Broken Lady...

 

“Broken Lady”

By

Scott Casteel

 

 

It is really hard to find something when you don’t know what you are looking for. I hope she finds it. I drove around the corner and saw her sitting on the edge of the wall in front of the address she put into the Lyft app. We made eye contact. My first impression was she possessed a cognitive disability of sorts.  Dressed in a crisp white button-down uniform, she walked around the back of my car and got in the passenger side back seat.  I verified her name and introduced myself. “Hi Amy. I am Scott.”

“Nice to meet you Scott.”

I verified the destination posted on the app and told her we were on our way. She thanked me for giving her a ride.

“That is a nice shirt. I bet your wife picked that out for you.”

I told her I did not remember. I really did not have the heart to disrespect her complement. I picked it out at a secondhand store. After 20 years of wearing the same uniform, I really did not have any dress clothes and I certainly wasn’t going to spend a lot of money buying any. I no longer feel the need to dress to impress.

“How long have you been married?” she asks.

“32 years.” I have to think for a minute. I do the math in my head to make sure.

She tells me she has been married 26 years. Her voice changes to a confused sadness. “My husband left me for another woman.” She sighs, “Three months ago.”

“Oh goodness.” I tell her. “That must be incredibly painful.”

“It is. But I am taking the high road. I never saw it coming. I don’t want to be too graphic, but we had sex three times a week. Three times a week! I am not wearing any makeup, but I am still hot. He told me he just doesn’t love me anymore. But I am taking the high road.” she says proudly.

She asks my age and I tell her I will be 57 next month.

“I am only 54 and I am still good lookin’. Just look at me.

I do not respond. I do Not want to be misconstrued, so I keep driving. Plus, I really did not think she was all that hot.

“My husband is 64.”

She tells me about her kids. She has a daughter that is 25 and a son 21. The daughter is finishing graduate school in the spring and her son will get his bachelor’s degree from ASU in the spring as well. She seems proud of her children. She tells me once again she is taking the high road.

“I am putting on my uniform and I am going to work.” She repeats.

Her son won’t even speak to his dad and that hurts her. “That is your father and he will always be your father.” She tells me in a matter of fact tone.

Her daughter met the new woman.  “She is younger than me mommy.” She tells me she did not want to hear about the new girlfriend, but her daughter continued. “Mommy, she has great big boobs. And she isn’t very pretty.”  She tells her “I really don’t want to hear this.” Her daughter insists “But Mommy, I think you do need to hear this.”

 

We pull into a popular candy store where she works. She points to a parking spot where she wants to be dropped off. She apologizes to me for bearing her soul. I tell her this is not the first time this has happened. I am not sure why, but complete strangers have a tendency to tell me their life stories and secrets.

“You have a gentle soul that people respond to.”

 I nod my head and tell her “Yeah, I guess so.”

She tells me one more time, “I am putting on my uniform and I am going to work. I am taking the high road.”  She tugs at the large shiny black buttons on her uniform and smooths out the wrinkles. She asks to shake my hand and thanks me for letting her talk.

 

As she struggles a little to get out of my car, I notice a translucent plastic cup with an amber liquid sloshing back and forth. She had kept it out of my sight. She slowly walks around the back of my car and in her crisp white uniform stumbles toward her job, where she is going to take the high road.