…and I fail, every single time.
-Call the police, quickly, there’s a homeless girl here, in front of our apartment. She’s not moving…
-Great, what a great way to start Valentine’s Day! What are you doing?
-I’m going to see if she’s hurt. Maybe she needs some food…
-Well, why don’t you invite her in?!
-I should, you know? I should! Jesus would do that!
-Then let Him invite her to where He lives, okay? I can’t believe it!
“I grabbed the little few things that could be found in my fridge on this early, rainy morning and stuffed them in a bag. I looked away, not to see, not to feel the disappointment in his eyes, while, with trembling hands I opened the front door.
“Stop fooling around, police is on its way, there’s really no point in what you’re doing!”
The smell was horryfying, the view was terrible, it was mud and traces of blood and still, under (what used to be) a dirty blanket, I saw a small move. One step closer and my stomach was rebelling, but I needed to lean down, to see the pleading eyes.
“For God’s sake, we’ll never get rid of her if you start feeding her! Come back inside!”
Helpless arms rose behind the blanket, a defensive gesture, meant to be self-protective, and the eyes looked my way. My voice was weak, “don’t be afraid, it’s food…for you”, and she mumbled something. I put the bag right next to her and ran back inside.
“Make sure the door is locked, she might be dangerous!”
I did it and then, I just stood there, unable to move, overwhelmed by shame. I failed…
“No, honey, you did not fail. Police will take her to a shelter, They will provide decent clothes, a warm bed, basics, right? You gave her food, you were kind to her, I guess it’s enough.”
No, I was not kind, no, it was not nearly enough…
She needed a hot tea. A decent “hello, do you need any help?”. An embrace. Someone to ask about her name and her age. A human touch. She needed care, protection and love.
She deserves a Valentine’s Day too!
And I failed.”
Police came, they said they’ll take her to a shelter. I know because I heard her screams long after they left.
“Don’t take me there! Don’t! At least, let me take my bag! It is mine! An angel gave it to me! It’s food there, my food! The angel said it’s food for me there, in the bag…”
The food remained there, scattered on the floor.
And I still hear her screams.