It took me more than two months to write about Lynne. In this case, failure just hurts too much. I had gone up to Edinburgh for my friend's birthday. We were supposed to meet at 6.30 but I made sure I would arrive in the early afternoon: I wanted to see if I could find the blue-eyed kid again. This time I had a plan. The blue-eyed kid really did not seem to have been on the street for very long. He did not seem addicted either. I thought that I was going to help "Good Samaritan style": if I could find him, I was going to try to be his friend until he recovered from that situation (and possibly beyond).
I knew Edinburgh quite well, I even knew a pretty nice backpacker’s hotel that served as the point of first call for Australians who were starting out on a working holiday visa, but who did not necessarily have jobs yet. It was clean, very friendly, and a great resource to get back on one’s feet, as the guests would usually trade their tricks about finding jobs and generally support each other. I was going to pay for a couple of months and make some money available to him. That, I thought, would be pretty awesome.
I never found the blue-eyed kid again. But I could not justify walking past one girl who was begging on Princes street so I stopped to invite her up for coffee. She replied that she couldn't, as she needed to raise money for a night at the hostel. I gave her that money, and asked again if she really would not consider coffee.
She smiled and said yes. She asked if we could go to MacDonald’s. I told her a bit about myself so she could place me and then Lynne started telling me her story: parents who abandoned her and verbally abused her, a violent boyfriend (she had quite a few big scars and even an untreated fracture!!! Part of her finger was coming up perpendicularly on the wrong side, it was yellow and infected). She told me about her kids, who stay at her mother’s and whom she never sees. How she misses them everyday. At this point she was very close to tears.
I realised that the backpacker’s was not going to work. Lynne did not have the confidence to mix with a crowd of loud Aussie travellers. She would totally freak out and that would destroy her instead of empowering her. Lynne did not need temporary assistance (even of the comprehensive type). Lynne needed a sibling.
I had just finished looking for rooms in Durham and I’d seen quite a few affordable ones (about £35 per week). But I could not plug Lynne with students unless I was living in the house too. I’d just taken up a room in a shared place, but there was no room left in it.
We kept talking, went for some fags, and then it was time for me to go to my friend’s birthday. I asked Lynne if she wanted to come but she really wasn’t keen, and to be frank, I was more than a bit apprehensive about that too. I asked her if she wanted to meet the next day. She said yes. So I gave her my number and she said she would phone me from one day-care centre that had a phone. She explained to me how to get to the pub I was looking for and walked with me part of the way. Then she thanked me for "making her day" and gave me a hug. She was crying. "Call me tomorrow" I said, "we can spend all day sipping cappuccinos and doing nothing".
The night at the pub was a bit surreal. The picture of Lynne’s quasi-gangrenous untreated fracture kept popping through my mind. Also, I did not have a solution. I was hoping to sleep on it and that the Allmighty Lord Creator of the Universe would help me come up with something the next morning. I decided against drinking alcohol on that night, my emotions were far too volatile, so I stuck to sparkling water. I also felt a bit stupid for exposing myself to this hardcore stuff before attending my friend’s birthday. You’re meant to have a long bath and indulge a bit before a party, so you can be relaxed and help turn your friend's birthday into an awesome party. Instead I was worried. I really did not have a plan laid up for the next day.
The next morning I woke up quite apprehensive: now the phone could ring anytime. My new plan was to get a phone for Lynne, try to get a feel for her existing support system, take her to the doctor's for an appointment, introduce her to the vegan activists who run a bookshop near St Edmund's church so she would have someone to call, maybe invite her up to Durham for a couple of days away from it all, I'd show her our cathedral and the old town. But really these were just ideas: I would dive in and "see how it went".
Lynne never called. I spent the whole day looking for her with another friend. We ended up learning quite a lot about the support systems for homeless people in Edinburgh, but we never found her. A couple of months afterwards, I sometimes picture Lynne and I watching telly, giving each other manicures, doing girly stuff... But this stuff really hurts because I know that it’s just a fantasy picture in my head and that it never did happen, nor will. I liked Lynne. It was irrational, almost an animal instinct. I really liked Lynne.
I never found the blue-eyed kid again. But I could not justify walking past one girl who was begging on Princes street so I stopped to invite her up for coffee. She replied that she couldn't, as she needed to raise money for a night at the hostel. I gave her that money, and asked again if she really would not consider coffee.
She smiled and said yes. She asked if we could go to MacDonald’s. I told her a bit about myself so she could place me and then Lynne started telling me her story: parents who abandoned her and verbally abused her, a violent boyfriend (she had quite a few big scars and even an untreated fracture!!! Part of her finger was coming up perpendicularly on the wrong side, it was yellow and infected). She told me about her kids, who stay at her mother’s and whom she never sees. How she misses them everyday. At this point she was very close to tears.
I realised that the backpacker’s was not going to work. Lynne did not have the confidence to mix with a crowd of loud Aussie travellers. She would totally freak out and that would destroy her instead of empowering her. Lynne did not need temporary assistance (even of the comprehensive type). Lynne needed a sibling.
I had just finished looking for rooms in Durham and I’d seen quite a few affordable ones (about £35 per week). But I could not plug Lynne with students unless I was living in the house too. I’d just taken up a room in a shared place, but there was no room left in it.
We kept talking, went for some fags, and then it was time for me to go to my friend’s birthday. I asked Lynne if she wanted to come but she really wasn’t keen, and to be frank, I was more than a bit apprehensive about that too. I asked her if she wanted to meet the next day. She said yes. So I gave her my number and she said she would phone me from one day-care centre that had a phone. She explained to me how to get to the pub I was looking for and walked with me part of the way. Then she thanked me for "making her day" and gave me a hug. She was crying. "Call me tomorrow" I said, "we can spend all day sipping cappuccinos and doing nothing".
The night at the pub was a bit surreal. The picture of Lynne’s quasi-gangrenous untreated fracture kept popping through my mind. Also, I did not have a solution. I was hoping to sleep on it and that the Allmighty Lord Creator of the Universe would help me come up with something the next morning. I decided against drinking alcohol on that night, my emotions were far too volatile, so I stuck to sparkling water. I also felt a bit stupid for exposing myself to this hardcore stuff before attending my friend’s birthday. You’re meant to have a long bath and indulge a bit before a party, so you can be relaxed and help turn your friend's birthday into an awesome party. Instead I was worried. I really did not have a plan laid up for the next day.
The next morning I woke up quite apprehensive: now the phone could ring anytime. My new plan was to get a phone for Lynne, try to get a feel for her existing support system, take her to the doctor's for an appointment, introduce her to the vegan activists who run a bookshop near St Edmund's church so she would have someone to call, maybe invite her up to Durham for a couple of days away from it all, I'd show her our cathedral and the old town. But really these were just ideas: I would dive in and "see how it went".
Lynne never called. I spent the whole day looking for her with another friend. We ended up learning quite a lot about the support systems for homeless people in Edinburgh, but we never found her. A couple of months afterwards, I sometimes picture Lynne and I watching telly, giving each other manicures, doing girly stuff... But this stuff really hurts because I know that it’s just a fantasy picture in my head and that it never did happen, nor will. I liked Lynne. It was irrational, almost an animal instinct. I really liked Lynne.
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