Toots

We don’t call them prostitutes or hookers, we would never call them whores, we call them Toots. In the ER we see them for many reasons; some have been beaten up by johns or pimps, some have OD’d on crack or meth, and some have contracted one of the various ‘working girls’ diseases; but we treat their ills, counsel them when appropriate, and we try to do it all with respect.

I used to try to ‘save’ some, the younger ones especially, the ones who hadn’t fallen too far into the life. I always thought I could rescue them, perhaps because I was too idealistic when I started, but now I just try to be kind and listen and I don’t try to change too much in their lives, only little things here and there.
I was sitting at the ER desk one evening about 11:30 PM. I was getting off at 12 and was looking forward to crashing in a warm bed. Father Dolan was with me (yes, he is back in my life after many years, but that’s another story altogether), and was telling me about the work he does with teenage runaways in the city. I told him about the young toots I saw, he shook his head ruefully and told me he undoubtedly worked with some of the same ones.
            “Rob, why don’t you come with me tonight? I drive around locations where the kids hang out and let them know about places to go for food and a safe bed.” Still with a hint of Irish brogue after all these years in the USA.
            “For how long Father?”
            “Robbie, I promise to have you home in bed by 4 AM. Deal?”
 
The car was warm and I was sleepy, but Dolan kept my attention. I hadn’t been driving with him since I was fourteen and had gone on his hospital rounds to visit the sick. On the way back that last day, he had put on his stole, a vestment that looks like a purple scarf,  and heard my confession as he was driving the car. I hoped we would not be talking confession now; it had been too many years since I had confessed my sins, and I needed a dark anonymous confessional if I was going to do it.
            “You see Rob, you can’t let them think you’re trying to recruit or coerce them, you have to give ‘em a choice. Most of these kids have been pushed around by adults their entire lives, and that’s why they are on the streets. You have to earn their trust first, and let them come to you.”
            “How does it work Father, you get good results?”
“Better than the agencies who go out and pursue the kids.”
 
He stopped the old black Chevy near a freeway overpass. A bunch of kids, boys and girls together, were all huddled up underneath it, their faces illuminated by passing cars or the sudden flash of a cigarette lighter. Dolan got out a bag and handed it to me.  As we approached I realized the kids seemed to know him.
            “Hey Father! You got some goodies for us tonight?”
            “Sure do,” he said, and held up what looked like credit cards to me. “Got some $10 phone cards for you all, if you promise not to be calling them 1-900 sex lines with ’em.”  That brought a few laughs from some of the kids as they gathered around him to get the phone cards. The other half of the group stayed under the concrete bridge, watching us cautiously. I noticed the back of the phone cards had the St Katherine’s Shelter’s address and phone printed on the back. “My friend, Rob, has got some food for those who want it.” Dolan turned to me and gave me a grin, I opened the bag and passed out a sandwich to each kid who had come over. After I had finished, Dolan gave me a few cards and nodded to the kids who had stayed under the bridge. He wanted me to go over to them, but I wasn’t sure what to do or say. I looked at Dolan and he just winked and nodded to me. ‘Go’ his eyes said.
I took my time strolling over, not looking like a guy with a mission, just a guy wanting to hang out. I sat down next to the group. No one said a word to me. I wasn’t sure how to start talking to them so I did what works when I have a shy patient in the pediatric ward. I took a sandwich from the bag, slowly unwrapped it and took a big bite. With little kids in the hospital I do the same thing with Reese’s Pieces.
 
The sandwich smelled good and tasted even better. I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I munched it. One of the guys saw my enjoyment.
            “Hey dude, you gonna share or what?”
            “Sure.” I passed out the food to the group, four boys and two girls.
“How come you’re with the priest?”
“I knew him when I was a kid, and met him again a few weeks back. He’s a good guy.”
“Didn’t try to bugger you did he?” That comment from a big husky kid who seemed suddenly angry. The other kids laughed nervously A girl with red hair gave the big fellow a dirty look.
“Nah, Dolan’s one of the good ones.” I wondered if I should tell them about Dolan, how he and I had found the other parish priest, the guy we all called Mousey, trying to molest a third grade altar boy right in the sacristy. How Dolan had punched him out, right there in the church. How the next day Dolan had been transferred away, while Mousey stayed.  ‘Too complex,’ I thought. ‘Leave it be.’
 
The red headed girl sat next to me. She was thin but pretty,  dressed way too skimpily for such a cool night. Tiny miniskirt, small top and high heels. She looked about sixteen. I wondered if she had sold herself yet, possibly for food or a place to sleep. She didn’t have that hard look though,the one they get after a few months of the life. I wondered if she would catch herself before she got in too deep, or if, in the next few weeks, this poor girl would be one of the Toots I would see in the ER.
            “You got phone cards I hear?”
            “Yea.” I took out the cards and passed them around. The kids liked them better than the food. I hoped they would use them to call home, or a friend, anything to get off the train to hell they were on.
The girl looked at the back of the card, then up at me.
            “You ain’t gonna try and convert me right? I don’t have to be a Catholic to go that shelter do I?”
            “Nope, you just gotta be under twenty one and hungry.”
Dolan walked over the with the other kids. As they all sat down, he took out a picture of a dark haired girl and passed it around.
            “Anybody seen her? Her family is trying to contact her and she only has to call them, No strings attached. They just want to know if she is OK.” The kids all shook their heads. “Well if anyone does see her, please have her call St Katherine’s Shelter.  The phone number is on the back of those cards Rob and I passed out.”
Dolan waved to them as he turned away and walked back to his black Chevy, I said good bye to the kids, and the red headed girl smiled. She was holding the phone card tightly.
 
The Chevy was warm, a good feeling after sitting under the cold bridge.
            “Father, you think any of those kids will call the shelter?”
            “Yea Robbie I do, a couple have even been there a few times. Tonight we were just planting some seeds, you and I.”
            “What about that dark haired girl in the picture you showed the kids, Father. What’s her story?”
Dolan got a far away look on his face.
            “Well Rob, she was one of the first I tried to help once I started the shelter. She OD’d and died four years ago.”