Pension Day
I sat hunched over in the waiting room, my eyes down; I didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone in that room. My eyes traced the lines of my hand folded in my lap. I dwelled on the soft skin, loosely encasing slightly knobbly bones. As I moved my hands slowly wrinkles appeared; like the ruches in the skirt I work with pride when young. Soft skin easily torn, unlike to young man tight, elastic skin.
I don’t know the world any more. Violence has always been part of the work but not my world, not until today. I raised my eyes slightly glancing at the loud shouting as the police attempted to strong arm the angry young man into submission. I didn’t know this young man, I had never done anything to him yet he felt justified to abuse me, all his contempt and anger were aimed at me.
The blood crusted against the tears in my skin, drying in the wrinkles creating an interesting crumpled element to my old skin. I pondered the colour blood became when it dried. Well worn shoes entered my downcast field of vision. The young medic smiled gently as I raised my head. “Let’s give you a check over and clean up these cuts” he said taking out the medical wipes. He briskly but still gently cleaned up the caked blood. “There all done, you might want to take a painkiller and some Arnica to help with the bruising”. He packed up his gear. The angry young man was no longer in the entry the police had subdued him and moved him to where-ever they were taking him.
A young police officer came over, they all look so very young; like children “Mrs Rice would you come through to give a statement”. I pushed myself out of the seat and followed with the slow, unsteady gait of the aged, my eyes tracing the hem of the officer shirt that was untucked at the back. Should I mention it, or would that be rude or intrusive. It is hard to know what interactions are acceptable.
He offered me a seat at the desk switched on the computer. He turned to me “in your own words tell me what occurred”
I gathered my thoughts “Today is pension day” I said “I went to the machine and I took out my money to pay my bills, I put the money into my bag and as I walked away, that young man came up and pushed me hard, I fell against the window, he was yelling at me swearing. He was yelling at me to give him my money. He hit me and pushed me to the ground, all the time he was yelling and swearing. He grabbed at my purse. Then I the other two men came and stopped him and the police arrived in two cars. They took him in one car and brought me here in the other. He was here, still yelling and swearing” I said.
I looked at the young police officer “I don’t know that young man, why is he so angry at me” I asked.
A sad look came into his eyes. “It is not you Mrs Rice” he said, “all he saw was someone taking money out of the ATM and he wanted money, he didn’t see you, he didn’t see the person you are. You were solely an obstacle in his way. Do not take his anger personally.
He read over the written statement and printed it off, asked me to read it and sign if it was all true and correct. After I signed I got laboriously to my feet and sighed a big sigh.
“Do you need a ride home” he asked me. “Do you have someone who can stay with you”
“Its pension day” I said, “I have to get my groceries and pay my bills”
I walked out of the police station. In my head I could hear the yelling of the angry young man. I think it will take a long time for that sound to fade away.
