Sometimes life carries on without me. The days fly by and I don't even take notice of any events. I don't remember what I learned in class today. I don't generally know which day it is.
Last Friday, I asked someone if it was a Monday. They felt bad for me.
Sometimes, when I am half conscious, I feel like I am losing my mind.
A customer asks for a riesling. I give her a white zinfandel.
Her total is $5.75. I say $75.50.
I feel like I ride the bus all day long.
I just zone out, and wait for my stop.
But then I am snapped out of a seemingly endless day dream.
"Gurl, You gonna be my whore. You get on the street and you gotta work it."
"Bitch! You hear me! You betta fuckin listen when I talkin to ya! You gonna be my whore! You gonna make me loooots of tham monies. Bitch."
(Please, God, Don't let him be talking to me!)
"You work for me. You don't eat until I tell ya ta eat. You don't sleep until I say ya can sleep! Bitch! Ya hear me?!" He got up at this last part. He stood in the isle. Six feet plus leaning into my seat to scream in my face.
"I heard you. I'm not your whore."
(Someone get this fucker off the bus!)
The bus stops. He loses his balance and sits one seat back on the opposite side of the isle.
I run up front, glaring at the people ignoring the scene.
I tell the bus driver that there is a guy harassing me, he is drunk or high on drugs or something, I say.
(Well, now. I feel oh so safe.)
As I am already shaking with anger, I hear him find a new victim.
She does not move.
I hope that nothing happens.
"Bitch you looking at me like I black! Don't you know they ain't such thing as black people? You more black than me. Black mean impurity. I ain't impure. I says to that girl she work for me, but I won't fuck her."
She looks away.
"What you lookin away for. You scared of me? You think I gonna rape you? Cuz I would! I would rape YOU bitch. I'd fuck you good."
"Hey! Enough! Back off!"
But why didn't I say that. Why did I freeze up. I hoped to God that some one, any person would have said anything. Just get that guy away from her.
I yelled at the bus driver.
I didn't have the courage (in high heels, without my mace) to confront this man on my own, and no one else was going to either. There were thirty people on that bus. Not a damn person did or said a thing.
I just yelled.
At the bus driver.
I made a scene.
He still didn't acknowledge me.
As soon as the bus got to the U, and there were plenty of people outside, I got off.
I was shaking.
I wanted to hurt that man.
But I couldn't even move.
I couldn't even say a damn word to him.
But I wanted to break his knees.
I wanted to shatter his jaw so that he wouldn't say those things.
Sometimes, I am rageful.
Sometimes, I am timid.
Sometimes, I am both.
Sometimes, I like my daydreams more than real life.