t give a shit how I got through the night.

Asshole.

If I walked around, I decided. If I walked around the north neighborhood all the way down to the south side where domestic violence was the aggressor of choice, I could make it home alive and unscathed. At least, statistically, my chances were higher. I started south until I came along the west edge of the massive cemetery where my grandpa is buried. He wasn’t there then. He wasn’t dead then. He’s there now, and I’m not.

Asshole.

I sat on a bench and stared into the darkness of this fenced in expanse. I could doze in there, away from the city. I thought about it. I scanned the wrought iron fence. I thought about it. I went as far as one of the car gates where I could find a way in, and then I went back out to the street where each car was a potential threat. Each car could be some…

Asshole.

I walked through bar time as if I had a purpose and destination within grasp, and then I sat down and stared off for long bouts. I didn’t get it then. It didn’t even occur to me at the time that you were such an asshole.

Advertisements

Comments are closed.