I first became aware of her twelve years ago. I was enjoying an early summer or late spring evening walk and it was still bright out and the city was full of the colours of day. She was on the other side of the street and I noticed that she had trouble walking. She struggled to remain standing while supporting herself against the wall, a young woman verging on heavy. She wore nothing but a T shirt and what I presumed were panties and then I realized she was wearing nothing below her waste. People walked past her, either not seeing her or refusing to see her. Given that she was half naked I, being a man and in many ways still a gentleman of the Old School, felt it inappropriate that I approach her. I wanted to help her and she clearly needed help. I called 911 on my cell phone, recently acquired because I would need it for my work at the time, a support worker in a locally famous, and infamous homeless shelter. I described in detail to the operator what was happening with the young woman. She asked me if I could verify that she was naked below the waste and I refused to look further, stating to her that I am a gentleman. I urged that help be sent as quickly as possible to the poor woman as she looked very vulnerable and I also struggled to refrain from weeping. I really would have stayed to watch further for her well being but really I didn't want to come across as a creep and really hoped that while waiting for help to come that someone passing her, hopefully a woman, would stop to wait with her. I went home, hoping and praying for the best possible outcome.
Over the years I have seen her around, out in the community, or on the buses. Perhaps no oftener than once a year. Last year she was on the same bus as me where she was yelling and cussing out the bus driver because he didn't let her out where she wanted. The driver was understandably very frustrated and struggled to maintain his cool while trying to tell her to curb her language. I could understand why she was upset. Because of construction work the bus stop had been moved to a place where she had nothing to hold on to. She was walking disabled as I earlier mentioned, perhaps from cerebral palsy, and had no supports for walking. Still she was frightening in her uncontrolled rage and I found myself feeling deeply sorry for any of her care or support workers who found themselves on the receiving end of her wrath
Today I saw her in Starbuck's. I don't ordinarily patronize Starbuck's, preferring to support local business, but this is the most convenient option for meeting one of my clients every week. I arrived early and was waiting for the barista to make my iced decaf Americano in a real glass made of glass(because plastic is déglassé ) when I saw her come in, walking on the arm of a support worker. Realising that she probably doesn't know me, but also not wishing to incite her ire, I took care to not notice her. Her worker, a Filipina woman, seemed very nice and first asked me if I was waiting in line before taking her place (I was just waiting for my drink), then, when I left the washroom, indicating to me that my iced Americano was ready.
I am relieved to know that the Mystery Woman is in good hands. I do not know anything about her condition or diagnosis or what has made her so angry and volatile but I respect that whatever she has suffered it is something greater and uglier than anything I have ever whined about. I also know this about her: because she is a person, as well as having a capacity for suffering and tragedy, so also she has a capacity for joy and love.
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