The Outsider

by K'Anne Meinel

  Joy nearly had her GED when she was forced to change accommodations. The City of Milwaukee had decided to tear down the building that she had called home. She and many other street rats had to vacate the premises…and immediately. She spent weeks trying to find a place, sleeping on the streets once again. Finally, before the snow flew again and the cold froze her death, she wrangled a room from a friend who was barely in her apartment anyway; too busy working the streets and ending up in various hotels. With a lock installed on the door of her room, an escape route out the window if necessary, and a ripped-up floorboard to stash her real valuables, she was set.

  She was making her way cautiously to work one afternoon, having finagled a few hours from one of the bars in need of a bartender, when she saw someone drop a bag and hurried to pick it up and return it to the elderly black woman who had dropped it. “Ma’am,” she called politely to get her attention. It took several tries as the woman seemed to be partially deaf. “Ma’am,” she panted as she caught up with the spry old woman, “you dropped this,” she smiled down at the wrinkled old woman.

  “I did?” she asked, puzzled as to why this young white woman would stop her. She peered suspiciously at her, recognizing her from having seen her occasionally on their streets. “Why, thank you, dear,” she said in her raspy voice. “My grandson would have been so upset if…” she began, and then realizing she was saying too much, she returned the smile with one of her own and began to totter away, almost slipping on the snowy pavement.

  “Here, let me help you,” Joy offered, seeing her unsteady gait and wondering what was in the bag she had just returned. Maybe she should have kept it. No, she may be a street urchin now, but she was an honest one. She still had her integrity. She held out her elbow for the elderly lady.

  With a look of surprise at her chivalry, the woman grasped tightly on the young woman’s arm and held on as they slowly made their way towards her post-war house. Joy helped her up the steps and waited until she was inside before waving a cheery goodbye and hurrying off, sure she would be late to the job and lose the hours she had been promised. She made good time and was just in the door.

  “You’re late,” her boss groused, but they both looked at the clock and she was right on time. She set to work washing down the counter and the floor behind the bar even though the handyman had already washed the floor in the bar the previous night. He watched as she efficiently sprinkled some comet on the floor and scrubbed using her shoes on the brushes instead of bending down. None of the other bartenders ever bothered, but Joy had found that spilled beer and fruity, sticky drinks on the floor made a mess and a clean floor made it easier and quicker for her to serve demanding customers. Her tips reflected her speed and her happy disposition brought some regulars in. Their constant appeals for dates were all rebuffed with the same answer, “I’m not allowed to date the patrons.” Her boss didn’t mind, he didn’t need a jealous boyfriend in here anyway. The men who came into his bar came back because they were eternally hopeful.

  Joy hadn’t realized the consequences of some of her actions. The cleanliness and the helpfulness, were noted by people who didn’t normally receive such niceties. Some would disparage her behavior, but she was used to that in the form of her siblings and ignored it. Others were surprised to find it and grateful for it. Even while eating at the mission, she sometimes chipped in and helped, especially on holidays that she no longer celebrated. She figured she was better off than some of her companions and would pay it forward.

  “You that bartender chick?” a gruff voice greeted her one night as she left one of her few jobs and she quickly jerked back, caught off guard from her usual street-wariness. He was difficult to see in the dark since there were no street lights or they had been broken in this section. Only the whites of his eyes and then his smile was visible in the dark.

  “That depends. What do you want?” she snarled back, ungrateful at the intrusion and wary of anyone who tried to stop her.

  “You helped a little, old lady with her groceries the other day?” he softened his gruff tone and tried to be a little friendlier.

  “What of it?” she asked, still sounding rude and uncaring, an affection she kept in her tone to ward off would-be suitors.

  “That was my grandmother,” he responded, wondering if this was the chick or not. Still, G-Ma’s description had been accurate and he remembered seeing her around.

  Joy remembered the other day and nodded, unsure if he could see her in the dark and she looked around, wondering why he had bothered.

  He did see her nod and continued. “I owe you one,” he said in a tone that she should know.

  Joy turned her head slightly at the phrasing. She knew what it could mean, but she wanted it spelled out. “What do you mean?” she asked, as though she didn’t understand.

  He sighed, knowing he would have to explain. “My G-Ma, you did her a favor for me. I-owe-you-one,” he stressed, meaningfully.

  Joy tried to peer through the darkness, not completely sure what it meant and yet her heart was beating so hard in her chest she thought she’d faint shortly if she didn’t get out of here. She nodded once as though she completely understood and made to go. He reached out and touched her arm to hold her back, but with only one finger so she could leave if she wanted to.

  “You ever need something, you ask for T-Ray,” he told her and then pulled his hand back and backed further into the darkness as someone came along the dark street.

