Lucid Waking

Archive for July 9th, 2008

Lost: His Story

        Her name was Chelsea Gaber. I only met her pretty recently. A friend of mine knew her and introduced us one day. I didn’t have many classes with her, so I can’t tell you whether or not she was crazy, but it had my doubts when I ran into her that one rainy day and she was in her pajamas clutching a blanket.
        I mean, no one should have been out in that storm, but I was, so I couldn’t judge her. She looked pale and ill to me, but I asked her if she was all right. I thought it better to be polite than to assume anything. She coughed so hard she almost puked after that and I suppose instinct sort of kicked in; you know, damsel in distress. I’m not saying I like playing the hero, but I wasn’t really thinking about it at this point. She was obviously sick and I was sort of disturbed she wasn’t at home.
        She wasn’t quite with it as she sort of mumbled her address when I asked. About halfway there she starts panicking and becomes livid with fear. Before I can ask what’s wrong she tells me that she can’t go home through the door because her mother will kill her. Then she tells me that her mother got into the habit of beating her every so often after her grandmother and dad died. She didn’t say how, but she said that her mother was superstitious and wanted to go back to Romania, but without any money they were having trouble paying the mortgage, let alone for a house in another country. She also said that she didn’t tell anyone about this before because her mother threatened her if she told. She mentioned that she told a couple people, but they didn’t really help her very much. She didn’t want to report her mother because that was the only person she had left.
        She told me she was just going to walk around and get a hamburger because all she could feel was chicken noodle soup. I don’t think she heard me that a hamburger would not be in her best interest. She sort of went back to being limp on my shoulder after that. I didn’t know what to do, but by the time I reached her house, I had decided I would bring her home. If her mother was livid, I could always volunteer to stay and help. At least, I wouldn’t have a dying girl on my shoulders. Well, she wasn’t dying, but she might have been if she wasn’t home and dry.
        Mrs. Gaber seemed pretty upset Chelsea had left, but she wouldn’t let me stay and help. She just thanked me and said I had done enough. Besides, she made note, a gentleman should not be in the presence of a lady undressed. I remember blushing after that remark and then thinking that other girls wear less clothes on a regular basis, but I knew she was right so I bid them good bye and walked back home.
        My mother was just as upset, but I didn’t get sick because of the rain and when I explained I had to help someone home, she felt awful about yelling at me. I didn’t see Chelsea for a while after that point, but I didn’t really want to bother her about it. She probably had enough to worry about without my bothering her.