Angela

Angela comes over, unexpectedly. I’ve known Angela for a long time, not really well, but chatted with her.  She has legs that won’t quit,  great breasts, pretty good looking.   She’s flagged me down a couple times, but I never did go with her.. something about her made me pass her over, even though she’s good looking.   Long shapely legs.  An O.K. face.     However, she seems sort of “bitchy” to me so I didn’t pursue it.

I take her down to Salvation army to find her some jeans,  because they are cheap.  Her long legs are hard to fit.  Most women are hard to fit.  Having various sizes waist, hips, etc.   The hips are another dimension in women’s clothes..and the “junior”  “petite” and other sizes are confusing. I get her some jeans, underclothes, and socks.  She astonishes me by asking if she can spend the night, and asks if I have anything for her to wear around the house.

I get her back to the house, where she showers and gets herself clean.   She’s pretty, but I want to know more about her.  I know she’s been prostituting, but after that woman I  married.. these women can’t surprise me know no matter HOW  ruthless they are! It is colder than hell outside, and the woman has been through hell.   She likes my cat, and we watch a couple of movies and eat dinner.   We go to bed, which was uneventful except a little tussling over the covers and electric blanket.

We wake up about 0830 and I take her to the store as she is complaining about stomach cramps, a little crabby.  I buy her some pamprin, and other stuff, but the cramps are worse and she is really hollering.  I take her back to the house but I am kind of worried. She is moaning, but still eating, and fixes some ramen noodles, and wondering whether to go to the hospital.

Then, all of a sudden, the back of her pants are all wet clear down her leg. The problem is apparent now and I hustle her down to the car in the freezing cold, and I am astonished, because she wasn’t showing any signs of pregnancy.. I hardly know the girl.    She is shrieking now, “I’m having a fuckin’ miscarriage!” She was talking a little bit about it,  saying “no, I don’t think I am pregnant”.. then worried that she didn’t have her period.  Earlier she had been wondering..talking about her period.. but saying she didn’t think she was pregnant.

On the way to the hospital she is hollering for me to run the red lights, saying that the pain will get much worse. We get there finally at Truman and they take her in.. then they let me go back, and I feel obliged, not wanting for her to go through such trauma alone.  I go back with her to the examining room , she says she doesn’t want me to watch, then takes off her pants, and looking her down she starts hollering saying.. “that’s the baby coming out of me!”.

At this point I leave. I hang out in the waiting rooms,  totally surprised by this experience.  I have lots  sympathy for her, despite her wretched state.   This is like her 7th child.  Later, she told me the father was a ‘trick’. She’s in a bitchy mood boy.. cursing the doctors and nurses.  She wants a quarter pounder in her room there, so I ask the nurses and they say no until after the pelvic exam.  She begins cursing me, and the doctors.  At this point, I just leave, having done my humanitarian duty.

The doctors and nurses are having to control themselves, as Angela curses them out, and the nurses have that look, that silent attitude, as if they’ve seen this before.   I learn, as the nurses interview her that she’s had 5 kids and a couple of abortions.  Sheesh.. you can hardly tell it.   The girl is pretty, looks clean..not too bad.  Apparently, she’s wilder than a march hare, which isn’t unusual in America.

A few hours later,  Angela calls me,  calmed down and polite and asks to be picked up.  I decide to do it,  sympathetic really,  after what the woman has been through.  Despite the fact that she has pretty much, put herself through it.   She muses over the fetus she lost,  happy that they are going to cremate the body, and waves of sympathy come over me.   I buy her some of her favorite food, and put her to bed to rest. Later, she comes around, and is kind of wild.. acting really bitchy.

Kissy Chris calls me on the phone, and we are talking, so Angela accuses me of all kinds of stuff,  saying Chris just uses me.. blah blah.  She gets mad, tells me what a weiner I am, and then splits, and I am relieved to see her go. She is really likes to bust on me, which to me, is a sign of people who are insecure about themselves.   Her family has just cold shouldered her over the phone, the poor kid.  I dunno.

It could be the drugs she was taken, or the sort of sleazy philosophy that is always being played out in this ‘hood. “Stop Snitching” and other bullshit.  Glorification of drugs, drinking, rappers who died in a hail of gunfire.  That sort of thing. Perhaps she has a disorder, I do not know.  She called her kinfolk and all she got was criticism and scolded for not using a condom.  Her family relations strained, as many of these bad girl types are.  It’s something in the family.  Something that made them turn to drugs.  God how I hate drugs.  If the rich people saw what happened to the people down here, they would think twice.   MANY of the drug addicts around here were once wealthy, or at least, had a decent place to stay.

Angela studies the bible, which in my opinion, makes people even more crazy.   She can be  sweet, in the brief time that I know her, but has a quick temper, and gets really “psycho”.   She has one of those episodes,  curses me out, and then grabs her clothes and leaves.  Which is O.K. with me.. whew!!  What a bad girl, and her temper is almost as bad as my X wife’s. Despite the bible study the drugs got a hold of them boy.

Many of these girls around here are crazy, and it is not just the prostitutes. The married couple downstairs were in a knock down drag out because one brother is screwing his brother’s wife.. now they don’t know  who the kids’ father is.   Sometimes, a woman will kill her husband.   I think the women more dangerous than the men, to tell the truth.

There are many very dangerous drugs that the prostitutes take or know about.  “Wet” is popular.. which is like.. embalming fluid.  Homemade methamphetamine another popular favorite. SOME of the people have been to college, were once wealthy, and are very charming, intelligent people.   Drugs seem always a part of thier fall or the breakup of thier lives.

I’ve got to hand it to Angela.  She’s a tough cookie. Many women can’t handle one, or even two births.   She’s been through it like SEVEN times, with no backup,  no father around, relatives don’t give a shit, she’s totally alone in the world really.

The nurses at the hospital are like.. rolling thier eyes. Another ho’.. another poor person at that place.   However,  Angela was right in a way.  She knew exactly what was coming.. exactly what to do.

Later that night,  Chris calling me on the phone wanting me to bring her food ‘cos she is sick,  but I am in bed, tell her to come up if she wants it.  I’m sick of getting run ragged with these women’s problems, and believe me, I’ve got problems of my own.  I am unemployed now, after my trucking company eliminated my job when the fuel went up.  I get unemployment now, but it is an uneasy sort of money.   Sigh.  Chris won’t stop.  NONE of them will stop.  They are like the proverbial runaway train- until they hit a wall, that is.

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