Spiraling

Have you ever had one of those days where you just didn't want to get out of bed? A morning where nothing would have been more wonderful than to roll over, go back to sleep, and never wake up again? To lose yourself forever in a blissful cocoon of peace, quiet, and dreamless slumber, without having to worry about the outside world or the people in it for an eternity? Lucy had been having one of those days for the last three years of her life.

As cliche as it was, it all started with a guy who will not be named. He had been Lucy's life since they were sophomores in high school, up until she caught him in their bed with her best friend. That's when things began falling apart at the seams. He made it clear that their break-up was her fault; she'd been spending so much time working and writing her thesis for grad school, that he had no choice but to turn to her ex-best friend to combat his growing loneliness. All their friends took his side, and ghosted her overnight. She was so devastated from it all, she dropped out of grad school. Not long after that, her boss cut her hours at work due to corporate downsizing. With her weekly salary nearly halved, she couldn't afford rent. Eventually, she quit that dead-end job altogether and moved back in with her parents.

Living with her folks wasn't all bad, but it wasn't all good either. They were constantly on her back, prodding her to start dating again, go back to school and get a job. Lucy knew their nagging came from a place of love, and a desire for her to find success and happiness. The more they pushed, however, the worse Lucy felt, and the deeper into depression she spiraled.

In the past couple months, Lucy had done things to try and make ends meet. Things she wasn't at all proud of, and that her parents didn't know about. She'd turned to pills to dull the pain of her shame, starting with basic over-the-counter ibuprofen before moving onto harder stuff like Oxy and Percs. Before long, she found herself depending on them just to get out of bed in the morning. She'd thought she was doing a good job of hiding her habit and her new source of income. That is, until she came home a few days ago and found her mom sitting on her bed, holding a plastic baggie full of pills and the little black book containing Lucy's client list.

Lucy had been kicked out that same hour, following a very heated argument between both her parents and her older brother. For the past few nights, she'd been crashing in a motel with one of her regular Johns. He was kinder than most of her clientele, but she could tell his patience with her was running out faster than her dwindling stash of pills. His intentions of cutting her loose soon were crystal clear, as he couldn't keep lying to his wife about a business trip that didn't exist before she got wise. Lucy had talked him into putting her up for one more night before heading down the block to the free clinic for a refill. After she left the clinic, though, she decided she'd rather spend the night alone.

The people at that clinic were always friendly; giving her whatever she needed without asking too many questions, provided she let them give her a check-up first. It didn't cost anything, and it was usually quick unless she was really jonesing for a fix. Today's exam was a lot longer and more thorough than normal, though. When it was finally over, she expected the doctor to give her a fresh 'scrip, pat her on the head, and send her on her merry way. Instead, she sat down and handed Lucy a clipboard, with a ream of paper displaying the results of her latest blood test. Lucy didn't really understand all those technical terms, but she wasn't stupid either. She was in tune enough with her body to know that something had been off for a while now, and that look on the doctor's face confirmed her unspoken suspicions.

Lucy found herself walking down the cold, rainy streets after leaving the clinic, completely lost in her thoughts. Her eyes stayed glued to the grainy black and white photo the doctor gave her instead of a prescription, processing everything she'd been told. It was hard to see anything in that picture at all, apart from a small, dark shape that looked vaguely like a lima bean. It had been there - inside her - for over two months at this point, and she had no idea. She didn't even bother trying to figure out who the father was. Lucy had entertained a dozen clients regularly over the past four months, and it was impossible to keep track of things like broken condoms and remembering to take her birth control. It just didn't seem all that important... until now, obviously.

Lucy's aching feet finally made her stop and take in her surroundings. Without realizing it, she'd walked all the way from the clinic in Queens to Broadway. The rain had stopped and the sun had set, but it was still bitterly cold. Lucy barely felt the shivers running up and down her body, though, or her wet clothes clinging to her skin. The glittering lights of the dark city skyline in the distance drew her like a moth to the flame, until she found herself standing in the middle of Broadway Bridge.

What the hell happened? She'd been so happy and well-adjusted a few years ago, and now her entire life was going down the tubes. Lucy had managed to lose every person she'd ever called a friend, lost her self-respect, alienated herself from her family, and had allowed herself to become a junkie. Now, as the cherry on top of the Mega-Crap Sundae, she was pregnant out of wedlock with no clue who the father was. She hated everything she was... everything she'd become. It was too much, and she just wanted it all to end.

