‘Real vs Fake’–Organic Friendships Make for Happier People. (+_+)

 Today’s topic of discussion–Real vs Fake  Friendships. To illustrate,  I will go from experiences in the younger days.  A co-worker, Donna, had  invited me to go on a weekend trip with her. We had been hanging out a lot, she seemed nice enough, and being young, I was open for adventure. While   working a  summer job, I was also taking courses in a nearby college.  Her  fiance lived several hours north, so we scraped our extra change together, and purchased bus  tickets.  Upon reaching the designation, it wasn’t what I had expected. Her fiance resided with his elderly grandmother, and I overheard him discussing cashing her social security check to buy drugs, and booze. I did not do drugs, or drank  and surly did not condone these behaviors. In their guest bedroom, that night, I was reflecting on this, when I felt the covers pulled aside, and I looked up to see a ‘straggly haired, skinny’ guy crawl in beside me. In response to my scream, he yelled back “shut up–I have been to prison for rape before–No way–will I let you do that to me–again!’ Suddenly, a weekend escape, turned bizarre. I was pulled from the bedroom, and pushed into the front, onto the couch. The self-proclaimed ‘rapist’ was standing above me, keeping ‘guard’ while I could hear Donna in the other room screaming for her fiance to “stop”, paralleled by screams from the grandmother. The first plan of getting away–I insisted I had to use the bathroom, but ended up having to pretend to relieve myself–under guard, while getting a glance of the grandmother on the floor, moaning, as I was reluctantly led back to the couch. Next plan–I could study, and maybe he would go away, so reaching for my notebook nearby, I picked it up, saying I needed to review for an exam. That is when I felt the notebook snatched out of my hand, the pages ripped from my grip, leaving a shred of it in my grasp– and oddly enough –I momentary noted a phone number scribbled on the tiny shred of paper, but attention went to Donna who entered the room that moment– her face, and arms–drenching in blood. There was a look of surprise from the guy standing above me, and I took this as my cue to flee. Remarkably, I unchained the door with skill, and escaped down the sidewalk into the dark rainy night. A few yards away, however, I lost my footing, whereas I fell, and slipped–right into a drainage ditch. Oddly enough, at that moment, I saw the three of them running out the door in chase–and heard them say–she couldn’t have gotten that far. I crouched down in silence as they practically ran right over me. After they passed, I crept in the dark, through long weeds, as far out as I could behind the home, following the road. Finally locating a pay phone, near a building, I called 911. Seemingly taking it as a prank call, the police asked me to wait near the roadside, and they would be there shortly. Verbalizing how crazy an ideal that was-I insisted they come with lights flashing and I would find them. With that, they took me serious, and shortly I saw the welcomed lights, and emerged from the weeds. Upon being escorted back to the house, the grandmother, whom was surely bruised, and hurting, now said she was fine. Donna, too, had washed up and claimed nothing had happened. The officers said there was no proof of anything, since all allegations were denied, and the only evidence that I had been there was an empty suitcase, being they had discarded it’s contents already. No shoes, or money, I left barefooted with the officers , who offered only to drop me off at a bus stop, whereas, I requested to be taken to an all night restaurant, knowing these people might come looking for more trouble in such a predictable place. Hours away from my home, penniless, barefooted, and a crumpled piece of paper in my hand, I walked into the restaurant. Contemplating what to do next, a stranger, finished his meal, and threw a couple of coins on the table as he exited the restaurant. It became clear to me–the tiny piece of paper that had torn off the notebook–with a phone number–was still crumpled in my hand–” I recalled how this young foreign student from Pakistan had written his number in my notebook– a few days prior. I remember his words,” if you ever need me–call me.” And he had mentioned he attended school somewhere, nearby. I took the coins from the table, and used them to place the call, not sure what to expect. They said he was not there, but someone would come to assist me. I went back, and sit down, with the patrons of the restaurant staring and giving me looks of pity-“a young girl–carrying an empty suitcase—barefooted, dirty, and wet.” I waited. That is when I saw a group of young men, enter the restaurant–about seven of them–maybe more–I did not count–but noticed how strong, and sincere they looked–and tall, dark, and–yes–handsome. From the lowest low–to the heights of feeling very special. I have never been more happy to see a group of people –complete strangers moments prior. Broken English did not get in the way,–there was no misunderstanding–they were there to help me. The looks of pity from the restaurant onlookers now turned to astonishment–as I left with them. I learned later that they were foreign students, from Iran, who were attending the nearby college. Not knowing what kind of trouble they might run into, they came in a group, but insisted any friend of their friend–was a friend of theirs. They welcomed me, provided a place to clean up, and let me rest until morning. The next day, I was given a ticket, and chaperoned to the bus station. These young men taught me, that I have many more brothers–and sisters in this world–than I could ever imagine. You see, Trust is not something to earn, but rather, something many throw away, so do not waste a minute going through anyone’s garbage, when there are true, ‘organic’ people all over this world–the family some people forget about. “In this World of Real vs. Fake–‘Organic’ Friendships make for Happier People.” –C.F. Avery– closureplace.world