Day Nineteen

    ****NAMES CHANGED TO PROTECT PORTLAND'S STREET KIDS***** 

In all honesty I'm beginning to lose track of the days. They're starting to all blend together in some sort of sleepy spell. The only days I can tell apart from one another are the weekends because they are the worst with nothing to do.

It's been quiet not having Jesus around. It's harder not to think of unpleasant things. I have less distractions. Less fun. Less laughter. The negativity has rubbed off on me and I have a general feeling of melancholy.  It's not that people are unwilling to hang out with me. I get plenty of offers. I just can't bring myself to join with them. I find excuses not to go.

Jesus and I glance at each other but we don't speak. Pot Head tried to get us to play a board game together but to no avail. I saw Jesus picking his hair while he was watching the movie. I wanted to say something but I turned away instead. I don't feel lonely but I miss his company. I stay inside my own head now which is okay but sometimes my thoughts scare me and I'm more conscious of my need for weapons.

There is a Bible story in which God tells his lone family of followers to flee from their city as God intends to destroy it. He instructs them to runaway and to not look back. The family does as they are told but the wife takes one short glance back and is turned into a pillar of salt that very same instant.

I don't believe in God so it's highly unlikely anyone is going to turn me into salt for a backward glance at my old life before the streets. Still, looking back is dangerous. That BBQ with my old life and old friends was borderline a bad idea. It gave me a glimpse of what I should be worrying about: comma splices, misspelled words and un-witty headlines.

Instead, I pray to the Flying Spaghetti monster at night to keep all the wandering street kids safe. I fear staff is going to steal or withhold my medication. I fear being kicked out of shelter for little or no reason. I worry about when one of the kids might turn on me. I have to focus on getting through the day on little rest, strength, comfort.

Everyday has the same dreadful routine. Try to find a place to sit where I will not be disturbed. Try to not walk as much as yesterday. Try to power through physical pain and exhaustion. Try not to lose myself in my own head. I miss problems about school or homework or training a hopeless writer. I miss working myself to death juggling three jobs and school. Now, I am worked to death by the physical hardships of being homeless and the mental draining that comes with it.

It's enough to kill a person, remembering what used to be.

And it's not like life was great then. I had all sorts of ovary problems and bitchy roommates sometimes but at least I could distract myself with coma splices. I'm not depressed or angry or anything. I am simply resigned. I have accepted that this is my life right now. I keep my eyes focused on nothing but what is right in front of me in the present moment. The future is too shaky. The past is unbearable. Even as recent as Playdate PDX is too much.

I do my laundry and some of Jesus' that I happen to have. When it's done I fold his clothes and set them in front of him. He doesn't bother to look up. I stay plugged in to my laptop and my music, thinking if I have the sound turned up people will think I'm busy and not talk to me. Mother Goose keeps asking if I'm okay. I say yes again and again. She sets me up with the A/D counselor I need to meet up with for housing on Thursday morning. She gets me set up with the real counselor for youth on Thursday afternoon. She asks what I miss. I tell her I miss movies and dancing. I have to think. I don't remember what I used to do for fun anymore. She says she'll get me a movie ticket.

I meet with my case manager, Beard Man, for the first time. It's brief. I need to be productive but we don't know what productive things there are for my to do right now. There's more asking if I'm okay and I nod. I am fine. I am fine. I am just in my own world. I work on my resume. I tune out everyone and everything.

When #1 closes I see Kitten Lady walking down the block from me. I catch up to her so I can see the kitten. The kitten is wet because she had an accident and needed a bath. She's shivering. I ask Kitten Lady if I can take her to warm her up. She hands her over and I unzip my hoodie and ease the kitten between my bra, "It's much warmer in there." I tell the kitten.

"She likes boobies." Kitten Lady says.
"I bet. I used to do this with mine too. I'm so big that I don't really have to worry about her sliding down."
She laughs, "I guess you do have big boobs. I never noticed before."
"What are you doing?" I ask her.
She shrugs, "They kicked me out of shelter so I was just going to go to Fred Meyer until it gets late."
"Why'd they kick you out?"
"They found her." she points to the kitten already asleep nuzzled against my right boob with one paw stretched up to my neck.
"You got her in last night? They checked your bag!"
"I had her in my boot."
I laugh.

I take her to the spot Jesus showed me to sleep. I tell her we have blankets there; that she can hop the wall and be safe because no one will see her. We go to Fred Meyer and she gets rice pudding and cookie dough and eats it at the tables without going through the check out line. She doesn't have any food stamps left. I think about paying it for her but she does it so easily that I just follow without realizing what we're doing until it's done.

I tell her I'll try and help her find a place for the kitten. She's attached to her the same way I am to Spencer. I decide to ask Savior Man because he is my go to person but I also post on Facebook asking for anyone who can help. She just needs a place for kitten to sleep and then pick her up in the morning.

We go to McDonalds and I watch as she struggles to keep her eyes open. She is physically incapable and I watch as she and the kitten both nod off and wake each other up. I tell her I'll be back and go to the Dollar Tree where I buy her a drop cloth and some snacks. The drop cloth is just cheap plastic but it will keep them dry should it rain. I really need to invest in some emergency blankets. I give her the snacks and tarp when I get back.

I ask Jesus to bring us the sleeping bag, telling him that a girl is sleeping alone outside. That should be illegal he texts back but we both know it doesn't matter what should be. We are the illegal ones not shelter. I take Kitten Lady and her boyfriend to the spot and make sure she has all she needs to get through the night alone. Her boyfriend can't stay out with her because if he does he will be kicked out of shelter because he's upstairs. (It's a complicated shenanigan on that one). She hugs me and tells me I'm sweet. I tell her I'd do it for anyone. It's true. Even if Vampire Girl needed it I would. But, it doesn't hurt that she has a needy kitten with her. I give the kitten kisses then head to shelter.

At shelter there is a feast on the table. Wednesdays are food bank days so we have more variety. I'm not hungry though so I just help myself to a glass of chocolate milk. Pocahontas, however, is starving. As staff is busy checking people in she grabs a piece of chicken with the tongs (you are not supposed to serve yourself hot food) saying "Can I have this piece of chicken?" over and over again. She eats it still holding it with the tongs. I tell her I missed her. I did. I forgot how funny she is.

I beat the guys at a round of Bullshit then head to bed. I realize that being around Kitten Girl lifted my spirits quite a bit though I'm not sure if that was a matter of having a problem I could actually fix or being around a kitten again.

Nazi Man is in shelter and he's taken his funny pills again. Vampire Girl is doing all she can to be nasty to him. I don't mind. Nazi Man is one of the few staff who while he is a neurotic squirrel his heart is in the right place. And his neurotic-ism may come from the fact that he's been doing this for six years. I like when Nazi Man works because that means besides Vampire Girl picking fights with him there won't be any drama.

What does that say then, that we know how much drama there will be based off which staff member is working?

--mm