It was late and I was on Facebook, praying for something interesting to come up in the group chat even though I had better odds of winning Powerball. Right when I was about to give up, though, this message popped up: Is anybody around willing to help me get this really drunk sorority sister home safe? I can’t leave her alone.
Ugh, I thought. I’m not a fan of other people, and I’d already changed for bed. Better let someone else handle this. I returned to my music. Then: I don’t want to call on her but I can’t leave her alone and I doubt Saferide will take her. And I don’t trust myself to find my way home? No one responded. I really didn’t want to get involved, so I picked a song to distract myself.
I was a minute into it when the Facebook alert sounded. Like a fool, I check to see who messaged me. It was Rachel again. Please???? Still no responses. I lingered over the message for a while, then told myself that helping would be massively inconvenient. I tried to get back to the song but couldn’t; my conscience had me beat. Fuck me.
I told her I’d be down in a minute, changed, and went outside. It was dark and I almost didn’t find her but she spotted me and called my name. She stood at a crosswalk near our dorm with a small blonde girl in a dress, who she tried to keep from slumping onto a bench.
“Thanks for coming,” she said, lifting the girl up with a friend who, seeing I’d arrived, took her leave. Rachel told me the girl’s address and we set off, walking at a crawl since the girl was drunk and in high heels. I tried to figure out where Rachel could’ve possibly met someone who would get this wasted. She must have noticed it since she said “I don’t know actually know her, I’m just helping her get home.” My surprised reaction to the idea of helping a stranger probably didn’t do my image any favors but hey, I was helping her, wasn’t I?
The walk wasn’t very eventful; Rachel and I exchanged glances periodically and the sorority girl said “I’m sorry” over and over again in the same distraught, pitiful tone. We’d then comfort her and keep walking, propping her up when she started to fall and keeping her out of harm’s way. When we reached a major intersection we saw three people fleeing CVS, which they’d just stolen from, but we didn’t interfere. We already had our own problems.
The first house we went to wasn’t hers, but the resident was understanding. “She doesn’t live here, but good luck finding her place,” he’d said. We thanked him for his time and kept going. The second house wasn’t hers either. We knew it wasn’t hers and tried to stop her from going, but she pulled out from my grip with surprising strength and climbed over a small fence to get to the front door. She was met with a confused older white man and his large dog, who barked loudly. As Rachel yelled out an explanation from the sidewalk and told the sorority girl to come back to us, I couldn’t help thinking that if it was me in the girl’s position, I’d probably be dead or arrested. Thankfully, the man pointed us to her house, where we were able to drop her off with few other headaches.
“If she had been able to walk on her own I might’ve left her alone,” Rachel said as we walked back, “but she was staggering right in front of me so I had to do something. I couldn’t have that on my conscience.” I nodded. “I mean, I don’t know what I’d do if I woke up to some police report about her dead, or raped, or something.” She laughed nervously. It didn’t get any more comfortable from there; we made the rest of the trip in silence.
Other life stuff:
- Finals are over and I’m on track for a 4.0. Have one other class I’m waiting for but I had a 96% in it before the final and don’t think I did poorly enough to drop a letter grade.
- I used to love flying, but I think the 1:35 am flight I had yesterday cured me.
- Went out with a friend today (first outing since coming back to Chicago) which was fun. Looking forward to seeing her again. Particularly pleased with my thrift store finds (sweaters from Tommy Hilfiger, Express, and Saks 5th Ave. Total: $16). Hoping all my shopping is this fruitful.
- 23 credits next semester :O Gonna use this break to prepare so I don’t trash my GPA. My advisor seems somewhat concerned but I think it’ll be good. Pressure makes diamonds and all that.
- Wishing best friend and fellow blogger Neftaly luck as she preps for her last final tomorrow morning. You’re gonna kill it 🙂