By Charles Ramos Jr February 27, 2019
What you are about to read is true. Some names have been changed to protect the innocent.
I once met a fallen angel in a park in Las Vegas. She was hopelessly lost and in desperate need of a shower and rescue and this is her story.
I was riding around Henderson, Nevada in my best friend Jonny’s old truck when we decided to pull into the park and kick back. As we pulled in, she was sitting on the grass right in front of where Jonny was about to park.
Jonny said, “Hey, I know her.” Then he got out to talk to her. She was glad to see Jonny and she kept glancing my way, but she was a coy one, that girl.
She looked like a Native American gypsy girl. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I was smitten at first sight but I’m not that lucky. Or so I thought. She had long black hair that hung past her shoulders, she wore more necklaces than I could count, and she wore a black bowler hat with assorted feathers in the band. She had a violin case beside her and when I saw it “Stradivarius” like a spoken word crossed my mind. She was as animated and bubbly as soda pop.
I watched them talk for a few minutes then, at her invitation, I got out to meet her. She said her name was Whinny. Just Whinny. She not only mesmerized me completely when she took out the violin and her bow she blew my mind. It was a genuine Stradivarius made violin for a fact.
When she began to play it she captivated my soul and never gave it back. She was a virtuoso and well she knew it too.
She was homeless and playing on the streets of Las Vegas for change because her ex was in town hunting for her and her daughter. She said he was whacked out on crack, had a bunch of money, and he meant to hurt them both greatly, in different ways.
She said her daughter was safe but they needed somewhere they could go that he would never find them again. She was desperate to escape his violent, abusive home where her daughter had been sexually abused.
I could’ve said nothing But who would leave a lady in distress? 1,2,3. Not it. And I sincerely hope nobody would. God forbid that we should ever come to that.
Especially not her. Whinny was so genuine and so unique, so full of life and sorrow, and so in need of a shower, she was almost in tears. She smiled in spite of it but the pain was clearly visible in her dark brown eyes.
Especially not me.
I said I knew a place 3000 miles away from Las Vegas where they could live in safety. The last place anyone would look for them or find them because it wasn’t on any maps. I told her about my farm and 3 bedroom farmhouse in Virginia. It was 8 miles from the nearest town and 35 miles from Danville or Lynchburg. I told her she and her daughter were more than welcome to live there but I would drive them out there myself and Jonny could come with us to help protect them until they were safe in Virginia.
Jonny and I had just finished a job and were getting our paychecks in two days. I said if she was serious we could leave as soon as we cashed our checks. But first, I told her, she could come with me and use the showers at the trailer park I stayed at with my parents and she could get something to eat and then we’d take it from there. She liked the idea and agreed to give it a chance.
We left the park and went to my parent’s trailer where I raided mom’s bathroom for toiletries I thought she might like to use. I stuffed it all into a backpack along with a big beach towel then I gave it and the key to the showers to Whinny who was still waiting in the truck with Jonny.
I assured Whinny nobody would enter as long as we were there and she went inside. She must have had a major impact on the level of Lake Mead because she was in that shower for a very long time.
When she finally did emerge she was as clean as a clock, fit as a fiddle, and happy as a clam. We went out to eat somewhere and talked for hours. Whinney told me she had severe osteoarthritis and tumors in her breasts and stomach. She also had a brain tumor she said was dormant.
The following night she and I showered together and made love for the first time.
To say it was steamy would be a dishonor to her memory. We were in the men’s showers and it got hot. Our clothes and boots were piled together on the bench and we were alone. She surrendered herself to me like no woman I have ever imagined and she put her heart into it as much as I did for her. Lake Mead suffered, even more, that night.
But right in the middle of a rousing round of good cop, bad girl, somebody else came in to take a shower. He stopped, looked at the clothes and the one stall in use and walked back out again. We almost laughed ourselves sick.
The next day Jonny and I cashed our checks, we picked up Whinny’s daughter and we were in the breeze. We spent that night on a mountain top in the Hualapai’s outside Kingman. There were billions of stars overhead and Arizona lay at our feet. We actually passed by Whinny’s ex on our way out of Vegas but he didn’t see them. They were safe.
Somehow we lost Jonny between Texas and Oklahoma so we went on alone and made it home the next night.
The tumors in Whinney’sstomach pained her constantly and flared up the whole time I knew her. Oftentimes she was unable to eat anything. All that soothed her stomach, all she could keep down was milk and we went through plenty of it too. I went to Danville and bought a cart full of soft foods and nursed her until the episodes passed and she could eat solid food again. She actually gained a few pounds on the diet and she was pretty healthy for a dying woman.
Our story was shortlived but it was one that you treasure for a lifetime. We were like fire and oil in bed and out, we had our share of fights too. One thing Whinney hated, to the point of violence, (according to the riot act she read to me chapter and verse) was being awakened gratuitously.
As she put it: “If you wake me up again it better be because you’re going up in me, but don’t you EVER just wake me up again or I’ll beat the brakes off of you!”
She was so mad she took the blanket, rolled her naked butt over and went to sleep. I didn’t tell her there was a hole in the back of the blanket but I did wake her up the next morning and lived to tell the tale.
Before we parted company forever and they went on their way to who knows where we made love one last time. She told me I’d know when she died because I’d feel her touch the back of my neck and Puff The Magic Dragon would play on the radio. I was on the road when it happened just as she’d said.
I had to pull over until I could see to drive again as the tears flowed freely down my face. I knew she was gone because I could feel the hole she left in my world. There is so much that’s been left unsaid, yet this is how her story ends. I never saw her or her daughter again. I thought I saw her once before that day walking down Boulder Highway in Las Vegas but my ride wouldn’t stop so I could see.
My fondest memory of Whinney was the night she sat naked on my stomach. There was one coal oil lamp burning on the headboard behind us and she had tuned in some jazz on the radio. In the soft light reflected by the mirror behind us and the six mirrors overhead made her look like an angel and she played along for me. I never wanted anyone more than I wanted her then but I was transfixed by the sweet music she was making with her bow.
God only made a few women like her and bless His golden heart too because I believe with all of my own broken heart that He gave them all wings. To only one of them, He gave a violin.