lost

I was reading in my corner of doorspace on the subway about a month ago when somebody started shouting. I looked around for the voice and it came from a girl, a woman rather. She was sitting hunched over with her hair hanging in her face. And sceaming, "Stop hurting me. Leave me alone. Haven't you done enough." Nobody was touching her. Nobody was hurting her. The people sitting next to her got up and moved to the aisle.

At first I thought it might be some kind of sociological experiment. Let's see if there's anyone in New York that gives a damn about a stranger. I did, I really thought she was testing us. But the way she stamped her feet, clamped her ears and the way the screams ripped out of her with the force of some deep living thing being wrenched over and over from her insides, the more clear it became that this was not an act.

People weren't unkind. I don't remember any ugly looks or anyone laughing. I remember at one stop, the doors opened and a woman, seeing the empty seat next to the shouting girl sat down. No one did anything to warn her. What could we say? But the gut wrenching screams began again, "Stop hurting me.LEAVE MEEEE ALOOOOONE." And like everyone else, she stood up. The ride continued this way for another fifteen minutes. The stamping, the shouting, she was wearing her throat down and our ears were ringing.

I kept waiting for someone to do something, to sit beside her, to tell her that it was going to be okay. I know there were other people in that car that did care. I cared. I thought I might try, might put a hand on her shoulder. But I was too scared. I don't know if I was more scared of what she would do or what everyone else would think.

The woman was wearing khakis and one of those airy Indian blouses, with a messenger bag. Her hair was dirty blond. She wasn't old. She was close to my age. She wasn't homeless, wasn't drunk or on drugs.

I got off the same stop of the train as she did. I tried not to watch her but I wanted to see her face. I still wanted to say something or do something, but I didn't know what. In the end I did nothing. I did see her face though, as she turned a corner, and it wasn't scary or ugly or mean. It was lost.
(photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/risus_in_silva/2306446413/sizes/m/)