To the little girl who broke my heart

What a beautiful Saturday morning! It was around 9.50 AM and I was sitting by the greenway just across from Salem street as usual with my latte and chocolate croissant from the Boston Bean coffee company. I would have to go back to my place in 30 minutes to pick up my laundry...and then think of something else to do for the day. Little did I know that a change will happen in my life in about an hour. I engaged a sparrow for about 10 minutes during which time the little fella consumed a good chunk of my croissant.

A little less than an hour later, I was sauntering along the harborwalk toward the waterfront. I got to the dog park and the area was packed as everyone was out under the sun. What other "birds" were in store for me this day! By the dog park, a rather slim young woman almost slammed into me.

Hmm, must be European. Too young for me though.

"Excuse me", I said and started to walk past her.

A tiny voice spoke in my ear.

"Excuse me", I turned and looked at her...must need directions.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"I need 15 dollars to get on a bus to Springfield, VT. I am only 15 years old and have no money. Can you help?"

She looked healthy.

"How did you end up here?"

"I came to see my aunt in South Boston and..."

I barely heard the rest of what she said.

"Sorry I can't help you"

I kept walking toward the waterfront. Why do people always ask me for money?! The hell if I will let myself be ripped off by some kid. A few seconds later, my walk slowed as a slew of thoughts started in my head. What if she was telling the truth? 20 bucks is nothing for me. Usually the homeless people who sidle up to me...well, I know for sure who they are and have no issue pushing a buck over. But that girl? Come to think of it, there was a certain dignity in how she asked for help. Maybe her aunt couldn't help her and, with no one to turn to, she is going back home. What's in store for her back "home"? What did she say that she came to see her aunt for? Don't women leave these little towns and try to make a better life elsewhere? I remembered those other women (older, of course) who had said something along the lines of "Please don't go" after those brief moments when I engaged them in conversation on day trips through...Goshen...Lancaster...Orleans down in the Cape. They had wanted me to pay them attention, just a little attention...and I had been too self-absorbed to comply.

I felt overwhelmed. I am not supposed to feel this way with all these years of experience behind me.

Fuck. Come on, man, you are supposed to know your own mind by now.

I stopped right by where the MBTA commuter boats leave, stared at the ground for a bit and turned. People were milling around for their harbor boat trips. I only had a few dollars on me. Maybe I can get some cash from that ATM next to the Starbucks and find her.

Find her?! I came back to the dog park and looked around. How the hell am I going to find her in this mess? It seemed half the women barely wore anything while the others all wore a gray t-shirt just like her. The day looked bleak.

I started to walk looking for her. I stopped by Joe's to ask the hostess.

"Excuse me, did you see a young woman in a gray t-shirt walk past?"

"Sorry, there's a lot of women who walk by", came the response. Weirdo.

Dejected, I started walking home. I stopped at the ATM to withdraw a few twenties. No, this is not right. I must find her and help her.

Let me go back and scan the area next to Tia's.

Faneuil Hall.

For the first time in my life, I wished I were taller. I jumped onto a bench and gazed between the buildings. People were staring at my suppressed anger. The hell with them!

Maybe somebody else helped her. No, no, you are going to see this through. Find her! She may not have eaten all day. Now I was really concerned. I remembered the low voice. She might have been hungry too when she spoke to me. I hope I won't find her passed out somewhere. That was some of my darker memories growing up in India...people passed out by the roadside. But American women were stronger, right? And now I am supposed to be an American. Am I?

Downtown crossing.

My t-shirt was soaked from all the scurrying around. Okay, maybe somebody did help her. In that case, she might be off to South Station to catch that bus.

Ok. South Station next.

What if she sees me and freaks out? Maybe I will leave three twenty dollar bills near her. Then I will give her a smile and just walk away. Yes, that's what I will do. I will have to do it in such a way that some enterprising cop doesn't spot me and book us both for "abnormal" behavior. I don't want to make more trouble for her. And if she didn't take the money, fine. Let somebody else have it. I don't want it.

She wasn't in South Station. I went out to a couple of buses and jumped up and around. No, no buses to VT.

Maybe she was really an older woman posing as a young girl.

No, don't make an assumption like that. She really needed your help and you didn't help her.

I stood on the pavement with my mood at an all time low and all my pride squeezed out of me. Unsure of what to do, I slowly walked back to my place. It seemed like a forever walk. And my eyes were scanning for her...always scanning...

Close to home, I couldn't bear to go indoors. Maybe I could spot her if she walked past me. I sat down at a doorstep on Commercial street. After an eternity, I walked across the road to the baseball field, sat down on a stone bench and buried my face in my hands.