April 9, 2012
A Blind Commitment Part IV

My first visit with Terry was like an emotional appetizer. It only left me with a stronger hunger and desire to know more. Reflecting on the time I had just spent, I wanted nothing more than to plan our next visit. He painted fantasies of freedom by next week so we could move our adventures to a wilder playing field.  He touched my hand and told me I was beautiful in more ways than the obvious. He cooed his complaints silently as to not alarm the nazi nursing staff. I leaned in closer to show Terry that I was truly sorry he was there, feeling his frustration radiate off of his spirit, yet his eyes remained the same. Although the shirt was a bit too small, he wore it proudly and we laughed as M&Ms spilled onto the table from our hands and rolled on the floor like a bleeding rainbow without concern. His appreciation for my simple gifts was genuine and when I promised my return, I was being genuine as well.

The breeze stroked my face as I gazed upon the graffiti that the universe had left on the sky. Swirls of blue and white with splotches of grey and pink strewn in between flecks of yellow sunshine. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, taking in the oceans scent once more as the boat sped off back to Manhattan.

Somehow, I had allowed myself to become connected to this boy, blindly committing the one thing that New York teaches its residents to never offer without reward; your time. And as I spent more time with Terry, I realized that finding out the truth about him was going to be impossible if it was going to be left up to him to tell me. He avoided and rephrased every question I asked him about his personal life in a manner that made me seriously question whos intelligence was being insulted; mine or his. But in this instance every single vibration in my being was telling me to keep giving my time to Terry, regardless of the outcome. 

Unfortunately, the second trip I made to see Terry didn’t go as I had hoped. 

When I really sit back and think about what it was I wanted to give Terry more than anything, it was to alleviate a feeling of disappointment. They say you shouldn’t put your faith in man, but when it comes down to it, we all would like to believe we have a twin soul out there; someone who we can just count on to be there every single time no matter what. A mirrored conscious that isn’t bound to you by blood or financial reasoning, just simply their own desire to reciprocate.

Three weeks later I was anxious and excited to finally tell Terry that I was coming to see him again. He had asked several times, but my work schedule and personal life with the holidays coming up was not allowing for a day of travel and mystery. Despite the city’s constant overwhelming grip on my affairs, I found the time.

His next request was for two McChicken sandwiches and an iced coffee from Starbucks. I wasn’t really in the position to be treating to anything. I had been busting my ass trying to save money so I could get my own place and try to move out of my Uncle’s basement, while still trying to maintain a social life in a city that lets you make just enough money to sustain and never leave, but considering everything Terry showed me, this was a request I felt could be easily accommodated.  

Terry showed me how vulnerable he was the moment we laid eyes on each other. As time went on through our brief phone conversations and attempts at verbal intimacy, I began to guard Terry’s heart with my own, and I didn’t want to ever see him be left or let down again. Through the weeks our conversations lasted longer as his paranoia subsided with each day he was medicated. I never could get too far in asking him about people or his feelings. Everyone he ever knew had fucked him over and left him out in the cold, enough so to make him truly believe he had no family or anyone in the world to count on. I was going to make damn sure that I would be the one shining example of consistency in his life. His protector and guardian angel. I would never lie to him or try to shield him from the truth. Soften the blow maybe, but he would never be forgotten or dismissed by me.

I glanced down at my cell phone and noticed that my normal commute time was not enough to include these two stops with lines longer than my patience. I considered jumping out of line and just running over to the pier to catch the ferry, but the possibility that I would disappoint Terry by arriving empty handed after I gave my word to have these gifts in tow was too much in my mind. Clutching the gifts in my arms, I pushed through the flow of sidewalk traffic and sprinted towards the water. I lost valuable moments in time waiting for traffic lights to change and for tourists to realize that there is a walking speed limit in this town. I burst into a full sprint, spilling coffee and pushing people out of my way. If jay walking was a felony I would have been on death row. Cabs honked and swerved around me. This couldn’t be happening. Thirty minutes until the next boat means thirty minutes late into Staten Island, resulting in the need for time I won’t have waiting for a bus transfer, leaving me with a possibility of 5 minutes max for my visit with Terry. Assuming they even let me inside at that point. My body froze as I threw myself into the sound of boat horns announcing their exit.
I had officially let Terry down, and there was no way to guarantee forgiveness or a second opportunity. 
But I had to try.

February 23, 2012
A Blind Commitment Part III

That night, Terry’s phone call weighed heavy on my heart. When I tried to call the phone number back, my ear was filled with that AOL dial up noise. I felt a bit discouraged that I hadn’t gotten detailed information from him earlier, but I knew I could use my inherited stalker skills to try and track him down.

