Because I could.

I reached into my pocket and removed my wallet. After sifting through the contents, I removed a $100 bill. As I came closer to the bench, she glanced up. After making eye contact, she quickly turned her head to the side in apparent shame.

“Excuse me,” I whispered.

“I’ll be gone in a minute,” she said as she began to sit up.

I considered telling her my story. How I had come from homelessness to living a life dreams were made of in a matter of months. After my quick consideration, I opted to keep it simple, and just provide her with what little help I could give her. Although I saw homeless people daily in the downtown area, seeing her was different. Maybe it was because she was a woman.

“No, it’s not that. I just wanted to say something,” I said as I knelt down beside the bench, clutching the money in my hand.

“What?” she said as she sat up.

Guessing her age was as difficult as guessing anyone’s age who sat in the weather 24 hours a day and 7 days a week for a lifetime. Her face was covered with wrinkles and sun spots, and her hair was frayed and bleached from the sun. The skin on her hands was thin - almost translucent - and her fingers resembled skin covered bones. Her eyes were green with little spots of brown, and seemed as though they had witnessed the events of several lifetimes. As I studied her eyes, I realized I’d never seen eyes that had shown age, and although hers didn’t reveal her age, they unveiled the experiences of her lifetime.

“Here,” I said as I handed her the folded bill.

“I didn’t ask you for anything,” she said as she focused on me and never so much as glanced at my hand.

“I know you didn’t .We were driving by, and I just decided to stop. Here,” I said as I waved my hand in front of her.

She narrowed her gaze and studied me. As she began to tug against the bottom of her jacket, she responded, “I’m just trying to get a little rest. I’m not looking for a hand out.”

Sounds familiar.

“Three months ago I lived a block west of here. On that bench under the tall building,” I said as I pointed over my shoulder.

“And one day a guy rode up on his Harley and asked me if I liked Mexican food. Now I live with him. But I was homeless for almost 5 years,” I paused and held my hand at arm’s length.

She stared at me and blinked a few times as she reached for my hand.

“Yeah, I know. Hard to believe, huh?” I asked.

Please, take it.

She studied me as she shook her head as she reached for my hand.

“You gave me a hundred dollar bill by mistake,” she said as she glanced down at the bill.

“It wasn’t a mistake. And I’m sorry I can’t afford more,” I said with a smile.

“Get something to eat. And there’s a place one block over,” I said as I pointed over my shoulder toward Douglas Avenue.

“And two blocks west. Get a new pair of panties. When I got a new pair it totally changed how I felt,” I grinned.

“Panties,” she huffed.

“Yeah. Panties. Well, anyway. Have a nice day. My name’s Rain by the way,” I said.

She sat silently and stared as if she had no intention of leaving her bench. Her attitude, appearance, and reluctance to accept my offer reminded me of me. Her age was the only difference I could see between us. After a long silence, I turned and walked away, satisfied I’d done what I intended to do. I grinned at the thought of the progress I had made in such a short time, and gave thanks for everything as I walked toward the car.

“Ashley,” she hollered, “Call me Ashley.”

Without turning around or speaking, I raised my hand in the air and waved. As I reached for the door handle, I inhaled a shallow breath, exhaled, and grinned.

For whatever reason, after I got into the car, neither Ethan nor Cade mentioned stopping, the woman, or my giving her money. I wondered if they were uncomfortable thinking of my past; acknowledging it now that they felt I had moved beyond it, or just didn’t know what to say. The silence was a pleasant change, and as we drove east, I smiled and gazed out the window. I seemed to see the world through different eyes now, eyes with a much wider view and clearer vision. As we pulled into the parking lot of the theatre, I realized we had made the entire drive without speaking.

“So what did you decide?” Ethan asked as Cade pulled into the parking stall.

I shrugged my shoulders, “I don’t remember what all the options were. Let’s decide when we get inside.”

I hadn’t been to a movie theatre since long before I was a teenager. As much as I tried to think of the last movie I had seen, the memory escaped me.

The three of us stood and stared at the long list of movies playing. Of the more than a dozen options, one familiar name stood out. Sheepishly, I mentioned it, and hoped for a favorable response.

“Cinderella?” I asked under my breath.

Ethan pushed his way past Cade and me and leaned onto the ticket counter. “Three for the next showing of Cinderella, please.”

I turned toward Cade, clasped my hands together, and grinned.

“Starts in ten minutes. I’ve gotta piss. Here’s the tickets, you guys better hurry up if you want popcorn or anything,” Ethan said as he handed me the tickets.

After buying an extremely large bucket of popcorn and three drinks, we walked into the theatre together. I sat during the previews and stuffed my mouth as I anxiously watched scenes of upcoming Disney movies.

As Disney’s most recent depiction of an old tale played on the screen, I took in every detail, enjoying the fabulous cinematography, costumes, and landscape. Each glance toward Ethan produced a man who seemed to be very content with the movie. Cade, on the other hand, was as theatrical in his reaction to the movie as the actors themselves.

In the end, Cade and I cried. Ethan didn’t say a word about the tears, only that he thought the movie was great, and he was pleased I chose it.

As we walked away from our seats and into the common area of the theatre, Cade had to use the restroom. After Cade walked away, Ethan turned to me and sighed.

“That’s a pretty deep movie when you think about it,” he said.

“It’s a kid’s movie,” I chuckled.

Ethan shook his head, “A kid movie written by an adult. Cinderella’s mother dies, and tells her to believe in an afterlife - basically requiring that she believe in God. And, she tells her she must be good, and if so, she’ll keep a watchful eye on her from up above. Good, evil, God, and the afterlife, all right there. And I’m not even going to give my two cents on the God thing. Okay. Then what happens?”

I shrugged as I mulled over what he had said.

“Her mother tells her to live modestly, and not ask for much. She promises her mother she will comply with her wish. Her father leaves, and although her bitch stepsisters ask for all kinds of expensive stuff, she doesn’t. She asks for the first branch that hits her dad as he’s riding on his horse. The branch isn’t so much a branch, but a symbol. She’s screaming for her father’s attention. For him to bring her the branch, he’s got to stop, turn around, and go back and snap it off. The entire journey, he’s carrying it with him, knowing he’s saving it for Cinderella. So, he’s thinking of her the entire time. He buys shit for the two greedy stepsisters, but for Cinderella? He’s going to bring her a fucking tree branch. The branch is the connection between all of them - her mother, her father, and her. She adheres to her mother’s request of being modest by asking for nothing of monetary value, only a branch. Then, she plants the twig on her mother’s grave, bringing them all back together as a family - metaphorically speaking,” he paused and raised finger in the air.

“Even with the modesty, there’s a message - keep your promises. And there’s the entire be nice to animals part. Everyone treats her like shit, and what’s she do? She gives her only food to the mice. Oh, and after the ball? When her world goes to absolute fuck? I mean really it’s a time when everyone would be like fuck this shit. But Cinderella? Nope. When her stepmonster and the stepsisters are their most evil, she takes a step back and doesn’t react. Back to the be good request of her mother. She maintains her good over evil approach to life. And then, when she gets the most attention, when they’re all talking about her, and she acts like she doesn’t know she’s the sought after one? She’s back to honoring the mother’s request for maintaining modesty. She was the most modest when any other girl would have been arrogant. In maintaining modesty and asking for little, in the end, she wins. And don’t even get me started about the fucking glass slippers. Purity. Virginity.”