  Joy’s heart leapt at the name. She knew that name on the street and it was not good. He dealt in drugs and managed pimps, not the girls, but the pimps themselves. It was a network she had steered clear of for years. She wanted nothing to do with it. She was not going to borrow trouble. She couldn’t see him anymore, but knew it was more than her life was worth to stand here any longer. She hurried to the well-lit bus stop and fortunately the bus came along not five minutes later. Her heart had stopped beating so hard, but that didn’t mean she was not drenched in sweat under her winter jacket. She put her quarters in the fare box and sat down, not daring to look back to the corner or the alleyway where T-Ray had disappeared. It was a good thing she didn’t or she would have seen the half dozen gang members who had accompanied their leader all walk out of the alleyway. They had heard their leader. That blonde street kid was owed one. They wouldn’t forget. Unknowingly, Joy now had a protective shield around her in this part of the core and word spread—leave her alone or deal with T-Ray and his posse.

  Joy got off and climbed the steps to her apartment. Her key had difficulty, as it always did, in the sturdy lock that kept people from their apartment. She heard her roommate entertaining in her room and ignored the sounds of sex as the bed thumped against the floor and wall. She hated it when the woman brought home Johns. She’d been fortunate not to have encountered any herself. She helped herself to the cold Chinese food she had bought the previous day and took it with her to her room. Turning the lock on her own door, she made sure the drapes were across the drafty windows and sat down on her bed to eat. She looked down at the disgusting pile of food dishes she had accumulated and after she ate, she put all the dried food, plastic plates, and forks into a garbage bag. She left the bag by her door to discard on her way out in the morning. She straightened up her room and quickly went to use the bathroom, slipping in and out so fast that she missed the John who paid for his fun and left. She locked herself in her room again and tried to sleep.

  She was woken twice as her roommate entertained two more men on this cold winter’s night. She covered her ears with her pillow, wishing she could be somewhere else. She sighed. This was her life for now and she would make it better, someday.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Joy obtained her high school equivalency or GED finally. The sense of accomplishment was something she wanted to share with someone, anyone, and yet she had no one. That would have to change someday, but she had no idea how at this point. She was still a loner and very much alone. She still had nowhere to go and no idea o
f how to get there. Having a high school diploma didn’t mean much as she still had no job prospects. She could trade in her bartending jobs for a regular nine to five job, maybe flipping hamburgers at a local joint, or perhaps continue with a college education, but that would all take years. She had nowhere to go…fast. She decided not to get rid of the bartending jobs for now. The tips were okay, the cash always good, and while she still had a place to stay, she knew she wouldn’t last there much longer. In the past few months, Joy’s body had been undergoing a change. Gone was the thin boyish figure and slowly her body was catching up with her age…and womanhood. She was developing embarrassing curves and she knew guys…men, were noticing. It hadn’t happened sooner because of her own way of playing it down, even going so far as to bind her burgeoning breasts. It also helped that she had a safety bubble in the neighborhoods where she worked. But the bubble was about to be popped as a full-on race war was happening in the core of Milwaukee: gang against gang, black against white. She was a white girl in a black neighborhood, and while she had been a street urchin they had allowed it. A full-grown woman was another thing. She was not one of the prostitutes they owned on their street and some of the gang members didn’t like the way she came and went on their streets. The murmurings began.

  Joy was well past eighteen when she once again was approached by the little black woman she recognized from the past winter. It was summer, but she was still wearing a jacket as she hurried down the street.

  “Hey, you!” the voice commanded respect and for a second Joy faltered in her determined stride, a stride that kept some away because it conveyed a sense of purpose, an unconscious note not to mess with this person. “Hey you, white girl!” the elderly voice commanded again and Joy looked up, realizing it was directed at her as not too many white girls were on these mean streets. She smiled as she recognized the little, old lady and nodded at her in reply, at least acknowledging the woman. “Come here, girl!” she was commanded and Joy decided to indulge her and halted her long stride to stop before her.

  “Ma’am?” she said respectfully, showing she still had manners hidden somewhere inside her from long ago.

  “You need to get out, girl,” the woman started without preamble.

  “You want me to go?” Joy asked, not understanding, wondering why she had been stopped. She made to move away, but the old woman reached out and with a surprisingly strong grip grabbed her arm.

  “No, you need to get out of this neighborhood, girl. It ain’t safe,” she told her meaningfully. She looked around at the hangers-on, the ones who loitered near the corners, waiting on the dealers, the girls, and the drunks.

  Joy knew that, but she was heading for work. The woman was not finished with her.

  She leaned in as though she were telling the girl a secret. Joy had to lean down to listen. “T-Ray sends you a message,” she confided in a whisper. Joy wanted to stiffen up at the name, but kept herself still, respectfully still. “He says, ‘Somethin’ is brewin’ and you ain’t safe.’ Get out, get out while the getting’s good, girl.” With that she let go of the girl’s arm and bustled off as though she meant to all along. Joy stood there bemusedly and watched her walk away. Shaking her head, she continued towards work.

  Thinking about the strange encounter, Joy almost missed the telltale signs that more was up than usual. There was an inordinate amount of men, boys really, hanging around the bar she was making her way towards and she nearly missed it because she was looking down thinking about what the old woman had said. She looked up in time, but not nearly soon enough as someone made to grab her.

  “Hey, baby, you looking for a good time?” someone breathed in her face, trying to detain her by grabbing her arm.

