I shared a cigar with a prostitute tonight.
It was about 10:00 pm, and I had everything planned out: I was going to go to Wal-Mart and get Nyquill because I'm feeling sick, and then I was going to go to the Leaf (the cigar shop downtown) and get a fat cigar. I would sit in the shadows of the building, smoking, worrying about nothing. I figured if I got to the leaf by 10:30 pm, I would have plenty of time to enjoy the smoke and get back to campus before curfew. I bought the Nyquill and got to the Leaf by 10:10, only to find out that the Leaf closes at 8pm on weekdays and 11 pm on the weekEND. Damn it. I wanted to smoke bad enough that I wasn't going to just go home--I had to find somewhere that sold something.
I remembered that there was a 7-11 on Treadaway, so I headed over there. Only a few cars in the parking lot, a couple sitting on the front curb talking, and a lady that looked like she was waiting for a ride by the side of the building. She was slightly overweight, had crooked teeth, and was carrying a bag. I went in and bought a regular cigarillo from a cashier who said I looked like I was at least 18, so he didn't check me for ID.
I headed outside, grabbed my box of matches, and went to the side of the building where that lady was. As I walked past her, I realized she was intently looking at me. She asked me if I was going by the Whitten Inn, because she lived by there and needed a ride home. I lied and said I didn't know where that was. She told me. I avoided agreeing to anything by saying that I was just going to smoke, then we'll see. She seemed put out. Then she asked me if she could do anything for me, because she needed to buy some cigarettes. I knew exactly what she meant by that--she was a prostitute and was looking for work. Of course I said no, thank you. I asked her name. "Heather," she said. We shook hands.
I turned and tried to light the cigar, but being new to the whole smoking practice, I couldn't get it lit. About this time, a lady walked up from down the street and asked if I needed a lighter. She had a tattoo that said "Baby" on her arm. I thanked her and took it, but still couldn't get it lit. She said let me light it, so I gave her the cigar, she put it in her mouth, and observed the ease with which she got it lit. A car pulled up full of women that I assume was with the second lady. I don't actually remember if she get in it with them. But I realized without doubt that I had come to where prostitutes solicit themselves in Abilene at night. So what did I do? I took a seat.
I leaned up against the building and sat smoking. Heather sat down as well. This was my first experience with a prostitute that I had been aware of, and automatically I thought of the story where Tony Campollo threw the birthday party for the prostitute in the bar. So I wasn't scared of her or anything. I wanted to try to show her that I just wanted to talk, to appeal to her human side rather than get something from her. So I asked her how long she had been in Abilene. She said "7 years." "Wooo," I replied. "In this town? That's a long time." "Yeah," she said. "I'm originally from San Angelo," a town I didn't know, but is around 100 miles from Abilene. "So why did you come?" I asked. She said she moved down here with her husband so he could take care of a family member of his, either grandmother or mother. I can't remember which. "But he died on Christmas morning of '07," she said. "Oh my gosh," I gasped. "That's awful." "Yeah," she said, then switching topics almost absentmindedly. "Are you sure you don't need anything? I really need five dollars." "Yeah, I'm sure," I said with gentle sarcasm. I then decided that I'd let her have 5 dollars when I left.
"I'll buy you some cigarettes," I told her. "I have a friend who's been smoking for 4 years, and we can't smoke on campus, so I understand someone needing some badly." "Oh," she responded, "my bad." Then she laughed at mistaking me for a customer. "Where do you go to school?" I told her ACU, and then she told me how she was raised Baptist. "Do you mind if I bum off that with you?" she asked, referring to my cigarillo. "Sure, I said, and passed it over. "So," I asked, starting up another conversation, "what did you want to be? Like, what did you want to do when you were younger?" I wanted to be, like, a nurse's assistant," she said as I politely nodded. She said she liked helping people and was good at it. "And," she ended, "I actually got a job at K-Mart, and I start on Monday." "Wow," I said. "That's great! Are you nervous?" "Yeah, a little bit," she admitted. I then saw an amazing opportunity--I could go see her on her first day. I didn't know if she has family in town, but she was scared about her first day. I thought it could only make a positive impact on her if I went to her, remembered her name, and wished her luck on Monday. I felt like that could make a good impact in the name of love.
At this time, a shady man started walking towards us, and I sort of got scared. I stood up and asked if she wanted to go inside and get the cigarettes. She hesitated. "Uh, no, I'm not going to buy them here." She told me about a little place whose name I can no longer recall where everything is really cheap, and she said she was going to buy them there. I waited until Shady Man went into inside, then I pulled out my wallet and gave her five bucks. She was startled, I don't know why, and she said, "well, now I don't have to go by the Whitten Inn." This comment confused me. Nevertheless, I wished her good luck on the first day, and I got in my car and drove away.
I had several things I thought about as I drove home. First, was her asking me to take her "near the Whitten Inn" the way that she gets business? Is that prostitute terminology? Also, I wondered if she's there every night. I wondered if she had kids. I wondered where her mouth had been.
I worried about sharing the smoke with her all the way home, so much so that I came home and brushed my teeth. I don't know why I was worried--maybe I assumed she could have AIDS of the mouth or some other disease. I also wondered what male body parts that mouth had touched. Did I have a good reason to worry? Was I being unjustly cautious?
This whole experience is so strange to me, and the normality of which it unfolded adds to the strangeness. If I hadn't wanted to smoke tonight, I would have never met Heather, and I wouldn't have heard that she got an new job, and I would never have seen this opportunity to show her love. But it all just happened.
Am I being nice to her just because she is a prostitute? I think so, which saddens me. I wanted to talk to her because of her profession, but as we talked I didn't see her as what she did, I saw her as a human who has been broken and hurt by experiences in the past that lead her here. I want to show her that God loves her, even if she is used by men for sexual experiences. I thought about inviting her to church. I think I will if I see her again.
I have thought about this before, and it makes so much sense to me--smoking provides a whole new avenue of relationship. People who smoke are readily open to others who smoke. I've seen this through being around Mihir. I'm considering taking up smoking so I can get to know people who otherwise I wouldn't have anything in common with. If I do this, it will undoubtedly harm my body, I know that. But is the message of Christ worth more than that? I'm conflicted. For our Cornerstone class, we were assigned to read a letter written by Flannery O'Connor, in which she tells a college student who is uncertain about his faith that "about the only way we know whether we believe or not is by what we do." Judging by how I interacted with Heather and that I wanted her to know Christ, I guess it's safe to assume that I do believe.
Nevertheless, tonight is an experience that I will always remember.
No comments:
Post a Comment