“Hey, so I’m curious, is there anything you regret?”
The way she asked the question was as if she knew the answer. Perhaps not the exact answer, but she knew there was so much that I had experienced in life that the only honest answer would be a simple “yes”. The truth—I refused to acknowledge the word regret in my life. If I were to give that word power, I would have to face the demons of my past. If I were to—
Just then the woman collapsed within her seat. I turned to see her face grow pale and suddenly it dawned on me that her question may had been one she wanted me to ask of her. All the weeks, no months that we’d met, we only spoke about me and my life. Never once did I inquire about her. If there was anything that I’d learned from living on the streets was how to spot a drug overdose when I saw one.
“Hey, hey wake up. You can’t close your eyes.”
Beyond the look of a large black man straddling a small white woman, I focused on what was happening to her rather than what would happen to me if someone were to walk by with their assumptions.
“Help…someone. HELP!” I bellowed.
I tapped her on the face, careful not to leave a bruise. Tilting her slightly to the left to not choke from the foam that seeped out of her parted lips.
“Stay with me. Don’t let this be the moment you regret.”