Love Can Warm
The girl standing on the street corner is thin. Her straw-like bleached hair hangs heavy in her face with raindrops dripping from her split ends. Her face is smudged with dark makeup, her bloodshot eyes appearing glazed over and empty.
I pull my 2016 Ford Taurus up beside her, rolling down my window and inviting sheets of pouring rain to splash over my hair and face as I call out to her.
"How long will two hundred get me?"
The woman doesn't seem to register my voice over the pounding rain. When she turns, it's as if she's looking right through me. Her lips are smudged with red gunk, only appearing more caked as the rainwater mixes with the waxy substance on her skin.
"Half an hour," the woman responds, her tone hoarse and broken.
I nod and roll my window back up, watching intently as she makes her way to the passenger side of my car. I reach down to the controls and crank the heat up high before taking the liberty of turning the passenger seat warmer on.
The woman opens the door and slides in, somewhat stiff and wobbly on her seven-inch twig heels splattered with mud from passing cars whose passengers are busy looking for a better deal.
As the passenger door shuts, her nauseating synthetic-flower perfume fills the cab, mixing with the musk from her sopping wet corseted top. I hand her a handkerchief to wipe her face.
"You're prettier without it," I say with a sad smile before I reach behind me into the back seat and pull a poorly folded plush blanket from the middle. The woman doesn't hesitate to take it from me, wrapping herself tightly in the soft fabric as tears fill her eyes.
"Pretty doesn't get me business." She mutters under her breath, pulling the visor down to gaze into the mirror as she wipes her face clean. The rag becomes heavy with clumps of black mascara, and blood red lipstick coated chunks of dry skin from her lips.
I can't help the way anger boils in my stomach when the dark black and blue stain around her right eye doesn't wipe off. I keep my mouth shut however and turn away, closing my eyes and sucking in a deep breath to try and calm down.
"Ash-"
"Don't say it," she cuts me off, turning to glare at me out of the corner of her eye. "I'm not better than this. I don't deserve better than this."
The words hurt me more than they hurt her. She's my best friend, and this is the highest opinion she has of herself?
"I... I... what do you want for dinner?" I ask, deciding to try and change the subject. I can't argue with her about this again. As much as I want her to realize she's worth more than she knows, neither of us are in any position to have this conversation.
Ashley turns away again, her cheeks flushing red. It's nearly a minute later before she clears her throat and finally speaks.
"Should we do pasta again?"
"Up to you," I say, glancing back up at her. She's staring out the window, watching the raindrops slide down the glass. She always liked to watch the drops race, and would try and guess which one would reach the pane first.
"I don't think I'm going to get anymore business tonight. Let's go home," she sighs, reaching for the seatbelt and smiling softly at me.
I return the smile but don't let her buckle herself in before I lean over the center console and pull her into my arms, holding her as tightly as she lets me.
"I love you, Ash," I say, tears welling up in my eyes. She hesitates at first but after a few seconds, I feel her hands slide up around my shoulders to hug me back.
"I love you too, Bri."
