I went to the drug store tonight and there was a lady crying in the parking lot.
I stopped and asked if she was okay. She was in her thirties and she was extremely embarrassed. Apparently, she and her husband are going through a divorce. I offered to drive her to a friend’s house or something but she said no, she’d be okay.
But when I came back with my Sudafed, she was still there. I guess she was trying to reach a friend to pick her up. I offered again to take her to her friend’s house and she finally agreed. I guess it’s a little weird to get a ride from a stranger but I think I look pretty harmless and besides, didn’t people use to hitchhike all the time in the 70’s?
On the ride back to Beverly Hills, she told me her husband has rage issues and that their three kids are the ones who are suffering the most. I mostly just listened. I dropped her off at her friend’s house and told her that if he got violent, call 911 right away.
On the way back to Brentwood, I felt terrible for this poor woman. But I also felt something else that was kind of weird. I felt good about myself. Not because I was a good Samaritan by taking her home, but because I know I’d never fuck up my marriage like that.