Marion tried to control her trembling as she stood at the crosswalk. Scanning the sidewalk across the street she failed to see Charlie. He’s easy to spot since he usually wears a green ASPCA sweatshirt with a sad looking Boston terrier on the front. She looked at her trembling hands and stained sweater. The memories of her cashmere sweater, long wavy blond hair, designer shoes and sparkling white teeth were barely able to surface into her consciousness after her years long slide into opioid addiction. Charlie was usually reliable but today he was a bit late.
If she wasn’t desperate for her drugs, she’d have time to consider that death would be a mercy. That thought often intruded after her fix when she could actually consider her mental and physical state. She was gaunt and unbathed with the stench of failure. She fit in rather well on the streets of New york. Here, you are just another one of the losers living on the edge. People just avert their eyes and quicken their pace around you.
Waiting for the ‘walk’ sign at the corner seemed like an eternity to Marion. There was no destination except the next hit. That couldn’t come soon enough. Marion thought she saw the familiar green sweater and she rushed ahead into an oncoming bicyclist.
The crowd did stop for this little drama. She laid sprawled out on the pavement looking up at the blue skies and super tall buildings- interrupted by faces growing large in her visual space as they bent over to examine the wreckage. “Don’t move. I’ve called the police” said one young man with a backpack and blue hoodie. A man with a briefcase knelt beside her and handed her his card. “The bike lane lines are nearly worn to nothing. You can sue the city.” Accepting his hand she rose unsteadily.
Next to her sat the bicyclist. He unstrapped his helmet and also rose beside his bike which now appeared wounded. It lost the battle with a light pole. “Are you alright, Miss? I shouldn’t have been going so fast. I’m sorry.” Two girls dressed in their expensive sweaters, leather skirts and high heels shook their heads in disgust as they watched the scene. One of the girls with the word “Joy” emblazoned on her sweater commented- “Hey, mister, she’s just a druggie and she walked right in front of you.”
Marion, taking this all in, agreed. “Yeah, I’m a druggie. What about it?” She brushed back her greasy hair back and stared at “Joy”. “I made a mistake. So kill me, Bitch.” Fearful for their life, the two girls backed up a step and made no further comment.
The bicyclist spoke. “Don’t listen to them. What’s your name?” “Marion. What’s your’s?” He chuckled. “I’m Robin. You know what that means.” The clouds in Marion’s brain parted a bit as she searched her hibernating brain for information. Finally she smiled. “Oh, I get it. Robin Hood rescuing Marion.”
Fighting normal thoughts, she returned to her mission. “Have you seen a guy in a green ASPCA sweatshirt with a Boston Terrier on it?” Robin looked about. “Nope. I don’t suppose you’re looking to adopt a Boston Terrier puppy?” She lowered her gaze in an embarrassed yet flirty manner. “That’s actually funny.”
A police car pulled up and ordered the two victims to get back on the sidewalk. He removed the bike as well from the busy street and waved the cars on. “Miss, you look like Hell. Do you want to go to the hospital?” She stared at him for a moment and then she glanced at her scrapes and cuts. “No. I’ll clean this up at home.” “And just where is home?” It had been a while since she was at home. But she gave her legal address- on the upper east side. “Right. I guess you’ll be heading back there now.” He was glad to escape the calls and paperwork. “Have a nice day.”
Flash forward a year. Robin and Marion are standing at the intersection where they met. They were now living together in his apartment near the park. Her rehab was successful but the memories of her near death continue to haunt her.
Marion still scans the streets looking for the green ASPCA sweater. Their Boston terrier trots proudly beside them on their daily walks. People actually smile and greet them- mostly to meet and greet “Charlie.”