Sympathy

The woman sniffed, her dark sunglasses unable to hide the fact that she'd spent most of the day crying.  "I'm sorry," she mumbled.  "It's just....someone tried to hurt me."

As we got to the counter and I set her products down to start ringing her up, I offered a small sympathetic smile.  "I understand.  Been there."

She glanced up at me.  "Really?"

"Yup."  I started totaling up her purchase and memories of Spokane flashed in my mind.  "Psychotic meltdown.  We were supposed to be married, actually.  He's getting treatment."

"Oh, well," she sniffled, "this is different."  Did she sound proud?  I attributed that hint of pride to her myriad of emotions that were overflowing in her mind over this random guy she barely knew who she was pinning the attack on.  She knew him enough to want to sleep with him, but not well enough to trust him to actually do it. "I think he slipped me something."

I took a deeper breath of air through my nose.  Oh yeah.  She had ingested a cocktail of weed and some other herbs, no hardcore street drugs like cocaine or meth.  It was in her scent rather than on her clothes, and I found my tongue ready to vocalize this affirmation before my brain had a moment to process the wisdom of that action. Fortunately common sense slammed its fist down and I just gave her a listening nod.

"Good luck."  I smiled softly and handed her the bag.

"What?"  She looked at me in horrified disbelief.  "Good luck??"

"It's better than nothing."

The final look she gave me as she left made me want to tell her, yes, lady, good frikin luck.  You have bigger problems than the minute amount of drugs you injested, like your choice in complete assholes that your mind was scrolling through.  And just so you know, I've seen worse and experienced far worse, the kind that there is not antidote for.  Don't give me that flippant sob story when people have died from far stronger drugs than your pathetic existence can handle, and they were KIDS!

Instead, I moved on to the next customer, who was also put off by the woman's attitude.  Suddenly no one felt sorry for her, and while I said a silent prayer for her good health, I fought the bile of disgust that threatened to surface.  People like her.....women, really, like her.  The kind that want to be the damsel in distress.  Who want the world to know they suffer so knights in shining armor will come galloping in to save the day until the next disaster arrives for them to dive into.

Guess what, lady?  Some of us don't have that option.  Some of us have to keep fighting, keep moving forward, keep being our own warriors.