me. I hit the ground hard on my knees. He ran. I did
what I could. I used the weapon I had. I yelled after
him in a hoarse, frightened, foreign voice,
“Asshole!” “Coward!” “ASSHOLE!!” Until I couldn’t
yell anymore. The full moon was the only witness.
The balmy night wrapped her arms around me and
helped me get home to where my roommate held
me while I cried and then made me tea and called
the police while I cried some more.
What does it matter? If he really wanted to hurt me,
he could have. I don’t know why he didn’t. I’m
thankful he didn’t. I now have to work through
interesting panic attacks I’m having when people
get too close to me. I’m now having to work on
getting across the bridge at night again without
hyperventilating. My girlfriends are helping me
through it. A new journey has begun. This is …ok. I
can let this fear grip me or I can say, What does it
matter.
Yesterday, I tried a new cafe for my office. Which is
where I am right now. Walking into a hip, new cafe
to try out as your office is like walking into your new
10th-grade homeroom for the first time. I held my
Karlovy Vary film festival book bag close to me as I
navigated to my seat. With no alphabetical seating
chart to assist, I was on my own. I chose to sit at a
long lunch-room, communal type table, opposite a
girl with a cool shaved head and a baseball cap. I
sort of smiled. She sort of smiled. She returned to her
shiny Mac. I pulled out my beat-up HP from 2012
only to discover I hadn’t plugged it in the night
before. Battery was low. I needed an outlet. I had to
move. Not fun on the first day. Everyone stares
when you move. I had to do it. In three trips I moved
my laptop, my Karlovy Vary book bag and my pens
and pencils to a new table near an outlet. The last
trip was to get my coffee. The coffee was in one of
those cool glass beakers on a cool wooden tray. I
used to be waitress in LA. I decided to carry the
cool wood tray and cool glass beaker full of coffee
like a waitress. Well. I dropped it. I was never a very
good waitress. The coffee seemed to fly in the air
and quadruple flop and splash all over me and my
light grey tank top and a cute couple nearby until
cup and beaker landed in a loud, blustering crash
on the trendy, reworked wood-beamed floor. And,
just like when you drop your tray in the lunchroom,
time stopped. Everyone stared. Thank God I’m an
actress. I took a beat. Found my light. Then loudly
delivered my sassy line,”Sorry!”
I returned today. I look nice. I’m wearing lipstick and
a dress that fits. When I walked in, I raised a fist in the
air and called out “ještě jednou!” (once again!) to
the server who recognized me and we laughed.
We all “struggle” to work out our matters. Big and
small. Scary and not scary. Hopefully we can remind
ourselves that this is living. That this is life. And that’s
what matters.
Now
living
in
Prague
from
LA,
Peppur
(www.peppurchambers.com) is an actor, writer and
creator/ performer of Harlem’s Night Cabaret
performed by the sultry, sassy, sophisticated and
sometimes funny, Brown Betties. Her debut novella,
“Harlem’s Awakening” is available on Amazon.com
via 1888 Center publishing. She’s also created the
award-winning webseries, “The Brown Betties Guide:
How to Look for Love In All The Wrong Places”
based on her book of the same title.
www.brownbetties.com
Email
her
at
[email protected] or follow her on Twitter
@BrownBettie. But really, go buy Harlem’s
Awakening!
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