For the next few days, I spent an ample amount of time trying to locate a “Virginia” hospital in Staten Island. Turns out Terry was referring to the Richmond Hospital Psychiatric Ward, where they did confirm his attendance. He had snuck and called me from a fax line somewhere in the hospital office. Visitation hours were from 2pm-3pm and 6pm-7pm. The nurses made it very clear that smoking is not prohibited.

I obtained the actual phone number for his room and called him back a few days later.

“TYVETTE!”

“Hi Terry.”

“Are you coming with my cigarette?”

“No Terry, but I am coming.”

“Why won’t you bring me a cigarette?”

“I’m not allowed Terry, they won’t let me.”

“I knew they were listening to my calls; just come.”

click

The following morning, I mapped out my trip to see Terry. I had to take the 5 train from Flatbush, transfer to the Staten Island Ferry, and THEN take a bus to the actual hospital. Somehow I knew this was going to result in an all day adventure. 

On my way to the train station I stopped by a bodega and grabbed two bags of every type of M&M they make. I slipped them into the bag I had, along side the black sweater that I had picked up for Terry at my favorite thrift store in the West Village. 

He did said he was cold…

I had never ridden the Staten Island Ferry before; lucky for me it was a free trip. The boat comes every 30 minutes. I wrapped my scarf around my neck twice as the fog horns signaled us to enter. As a Scorpio I naturally love the water, so I slipped on my gloves and headed to the outside portion of the deck. 

As the boat took off from shore and sped up, the harsh November wind whipped against my face, bringing with it the smells of the salt water and New York City smog. I stood in silence taking in the view of the city from the Seaport. It was the first time since I had lived in New York that I actually had a good, clear, non-tourist view of the Statue of Liberty. I had Terry to thank.

I know that this entire situation in general was random and unconventional, but I couldn’t help but feel a strange tinge of genuine excitement to be going to see Terry. Not in the way that you would a boyfriend or a family member, but a sense of mystery and intrigue. Like I was about to discover something that could dramatically alter both of our lives. I still to this day cannot describe that feeling adequately. To try and use words would degrade the pureness of that emotion. But none the less, I was excited. 

The boat reached the dock and the crowd rushed into the terminal. I found my way outside to the bus stop, and took my place there. My palms started to sweat with anticipation as I gripped the bag of gifts and took a seat near the front, gazing out the window at my first view of the island. I wasn’t overly impressed, more distracted if anything.

I reached up and grabbed the lever cord as the hospital appeared in view. I quickly exited and rushed towards the door, trying to calm my nerves as I approached the front desk. 

“How may I help you?”

“I’m looking for the psych ward.”

“3rd floor.”

She pointed at an elevator. I stepped inside and pushed the plastic encased number three, watching it light up to an off yellow as I lifted. After navigating through a series of hallways, I found myself face to face with an armed guard holding a clip board. He handed it to me as I signed my name and let him check my gift bag for un-admitted items. 

He buzzed me into the next portion of the building, where there was another security guard standing next to the nurses station.

“Who are you here to see?”

I gave her Terry’s full name. She started to whisper to another nurse.

“Are you the girl who has been calling for him?”

“Yes…”, I replied hesitantly. 

“We’re going to have to ask you to let us hold your cigarette’s while you are visiting.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to give him one.”

“I understand, we just can’t allow the chance that it may happen.”

I handed her my pack of cigarettes. She put them in a bag and handed them to the security guard.

“You may pick them up on your way out.”

I thanked her, and headed inside the visitors room. A nurse checked me in, and sat me at a small table with two chairs in the far corner of the room. There were already a few other people with guests there. None of them appeared ‘crazy’ to me, but then I guess I’m not the best judge of character in that department. 

As my eyes continued to gaze around, I was completley aware of everything as I sat in anticipation of Terry’s arrival. The dull salmon colored walls, the sand colored speckles on the floor laced together in squares creating a grid-like geometric pattern. It smelled like anticeptic and lonliness; metal chairs scraping across the floor and light muffled conversation creating the only real sound in the room. I could feel my heart beating through my ears, blood rushing to my head and chest. The bright muffled light above was dying to escape its flourecent holders. I looked down at the hard wooden table and twiddled my thumbs. Taking a deep breath, I looked up towards the door and met a familiar ocean blue color, brimming with warmth and innocence. My cheeks instantly spread and a smile appeared across my face. He was wearing a pale blue set of hospital pajamas with little shapes of animals printed across the top. He shuffled towards me in his hospital issued white open-toed slippers. The ground below shifted as I pushed out my chair and rose to greet him.

“Terry…”

He blinked twice and smiled.

“You came.” 

