Story of Her Life

Unable to catch a break from anyone she meets, with their judgemental stares, ridiculing words and noses turned up, she trods on; she is late by an hour, her bus never showed up, and now her lawyer is gone and I wonder if he ever bothered to meet his end of the appointment.

I met her at my bus stop tonight after work; I was weighed down with grocery bags waiting for my bumpy ride home and there she was waiting. The first bus rolled past, most folks board and the bus shelter is empty once again, except for the two of us.
" Are you waiting for the Quayside bus?" I ask politely.
"No." she says quietly without meeting my eyes.

I risk being judgemental myself by making assumptions about her, but Quayside is a neighbourhood for the well-off and retired seniors, and I could see that she had circumstances working against her that wouldn't allow her to live in such a place. Knowing the only other bus that came to the stop was gone, I asked what she was waiting for. "I'm meeting a lawyer here."

I first noticed her at the bottom of the stairwell as I was walking down from the skytrain platform, she was wandering around; another lady a few steps down and to the right of me was muttering to herself and gradually became louder, so much that people were jumping out of her way pretending not to notice. My little friend was the only brave one to ask whom she was speaking to, the lady abruptly responded with her smoker's growl " Don't listen to me!"
" But were you speaking to ME?" my friend asked timidly, but assertively.
"No I ain't speakin' to you, I was talking to myself- I told you, I got problems."
My friend, looks ashamed and fearful all at once and casts her eyes to the ground to avoid any further altercation.

I noticed her frail body in its shadow-boxer stance and unlike the hundreds of faces I see in my daily journey, her's had a thousand stories written all over it. Her etched face tells me they contain secrets and abuses, some victories but mostly fights - and all of them seem to say they haven't an ending. The scars and bruises on her arms and legs confirmed it.

Sadly, I know this 'look'. Her eyes were vacant and wary, her laughter too nervous and child-like. Her bottom jaw jut out, her sharp chin guiding her; she had few teeth which brought her jaw unnaturally close to her nose, broken too many times to be fixed. Her arms suggested many failed attempts to end the battles against men, against addiction, against life.

How unlikely is it a lawyer would meet a client in a bus shelter? It seems absurd but given the situation, perhaps he was being kind to agree to meet her there as her means of transportation were limited... I will never know, but I admit my thoughts were that this lady was being misled - forever a pessimist in these cases I am, I suppose. I felt badly and I asked redundant questions I already knew the answers to : " Have you tried calling him?" " Do you have money for a payphone?"
With no access to money, she wouldn't have the ability to call the lawyer to inform them of her late arrival. How much I take for granted.

I offer her some change to use a payphone, the tired exasperation lifted briefly from her face. A bit shell-shocked, she thanked me and proceeded to find a phone. I fought off the thoughts running through my head that I could have possibly fed an addict some money to get her next fix... but petty change can buy little of what is needed to bring momentary heaven.

My bus still hadn't arrived when I saw her come back towards the bus shelter; she looked at me like she was ready to cry, arms thrown up in surrender she shook her head, nothing. I was not surprised, this woman does not get many breaks, this is just another for her.
Knowing I couldn't do much more to help, I mouthed the words " I'm sorry"; Her face told me she accepted that and believed me.

I looked around at the people who gathered, in their high profile business attire, yapping away on their razor-thin cell phones, some opting to hail a cabbie down because they can afford not to wait; some teens walking past sneer at her and avoid her, huddled down on a step with her head in her hands outside the Salvation Army that has closed for business. Story of her life.

The very least I could do was have some words with her, give her any hope at all. I gathered up all my grocery bags and hobbled my way to her. She looked up smiled at me as if I was a friend. Wow. It caught me off guard.
"So, what's Plan B?"
She had tears in her eyes; I get the feeling she isn't given many second options.
I suggested that if I were in her shoes, I would wait 15 minutes longer in case this lawyer is still hanging around, 15 minutes and no longer, as if her time is precious, not to be wasted. I tell her she has better things to do, and some calls to make.
Sadly I know she most likely did not have a fixed address, but I asked anyway. "I'm staying at the hospital.", as though this is natural.

I suggest she make her way back there and hopefully someone can help her out with her situation. She told me she was afraid to risk going back on skytrain without paying the fare because there's a fine, she learned that the hard way. I told her there are transit employees up on the platform, that all she needs to do is explain her situation, that maybe they can help her out, she nods, and I think it was just an attempt to make me feel better by not ignoring my suggestion but she knows well enough that the employees can be cruel and prejudiced - she's right, I've seen them discriminate, I remind her it's still worth a try.
My bus was finally approaching, in trying to make her laugh I say " Bloody hell - it's about damn time!" It seems to work, but waiting is her game, patience is not something she can give up.
I wish her luck and give her my last piece of advice to always have a back-up plan when travelling by transit, they go by their own schedules, hence why Iwas there for so long.
I didn't even have the money to give her the fare she needed, she understood and reminded me that I gave it to her already to use the phone.

Maybe I'm not a pessimist after all, maybe it's naivete, maybe it's hope that not all mankind is unforgiving; I just wish that somebody would help her, show some grace, just give her a break but it's the stigma that separates us from them, she is part of a minority marginalized to live away from society's eye, she has accepted that because she has no other choice. It's the story of her life.