The Prosty

The Prosty

It was early on a Friday evening late in the fall just after I graduated college. After work, I was walking to my car to drive home. The most memorable thing about that evening would have been the searing cold if what happened next had not happened.

It was nearly dark. I was walking quickly because of the cold when a woman standing in the shadows suddenly moved toward me. I thought maybe she didn’t see me, so I moved out of her way. She then stepped directly in front of me. I felt threatened. Maybe this was actually a man intending me harm. In the dark I couldn’t tell. My heart was racing. I was about to raise my hands defensively when she spoke.

She was a young slender woman who made a good first impression. And, she had an amazingly soft voice. “Would you like a date?” she said. I was so surprised by the question that I didn’t comprehend what she had said. When I did understand I was so relieved that I wasn’t being assaulted that I blurted out a short nervous laugh. She said, “You don’t have to be rude. You could have just said ’No.’ ”. Suddenly, I was making an effusive apology for offending her. My face turned red, even in the dark. It was at once a moment of great relief and great embarrassment. I wasn’t used to being approached by “A lady of the night”. I would have gone on my way but as she stepped away I realized she was shaking uncontrollably. Was it from the cold? Apparently, to appear more attractive, she wasn’t wearing a coat. Or, maybe she didn’t have a coat. I couldn’t tell.

Then, as she started to walk away I realized she was staggering. She stepped into a sheltering doorway. Then turned her back to the wall and was dimly haloed by a light from above the door. Her eyes were filling with tears. Streetwalker or not, my heart melted.

She had suddenly turned “Cinderella style”, from a provocatively dressed, over-made up “street walker” to a cold, fragile and perhaps desperate woman. She looked like she badly needed a friend. It was suddenly clear that she was not a street predator but was herself a victim of the street. It was strangely heart breaking.

Concerned that she was staggering I asked her if she was all right. “I’m fine” she lied. We both knew better. I ask again, “Are you sure? Do you need help?” She rejected the offer, “Just leave me alone” she said with more insistence. She raised her chin in a feeble effort to maintain her pride. She kept looking down the street and would not make eye contact with me. I rationalized to myself, silently, “There is only so much a person can do”. It was demeaning for me to have an honest offer of help refused, especially by a “Hooker”. I turned to go.

I hadn’t taken two steps when she went down. She just folded up. She fell hard on her knees. Then, her face took the brunt as she pitched forward onto the sidewalk. I lunged for her but of course, she was on the ground before I had even moved. She was only out for a few seconds. Then, to my significant relief she began to struggle to get up. I helped as much as I could but it was a very awkward situation. She must have just fainted. Maybe she was drunk or on something. (What in the world am I doing here?)

As she got to her feet I said, “Are you ok?” “Yes, thank you” she responded in a very weak voice. Her knees and forehead were badly scraped from the fall and beginning to bleed. “Is there someone you can call?” I queried. No response. “Do you have a coat” No response. “Is there anything I can do to help? I ask again. Finally, she said, “I’m so embarrassed. Thank you. Maybe, if I could get a cup of coffee ”. There was a diner just down the block where she could get coffee. Then, being embarrassed at my lapse in chivalry, I offered her my coat. To a “street walker!” Dumb! I wandered if I would ever get it back. Damn. Now, I’m stuck. She’s got my overcoat and I can’t take it off of her especially in this weather. Stupid! Stupid! Besides, now I’m cold!

Just as we started toward the diner she stopped suddenly. She turned to me and said “Why are you help me like this.?” I smiled. I was wandering the same thing. I said, “Look, you were hurt and needed help, didn’t you?” She shook her head “yes” and looked down at her feet. I said, “Besides, it was just the right thing to do.” Sounded good. Then she said with some pain in her voice “But I tried to hustle you. You know what I am, right?” And, she looked back at her feet. I mumbled, “I know, but it was still the right thing to do.” So now I’m scoring points with a street hustler?!

She was silent for several seconds, and then said, “Is the reason you are helping me that you really just want to go to bed with me?” Oh, my gawd! I was instantly super embarrassed! “No, no, no! I just thought you needed help.” She looked back at her feet and in a small clipped voice said, “I did”.