I reached out and embraced Terry in my arms like a child that had been stolen from me. He responded with the same grip, taking in a deep breath.

“I’m so glad to see you.” he whispered in my ear.

A few moments into our reunion, a nurse rushed over to the table and tugged at our arms.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you can’t have physical contact with him like that.”

I looked at her in dismay as she pulled him out of my arms.

“Terry, have a seat.” she said, pulling out his chair and motioning for him to sit.

I gave her a disgruntled glare, but then quickly averted my attention back to Terry. He was still smiling.

“She’s a bitch.” he mumbled with a smirk.

“Oh well.” I shrugged. 

She gave us a stern look and walked away.

In spite of her 1920s mentality, she was not going to ruin my first visit with Terry.

I wanted to capture that moment forever.

 

February 12, 2012
A Blind Commitment Part II

“Why are we here?” Terry asked me innocently.

“Well, the 2 is local; this train is express so the trip will be shorter.”

The train arrived at the platform, and we took our places standing cross from each other by the doors.

I tried to probe a little deeper and find something Terry and I could relate to for discussion.

“So what are you doing here in the city, Terry?”

“I left PA, and I was looking for work. I couldn’t find work, or a place to stay. Then I got sick and had to go to the hospital.”

“Where is your family?”

“I don’t have family. I think that your family is just here to give birth to you. After that, you have to figure it out by yourself. I’m by myself now.”

“No, you have me Terry.”

He smiled. 

We crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, taking in the scenery. I happened to look away for a moment and noticed that Terry’s face had taken on a look of frustration.

“What the fuck does that guy want, man.”

I looked around; no one was paying us any mind. So I tried to align my vision with his and see what the problem was.

“What guy, Terry?”

“That fucking asshole right there!”

He shoved his hand upward and pointed. Everyone looked.

I blinked and tried to keep a rational approach. 

“Terry, don’t worry he just wants you to know that if you ever need skin care he can help. He doesn’t really want anything from you.”

“I don’t believe it, FUCK THAT GUY!” He yelled.

He started a quiet interrogation of Dr. Zizmor, demanding to know who he thought he was and why he wouldn’t stop staring. By now women were clutching their purses a little tighter and grown men raised a few eyebrows. I didn’t want Terry to feel like I was everyone else, so I had to let him know I understood.

“You’re right! FUCK HIM!” I yelled, shaking my fist in the air with a scowl.

“Come on let’s go over here so he can’t see us,” I added, grabbing his hand.

We walked over to the other end of the car. I’m not quite sure what everyone thought of the black woman wearing a business suit along side the white man with hospital scrubs on, but it didn’t matter to me. They were not any of my concern. Terry was. 

My stop was fast approaching, and where as I couldn’t just skip work to hang out with Terry, I did feel somewhat responsible for him, being that I kidnapped him onto the Q train.

I started to reach into my bag.

“Terry, I have to go to work now. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I am kind of hungry though.”

I pulled out $5, a cigarette, and a pack of matches, and placed them into his hands.

“This is for you Terry.”

“Wow thanks.”

I then pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen, and wrote down my name and number. I took his hands into mine and looked him directly in his eyes. He blinked and smiled.

“If you ever need anything, anything at all, just call me okay? Whatever you need, I promise I will be there and do my best.”

“You mean it?”

“I do.”

“Thanks Tyvette.”

The train came to a screeching halt. I stepped onto the platform and looked at Terry. His eyes were filled with sadness, but a smile remained on his face. I waved and stood across from him until the train doors closed. As the train pulled off, reality sunk in and I remembered that I needed an excuse as to why I was late for work.

Family emergency…yeah that works.

Time went on. Four days later I found myself in the Manhattan Mall, aimlessly walking around spending money on girly items that I didn’t need. I was texting an old boyfriend about having lunch, when a strange number appeared on my caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Tyvette!”

”..Um, yes?”

“Its me, Terry.”

I stood still and racked my brain for a minute to try and figure out who it was.

“Remember, we met on the train…you said you would be there for me and you gave me $5.”

“OH TERRY! Hi sweetie, how are you?”

“Not so good.”

“Why what’s wrong?

“Well, when I got off at Times Square, I went to McDonalds with the money you gave me, but I was in there for so long and it was crowded. There were people everywhere and they were touching me and I started to smell like ketchup. I needed to take a shower, but no one would help me find a shower.”

“I’m so sorry Terry.”

“Yeah. So these guys took me to get a shower, but now they won’t let me leave. And I really need a cigarette.” 

“Where did they take you?”

“Back to a fucking hospital.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know let me ask.”

I heard a muffling on the reciever and his voice yell out to someone.

