The Bell Tolls for No One by Charles Bukowski

only exercise I got was hitting the typewriter, plus the sex workouts with Rena.
    He was soon around the corner and gone.
    I walked back.
    It was senseless for a kid like that having to peep. It was just that women were unavailable to some, hard to get. It really wasn’t fair.
    I had decided long ago never to go through all that, but I had simply been lucky all my life. Women tend to like men who tend to disregard them. I was psychologically lucky.
    I rang the bell.
    â€œWho is it?”
    â€œBukowski, Rena.”
    She let me in. “Is he gone?”
    â€œYeah—I ran his ass off. But I couldn’t catch him.”
    â€œCome on outside a minute,” she said. “I want to show you something.”
    She had a heavy robe on over her pajamas. I stepped outside with her.
    â€œLook,” she said.
    Rena pointed to the curtains that covered the front room windows. From inside, the curtains had a heavy look as if they concealed everything. The lights were on inside. But you could see right through the curtains. The front room, the coffee table, the couch. It was like a stage.
    â€œMy god!” I said.
    â€œHe could see everything we’ve done in there and we’ve done about everything.”
    I looked at the tall apartment that stood facing her front room windows. It seemed as if all the shades were pulled almost down to the bottom with just a small portion to look out of. People could have invited their friends if they wanted to.
    â€œWe’ve given half the neighborhood rocks,” I said, “and we’ve created a peeping Tom. Our souls ought to rot in hell.”
    â€œTomorrow,” Rena said, “I’m going to the store and buy some more material and sew it onto the curtains.”
    â€œO.K., either do that or we begin charging admission,” I laughed.
    â€œPlease, Bukowski, I want you to stay with me tonight. I’m afraid.”
    â€œSure,” I said, “let’s take a shower together before we hit the sack.”
    â€œAlright,” she said, and we walked in. Whoever invented the shower was one horny guy . . .
    The next night, with the additions to the curtain, I tried the cheese bit again. Only this time, I stuck in two slices.
    I was just at the bottom of the last slice when I heard a brushing sound outside and then somebody running. I got dressed as quickly as possible and went outside. One of the kids from the apartment down the way was standing out there. He was about 12.
    â€œHey, mister,” he yelled, “I came outside when I heard the ice cream truck and I saw this man looking in your window. When he saw me, he ran away.”
    â€œWas it a young, blonde guy in a white t-shirt?”
    â€œYeah, that’s who it was.”
    I looked at the curtains that Rena had repaired. You could still see in there. I walked back in.
    â€œWe’ve got to stay out of this front room, Rena, or we’ve got to work in the dark or something.”
    â€œCan you work the cheese bit in the dark?” she asked.
    â€œI suppose so.”
    â€œBut I like it better when I can watch you,” she said.
    â€œAll right, we’ll get a flashlight or something.”
    â€œO.K.,” she agreed.
    I had to leave town for a week and I called on Rena one night without phoning. She let me in. A young guy was sitting on the couch. He looked about 19, blonde, almost handsome.
    â€œThis is my friend, Arnold,” said Rena.
    â€œHello, Arnold, how’s it going?”
    â€œOh, real good,” he said. “Everything’s fine, just fine.”
    â€œListen, Rena,” I whispered, “this guy is the peeping Tom.”
    â€œWho, Arnold?”
    â€œYes, Arnold.”
    â€œBukowski, you’re just a jealous man. I won’t have you saying such things about Arnold.”
    â€œHow’d you meet him?” I shot back.
    â€œArnold’s a bag boy at the local market. He’s a nice boy.
    He was a straight-A