I’m at a social event and I touch a pretty young woman on her back. She bats my hand away so I grab her face and kiss her on the cheek.
What’s her problem? Why is she upset? It’s affection? Does she hate affection? Sorry I’m so nice and loving!
A man put his hand on the small of my back. I was shocked! My body stiffened when he touched me! I slapped his hand away. He smiled at me, grabbed my face with both hands and kissed my cheek! He was drunk and sloppy but held my face with force. For a moment I thought he was going to stick his tongue down my throat! I felt completely helpless! People were watching. I felt like a child being yelled at in public! Humiliating! I felt threatened, physically and sexually!
Now people are calling me “sexist”! ME!! I love women! They’re beautiful! Soft and pleasant. They have nice voices. Some can cook really well like my mom. I love my mom!! I’m a great son! These people have no idea what they’re talking about!
He does great things! He’s the only one who does great things! If he weren’t here, no great things would ever be done again by anyone! So what if he touches women when they don’t want him too! Big deal! Can’t they just get over it? Actually, there’s nothing to get over! Does this mean everyone who’s ever touched anyone in any way has committed sexual harassment!? This is the kind of “snowflake” mentality that’s ruining our country and more importantly, ANNOYING TO ME BECAUSE I DON’T SEE A PROBLEM!!!!!!
Now, people are saying what he did to me was “no big deal.” If that’s true, why am I so angry about it! