Thursday, August 9, 2018

Safe Spaces

     From my second story window I could see the old bag lady. She pushed her wobbley Harvest Foods shopping cart across the Eighth Street Bridge. She wobbled like the cart from an old hip injury, and sang an inaudible song as the wheels squeaked. I could always tell when it was midnight because that's when I'd hear the first sign of her approach from the South. Looking out my window, I could see the library that I had checked books out from last week, and a tall apartment building for retired people blocked my view of the state capital. When the dirty, gray-haried woman's singing voice died away, I would get restless and felt the need to walk to the park a block away.
     I might as well get up. I can't sleep again tonight. I said to myself as the baby kicked inside of me. I wore the sleeveless, blue-striped dress my huband's grandmother made for me. We couldn't afford to go out and buy maternity clothes. We couldn't afford anything better than a one bedroom, roach-infested apartment in the downtown area. I grabbed my keys and slipped on my sandals with a broken strap. Might as well go the park and soak my aching feet. I descended the twenty steps easily. I was six months pregnant and, at least, I could still see my toes.
     At the bottom of the entraceway, a white aluminum door was my only protection from the bums who lived on the streets. I had my keys to unlock that thin door and the solid wooden door to our upstairs apartment but safety was the last thing on my mind. I walked South to the corner where a beer/liquor/candy/cigarette store stood. I sure to miss the sweet smell of cigarette smoke. I thought as I saw the display ad for Marlboro. I quit smoking when I found out I was pregnant in March.
     Our street was well lit but the street going East and West was quiet and dark. At the 3rd house on the left some people were sitting on their front porch. I assumed they were talking about me. I could feel goose bumps make my arm hairs stand on end. I walked faster until I passed by the cold brick house. I never felt safe until I reached that fountain. The red, yellow and blue lights under the water made the fountain indescent. The safe place had a low, five-brick wide edge for me to sit on and to feel the sprinkling of stray water hit my face and legs. I slipped off my shoes and plunged my feet into the water. The icy water felt angelic on my tired ankles.
     I wonder where my husband is tonight? I wonder if he even knows that I come here? I wonder if he even cares? This is my special place. This fountain takes away all my pain. It makes me feel that the only thing that exist in life are the two of us. My baby kicks inside of me. I lay back on the hard cold bricks that feel my frustration. I hear nothing. I see nothing. I relax to get away from my life.
     To the East, a harvest moon, like a big white ball in the sky hides behind a five-story building under contructions that has ghost like light shining through its big holes. A silver fence surrounds it and protects if from the park. A brown, haunting gazebo sits on empty barrels above the man-made, clear water pond. South of that, a high foot bridge, with wire across the top so no one, two women and three teenage boys, can plummet to their death onto the busy freeway underneath. To the West of the safe place, 6th Street is lined with crack houses and stolen cars.
     Sometimes, I would see red lights illuminating from a bedroom window or a drug deal going down on the street. If they looked my way, I would pretend I never saw a thing. I pulled my wet wrinkled feet out of the water and slipped them into the old sandals. I walked East, toward 6th Street and saw a group of men coming out the shadows towards me. I turned North. I walked faster. When I reached the corner store I heard a voice say "We'll get'r nex time." I knew it was the ninety's but safety wasn't important to me. All I cared about was getting away from the cramped apartment and finding a place where I could dream.

Arkansas Arts Center




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