Friends

I was recently apprised of a particular question regarding one of my closest friends and myself, that question being, "How did you meet?" It is an interesting tale, and I will regale you with the wild adventures and charity of which such tale consists*.

It was a cold and rainy day in mid-November, three, or maybe four years ago. The wind was whipping, yet I was once again trudging along, forced to scrape a living out of what attention I could garner amongst the scores of tourists and residents that passed by me daily. Some days I did very well for myself. Some days, such as this cold and rainy day, the business was light to non-existent. Of course the weather was not my fault, but my pimp didn't see it that way and harrangued me with constant threats for my inability to strum up a decent business for the day. He was pretty persuasive, for a midget.

Tyrone eventually turned his greedy attentions elsewhere, and I was left to a moment of peace. I stole a moment in the shelter of a doorway, away from the rain, away from the gawking tourists passing by on the Grey Lines. I hated being pointed out in whispers as, "There's one."

The doorway turned out to be a small jewelry store. The door opened unexpectedly and pushed me back out into the rain. I stepped back respectfully to allow the tiny redhead to make her way down the street, when she stopped and looked at me, standing bedraggled in the rain. She opened her umbrella (blue, I think), and studied me for a moment. I found it a tad annoying, but the steady gaze wasn't unfriendly, just curious. After a moment she spoke, and in her New York twang she told me that she was very impressed that I could walk around for hours in those 6 inch heels, and asked how I kept the chrome so shiny. She then asked me where was the closest place to get a cup of coffee. I pointed out the Starbucks on the next corner (there is one on every corner, after all), and she headed that direction. After a few steps she stopped and turned around, and asked if I would like to have a cup of coffee with her. I'm not sure why, but I agreed, and walked with her to the coffee shop. I remember it clearly, she ordered a White Chocolate Caffe Mocha, and I had a regular latte (I still smile when I drink those).

I sat in that coffee shop with her for at least 2 hours, she questioning me about my profession, me listening to her tales of Dutch castles and kangaroo porn addiction. After a while I told her that since the rain had stopped I must get back to work before Tyrone hunted me down. She then stood up and told me that I needn't live under the thumb of any midget pimp if I don't want to. She knew I didn't want to. She kept me there another hour telling me how I could escape my downtrodden way of life. I saw Tyrone's purple Cadillac with spinner hubs drive by a few times. I knew he was looking for me, but I didn't care. This little redhead had given me a hope for a future that I didn't dare have before. I was going to escape.

She gave me her email address. At that time I didn't own a computer, but I kept that email address in the deepest recesses of my leopard print purse, until the day came that I earned enough money at Walmart to buy a decent used computer from an estate sale ($45, it nearly broke me but it was worth it).

So now here we are. This is the story of how Odat and I became such good friends. I will always remember her kindness.






*Parts of this story may or may not be slightly exaggerated.