At 4 a.m. she found herself under the Broadway Bridge. Mara’s shopping cart held all her most treasured possessions; her shoe box filled with love letters, a snake-skin bag containing seventeen shades of lipstick, a big bottle of vanilla body lotion, a hat box full of sex toys, four notebooks and ten pens, six favorite books, nudie playing cards, a small duffel bag stuffed with clothing, a bag of chocolate chip cookies, a bag of generic dog food, and of course the two mutts themselves.
It had been raining non-stop and Mara crouched under the bridge’s shelter. The dogs were taking this well, probably thinking this was some big adventure. It was a good way to look at it, she thought. Although a maudlin mist surrounded her, crying was not an option. Worrying about what would become of her was not going to help anything. She thought again of the quote from the movie “Streetcar Named Desire”. The one where Blanche Dubois says “How could I become a destitute woman with all these treasures locked in my heart?” And that’s how Mara felt now. She repeated the chant over and over to herself, and had been since yesterday morning when she gathered a few cherished belongings and the landlord locked the front door.
Mara’s husband had left six months before, left his silver-banded wedding ring and a note. His note scolded that she was too intense; too happy, too sad and simply just too much. He was a good guy basically and Mara didn’t blame him. She admitted she was a handful. And he did help her out financially, for awhile anyway. But for months she’d been on her own, trying desperately to make ends meet. Her core of friends had been there always and if she could stuff them all in her shopping cart, she would have. But she was sick of relying on the good souls that they were. It was time to figure out something on her own.
Sitting on her faux- leopard cushion to break the chill of the frozen cement underneath, her woolen pea-coat wrapped around her sturdy body, she sat watching the rain blow sideways and beat on the water below. Mara wrapped her arms around each dog as they curled up together, one short legged and stout with an attitude to compensate. The other dog, big and thick and sweet as pie. They meant the world to her and she was grateful for their company.
Mara listened to the sound of seagulls screaming on the riverfront, the sun struggling to peek out. She wondered what time it was and wished she had gotten around to buying herself a watch when she could have. Oh well, guess it doesn’t really matter, she thought. The rain had stopped and from her viewpoint she could see people scuffling to work. It was a new day. Something good will happen today, she convinced herself. Stretching, giving the dogs some food and brushing her coat off, Mara walked down the riverfront and found an open restroom. Her indigo eyes stared back through the scratched bathroom mirror. How could she have forgotten her toothbrush? Ugh, she thought, and scrubbed her teeth with her finger, washed her face and peed.
When she walked back to get the dogs and her cart o’ treasures, there was a man rummaging through her stuff. She yelled and he ran off carrying her lipstick case. Of all things to rip me off for, serves him right, that asshole, she thought. The dogs sat wagging their tails as she walked towards them. She can’t blame them. She had tied them to the bridge post and even if they had the inclination to growl, bark and show their teeth, there wasn’t much they could threaten with. They were spoiled and too sweet and warm bodies to sleep with. She tossed her cushion in the cart, put the small dog in there too, tied the big one’s leash to the handle and off they went towards the city in search of a new day.
Mara had known of a shelter uptown that she had once donated clothing and money to. It must have been miles until she found it. It always seemed so much closer when she had driven by in the car. The car which had decided to go belly-up a month ago. She was at the front door reading a big cardboard sign posting the rules of the place. The second one plainly stated that under no circumstances were dogs accepted. Damnit she said out loud and walked past the tall brick building. An old woman, in a bright yellow rain poncho, stood with a shopping cart of her own. Mara casually inspected the old woman’s cart. It had plastic bags stuffed with odds and ends, a rusted Foldger’s coffee can filled with bottle caps, some sort of cosmetic box, and something furry looking at the bottom of the cart. Oh Jesus, what was that smell! Mara turned away, suddenly loosing her curiosity. Turning away, she felt an icy hand grab her arm and she jumped at the touch. Trying to avert the woman, Mara’s saw the furry thing in the shopping cart again. Her heart raced and she lost her breath. It was a dog, a dead dog. Mara couldn’t get loose of the woman’s grasp and as she was preparing to confront her with a verbal assault, she saw it. The woman’s face had become a mirror. Mara’s own indigo eyes were again staring back right at her.
The sudden jolt sent her sitting bolt upright in her bed. Sweat stained her skin and Mara
strained to catch her breath. She looked down at the dogs lying on the bed. The little one curled up on her ex husband’s pillow, the big one stretched long. Both were snoring and Mara sighed in intense relief, knowing what she could never let happen.
What a reality check! Wis we could all get such dreams from time to time. We need them. Most of us don't acknowledge what's "wrong" with us, instead we are always throwing blames at the next person and never ready to confront and look into the mirror.
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