“Man, hey man, where the fuck are we?”

Hearing someone in the background yelling back to him, I waited anxiously for a response.

“Oh, okay. I’m in Staten Island. Will you come? I don’t know any of these people.”

More background noise, followed by Terry yelling out, “SHUT UP I CAN BE ON THE PHONE IF I WANT TO STOP TELLING.”

I was slightly shocked, but continued the conversation. How in the hell did I leave this kid in Midtown Manhattan and he ended up across a body of water? I had never been to Staten Island before, and I am quite sure they have more than one hospital.

“Terry, where in Staten Island are you?”

“I told you, I’m at the hospital. Its a Virginia hospital.”

Confused, I just sat on the phone, really not knowing what to say. So I decided to say the only thing that made sense.

“Of course Terry. What do you need?”

“A cigarette.”

“I’m pretty sure they aren’t going to let you go outside to smoke it.”

“You can sneak in it, it will be okay.”

“Is there anything else you want Terry?”

“Um, M&Ms. I need M&Ms.”

“Okay, and what else?”

“I can’t be on the phone for this long I don’t know these people. And its fucking cold.”

Click.

I stood in the mall, mouth open, head spinning, and heart racing. People were pushing past me frustrated that I was blocking a door. I didn’t think Terry was actually going to phone me, but he had. And now here I was, faced with a genuine request that was totally unexpected. I walked outside and lit a cigarette, staring in awe at my phone screen contemplating what to do. I walked down the street, irritated by the madness of clueless tourists and sidewalk purse boosters. I puffed my cigarette smoke in peoples faces as a silent form of retaliation. 

Later, I met up with my ex for lunch. He could tell I was distracted and not really listening to him.

“What’s wrong with you, you aren’t even paying attention to me.”

“Sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Well what’s wrong we’re friends talk to me.”

I started to reveal my Terry story to him. His face scrunched up as I reached the most recent point of the story.

“How do you always find a way to get into these dumb random ass situations? That mutha fucker is crazy.”

“Well, crazy or not it happened.”

“So what are you going to do?”

We finished our lunch and left. I rode the train home in silence, thinking to myself over and over again, what was I going to do?

In my mind, there was really only one option.

I had to go find Terry.

February 8, 2012

As I set the tone for each series of writing, I would like for you to truly feel as you take in each story as I reveal it to you. These words should paint images, and as follows, I would like to provide a soundtrack for each entry. 

Please Play While Reading—-A Blind Commitment Part I

#PPWR

Radiohead-There, There

Enjoy

<3

February 8, 2012
A Blind Commitment Part I

New York City subway rides are a freak show.

Don’t worry—-it’s already included with your $2.25 swipe and optional seating. A vast majority of my most recent adventures started with a swipe. Some things have a more lasting effect than just a funny story for the water cooler or a reason to save up for a car.

It was a cool and rainy Wednesday mid-November of 2010. I worked nights and the sun had already moved on to another part of the world.

I was waiting for the 2 train to get me out of Flatbush and take me into Manhattan. I was late for work, which is rare because I like money. As I waddled back and fourth, anxiously glaring at the arrival times, I noticed a young white man, who looked about my age, wandering aimlessly on the other side of the turn-style asking random strangers the same question over and over again.

“Can someone swipe me in? I just got out of the hospital and I don’t have any money.”

I considered helping him, but I had an unlimited card. (For those of you who don’t live in NYC, when your metro card is unlimited, you have to wait twenty minutes to swipe your card again to prevent fare ‘abuse’). I silently hoped someone else would be the good samaritan for once, and I walked to the other end of the platform.

When the train arrived, I rushed in with the crowd and took my place standing holding onto the rail. I looked down and happened to notice that the man who was asking for help was sitting in front of me. I asked him if he was okay. He looked up at me and said,

“Yes, I feel better now.”

When he looked at me, everything stopped for a second. He was my age, I’m sure, but he had this child-like innocence in his eyes that I just can’t explain. They were a beautiful blueish-green color and looked as if he was forgiving the world every time he blinked for what it had done to him. I was immediately curious.

“So what’s your name?”

“Terry.”

“Hi Terry, I’m Tyvette. When is your birthday?”

“I’m a Gemini. The good kind though.”

I study the Zodiac, so it made me smile that he knew where I was going.

He told me my smile was pretty, and I in turn told him that his eyes were lovely.

At this point people were staring. Eyes never stopped me though.

We engaged in a short conversation. There was something not quite right about Terry though. I couldn’t quite figure it out in specific, but he was just not ‘with us’ all the way, if that makes an sense.

“Where are you headed?”

“To 42nd street.”