After we were seated in the diner (I couldn’t leave, she still had my coat!) I asked her, “How is your forehead and your knees. They look really bad.” She answered, “They hurt. But, I cleaned up when I went to the rest room. I’m not bleeding much now.” ”Good” says I. She seemed to be still wandering why I was helping. Finally, I told her that I was sort of a religious person. Maybe that would satisfy her. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she smiled big and almost giggled, then said “Oh, like Jethrow!” “Who?” says I. “Jethrow” she said as if that explained everything. “Who is Jerthrow?” (Can I have my coat back, now?)

“He’s kind of a homeless guy. But, he helps people. You know, people who really need help. He likes to talk about religion and stuff. He’s really smart. But, he isn’t a pushy, glassy eye Jesus freak. He just likes helping people. He says sometimes, talking is all people need. But, he will share anything he has if another person really needs it. I think you’d like him! His place is only a couple of blocks from here.”

(Your friend sounds nice…. maybe sometime, but, please give me my coat back, I need to get out of here!)

She wolfed down another cup of coffee. Then let me pick up the tab! She said “Come on. I want you to meet Jethrow! And, she started toward the door, looking back to be sure I was following. By this time our stop for coffee was beginning to feel like an eighth grade date with a bubbly excited young girl. I had to keep reminding myself that she was a “street walker”.

Outside I pulled her up short. And said, “Look, I have really got to go. Someone is expecting me” I lied. Suddenly, her mood changed. She appeared hurt. She started looking away again, not making eye contact. Boy! This is a difficult situation. It was frustrating. But, she was likeable. And, I hated taking my coat from her.

“Is there any place we can get you a coat?” I grimaced. That did it. She immediately got that “thousand yard stare” and started sullenly taking off the coat. “No, no, please don’t do that.” I back paddled. “You are perfectly welcomed to keep my coat until we get you some place warm. Do you have a coat at home? Maybe I can drop you at home?” She squeezed out a little smile. Then she said, ”I’m sorry. I completely forgot about your coat. Please, take it back”. I said, “I have this suit coat on. I’m not that cold” Boy, that was a hot one! “Let’s just figure out what to do about you.” I continued.

She was suddenly smiley again. The sun came back out. She said excitedly, “I know! Jethrow always has a bunch of coats at his place! He keeps them in case a homeless person needs one real bad. Like on a really cold night or something. I could borrow one from him!”

“How far is this guys place?” I asked with great trepidation. She said, “A couple of blocks”. I did not want to get button holed by some Jesus freak. I did not want to meet “homeless Jethrow”.

I just wanted my coat back. But, I couldn’t just take it off of her. My only choice was to follow her. Like it or not we were going to meet Jethrow.

So, she took off in a near trot and kept looking back to see if I was following. I reluctantly followed. We headed down a dark street. I felt really apprehensive. I had over a hundred bucks on me. The last thing I needed was to get mugged in a dark alley. Then, I had a paralyzing thought; what if she is leading me into a trap? What if there’s a gang waiting to jump me? Is that what this “Jethrow” thing is all about? Am I being lead into trap? Is she working with gang? How would I know?

There goes my coat, my hundred dollars and a night’s stay in a hospital, or worse. My only comfort was, maybe the bad guys would not be out on such a cold night. Some comfort! I had a hard decision to make; “stay the course” or leave my coat and run like hell. I probably made a bad decision, but she seemed so sweet and genuine. (For a prostitute.) I was scared but I decided to “stay the course”.

It was considerably farther than the advertised “couple of blocks”. It was getting darker, colder and more threatening. There were dark alleys everywhere. Any one of them could hide a “bad guy”. I began to think she (I still didn’t know her name) didn’t know where she was going. When suddenly, she turned into one of those alleys filled with “boogey men”. I was really apprehensive. But, she smiled and said, ”Here it is” (Whew!) So she gallantly led and I fought with the terrors of my imagination and followed. ….. at a safe distance. I could not see a thing. She felt her way along the left side of the alley till she came to a doorway that was boarded up.

