Seven

12.22.08

Last week I gave a girl seven dollars on my way back home. It was during Chicago’s worst wintery cold periods. You have to keep moving or your extremities start numbing up and freeze. Often, my eyelashes freeze together during these extreme cold periods. It really feels weird and kind of interesting at the same time. When you blink, your eyelids fight against each other. With effort, they pull themselves apart from one another very unnaturally. Anyhow, the girl stopped me on my way back home showing me a metro schedule in her hand, pleading for some fare to get back to the south side part of Chicago. I don’t know why I paused and didn’t just shake my head no and move on. The hesitation is what got me. Once you hesitate, you’re required to act charitable or look like a stingy asshole. If you don’t have something, you quickly flat out say no and move on, but the pause elicits hope. You then have to say no, feel sorry, feel like a shit head for not dishing out. For four years that I’ve been in Chicago, I have never given anybody anything on the streets. I won’t give beggars even five cents or any pennies from my pocket. I made an active decision a long while back that I would be fair to everyone and not choose anyone over others. Everyone would get nothing from me no matter how badly they looked or how badly they really needed it. The answer was always no. The action was to always walk on. So where did this seven dollars come from? I broke my rule. Now do I give everyone something every time they ask? She was a teenager or something under 21. She was blonde, not anything special, just an average girl. She was nicely dressed, looked very warmly kept despite the cold, and looked like she didn’t need any money but could be dishing out some herself. I think if she had asked for a dollar or some spare change, I would have said no, but seven dollars blew me away. Nobody who was trying to get money for some booze or crack would ask for that much. They would take what they could get. She was obviously not a professional beggar. I fumbled around and got my wallet out. I couldn’t feel anything with my gloves on, so I took off my gloves, big mistake. My fingers started to lose circulation and became stiff. I felt embarrassed as my wallet was so fat with cash, and it desperately tried to keep itself together. It wanted so badly to explode its seams spilling money everywhere. I pulled out a five and gave it to her and told her I needed my ones so couldn’t give that up. I felt terribly embarrassed that I had about fifteen stacked twenties all saying hi to her. She asked if she could have two more dollars. I then thought, now bitch, I just gave you five can’t you go ask someone else for two more? I couldn’t fathom who would have given some stranger five on the streets to begin with. So having stupidly said I wanted to keep my ones, I had to come up with something else. I started to dig for change. This process was now too much for me. I should have just given her the two dollars and moved on and spare my pained fingers who were yelling at me to get out of the cold. I now regretted on breaking my rule. Why did I pause, what was wrong with me? She wasn’t even cute. I started to pull out change with my frozen fingers. I handed her quarters, dimes, nickels. Then I dug down further into my bag for more change. I managed to collectively have two dollars worth of small change. While this was going on, she did compliment me on my jacket, liking it and saying how it looked thin, but at the same time, looked like it kept the wind off. Small cheap talk I thought, and all I could think about was how miserable I was at that moment. I was weak and gave in to this girl and now I was paying the price. I was having difficulty getting the change out with my numb fingers, and I was thinking yeah bitch it’s a thin jacket and I’m fucking cold. Then I actually started to shiver. I told her yes it was a thin jacket so you just need to keep moving to stay warm. The trick to being outside was to not stop moving. Did she get it? After she collected, she just said thanks and moved on. As I moved away I didn’t know what came over me and why I gave her money. I didn’t feel sanctified as one does after they’ve done some good dead. I didn’t feel like I got closer to accessing heaven, more like hell for all those beggars I’ve been refusing for the last four years. I felt confused at my behavior more than anything. The only thing I could come up with is that no one has ever asked me for that much money, so it had to be genuine, right? They always asked for spare change or a dollar, but never seven! Then I started playing number games and “what if” situations. If she had asked for a dollar, I would have straight out said no. If she asked for twelve, I would have looked at her like she had three heads. Seven was perfect! Then I started to play the gender and age game. I wondered if it wasn’t a young girl, would I just have kept moving, a man, or an old lady. Something was special about her that made me stop, and it really cost me very little, a few frost bites, some shivers, but perhaps it meant the world to her or maybe it only meant seven bucks to her, either way, lucky her. Would I have done it again knowing what I know now? Yes. I would. Nothing made sense to me, so I made a copout conclusion. I was vulnerable after a long day, and she got to me with her soft smile and her nice comforting voice.