"Wounds" Written by: Ron Brown Photo by: Keith Davenport

n by: Ron Brown Photo by: Keith Davenport
Along the highway Roberta found a bench to rest her weary bones. She had been walking for miles and not a single soul had offered her a ride. At first she held her thumb out knowing that someone would surely provide her what she needed – a lift to the next state, a fresh start in a new location. As time went on in her journey she would turn around whenever she heard another car moving in her direction, yet each one zoomed past and it seemed to her as if she wasn’t even there or mattered. Sitting there upon the bench she reflected on this journey. A tear slowly made its way down Roberta’s left cheek. As the tear dropped from her face to the dirt on the ground below – her breathe labored with depression began.
She flashed to an angry word with her boyfriend Paul and how he in a fit of anger he degraded her very being. Placing her hands over her ears on that bench she tried to block out the echo of that memory. For the pain of the many times she had heard someone throughout her life call her stupid, a shameless hussy and even a whore were screaming in circles in her head. Roberta – screamed out loud looking upward to the sky in the safety of this desolate place. “Why do people call me these names? I am a good person and I never cheat on anyone.” The echo of her yell slowly waned into an empty distance. For about an hour Roberta flashed on faces from her life where they said the same hurtful things. She pondered “Why can’t anyone see I’m not like that?”
Suddenly, a man’s shoes caught her eye walking toward her as she held her head downward. “Are you OK?” the voice from the man with designer shoes said. Roberta, almost afraid that one of her past loves or people who had called her those invalid names might be in those very stylish shoes. But she looked up anyway. And a man is a very stylish suite was there. She knew it was an expensive suit but couldn’t place the designer. And as her eyes sought to see who this man asking if she was OK was. She only saw a shadow upon his face and a rather dapper had upon his head that the sun behind it made him appear angelic. His experiences hand reached in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief as he said, “Here wipe those tears from your eyes.” She was a bit worried about the intentions of this stranger but he seemed to not be after anything so she took the handkerchief and wiped the tears from her face. He asked if he could sit down next to her on that bench. Roberta not feeling threatened said, “Sure mister.”
“Larry, my name is Larry” the stranger said as he sat down next to her on the bench. “Where is your car Larry? I didn’t even hear you pull up here.” Larry said, “Oh I just was walking along the road and saw a very beautiful women crying and couldn’t just walk by as my Dad raised me right. So why are you crying anyway?” Roberta feeling so at ease with this stylish stranger began to just flow out to him of how she had just ran away from her boyfriend Paul after their last fight. She went on to sharing with no worries of Larry’s judgment about how she kept hearing people call her a shameless hussy, whore and other horrible names from as far back as she could remember.
Larry listened as Roberta let out here heavy load of burden. He only held her hand as she felt so at ease telling him her pain. Larry waited until she finished talking as she said “and that is how I got here.” Larry, with a truly empathetic gaze looked at Roberta and said. “I see.” Roberta expected to hear more, maybe some wisdom, but he just said “I see.” But then in the silence of those moments she flashed to think, maybe he thinks I am those things or maybe he really doesn’t get it. Then as if by a cue from a movie, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. “Roberta, I want to show you something, is that OK?” Roberta feeling his good intentions said, “OK.” Larry opened up the cover to the pocket watch and handed it to Roberta. In an instant she gazed upon the swirli