Sweet Marie

There was a thunderstorm. I was waiting at the hospital shuttle bus stop. There was no one outside because of the rain. There was only this lone caucasian woman with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, sitting there, across from me but not that far. I could see her tired, worn face. I could tell that at some point, she was a very beautiful woman. Her eyes were fixated on the ground. She lifted her head and saw that I had a hospital badge.

“Do you work here?”
“Yeah. I work for hopeFound.”
“Oh, you do? I’m in the women’s treatment program right now in hopefound.”

For privacy’s sake, I’ll just call her….Marie. Yeah…Marie. It’s such a pretty name.
Her voice was empty. Like she was so tired of everything that she could even find her voice anymore. I got the sense that she had party given up on life. She looked off into the distance as if she were staring into some deep dark unfathomable abyss that was sucking the light out of her.

“Do you mind listening to an old woman’s story?”

Honestly, I was a little curious. She looked old but she was probably only in her 30s. There was dark circle around her eyes and she had crow’s feet.

“Sure.”
Why not? It wouldn’t hurt to hear what she had to say. Besides, I like stories.
Marie smiled but so weakly. Despite that, she seemed a little glad that I gave her the OK.
She told me about how she was homeless and staying at the program after she completed detox(rehab) and about all the stuff she got addicted to. Meth, crack, cocaine, benzos, oxycos, heroin, weed. How she used to party all day and night everyday. How she dropped out of school and met her boyfriend. How the drugs ruined her once beautiful face and destroyed her relationship with her family.
She pulled out a cigarette from her pocket and a lighter and glanced over at me.

“You don’t mind if I light this, do you?”

I noded and gave her the ok, and she lit it and took a long drag. A few seconds later, she blows out a steady smooth stream of smoke from her pursed lips. Like a pro who’s been smoking for years.

“Me and my boyfriend were so close. We got high together nearly every day. Been together for years and years.”

She takes another drag and begins speaking, the smoke pouring out of her nostrils and mouth like a dragon that had just breathed fire.

“Eventually we had kids. I got a 7 year old daughter and a 15 year old son. But I never took care of them the way I should have. My son must fucking hate my guts for neglecting him and his sister. I was always so worried about when I could get my next fix, that it was like they didn’t exist at all, you know? When it got too bad, my kids were taken from me by my mother. She took them because she thought I had no right to have them. That even though I gave birth to ’em, that I wasn’t their mother. That I was just some fucking drugged up piece of shit excuse for a mother.”

Her far away look grew more intense. She was obviously upset but comforted in a way that I was listening to her plight. She took another drag.

“My boyfriend died from an overdose. I almost did too, but I lived somehow. I was angry that I survived. Because I just wanted to die. I never wanted to wake up. I wanted to believe that this shit was just a big fucking nightmare. But it was real, and now the guy I loved was taken from me too.”

She tapped her cigarette with her finger to jerk some of the ash off the tip that was accumilating and she paused. It was taking all the strength she had to keep her composure. She had a fucked up life, but she was strong nonetheless. Or at least, I thought she was. Here she was, in the middle of a heartbreaking story and she kept her calm cool aloof look like if nothing ever happened to her. But even so, she was radiating an aura full of sorrow so strong that I could almost see it coming off of her.

“So I decided to come here and get my life back together. It took a long time to get all that shit out of my system but I did it. After I finally do that, I’m going to get my kids back and be a real mother to them and get them to love me again.”

Marie grinned and suddenly some light and hope shown on her face. She was saddened because her kids and her lover were gone but she looked forward to a clean pleasant future with her children, watching them grow up and become adults while striving to make them have a life much better than hers, as any parent should do. Marie put the cigerette out and tossed the bud into the garbage.

“You’re so young and here you are working for a hospital. You’re very successful, you know that? A lot more than a whole bunch of other people out there. I’m glad that you’re working here instead of being ignorant like a lot of kids these days. I’m sure your momma is real proud ‘o ya.”

And with that the bus came. I got up and started to get on. I looked back at the lady and gave her a smile and a wave. She smiled and gave me a nod.

“Thanks for listenin’ to me, hon. You’re a real sweetie.”
“No problem.”

I felt a bit happy that she was in good spirits because I was there at the right place and the right time. That when she talked, I sat there and listened and maybe sometimes people really need that in order to pick up the pieces and keep on walking, even if you had to walk over a road of burning coal. I made a difference, however minimal it may have been.

I waved at her as the shuttle bus drove off. I’d probably never see her again, but I’d always remember her as Sweet Marie, the sweet lady that found the light in her life again and proved that even if your life falls to hell, you can reach down there and pull it back up.

The title of my blog was named after the song “Sweet Marie” by The Anniversary.

‘Till next time.

~ Jaz