Startled awake, all of her senses on alert Mary jerks to a sitting position. WHAT? My God, what was THAT, what had she heard? Gradually the realization she had been alerted to danger was due to the sound of male voices arguing.
So frightened she can hardly speak she manages a weak, “Who’s there?” Her heart palpations are so loud she is sure whoever is arguing can hear them. Eyes wild with fright she strains towards the sound. Where are the voices coming from? Her whole body is tense. Only when she realizes the men are not inside the tent does her fear begin to subside.
It takes a few minutes for her head to clear from the sound sleep she had been in, but slowly awareness kicks in as she scans the area. “A tent? Good God, what am I doing in a tent”? Rubbing her hands across her face her eyes sweep the area. The remnants of sleep now gone she looks over at the woman sleeping on the other side of the tent. Unbelievable—the woman appears to be sleeping soundly unaware of the fight going on not two feet from her head.
What in the world am I doing sleeping in a tent in a homeless camp? Have I lost my mind? Pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them she sits quietly listening to the argument so close it sounds like any minute they’ll be in her lap. Should I wake Gladys? They sound like they are going to kill each other. Unable to control her panic any longer she reaches over to shake her tent companion.
“Don’t get your hair in an uproar. They’re just drunk, they couldn’t hurt each other if they wanted to—they’ll just push and shove and cuss until one or the other falls over passed out.”
Drawing back her hand she realizes Gladys is awake and muttering this from underneath her covers.
“But don’t they scare you?”
Grouchy from being awakened, “Why should they—it’s not my argument? Now go back to sleep.” Gladys draws in a deep breath and wonders what had made her bring this innocent down here last night. She should have left her sleeping on the park bench and let the cops deal with her. Grumbling under her breath she drops back to sleep.
Mary hears thuds and grunts as gradually the sounds of the argument fade to nothing, she realizes Gladys is probably right—they’ve passed out. Lying back down she folds her arms behind her head letting her mind drift back over what had happened to land her here. She had only her stubborn self to blame and if Gladys hadn’t come to her rescue last night she probably would be sleeping in a jail cell right now—having to call her kids to come bail her out. Actually it might have served her right to have that happen as she had been extremely ungrateful for their efforts on her behalf. Trying to smother her hysterical laughter so as not to disturb Gladys she pushes the bunched up cover against her mouth and lets her mind wander. Because of Gladys I’m not in jail. Instead I’m here in a homeless camp sleeping in the tent of a bag lady and I have no idea who she is. For this I should be grateful? Well Gladys had saved me from jail last night and had promised to find me help tomorrow. Looking over at the sleeping woman Mary wonders who she is, why should she care what happens to me? She doesn’t know me. I remember seeing her around town and mentioning her to the clerk at the hotel. What had he said about her? Frowning she tries to recall his exact words—“That’s Gladys; she’s called the Mother Teresa of the homeless. I don’t know where she came from but she’s been around here for what seems like years.”
Unfolding her body she stretches out on her make-shift bed and closes her eyes. When was the last time she had slept on the ground? Sleep is a long time coming as her mind flashes back over the last few months and why she had ended up here at this time and this place. She can still hear her son, Peter, telling her he had sold her home, her security, her piece of heaven.
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