Life on the Streets, San Francisco, 2005, by a Runaway
From MemoryArchive
Who: Annonymous Runaway What: Living on the Streets When: 2005 Where: San Francisco, California
There is a smell in the streets called desperation. It is everywhere. An undercurrent of despair. I am sitting in the middle of the San Francisco Mission district. I watch the world go by with no particular plan. The night before I slept in a church basement. My few belongings under my pallet. There are hookers and winos sleeping beside me. I hated it. I would go and stay with Dalena whenever I could. Times had been hard for them too. She was now living at her grandmothers. One weekend her Grandmother went to Vegas. We were on the phone prank calling everyone. We called a house and a guy answered. We started to talk to him. He lived over the bridge in Oakland. “Come over.” She tells him. “And bring a friend!” I say. Sure enough, they hit our door thirty minutes later. We bring them in the house and get busy. “Let’s switch,” they say. I don’t want to switch. I’m pissed because Darlena got the fine one. I don’t want to f**k behind her anyway. So I let him play with me under the covers.
I am getting used to the streets. Dalena had a boyfriend named William that I had met and screwed before she even knew him. I never told her. When we would leave her house, we would go to his house and f**k. When we were at her house, he would rub on my ass whenever she left the room. He shows me the ropes. We hang out all day. We smoke angel dust. We f**k. When I can’t crash anywhere he gives me money to eat. I sneak off and f**k his brother. I hope he doesn’t tell. Through Will I meet people that hang out in the district. The girls are much harder than I am. They have been out here a long time. I am a simple country girl at heart. Together we lure the old horny Mexicans out of bars and rob them. Together we walk the streets at night. Once I call my mother asking her to come get me. “If you play you have to pay” Are her nourishing words. I hang up the phone and cry. I hate myself.
One girl named Joanne has a friend who lets people crash in the basement. The door is on the outside of the house. Joanne is in a home so she can’t spend the night. That leaves her boyfriend and I. Of course I have no option but to give up some ass. I wake up with a flashlight in my eyes. I am blinded. “Get up!” They say. It is the police. The girls’ dad has called and said there are runaways sleeping in his basement. Great. So now I have to get up and dressed in front of five men. With the damn flashlight shining like a spotlight on my light skin. They take me to the police station. I am put into a cell with no door and a toilet. “What is your name?” they say. I just look at them. “What is your parents number?” They say. Still I just look at them. Parents? I think. I have no parents. So I am Jane Doe. They put me in a home for girls. On my way, I am looking for a way to get away. They can’t make me do shit. But they know! “You can’t run away” the girl next to me whispers. We’ll see. They put me in a room on the third floor. I spend the first night just looking over the city, feeling the pull of those streets. I hate myself.
They send me to counseling. I hate them. They give me books. I hate them. What is your name? Jane Doe. How old are you? Jane Doe. Where did you live? Jane Doe. I want out, out, out! Finally, “We just need an adult to come check you out.” Okay Mr. Counselor man. Call my mother. She will come get me the f**k out of here at least. She knows what being locked up feels like. Mr. Counselor Man is watching my eyes as he talks on the phone.” Uh-huh, okay, yeah.” I look at him for my verdict. Your mother is going to call your father to come and get you. Something snaps. I hurl my book at him. “You bastard! Son of a bitch!” Liars all of them. I push by him to the doors. He has hit the auto-lock. He is pissed. “Sit your ass down and wait!” he yells. “F**k you, F**k you, and F**k you!” I scream. I am banging on the doors with both fists. Why am I here? Why was I born? They put me in a little room for being disruptive. I wait there until Tina’s dad comes. When he opens the door, I won’t even look at him. “Come on Chairese I have to get back to work.” I leave walking behind him. I glare at all of them. I’ll be free now. “You are going to live with your dad,” he tells me. “Yeah right” I think. He drops me off at home and goes back to work. It feels so good to be here. I stay in the shower forever. And then I leave. Back to San Francisco I go. I have been away from the streets for about two weeks.
Republished with permission from Runaway Lives.
