Gleefully I drove eastward down I-90, excited to see my beloved, my windows were wide open, the warm air blew on my face. I sang loudly off tune, cars whiz by me. I was headed toward “Dead Man’s Curb” a sharp, deadly turn. I’ve driven that curve with its caution tracks that emit farting noises many times; I’ve thought of the lives lost to that wicked curve.
As I approach the familiar curve I see 3 individuals furiously flagging me down. Stopping for strangers is something I never do but that day I did. I can’t explain why I just felt the need to help. I locked my doors and pulled over to the side of the road. One gentleman was gaunt; his faded black hoodie overwhelming his slender frame. His face was covered in tattoos and his long hair in a messy ponytail. His male companion was short with a mop of salt and pepper colored hair. His voice was gravelly. His weathered face had creases along his cheeks. Small wrinkles outlined his lips and yellow stained teeth showed all the signs of a lifelong smoker. His neck was covered with tattoos barely visible by the hood of his tattered black hoodie. The final companion was a female. She also had a long ponytail but her brown hair appeared greasy. Unlike her counterparts, she wore a white hoodie. During our brief interaction, she remained silent. The trio looked shady as fuck.
The short gentleman yelled at me through my window, “There’s a dead body over there. It’s over there!” he pointed furiously at an underpass only 10 feet away. Terror flowed my body. My first instinct was to speed away but again I felt the need to help out. “She’s laying in the mud right there” the man continued to point towards the underpass. My face grew hot and I counted my breaths slowly. I won’t show weakness I thought but my anxiety must have been evident because he insisted that he wouldn’t hurt.
Immediately I called 911, “911, what’s your emergency.” “I found a dead body” I quickly blurted out, I didn’t know what to say. The calm, neutral tone of the operator instructed me to give her the details and my locations. Engrossed in our conversation I didn’t notice the gaunt fellow approach my car. He tapped on my window and I jumped in my seat. “I got her wallet, here, here” he waved it around. “Ma’m open your window so I can give it to you!” I cracked my window slightly and he tossed it onto my front seat. It was a long, slender, plastic wallet. As I was explaining to the operator about the wallet I noticed out of the corner of my eye the trio walking away and climbing up a small hill. WTF, now I was alone with a dead body. I rolled down my window and shouted at them but they kept walking.
“They’re gone, they left” I exclaimed. “They left. Do you feel safe now that they’re gone? Can you go confirm there is a dead body?” the operator calmly requested. ” Uhhhh, yea, I guess.” I mentally prepared myself, praying that the scene wasn’t gruesome. Traffic rushed past me as I left the safety of my car. You can do this, breathe, it will be ok, my mind filled with grisly images, FUCK. Despite the body being a couple feet away, it felt miles away.
I saw her. A real dead body. Not like a dead body on Law and Order. She was flat down and covered in mud. She was short and wore jeans with a green sweatshirt. Her black skin was smooth and her black hair was cut short. I was careful not to get too close in case she resurrected herself. “Ma’am, can you confirm there is a dead body, ma’am are you still there?” I mumbled a response and walked toward my vehicle. The urge to drive away hit me again but the police would need my help. I sat in my car on the verge of a panic attack. Oh god, what if they think I killed the mystery lady in the mud? I tried to think back to all of the cops shows I’ve ever watched- Perp? Victim? Alibi? Accomplices? Coffee and donuts? My mind crammed full of images; cops shoving me into a squad car while snot and tears ran down my face, I’m too cute for jail! That ‘s when I saw it, my alibi. My grande iced tea from Starbucks snug in a cup holder. A damp sticker was stuck on the side with the date and time. I had happily endured a long line for a refreshing mint iced tea. The cops would question my whereabouts and I would show them my cup, Starbucks would be my redeemer.
After what felt like forever the police, ambulance and firefighters arrived. I watched them from my car and rolled down my windows, it’s easier to ease drop with open windows. I didn’t expect what I heard, instead of talking about bad guys and search parties, I heard “Yeah, he scored 4 points at his game, he was happy.” “My wife sent me to pick up milk and was mad when I came home with beer too!” Laughter erupted as the gentleman stood over the dead body and casually talked about sports and women.
After a few minutes of ease dropping an officer walked to my car. “Ma’am, can you please tell me what happened?” With a quivery voice, I told the officer everything that I happened. I told him again and then once more. I knew his ploy, I kept my story the same over and over; Criminal Minds, Colombo, etc prepared me for this moment. After taking all my information, I was allowed to leave, I did so happily.
I was shaken and scared by the incident but another emotion overwhelmed me. I was incredibly sad for the mystery lady. Her life ended on the cold pavement beside a highway, people rushing by her body. Emergency personnel standing over her body while talking about their weekends. What about her loved ones? Were they looking for her? Did she have loved ones? A mixture and compassion and sadness lingered for days.
You know what else lingered? The image of her body in freshly caked mud laying on the ground. The ground around her was dry and dusty, she probably had been dumped. Her image would pop into my mind at random moments, while I was driving, doing dishes or even on the toilet. She haunted me. I didn’t want to be alone at night, I would find shelter at a nearby Starbucks. Laundry piled up in my basement because I was scared of seeing her. Finally, I decided to embrace the fact that she was in my life with some oddball humor.
BERTHA, if she was going to follow me then she should at least have a name. Her appearances became less frightening and cornier, ” Bertha, go do something with yourself, take a shower. Go to the Bahamas or something.” I would tell her while I washed dishes. “Really Bertha? Go live out my dream and make out with Hugh Jackman!” sometimes my goofiness made me laugh. Bertha had a whole lot of imaginary life to live, “Go away Bertha, go away, do something!” Gradually, Bertha listened to my advice and began to fade away.
I know I haven’t seen the last of Bertha though, I’m sure she will appear from time to time. Bertha’s image dwindles in my mind but the lesson of compassion she taught me will forever be present.
It's All Good 