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Thursday, October 29, 2009

Ghetto Rant part 2

Scene: Our apartment complex, Portland, Oregon. Late at night, approximately 11:30. Mark and my bedroom. It is quite warm outside, so we have our window open, but the blinds are still drawn. We're exhausted after a long day. Mark had to work the swing shift (12-9pm) in order to get a fuel cell up and running. We're almost asleep, then...

She who bares it all: What the (*^&$ do you think you're doing? Get the He[[ back inside now!

Sad man: No. I'm leaving.

SWBIA: (crying) no, please, just GET IN THE HOUSE!

At this point, Mark and I are both awake. Being the nosy neighbors we are, we peek through our blinds down at the parking lot below. We see a sad man, trying to leave, and a woman restraining him from leaving. And she's wearing a little tee shirt. JUST a tee shirt. No pants, no chonies, just a tee shirt.

The fighting continues. SWBIA is crying, loudly. Sad man trys to get past her and she shoves him into the wall. The yelling and crying continues for about 10 minutes. The minutes begin to feel like decades.

Various lights in the complex are turning on. Oh goody, we're not the only creepy looky-loos who live here! I think to myself. I watch for a couple more minutes, and start to pray that someone would go down and help them. They are obviously not getting anywhere by themselves, someone of semi sound mind should really help them. Come on people! I silently rage at my neighbors, GET OUT THERE AND DO SOMETHING!

A still, small voice speaks to me. Get out there yourself, Jenni. You can't solve their problems, but you do have a drawer full of clean PJ pants. She could use some pants.

Yes, yes she could.

So, I pick up a pair of clean PJ pants, throw on a sweatshirt of my own and get ready to head down to join the circus.

Mark is about to die of embarrassment.

As I was getting ready to come downstairs, the following happened:

Sad man: I need to go. I need space.

SWBIA: Fine. Go. I'll give you space. (She turns and heads into the apartment.)

At this point I'm relieved. I don't have to go down there after all. YES!

Sad man backs his car out.

The apartment door is thrown open!

"NO! Go back in the house." I silently plead.

SWBIA runs out and (still in just the tee shirt) and throws herself in front of his car, crying and screaming, "See, I gave you space. Don't leave. Come back inside with me."

Crap. There went my chances of climbing back into my warm cozy bed and falling asleep. I head downstairs.

I make it out to the car. She is still blocking his car from leaving, thus leaving nothing to the imagination.

I offer her my pants. She tells me to get back in my house and go to he[[. Sad man tells her that she's completely crazy. Only crazy people go out in public without clothes on.

He's very right.

And we're going on about 30 minutes since this whole shebang has started. It's getting late. She's been naked for a long time.

I set the pants down near her door and wait and pray for them. After what seemed like about 38 years, I could tell that this was going no where. There was no solution to this problem. He only wants to leave, she only wants him to stay and hear her out. This is a lose/lose. We're looking for a win/win/win.

God, help me find a win/win/win, I pray.

Then it came to me. Invite them to our apartment. It's neutral, they can have a short conversation, and then he can leave if he still wants to. It seems like a win/win/win.

I propose the idea. We agree. They will come to our place. She will get 5 minutes, and he will listen. She will put on pants. He can leave after 5 minutes.

She puts on the pants. They come up to our apartment. Mark rolls his eyes at me.

They talk for 20 minutes. Mark and I sit on little kiddie chairs because they are sitting on the futon and that's all we have here. We all look a little crazy. I think we all are a little crazy.

Turns out, SWBIA has a valid point. She's tired of being a booty call and wants Sad man to really care about her, not just use her. He doesn't care about her and just wants to leave.

It's sad. Very, very sad.

Sad man gets up to leave. Then SWBIA says that he can't drive. He's been drinking.

My wonderful husband drives him home. He gets back here around 2:30 in the morning and we fall asleep, exhausted, but thankful that we could at least try and help.

And that's the end of the story.

A week later we see Sad man's car parked outside her apartment again. I guess some things never change.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

One of your father-in-law's favorite quotes is "Blessed are the peace makers, for they shall catch *(%% from all sides."

It takes courage to step out and be obedient...as corny as it may sound, the safest place on earth is in the middle of God's will.

We pray for you and your family every day.

Miriam Porter said...

That was an excellent story! Everyday you suprise me Mrs. Sterns.

Kara said...

Mark, you're an angel for driving Sad Man home.

Jenni, you're an angel for giving SWBIA some pants.

I love you both for your kind and generous spirits!