wedding day that if I broke his baby‘s heart, he‘d run me down and kill me.
Remembering Minda‘s complaint, I decided to make a stand against my new wife‘s father. I told him that he should never drink from an open bottle in my presence because if he did, I will have likely put poison in it.
When Yvette heard what I‘d said, she yelled at me and called me the devil. I said that he had threatened me first.
“That‘s okay,” Yvette said. “A bride‘s father is supposed to say those kinds of things."
We went on the honeymoon but never had sex again.
She took me to court for alimony. The judge laughed, and the annulment was invoked.
There was an orange sheet underneath three pictures of Angeline.
The only words I could make out were . . . A FRIEND.
For quite a while I tried to think of what the other words might say. But no matter what I came up with, I couldn‘t think of what they were selling, looking for, or giving away. Finally I went over to the pole and removed the three pictures and their worries about young Angeline that covered the orange sheet. I didn‘t feel too bad about it. There were six more posters of Angeline on that pole alone, and I had seen others all around the Village.
The orange Xerox said:
DIAL A FRIEND
Everybody needs a friend,
someone they can talk to,
someone who will listen without
judging them. If you are
lonely and there‘s no one
to hear your pain then call
1-888-627-1189. 35c* a minute.
(This is not a sex line.)
It seemed to me an original idea. I thought of how many people out in the world needed a friend sometimes and couldn‘t find one. I wondered who it was that they got to man those lines. They obviously used credit cards.
I tore off the number and put it in my wallet.
I went into the Peruvian restaurant and ordered seviche. They served it with white bread and butter. The meal was $12 plus taxes and tip.
After that, I wandered around for hours. While I walked, I passed hundreds of people. Not one of them did I recognize—and no one knew me.
I didn‘t get to my door until nine that night. I hadn‘t done a thing all day. It was the fourth time in a week I was aware of doing absolutely no work. Before that period, I hadn‘t gone a day without working in years. Before then, I spent some hours every day either looking for work or translating for practice or for a client. But now whole days went by and I did nothing but wallow in misery or follow my dick.
By the time I got to my building, I was feeling hopeless. I was looking for my key when someone shouted.
“Mr. Carmel."
It was Sasha, walking arm in arm with a young man. The man was tall and dressed in a gray suit. His yellow shirttail was hanging out, and his sensual lips were plastered with an inebriated grin.
“This is my brother Enoch,” Sasha said as they approached.
“ Hi . “ He put out his left hand for me to shake. That was probably because his right arm was around his sister‘s shoulder and if he let go he would have fallen.
“Help me bring him upstairs?” Sasha asked.
“Sure,” I said. Keeping my grip on his left hand, I hefted his arm up and over my shoulder.
“I love my sister, no matter what anybody says,” Enoch lectured as we went up the slender metal staircase. “She‘s the most beautiful, wonderful, friendly woman. And she‘s built like the old-time movie stars, like a real woman. I love the old-time movies. Wallace Beery and Ronald Coleman; Myrna Loy and Faye Way. That was back when they knew how people felt in their hearts. Isn‘t that right, Sassy?"
“Sure, Inch. Sure,” his sister said.
I had the feeling that they went through this scenario many times. A sad and lost younger brother coming to his older sister to cry in his beer over a life he always wanted and never had.
He went limp a flight below Sasha‘s door. We had to drag him the rest of the way, his heels knocking at each step.
I held him up while Sasha turned the key in the lock.
I dragged him
Remembering Minda‘s complaint, I decided to make a stand against my new wife‘s father. I told him that he should never drink from an open bottle in my presence because if he did, I will have likely put poison in it.
When Yvette heard what I‘d said, she yelled at me and called me the devil. I said that he had threatened me first.
“That‘s okay,” Yvette said. “A bride‘s father is supposed to say those kinds of things."
We went on the honeymoon but never had sex again.
She took me to court for alimony. The judge laughed, and the annulment was invoked.
There was an orange sheet underneath three pictures of Angeline.
The only words I could make out were . . . A FRIEND.
For quite a while I tried to think of what the other words might say. But no matter what I came up with, I couldn‘t think of what they were selling, looking for, or giving away. Finally I went over to the pole and removed the three pictures and their worries about young Angeline that covered the orange sheet. I didn‘t feel too bad about it. There were six more posters of Angeline on that pole alone, and I had seen others all around the Village.
The orange Xerox said:
DIAL A FRIEND
Everybody needs a friend,
someone they can talk to,
someone who will listen without
judging them. If you are
lonely and there‘s no one
to hear your pain then call
1-888-627-1189. 35c* a minute.
(This is not a sex line.)
It seemed to me an original idea. I thought of how many people out in the world needed a friend sometimes and couldn‘t find one. I wondered who it was that they got to man those lines. They obviously used credit cards.
I tore off the number and put it in my wallet.
I went into the Peruvian restaurant and ordered seviche. They served it with white bread and butter. The meal was $12 plus taxes and tip.
After that, I wandered around for hours. While I walked, I passed hundreds of people. Not one of them did I recognize—and no one knew me.
I didn‘t get to my door until nine that night. I hadn‘t done a thing all day. It was the fourth time in a week I was aware of doing absolutely no work. Before that period, I hadn‘t gone a day without working in years. Before then, I spent some hours every day either looking for work or translating for practice or for a client. But now whole days went by and I did nothing but wallow in misery or follow my dick.
By the time I got to my building, I was feeling hopeless. I was looking for my key when someone shouted.
“Mr. Carmel."
It was Sasha, walking arm in arm with a young man. The man was tall and dressed in a gray suit. His yellow shirttail was hanging out, and his sensual lips were plastered with an inebriated grin.
“This is my brother Enoch,” Sasha said as they approached.
“ Hi . “ He put out his left hand for me to shake. That was probably because his right arm was around his sister‘s shoulder and if he let go he would have fallen.
“Help me bring him upstairs?” Sasha asked.
“Sure,” I said. Keeping my grip on his left hand, I hefted his arm up and over my shoulder.
“I love my sister, no matter what anybody says,” Enoch lectured as we went up the slender metal staircase. “She‘s the most beautiful, wonderful, friendly woman. And she‘s built like the old-time movie stars, like a real woman. I love the old-time movies. Wallace Beery and Ronald Coleman; Myrna Loy and Faye Way. That was back when they knew how people felt in their hearts. Isn‘t that right, Sassy?"
“Sure, Inch. Sure,” his sister said.
I had the feeling that they went through this scenario many times. A sad and lost younger brother coming to his older sister to cry in his beer over a life he always wanted and never had.
He went limp a flight below Sasha‘s door. We had to drag him the rest of the way, his heels knocking at each step.
I held him up while Sasha turned the key in the lock.
I dragged him
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