The Wallet

It was Sabrina’s first time in New York City. Her excitement was tempered by all the unsolicited warnings she had received from family in California before she left.

Her dad said, “New Yorkers are an aggressive breed. They got that way by being so overcrowded. They are like rats having to live on top of one another. It’s no wonder that New York is the capital of muggings in the nation! Tell your boss to send a man!”

“Women can’t even jog in the daytime without fear of being attacked by some resident psycho! Please don’t go Sabrina.” Mama cried. 

“You don’t understand,” Sabrina explained, “it’s a great opportunity for me to prove myself, not just as an employee, but as a female employee in a law firm predominately run by men. Besides I’m almost forty years old.”

“She’s right Mama, whether we like it or not.”

“Mama, I’m probably safer than most women due to my self-defense training,” said Sabrina.

“I forgot about that… that does make me feel better, dear.” Mama forced a smile and tried to sound convincing.

“Good. I’ll call you later.”

…

It was dusk when Sabrina arrived in New York. The weather was nice, though a little on the cool side for a Californian. She was glad to arrive a day early, affording some time for herself before attending the barrage of business meetings the next morning.

In her hotel room she quickly changed into her jogging clothes to get in a few miles of running before dinner. She couldn’t wait to get across the street to Central Park.

She wasn’t there five minutes when a hoodlum-looking person bumped into her. She quickly checked her jacket pocket for her wallet. Damn! It was gone.

She remembered from her defense class that a woman’s best defense is the element of surprise. She ran after the hoodlum. Her heart was pounding like it was about to burst out of her chest. Her face was hot with anger and wet from perspiration.

As she ran, the ribbon slipped from her ponytail, causing her unruly hair to look like it had been hit with an electrical charge; it all stood on end.

When she caught up with the thief, she slammed him to the ground with her shoulder. He tried to stand up; she surprised him with a round- house kick to his groin.

She demanded, “Give me the damn wallet, you piece of slime!” His eyes bulged out of the sockets. He tried to talk but his mouth was twisted, distorted like the subject in Munch’s painting, The Scream. His face was white and pasty like of Elmer’s glue.

She almost felt sorry for him until she saw the black wallet on the grass beside him. The Slime tried to speak again before his face turned green and puked the same color.

“I want you to remember this if ever you try to take advantage of a woman again,” Sabrina yelled at him. She picked up the wallet and put it in her pocket, confident he couldn’t get up to chase after her.                  

She thought about reporting the incident to the police but dismissed it because of the time that it would certainly consume. She had several business meetings lined up. It was enough that she felt empowered having taken care of the matter herself.

When she got back to her room she was gripped by shock. Her face turned white with horror… when she saw that her wallet was on the bed.            

Yolanda Reyna is a member of the writing class offered through the Cerritos College Adult Education Program.  It is held off-campus at the Norwalk Senior Center.