Jamie Needs a Flute!

A masked figure wearing a black stocking cap rode a bicycle into the parking lot of the grocery store. I was walking to my car after returning a cart. The rider skidded to a stop in front of me.

“MAAATTTTTTTT!” the rider screamed, while simultaneously yanking off the mask and stocking cap.

It was Jamie from the Old Crow Book Club! I hadn’t seen her in months and the last two times she’d been zonked on fentanyl. Via the book club grapevine, news reached me that Jamie was in terrible shape and living along a creek in the neighborhood.

But here she was, smiling, sober and damn happy to see me.

“Where the hell have you been?” I said. “I’ve been worried.”

What ensued was more of a monologue by her rather than a conversation, but she needed to talk. I listened and interjected a question here and there when an opening presented itself.

Her recent story was this:

She was in disguise because of stalkers. She was living alone down by the creek. The encampment there, after utterly destroying a riparian area, had been swept a couple of times, but she somehow managed to return. Her dog was gone. Someone had ripped off most of her possessions, including the flute she busked with to survive. She really needed that flute. The holiday season was looming and she earned three times her regular donations because people loved the standards.

No, she hadn’t lost the Swiss Army Knife I’d given her six months ago. She used it every day. She’d slit anyone’s throat who tried to steal it.

Yes, Mark had given her the Old Crow shirt but it had gone missing until she saw another homeless woman wearing it. Could I make her another one?

The monologue ended.

I told her I’d buy her a flute. How we would coordinate a rendezvous for me to hand it over was lost to me in the moment, but I’d figure it out and employ the Old Crow network for communication. They operate very much the way Sherlock Holmes’ band of underground contacts did in London.

“OOOOHHHHH MAAAATTTTTTT” screamed Jamie. “THANK YOU!”

It’s a damn good feeling when someone scream THANK YOU for your effort. In fact, it was the best thank you I’d ever received.

We parted.

I drove home and went online to research flutes. Flutes! For a homeless woman who needs it to gig at Christmas!

Jesus Christ there were a lot of options! And flutes have different keys? What the hell? Jamie hadn’t told me what key she preferred! I’d just have to wing it.