Tabatha Deans

THE OLD HOOKER …

THE OLD HOOKER AND THE MISSING CHILD

            I began my workday at the donation center by receiving a small truckload of generic plain plastic bags full of clothes. The room we store cloth in was getting full, which means I had to fill the bags less so I could toss them to the top of the ten-foot pile of bags. Today’s bags were too heavy to toss, so I set about dividing them into smaller bags to lighten the load.

            As soon as I opened the first bag, dozens of clear plastic eggs rolled out, the kind that panty-hose and stockings come in. They were filled with stockings of every color of the rainbow. Purple, red, green, fishnet, and classic black with a seem running down the back. I knew from the musty smell, and the gentleman who delivered the bags, that these were the belongings of an older woman who had recently died.

            I was immediately curious about an old lady who owned stockings in every color, and dug deeper into the bags, where my imagination was only fueled more. There were garter belts in black, blue, red and white—real garter belts from days of old that were actually used to hold stockings up and not just as a costume to entice the gentlemen. Although I got the feeling that this old lady, in her day, knew exactly how to entice the gentlemen with her classic wardrobe

            My suspicions were confirmed when I opened the second bag, which was full of lingerie of all colors—bustiers, thong underwear, matching undie sets, and a few items that I wasn’t sure what they were, but after a bit of exploring and pondering I decided it indeed feel into the category of lingerie.  My old lady was a tramp in her younger day. Or so I thought.

            Each bag contained silk, lace, sexy, trampy and classic clothing, but in increasingly larger sizes. By the time I reached the last bag, I had run across clothes that ranged from a size 2 to a size 22. Apparently her style and sauciness didn’t wane as she grew older and larger.

            With thoughts of the mystery woman in my head, I raced out to accept donation from a middle-aged woman who was struggling with the heavy bag of what was obviously clothes. Intrigued by what I’d found already this morning, I wouldn’t wait to see what story was waiting for me in this plain black bag.

            It was not as cheery. The bag was full of bright orange T-shirts, obviously some kind of promotional shirt, or team shirt. I pulled one out to reveal the cause, and my heart stopped. Each shirt was adorned with a photo of a girl about my daughter’s age, with long red hair. Bold red letters across the top of the shirt declared “MISSING” since 3/26/2012, followed by the girl’s name and police contact numbers.

            I knew there were only three reasons the shirts would end up in my donation center. She was found, (Which I’m choosing to believe in my heart,) she’s dead, or they are giving up on her. I resisted the urge to Google the girl’s name, not really wanting to know the outcome…

August 4, 2012 - Posted by Tabatha Stewart | Uncategorized