As her grip tightened on the bridge's railing, her eyes drifted down to the black, deceptively calm Harlem River below. Even in daylight, the water was too dark and murky to see the bottom, but Lucy knew it was pretty deep. She was a fair distance above it, too. The railing was a little rusty, sitting level with her lowest ribs. If she wanted to, it would be so easy to just lean out over it a little further and let gravity do the rest. Her damp blonde hair swirled around her face as an icy gust of wind buffeted her, creating ripples on the river's surface below. Almost like it was egging her on to finish the job.

"Are you okay, Honey?"

Lucy straightened back up with a gasp, her doe brown eyes darting around to find who had spoken. An old woman stared back at her a few feet away, clutching a grocery bag in one hand. Her other held tight to the fingers of a little girl, maybe seven or eight years old. The girl looked so scared, she chased back the dark thoughts in Lucy's head. Just long enough for Lucy to step back from the railing and scrub her face on her sleeve.

"No," Lucy admitted with a sniffle. "I haven't been okay for a while. I, um... I should go. I'm sorry."

"Nonsense," the old woman smiled. She took off her shawl and walked right up to Lucy, draping it around the younger woman's shoulders. "You look like you could use a friend, and a hot meal. Come along; there's a diner not far from here. It's a good place to sit and talk. My treat."

Lucy wanted to say no again right away, but there was something about the old woman. Maybe it was just her warm, grandmotherly nature, making Lucy feel safe and loved. It was more than that, though. When she looked into the elderly woman's eyes, Lucy felt as if she knew her. Which was impossible, considering they were perfect strangers. Before Lucy knew what she was doing, she'd allowed the old woman to steer her away from the bridge and up the block. It wasn't long after that Lucy found herself sitting in a shiny red pleather booth with a mug of tea and a slice of warm apple pie in front of her.

Maybe it was because she hadn't had a decent conversation with anyone in a while, but she wound up spilling her life's story to the old woman. She'd sat there chatting for so long, the little girl fell asleep in her grandmother's lap. The elderly lady hung on every word, not interrupting except to ask a clarifying question or two. When Lucy had finally talked herself hoarse, the old woman settled back with a sigh.

"As strange and serendipitious as it might sound, you remind me a lot of myself," she said, stroking her sleeping granddaughter's hair. "When I was about your age, I was in a bad place: I let a man who I thought loved me break my heart, and surrounded myself with people who only cared about themselves. I was so heartbroken, I broke my parents' hearts, too."

Lucy blinked at the elderly woman, drumming her nails anxiously on her half empty mug. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "That sounds awful. How did you ever get through it?"

"Well, I had help," the old woman said, her brown eyes sparkling warmly. "Not before I found myself knocked up and living on the street, though. There used to be a women's shelter in Manhattan that took me in. They got me back on my feet, and helped me find a job and a place to live before my baby boy was born. I met my George there. Fifty years later, here I am: four beautiful grown children, all successful in their own right; twelve grandchildren and three great-grandchildren I absolutely adore and spoil every chance I get; a comfortable little brownstone that isn't much, but it's mine; and a grumpy old man by my side, who still looks at me every day like I'm Marilyn Monroe."

"Wow," Lucy murmured, settling back in her own seat. Her hand moved to her abdomen on its own as she processed everything the old woman said. They really were kindred spirits. Both had hit rock bottom, but the older lady didn't wallow in self-pity like Lucy currently was. She'd made a choice to turn her life around, and everything worked out just fine for her. If this beautiful, kind old woman made it out okay, maybe Lucy could, too. She just needed someone to throw her a line before she drowned.

"This women's shelter," Lucy mused, "are they still in business? If they are, I think I could really use their help."

The old woman pursed her lips in thought. "They used to be on Seventh and Broadway," she said. "I'm not sure it's still there; I think the facility burned down in the early eighties. But their sister branch in Queens is still in operation. I'll give you the address."

She scribbled all the necessary information on a napkin, sliding it across the table to Lucy when she was done. Afterward, she glanced at her watch and tusked softly. "Mercy me, it's late," she sighed. "I've got to get this one home before her father gives me an earful. George will be wondering where I am, too. I was nice meeting you, Honey; take care."

Lucy's eyes darted from the napkin to the old woman, completely overwhelmed by her kindness. The elderly lady was halfway out the door, her grocery bag on one hip and her snoozing granddaughter on the other, before Lucy realized she hadn't even said "thank you".

"Wait," Lucy called, "I don't know how I could ever repay you for this. I don't even know your name!"

The old woman turned back halfway, her smile warmer than ever. "Lucille," she said. "...but all my friends call me Lucy."