She couldn't have been more than 25 years of age and a hundred pounds of weight. She couldn't have been colder in those worn-thin leggings, hooded windbreaker, loose-fitting mask, and sneakers. She couldn't have surprised me more when she came from nowhere at that deserted downtown intersection where I waited at a red light, in my car heading to work, the temperature on the panel showing 40 degrees in the wee hours this morning.
Smiling through the glass of my driver's side window, she couldn't have been more sincere raising her voice to ask if I could give her a ride somewhere so she didn't have to walk anymore. And with a raised voice I replied that I was sorry but I was on my way to work. That's when my red light changed to green and I proceeded to the next intersection.
Suddenly, she was at my passenger side window, having attempted to inquire of the driver behind me with the same result. She couldn't have looked more desperate raising her voice to beg me to please give her a ride home, that she was freezing, that she wouldn't touch anything, that she couldn't walk anymore. And I replied again with a raised voice that I was sorry, that I couldn't, and pointing to my own masked face I told her I didn't want to get her sick. That's when the red light changed to green on Santa Fe street and I turned toward work, leaving her there in the cold.
But she didn't stay there, alone in the cold on a downtown street. She's been with me all day, this little, young girl who resembled my daughter, who is someone's daughter. And I couldn't be a more horrible man, telling her no, lying to her, but trying to do it with the reassuring smile I've always believed I've offered to every person I've ever met, last night hidden behind my mask and my mendacity.
I couldn't let her in. Not last night, not without risk to my family and myself, not with the health risks we all face. I couldn't help this poor girl for every justifiable, conceivable reason.
Damn me for every single one of those reasons. She'll be at those intersections every single time I go to work, every single time I stop at a red light, every minute in my head since I saw her early this morning. I'm so sorry, honey. I'm sorry I didn't help you, but I just couldn't. I just couldn't and I hope you understand.
