KIKI
I wander the streets of large cities.
What goes on there interests me.
Sometimes it is more interesting than others.
I was walking the streets of some nameless big city one day.
It could be any city — NYC, Philadelphia, Chicago.
Or the city in which you live.
Almost all cities have them.
Alley ways, that sometimes smell of vomit, urine, or other unpleasant
things.
That sometimes contain unpleasant things: trash, discarded food, detritus.
There is rarely anything pleasant.
Some people hasten through them.
They may merely be a shortcut to a better street.
A wider, cleaner street.
People sometimes inhabit those alleyways.
Some people may live their entire lives inhabiting them.
I found one such person the other day in such an alleyway.
Her name was Kiki.
Or so she said.
Her hair was matted and dark.
It probably had a sheen once.
But that was so long ago she’s almost forgotten.
Her clothes were rags.
Her feet were bare.
She may be been attractive once.
But no more.
She sat on a cheap thin bamboo mat, the kind people use at the beach in
Hawaii.
She was shivering, cold and skinny.
She wordlessly held a bowl.
I stopped.
What was the bowl for?
There was no money in it.
Then it came to me.
She needed no sign.
She was begging.
“What can I do for you?”
She looked up with big eyes.
They were tear-stained.
The light had gone out of them.
She was on survival mode.
She could have been blind but I could tell she could see.
“Can you walk?” I put out a hand.
“I don’t even know if I can stand,” she said.
It was a small voice, a timid voice.
I helped to her feet.
“Is there a soup kitchen nearby?” I asked.
She pointed.
“How far?”
“Not far.”
I put an arm out to support her.
She shrank back.
She shivered as a wind blew through.
I took off my overcoat and put it around her thin shoulders.
She let me do that.
“Leave your bowl,” I said. “I have a feeling you won’t be needing that anymore.”
So we set off for the soup kitchen.
She didn’t say a word, and seemed to have some trouble keeping up with me.
I slowed my pace.
People came and went.
None paid us any heed.
After a few stop lights, during which time she rested when the light was
red, we reached the soup kitchen.
It was reasonably busy.
I looked up the blackboard above the counter.
Some had scribbled the choices, as well as the usual fare.
“What do you want, Kiki?” I asked. ”Can you read the menu?”
“Yes.” Then, “Why are you doing this?”
“I wanted some soup. And,” I smiled, “I wanted some company.”
That seemed to mollify her.
She chose vegetable soup.
I ordered French onion and some bread.
We sat down.
People around us ate soup.
Or fiddled with their phones and ate soup.
Or read the newspaper, waiting for their soup.
They ignored us.
The soup came.
In great, steaming bowls.
Nothing like her bowl.
And great mounds of dark bread.
We got some water from the sideboard and dug in.
After she was done, I asked her, “Do you want more? Maybe a different soup?”
She got a second bowl.
She devoured the bread like there was a famine around the corner.
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After our second bowls we stopped.
I looked at her.
We simply had to do something about her clothes.
After I paid the bill, we exited.
After we passed several more streets I saw a Macy’s.
“C’mon, Kiki,” I said. “My treat.”
We found the women’s section of clothes.
“How old are you, Kiki?”
The years in the streets had prematurely aged her.
I would have guessed 30.
“17,” she said.
I solicited the advice of a sales lady.
“Would you wear a dress?” I asked Kiki.
“Yes,” after some hesitation.
“Do you know your size?”
She shook her head.
“Then we’ll try some until we find the right size.”
It took some time, but not long.
She was shy about looking in the mirror, but was persuaded by the sales
lady to take a look.
Her eyes lit up.
They were not dead after all.
“I like blue,” she beamed. “The color of the sky and the sea.”
I found a pink one in the same size and bought them both.
She wore the blue dress with pride.
I looked at her top.
It was so much like rags I couldn’t tell what it once was.
Or what color it was, either.
I bought her a tank top, sweatshirt and jeans.
We came to the shoes.
“I haven’t worn shoes in a long time,” she said.
Her feet were dirty and calloused.
“Would you wear sneakers if we found some that fit?” I asked.
She nodded.
Like her dress size, her shoe size was 6.
I found some regular shoes made of leather.
We bought those, too.
I looked at my overcoat which was too big for her.
She looked like a clown at a circus, but I didn’t laugh.
I bought two coats — a navy blue faux suede and a puffer sports jacket.
She wore the sneakers and gave me back the overcoat.
I also bought her a couple bras, socks and panties.
Nylons and hats would have to wait another day.
We exited the store.
As we stood on the street, I said to her, ”You can’t go back there.”
She was silent.
“Come home with me,” I said. “I can be like a father to you. I have a spare
bedroom and I promise not to get fresh with you.”
I didn’t know about her life on the streets.
How maybe she’d been attacked.
I knew the streets weren’t safe for anyone, let alone a woman like her.
She thought about it a moment, then nodded.
I found my parked car and opened the passenger door.
She got in.
I drove home to a nice home with attached two car garage, full kitchen and
washer and dryer.
I showed her her room, with its own bathroom.
She set the Macy bags down on the floor.
She then sat down and wept.
I had never seen that before.
Great sobs came from her body and tears flowed freely.
I went to fetch some tissues.
I was semi-embarrassed.
I didn’t know what to do.
After the sobs subsided, I said, “Maybe you want to cleaned up a bit. There’s
a hot tub and shower in the bathroom.”
A little later we went to bed, she in hers and I in mine.
I slept well.
I’d promised her we’d look for a job first thing the next morning.
She said nothing but seemed satisfied.
Early the next morning I knocked on her closed door.
No answer.
No “hello.”
I wondered if she were sleeping in late.
I opened the door a crack.
The bed looked like it had not been slept in.
The bags were still there.
On the comforter cover I saw a note.
This is what it said:
“I was hungry, and you fed me.
Naked and you clothed me.
Sad, and you comforted me.
Inasmuch as ye have done this unto one of these, the least of my children, ye have
done it unto me.
Signed:
Kiki
Your angel
