Monday, January 14, 2013

We're people. You're supposed to treat us good.

I had just returned from giving our Christmas tree to the wood chippers. As I put my key in the door, I heard someone on the sidewalk behind me shouting in a bitterly angry tone:

“This isn’t FUN. We’ve been here for an HOUR.”

I turned around to find a woman facing the driver-side window of a car parked in front of our building. I could see another woman in the driver’s seat. She sat still the whole time, staring out the windshield. There was someone in the passenger seat too, but I could only see their legs.

The woman on the sidewalk began again.

“Listen, Frankie. We’re PEOPLE. You’re supposed to treat us good!”

After a few moments she opened the back door and got in. They both sat there now, just looking straight ahead. I waited to see if anything more would happen. Shouting, maybe. Gesturing. Tears. But nothing happened. They sat there, saying nothing.

I let the door close and went upstairs.