Group Cookies

It was a clear day in October. It happened bo be 2008, an election year, a recession year, a forgive the debt year seven years after Nine Eleven.

The stock market was crashing, the housing market was in tatters. Food prices were skyrocketing. Gasoline was still expensive and people were not driving as much. Some had abandoned their cars altogether. Obama and McCain were duking it out in debates, and dirty advertising. The country was excited that there might be a a black president. If not, there would be a woman second in command. Not many saw the the possibility of a world war in the next few years, and there were precious few that dreaded another major persecution of the Jews.

Michael and Sasha were feeding pigeons in the park.
Pelham Parkway was a long strip of thoroughfare planned and laid by Robert Moses, the architect of the Bronx intrastructure, the physical layout of the neighborhoods.
Near White Plains Road there were more intervals of paths running across the parkway. Paths where benches were laid out, and concrete tables where Albanian men played chess. Pigeons crossed in droves on the path, pecking. pecking. They were mostly gray and speckled . But there were some black ones, some white ones.

"How'd the group go?" asked Michael.
"There were a lot of women there last night," answered Sasha, throwing some crumbs.
"We all decided that we were Holes."
"Holes."
"Women. Holes. There was a lot of commotion."

Sasha recalled the night before. It was a wet , rainy night. She started the group. There were sixteen women, nine new ones. Chrissie and Tanya came, and Jane, and Edie. They were big women, dressed like men, heavy, with short hair. Then there were the white girls; Dana, Salva, Magoli and Julia. They were thin young girls, normal in most ways, except Salva had a scar across her chest, and Julia's arms were scarred with long pink lines where the knives and razors had sliced them.. Magoli was a tall skinny Latina with big, dark, questioning eyes, and she went to cooking school. Dana was blond and petite, and went to a tuition free secretarial school in the city.

And then there were three young black girls. Tara, her straightened hair pulled back from her forehead shone with some mysterious oil. Georgine, a mulatta with green and brown snappy curled hair, pretty and perky and knowing it, and nobody would guess at the sudden rages she was prone to. Glina was older, Jamaican.

Sasha was the leader. She'd opened the group as usual setting up the chairs, the tea and coffee, the dollar store cookies set ona a silver plated dollar store tray. Sasha welcomed the nine new woman, as always she questioned how she'd be able to handle such a large group.

Sasha was not quite young any more, but she wore jeans and new leather brown shoes, the kind she had bough every fall since graduate school. It was still too warm for sweaters, so she'd chosen a cotton long sleeved blouse, bought at Filene's Basement in the city a year ago. She had not changed much since she had become a counselor, but she preferred the job, and her clothes, to the corporate uncomfortable suits and shoes of the business world.

After introductions the group started. Sasha looked around at everyone. "Does anyone have anything special they want to share?"

She let the new women know they did not have to participate, if they did not want to.
"It might be just helpful to listen," she told them.

Dana got up for tea and cookies. Tanya snorted. Jamie swiped at her playfully.

"What's going on guys?" asked Sasha.

"It's all about the food," said Jamie.

"Well. I am hungry, You have a problem with that?" Dana snapped.

"Why don't you eat before you come here?" said Tanya.

"Her man don''t let her."
"That's not true," sputtered Dana.

"Hold on," said Sasha, seeing the group was falling into havoc, "What is all this about food?"

"Maybe it is about nurturing," ventured Magoli shyly. God bless Magoli. Always something intelligent to say.

"Well, every week Dana comes and just gorges on tea and cookies, as if she don't ever eat," said Jamie.

"Well, said Sasha, tactfully ignoring Jamie for the time being at least, "we do come here for nurturing"

"Dana comes for the food" Tanya persisted.

"You damn bitch" said Dana, near tears.

"Dana, You can have all the cookies you want," said Magoli soothingly.

"Let's be respectful of each other, and watch the language. No name calling." Sasha announced.