Paula died last week: Who cares?

Paula on Aurora

Edmonds resident Harry Gatjens is a contributing writer to My Edmonds News, where this story was originally published.

By Harry Gatjens

While the world mourns the loss of children in a senseless tragedy, there are others to be mourned for, too. This is the story of a woman who few would have noticed having passed away, even before the tragedy in Connecticut.

Paula Perez died last week. She had a stroke on Thursday and ended up dying on Saturday. She was 40 years old and had no family and few friends to speak of. I found out what happened when her boyfriend Mike saw my number on her phone and called to tell me she had died. He said she had spoken of me positively as a friend.

I had the opportunity to meet Mike and interview him to get a better understanding of Paula’s life. He said she had been living with him and he was trying to arrange her final effects. He said he needed to raise $200 for the balance of her cremation and that he had arranged with a local priest to hold a small service. I was skeptical of the story at first, but then he told me if I wished to help out I could just call the funeral home and make a donation in her name.

I met Paula a couple of years ago at the restaurant in a local Shoreline casino. She looked worn out and disheveled but was gulping down a meal. I spoke with her to learn her story and found out that she was a local Aurora Avenue prostitute.

She had been addicted to drugs, had bad teeth, was not particularly attractive and just looked like she had lived a very hard life. She was quite open about her lifestyle and seem to be, overall, a nice person.

The food at the restaurant was cheap and the location convenient for where she plied her trade. I came to talk to her whenever I saw her and always showed concern and respect. She seemed to appreciate my concern even though I wasn’t a customer.

One time she asked for money as she claimed to be short for what she needed for a room for the night. When I saw her later that night she said she had spent some of the money on “a toot,” as she needed to do something to deal with her ordeal.

Another time, someone broke out the window of my car in the parking lot and stole my iPad. I knew that Paula knew most of the street people in the area, so I called and asked if she could be on the lookout for it. The next day she called and told me that she had found who had taken it and told them that it belonged to a friend of hers and she wanted it back. These are not nice people she was dealing with, but she convinced them to give it to her and she brought it back to me.

I tried to work with her to help her figure out how to beat her drug problem. I never again gave her cash but would instead bring her a meal or groceries or actually make a payment toward a room for her.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the skill set to provide her the help she needed to resolve her addiction. I attempted to put her in communication with services that could help, but until she was ready to make her own effort my attempts proved futile.

As we talked, I learned a bit about her background. Abused as a child and deserted by her parents and family, she ended up on the street at age 17. Drugs became a part of her life not long after, and she made a long downhill journey from that point forward.

Ostracized for profession, she made a few friends who would make an effort to help her change her life. Combined with the lack of a family to provide support Paula was left with no place to go.

Mike came across her and tried to help. However, with her background she couldn’t comprehend why anyone would care about her. They continued their relationship for several years but she could never truly believe in him until just recently.

Mike’s life was no bowl of cherries either. His wife had died when he met Paula, and he was suicidal. He saw Paula across the room in a restaurant and went up to talk to her and befriend her, similar to me. However, in his state, he fell for her and tried to create a relationship. At this point she had been treated like dirt by everyone who knew her and she didn’t believe anyone could care for her.

When Mike told me that they had been living together for the past several months, I was pleased. Then he told me they had been living in his car. He didn’t like her lifestyle and says that she wanted out of it too. But since that was the only thing she had done, she had little marketable skills. She needed money to live, and working the streets was the only practical way to raise it. They lived not paycheck to paycheck, but day to day — literally.

As I got to know Paula, I could see that she wanted things to change but had neither the resources nor the support to make those changes. She talked of programs from the state to help her get her teeth fixed and deal with some of her other health issues. One day she got hit by a car and suffered severe bruising on her leg. However, she didn’t go to the hospital as she couldn’t deal with the psychological treatment of being indigent and therefore missed out on the physical treatment as well. The driver who hit her just drove away.

Paula worked on the same corner for the last 20 years. She tried to get customers who she knew and would call her, but if no one called she had to go out onto Aurora.

I saw her there several times and for the most part just drove by. Sometimes, when it was cold and dark and rainy, I would pull over and tell her she needed to get off the street. Her normal response was that she needed money to get a room. If I could, I would drive her to a motel and give her some money to pay for the room. I couldn’t stand seeing her out on that corner shivering.

She didn’t often come to the casino, so if I hadn’t seen her for a while I would call just to check out how she was doing. She always told me that she “was a survivor and not to worry.” Still, if I had the chance I would bring her some food or something else to help out.

Her death brings me great sadness. You never want someone you know to die, but more important it seemed like no one — outside of Mike — would notice that she was gone outside or even care.

On one hand, I was considering that it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to attend the funeral service for a prostitute. Luckily, my heart kicked in and told me Paula was a real person and she deserved to be honored. I will go and be there to honor her memory.

The more disturbing thing I think about is, how many other women are there out in the world facing a similar situation — drug addicted, selling bodies for day-to-day living expenses and with no support group? Paula recently told me that I was one of only one or two people who actually cared and treated her like a real person. Almost everyone else only cared about her for what they could get from her. It made me feel good that she felt that way about me, but it made me feel awful that I couldn’t and didn’t know what more I could do to help.

The point of this story is that we need to worry about people in Paula’s situation. There must be some way to prevent people from falling through the cracks. I am not quite sure what to do, but I am going to figure this out. Several friends have told me that it was her own fault, that she could have chosen a different life if she weren’t so weak. I don’t believe that people who have been raised in an upper-middle-class lifestyle can comprehend what it’s like to grow up in a situation with abuse and no loving relations.

Despite all of her choices and problems, Paula Perez was a good person.

I am sorry she is gone, and I do care.