It being colder than a well-diggers brass bra the past several days, we’re forced to entertain ourselves by watching carefully out the windows, reading [I’ll talk some about that], and watching movies. The other tenants read somewhat less and watch tv, I reckons. So when we meet down in the little ‘lobby’ that used to be a sort of lobby mornings we’re all full of news.
Such as, yesterday the deputies came past on the way to the corner house apartments, pulled in and stayed a while. I donned my arctic gear and went out onto the porch to see who was getting busted.
Turned out they were moving out the girl-friend of a guy we call Bird Whistle. I don’t know his real name. He’s a scowling crackhead, old vet white hater who works over in the main hospital pushing patients around sometimes. Beats hell out of this woman enough to have the cops out there frequently. I’ve never seen her when her face wasn’t so full of bruises a person can’t tell how she might have looked once.
Anyway, she was a prostitute in town when she came across Bird Whistle and he brought her down here to live with him. A few months ago she totaled his car, so they’ve been begging rides for smokes and whiskey, making nuisances of themselves. I’d never talked to her until the day she flagged me down and offered me a BJ if I’d take her to the liquor store. [I refused—grapevine has it she gives them for five bucks to anyone in the market. Not worth it.].
We’d all puzzled over how he stayed out of jail, beating her up that way, and held his job at the hospital only showing up half the time and taking off anytime he could get some crack..
But I’ve digressed.
Those deputies went inside a while, and came back out with Rebecka [the name she goes by is Rebecka], all of them toting bags and pillowcases stuffed with what was probably her belongings. The deputies got back in the car, but she ran back in and returned in a few minutes with more loot from the apartment. And the lot of them, her and deputies drove away.
Well, they were no sooner gone than the other residents down there scurried out like a bunch of cockroaches and hurried away in all directions, afoot, or in whatever vehicles they had that would start.
Johnny and I hashed this out this morning. We figure Bird Whistle beat hell out of her one too many times, and as soon as he was gone, she called the cops asking to be taken to a family violence shelter. And she must have remarked while she was waiting for the deputies that she was going to spill the beans about all the other crap going on down there.
So everyone must have thought it was a good time to take a powder for a while. No cars and no lights down there last night. So maybe Rebecka had a nice night somewhere without any crack and not getting billy-hell beaten out of her.
We’re all thinking Bird might be in jail, but that might be too much to hope for around here. We’ve had bets going for a long time whether someone would get killed before anyone did anything to stop all that crap.
So now the only woman likely to get beaten up by her man is Sandy, the next building over. An old Army nurse who has a boyfriend named Daniel Northern who knocks her around enough to bring the cops and get restraining orders for a while. But somehow love always wins out and before you know it he’s back.
Love conquers all.
Thanks for the visit.
Love does conquer all; unfortunately, common sense and decency do not.
Common sense tends to be something we recognize when it isn’t there in other people, seems to me. You and I have plenty of it always. Gracias, Old Jules
That’s more excitement than I have watching the turkeys parade across my yard. Always amazes me how love conquers beatings – at least for a while. You’ve got enough excitement there for many blog posts in the future.
Thanks Bev. A case could probably be made I’m watching turkeys, too. Gracias, Old Jules
That’s pretty sad. Sadder still that it isn’t surprising to any of us. I had a guy hit me exactly once before I was out the door never to return. Not my type of love at all. Then again, I’m not a crackhead.
A person mightn’t want to let his expectations concerning the behavior of human beings grow too tall and handsome. Whether they’re crackheads or just plain old disappointing people they tend to use the hopes and expectations of others as a mark not to achieve. Luckily we’re all blessed with enough flaws so’s we can distract ourselves from them by examining our ownselves. Old Jules
Don’t need that kind of excitement. Don’t understand that kind of “love”.
Human beings are probably a lot more prone to that sort of ‘love’ than the other alternatives, given our history. Maybe one of the challenges we’re supposed to be overcoming this lifetime is leaving that sort of love in the dustbin of history. But we don’t appear to be doing a signal job of it. Old Jules