He checked me out. From bottom to top, like he was buying some prostitute with a for sale sign hung around her neck. I tried to reply back with a look of contempt. But I just couldn’t do it. I did not want him to get mad. You do not want random men who have tattoos and piercings all over their body to get mad. So I stayed put. And I for one was a girl who always believed that she would hit a man right back if he made her uncomfortable with his useless eyes.
“You want a smoke, girl?” he asked with a pungent breath of drugs, alcohol and odor of cum that I could smell it from that much of a distance
“No thanks, I am just trying to get a ride home.” it was funny that I was trying to get a hitch back home in a basement full of stolen cars where my husband had left me. No, dumped me. Yes, he had dumped me in this shit-hole because I wouldn’t listen to his demands.
‘I do not want a baby, Meg. Why do you not get it? Abort it, right away!’ he had screamed at me, almost lunged and then realized I was pregnant. He is not a bad man I kept telling myself, feeding my head with indispensable lies.
“After your husband dumped you? He ain’t coming back after that look he gave ya. Look I am just trying to be honest with you. Your situation looking a little grey. The best you can do is have hope.” he half-smiled at me and I realized that even with the unkempt look and wretched smell, he was not one of the bad guys. Because, good guys aren’t always clean shaven like my husband.
So I took a smoke, because like the big man in the bad leather jacket said, I can only hope.