A quick pm nap turned into a nocturnal sabbatical.   16 hours babysitting at the detox center coming up.  Got to snatch the punk money if it’s stress free and legal.   Decided to check the news when her name pops up.  As a rule I ignore her.   Empathy  has been wrecking my world recently.  Sure enough empathy answers the phone.  

She wants to come over and chill.   Usually someone with their own car,  popping up after midnight  knowing I’m gigging in the morning is the crème de la crème of booty calls.  Unfortunately she ain’t the usual chic.  

90 year old mofos have gps.  She the only one in country that don’t.  My spot is about 10 minutes off 91.  She wants to meet me at exit 45 in Connecticut.  Well that’s a 15 minute drive and I need her to make more of an effort tonight.  I get her to agree to exit 3 a couple of miles from the Mass/Connecticut border.  She stays on the phone the 15 minutes it takes to find her.  Several mishaps occur.   Now I remember there are two Sunoco’s near exit 3.  I went to the wrong one.   She’s piss when we finally link.  After arriving at my spot she rediscovers I live on the top floor.  She climbs 4 flights while mumbling profusely about her pussy was wet before my silly retarded ass  left her on 91.  She been drinking.  My first impulse is march her ass down stairs.  Then I get a chilling premonition about a 18 wheeler smashing her ass into two million pieces.  I realize where this night is heading.

 Its recall our life night.  She knows all the details too. Her main one the time I snuck that bitch in her apartment back in 1985.  Or how her ass appeared in my last book as some downtrodden, hopeless dope fiend.  And the Black woman favorite concerning me.  “You think you better than people.  As usual, I can’t comment on her insecurities.  Not that I want to.  I’m the psych nurse here.  Got to question my personal crazy.  Why do I keep attracting insecure sisters with lunatic stamped on their backs?   

Remembering my propensity for clean looks, she asks if how well the pharmacy is stocked preferably with klonopin.    I politely tell her I found the equivalent of  Jesus and abstain except for an occasional freak party.    I got some ginger wine.  She asks for a lighter.  I got matches hmm.  If she asking for a torch.  I know what comes next. Open flame equals crack.  She insists no  spiels tonight while reminding me she’s not one of my patients.  

 I decide not to lecture her.  Gearing up for work is a good look for me.  My thoughts forward themselves  to her current issues.  Mom caught a stroke, cancer woke her  up last week and a teenage son who lost his mind.  Doesn’t justify her actions, but we all got demons to be dealt with.   

I manage to scrape up a meal for her.  A fresh pot of rice and peas along with chicken burgers and broccoli.  Her ass got lucky. I don’t do food.  Within five minutes of the movie starting she sleeping.  The alcohol did it.  Against my better judgement I leave her in the cave.  She’s left my place as she found it.  Spacious and neat.  She remembers I can’t stand clutter.

I am not chasing God or looking for Tasmanians in the details.  I know why she came.  A familiar face, a good meal, some kind words and not to be judged.  Life is enough of a bitch already.