She knocked. In a few seconds a mans voice came from the inside, “Who is it?” She answered “Carrie”. (Well, now I know.) The plywood sheet covering the door began to creak open and a bear of a man filled the lighted opening. “Girl, what are you doing out on a night like this? What happened to your face?!” She explained. Then he asked, “Who’s your friend? Carrie, I asked you not to bring customers to my place.” He was irritated “ Oh, no” she said “Jethrow, this is a friend of mine. When I fell on the sidewalk I really hurt my knees and forehead. He stopped to help.” Jethrow still suspicious, pressed, “What’s your friends name?” he wouldn’t leave it alone, “Oh, my gosh!” she said and turned to me, embarrassed, and said with a nervous laugh “I’m sorry I never ask your name!” That made two of us. “Chris.” I said. “Jethrow still looked suspicious and said, “Are you sure his name is not ‘John’, Carrie?” Exasperated, she repeated, “He helped me when I fell, that’s all. He’s a friend, Jethrow, a new friend.”

Jethrow said, “Well, come in, Carrie. Why are you here on such a cold night?” Carrie explained her need for a coat. Jethrow said, “Sure, I have two or three extra coats, all men’s though. You are welcome to borrow one but I will need it back as soon as possible. There may be souls out there with more need than you. What happened to your coat?” “Don’t ask right now, I’ll tell you later.” She said. Jethrow just smiled and, said resignedly, “OK”.

It was a small but adequate room. On my right, as I came through the door was an old wooden desk and lamp with papers and books scattered everywhere. There was an old filing cabinet and a PC and printer. Jethrow had electricity?! He apparently did a lot of writing. Against the back wall of the room there were large rough shelves, floor to ceiling, that were stacked high with books, magazines and newspapers. To the left of the door as I came in was an old kitchen counter, sink and cabinets bolted to the wall, a small refrigerator and a microwave. Cramped into the same space were an easy chair, a small bed and lamp. The whole space wasn’t more than 10 x 15 feet, about the size of smallish bedroom. It was cozy and, definitely lived in. I was pleasantly surprised at “homeless” Jethrow. Other than this very basic room he lived in Jethrow looked almost normal. He was clean and dressed in tennies, jeans and a sweatshirt. His hair and beard were long but both were trimmed.

Carrie picked one of the proffered coats, took mine off and put on the “new” one. Finally, I had my coat back! I really thought I might never see it again. I wasted no time putting it on. Now, I can go and get back to my life! Not so. Carrie remembered her obsession about my meeting Jethrow. She introduced me as a “nice guy” who liked to talk “church stuff”. Jethrow smiled. I have to admit I had a great deal better impression now than when Carrie first mentioned him. I was very curious about Jethrow and his quaint apartment. What was he doing here? Why live in a dark alley? Did he work? He wasn’t technically homeless but did he really help the homeless people, as Carrie had said?

I was full of questions. But, instead of my asking him questions he immediately began asking me about my background, my parents, where had I gone to school, what had I studied. Was I married? What did I do for fun? What was I going to do with my life? What were my religious beliefs? For the first 15 minutes it was all about me. I realized I was doing all the talking. I quickly apologized. Then he said something strange, “How can I help you unless I know you?” Wait, did Carrie say something to him that I missed? Does he think I’m here for some kind of help? I ask him what he meant. He said something even stranger, “I sensed as we’ve been talking that you had a lot of stress over your religious beliefs”. I exclaimed, “How do you know that?” He said, “I am right, am I not?” Incredulously I responded “Yes, but how did you know that?” He responded, ”There are many things we can know when we learn to listen.”

Ya, right! That sounded a little too mystical. I was suspicious that I might be being conned. Maybe, he was going to recruit me for the Hare Krishna. But, at the same time Jethrow proved to be at once well educated, genuine and strangely wise. If I was being conned I was enjoying it. And, I did love to talk, especially about religion. It took all of 30 seconds and I was hopelessly caught in intellectual quick sand. I loved it. In my lifetime I could count on one hand the number of people I could really talk to. In the next several weeks, Jethrow proved to be one of them.
Quite sore and a little bored, Carrie left in about an hour. I was concerned about her being out alone this time of night. She was too young, to fragile and a little to good looking to be a streetwalker. She assured me she could take care of herself. I’d hoped she was right. Then she showed me her can of mace! Where had that been?
It was midnight when I finally had to leave. I hadn’t had such an intellectually stimulating conversation since I took philosophy in college. We talked about everything; space, time and Einstein and, of course God. Carrie had certainly been right about Jethrow. I found a new friend and kindred soul. It was going to be a life changing relationship.
It was nice that it was Saturday morning. I could sleep late. But, my mind had a different idea. I was so excited from the conversation that there just wasn’t any sleep until late Saturday morning.