  Joy was adept at getting released and she twisted her arm around her assailant’s and slipped his hand off her arm. The next was a little more persistent and she had to slip out of her jacket and leave it as she realized there were far too many men around, waiting for the bar that was always open, to open? She saw she was being watched…intently. It was then that the warning and what it meant slammed home. She left her jacket, which she had seriously thought to retrieve, and headed back the other way.

  “Hey, baby, don’t go,” several called to her. Some followed, but Joy walked her long strides. She didn’t look back, she didn’t run, she just kept going. Fortunately, she kept her money in her front pocket and saw a bus rumbling down the street at that moment. She didn’t care where it was going. She ran the last few steps before it could pull away, banged on the door, and got on the step, paying her fare as she sat down and saw she had been pursued. She looked at the black faces, some Latinos, all looking angrily at her and shouting something. Her window was closed on the hot bus, but she heard some of the threats. They had been waiting for her and she had no idea why.

  As the bus took off down the street, she breathed a sigh of relief. She wouldn’t be going back to work there, she knew it wouldn’t be safe, but she wondered about the other places she worked occasionally. Were all her avenues of making money under the table now in jeopardy? She thought her situation over carefully. She had some money saved, but not enough to move on, not nearly enough. She was so lost in her thoughts she missed her stop, but it was a good thing she did, as she looked and saw some of the same types of guys waiting for her there. They were all around her building, waiting. She didn’t get off at her stop, knowing it would be foolish to go home. Her stash was safe, she thought. Her roommate didn’t know of it, and if they stole what she had left out it was little enough. Her clothes, the few she owned, were there, but the rest was hidden.

  She spent the night in a sleazy hotel downtown where they rented by the hour to those in the know. She paid an overpriced fee for the luxury of spending the whole night. It seriously depleted the cash she had on her. She couldn’t go home the following day either as she saw from the bus she rode that they were still waiting, or someone was. She spent the next night at one of the missions, a cold, miserable night as it was overcrowded, but she was lucky to get a bed. The do-gooders who funded this one were terribly arrogant and she tried another mission the next night, but was unable to get in. She wandered her streets, knowing to stay away from the neighborhoods where they searched for her. She finally slept on a park bench, only to be woken by a cop who wanted the vagrants gone. The next night, she tried the missions again, but to no avail. Things were becoming desperate. She was cold, hungry, and tired…very tired. Her judgement was lapsing. She desperately sought shelter out of the cold Wisconsin night and went to sleep in an abandoned warehouse with many other street people. She was allowed to ‘share’ a fire with several others as they all sought the warmth and slept near its flames, adding to the fire now and then with whatever they could find to burn.

  Joy was dreaming. She was dreaming she was back in her safe, suburban home, with her parents still alive. It was warm. She was loved. It was warm…too warm. As the screams started to penetrate her sleepy mind, she began to realize it really was too warm. The warehouse was on fire! It was smoke-filled and people were falling over each other and things in the darkness, causing chaos and panic. Joy tried to make her way to where she remembered the doorway to be. Someone broke a window, feeding the fire with oxygen and fanning the flames. Joy heard the screams, shouts, and cries of the disoriented. People grabbed at her, begging for help. She tried to pull them along with her, but realized they were holding her back, their hands pulling her from seeking an exit. She finally shook them off one by one as she sought her own way out of the flames. She was disoriented, the smoke causing her to cough. She went to her knees, tripping over something…or someone. The air was clearer near the ground and she crawled her way forward, passing out at someone’s feet, someone wearing boots.

  Joy came to as an oxygen mask was adjusted on her sooty face. She started to cough, struggling to pull off the smothering mask. “Easy there, girl. Easy, we got you,” someone said as they batted away her hands. She tried to look around, but her eyes were tearing u
p and the lights were too bright. She tried to bring up her hand to shade her eyes, but they thought she was going for the oxygen mask again and her hand was abruptly tied down. She started another coughing fit and when they wouldn’t let her sit up to combat it, she started choking. Finally, she leaned over and threw up in the mask. They paid attention to that. The fight to get off the mask, to get her airway clear, made her pass out again.

  When Joy became aware of her surroundings again, she realized there were tubes going up her nose and a mask over her face. A woman was wiping down her skin with a sponge and looked startled to see Joy open her blue eyes. She quickly alerted someone else who came over to look at her. “Hi, Joy,” he greeted her cheerfully. “That is your name? Joy?” He quickly flashed a penlight into her pupils, pleased with what he saw.

  She nodded, wondering how he knew.

  He seemed to read the puzzlement in her eyes as he answered, “We found your identification in your sock when we undressed you.”

  As the look of puzzlement became one of alarm, he went to reassure her in this one-sided conversation. “We have all your belongings in this bag here next to your bed,” he held it up so she could see the blue bag with a big white cross on the side. It announced the name of the hospital. “You’ve had a bit of smoke inhalation and we want to keep you a couple of days.” He held her shoulder down as she attempted to sit up and shook her head. “Don’t worry, we have you down as indigent. You won’t have to pay a thing. You’re one of the lucky ones. Thirty people died in that warehouse.”