“Oh yeah? For what?”

“I’m going to see the ball drop.” He said sheepishly with a sly grin.

(Let me please remind you that it is MID NOVEMBER)

“Well, Terry you’re going to be there for a while, it doesn’t drop for another month and a half.”

“Well, will you come with me when it drops?”

“Of course I will.”

When we arrived at Atlantic Terminal, I told Terry that if he came with me, he could get to Times Square faster. We grabbed hands and ran through the train station, down the stairs and over to the Q train platform.

If you haven’t already noticed, there’s something not quite right about me too.

February 5, 2012
Stranger Danger.

Don’t Talk to Strangers.

I’m pretty sure everyone’s parents said this to them at some point between age 3 and 12. Fortunatley for me, I only listened to half of what my parents asked of me.

This photo was taken in 2008 a few day’s before my 19th birthday in LA on Skid Row. It was taken on a disposable camera. I find that using the old school method is more fun then the cell phone/digital camera age that we are in now. You don’t get the chance to review and critique the image for perfection. You are given a certain number of shots, and you better make every one worth it because when it prints that’s it. 

My best friend and I had just left Monster Massive; a huge rave that is held every year around the end of October. Our party supplies consisted of:

  • 3 Hits of LSD from the vile 
  • 2 Ecstasy pills (one that was smoked)
  • Beer
  • Several blunts and bowls of Mary Jane

I decided to dress up as an Angel; my buddy was the Devil. I had wings, but they got lost somewhere between Benny Benassi’s set & the drum & bass tent.

As we wandered through the streets trying to find a bus stop at 5am to take us back to our small one room apartment, we had a sudden craving for cigarettes. I’m an avid smoker, so at this point in time the brand really didn’t matter.

We turned onto Skid Row, and while we waited for the bus I noticed a lady sitting on the ground, obviously homeless holding a pack of Marlboro Reds. I motioned to my friend and pointed at her.

“Dude, I’m gonna ask her for a cigarette.”

“WTF ew don’t take a cig from a damn bum.”

“I don’t care. Its a cigarette.”

I stood and observed her for a few minutes to try and think of what my line would be after I approached her. I imagine men do the same when they watch attractive women walk down the street. She had the pack of cigarettes, and she was sitting on the ground. I didn’t have any money, so I figured, fuck it. I’m just going to ask.

He watched in awe as I slowly walked towards her and struck up a conversation.

“Hey, um excuse me. Can me and my friend have a cigarette?”

She looked up at me and mumbled.

“I don’t have a lighter.”

I remembered that my friend did. So I motioned for him to come over. He looked at us both like we were stupid.

“How about this, I’ll give you our lighter, and you just give us two cigarettes.”

She complied, and opened the pack, revealing the sticks of sin we so desperately craved, and motioned for us to take a few. She also took one out for herself. I lit everyone’s cigarette and we all inhaled and exhaled in relief.

I then turned to her and started to ask her questions.

“Why are you out here anyway?”

“I lost my home.”

“Why what happened?”

“I was smoking crack.”

Now that’s a very simple answer, and if I didn’t care at all I would have laughed and left it at that, and walked back to the bus stop with my cigarette. But the cat in me just had to know why this woman was her on the worst block in the city, alone, dirty, and on the ground.

She was married years ago to a very successful attorney. They had no children, a beautiful home, and lived a very luxurious life. He became sick and died, and as a coping mechanism she began to indulge in drugs to help her get over the pain of her lost lover. 

As her addiction began to consume her, she went through all the money they had acquired, lost their home, and ended up on the streets without a soul in the world who cared. Her family had disowned her during the peak of her destruction, and she was left on the street with nothing but, well, her pack of Marlboro Reds.

She was a sweetheart who made some horrible decisions, but even in her situation, which is far more terrible then anything I’ve ever had to deal with, she was willing to share the little that she had with us.

I handed her the lighter, and she tried to refuse it, but I made her take it. 

I asked her if I could take a picture with her, and she said yes. And that brings us to the memory that I am sharing with you now. 

We wished her well, and as the bus pulled up, we swiped our fare cards and rode back to East LA, crashing in our costumes when we got inside the house.

In this blog I will be discussing and sharing the past 5 years of my social experiments with random interactions that I have had with people all over the United States met via internet & other non-conventional mediums. There will be true, never before told stories about (but not limited to):

  • drugs
  • craigslist encounters
  • dating sites
  • homeless people
  • BDSM
  • strip clubs
  • friendships
  • love 
  • insane asylums
  • sex
  • fights
  • criminal activity
  • hitch hiking
  • sociopaths
  • perverts
  • serial killers


Verbal Verite. Who’s reading?

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