Giving Back

I’ve been trying to be a better person like

my mother tells me when we’re on the phone. So

I baked some cookies and took them to Bronstein Park.

It was a hot one. The weather app said 85 but feels like 91.

This girl, Christina, was layered up in thick coats 

and wool blankets. Someone leaned her against the lamppost and this 

made all of us feel better about the situation.

I brought her two cookies and shook her shoulder gently. “What?”

she rasped out. A cigarette was dying between her fingertips.

I tried to look at her but I kept looking at it instead. “Hi, I’m Emory and-”

“What’s that?” “Oh, sorry,” then a little louder, “Hi! I’m Emory and-”

“No.” “No?” “No - what is that?” she said. The cigarette flicked slightly over 

to the dollar store paper plate I carried. “Oh, these? These are cookies” 

I said. “Vanilla Chai”. Christina said nothing and so then I said nothing.

She was bent drastically over herself in a way that made me uncomfortable.

I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand. Another organiser 

came over to take charge as I was clearly floundering. 

“We’re gonna move you to the shade, okay, Christina?” 

She said with confidence. Probably worried about heat

stroke, I thought. We put our hands on her waist and she cried out, “No!”

“No?” “I’m too cold inside, I need the sunlight.” The organiser made a face

and wandered back to the group. She had given it the good ‘ole college try.

I felt trapped, but also in complete control. She was safe, for now. I

put her cigarette in one of her coat pockets. She was cold to the touch but I

was burning up. Meanwhile, an ant colony had taken crumbs of

her cookies to procure a mighty feast. I got up to be where I 

wanted to be. Christina was already there.

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