Life On The Streets

Monologue

Lipstick and dampness is engraved into my throat. My hair greasy and weathered. My skin is sore and irritated from beasties on the cold hard floor or the rain and cold from the clouded grey sky. I sit. The outside is my inside. The pavement is lined with a layer of trodden gum. The walls graffiti of urine and last night’s takeaway and booze. Windows are cracked to slithers of pale glass and pubs are boarded up endlessly.  The stone, cold where I lay by many gods’ feet. Tall. Towering over me. In the morning I’m envious and disappointed. At night shivering and scared. I hear the coins clanging into cups and tins for others, but not for this girl. I only accept bricks. To build my wall higher and to hide from the population. The distance between me and them grows. As smells stretch across the open and flies swarm in a huddle. You may think you’re the one avoiding me but actually it is the other way around. You don’t agree? Many don’t. Some prefer your little company but I don’t.  You did this to me. Big men do this. We all have rules but not second chances. The further away you are from me the better. I don’t want to be infected by your selfishness and greed. Coins on the floor buys me time but do I want it? Really?

But one day I changed. My body is eating itself from the inside and the smell of cooking turkeys and sprouts is carefully making its way. I won’t make it through this winter. I will be lifted away unknown. Jane Doe. The constant battering of snow bruises me. I am sat. The office building high and wide, gone away for the holidays.  The step is cold like ice. In the distance there is shuffling and clicking footsteps. Closer. Closer. A man walks past with his German shepherd. He carries on past the doorway and then I hear a pause. No footsteps. Then they carry on. Not going in the original direction but backwards, towards me. I freeze. Like the hanging icicles on house gutters or the air around me. The man turns. His face is grubby. He is wearing several coats, a lot more compared to me. It’s plain to see, he is homeless like myself. He sits, on my step. I shuffle over clueless. Then he removes two of his coats and drapes them over my shoulders. Tears start to well up in my eyes. Warmth and care has hit me. Right smack in my face as if I walked into a door or been punched by a boxers fist. I turn to face the outside world but the man speaks. “Max.” I was baffled by this word. It was so soothing. It took me a second to let go off my grasp on this word and say my own name. “Georgia.” I replied.

We sat for the rest of the day. We are sat a lot. We move together. Stay together. There is not many words spoken between us at the start but we are getting used to each other’s company and talk more often. Maxs’ dog is called Ken. I discovered this after nights of him calming the dog to sleep. Maxs’ company is amazing. I refuse his money but he buys me coffee, food and even my own coat. He recently got news that he has been given quite a large amount of money from a deceased relative. Max was looking into buying a place to live and getting a job. I won’t be alone though. He has asked me to move with him.

You may say we are a couple now, I can’t deny it. He looks after me like no one’s done before. It’s hard to believe but I feel like a princess. I’m far from. Happiness does come for the ones who wait. I was sat on that step waiting for him. I didn’t know it, but it’s true. Happiness is taking its toll.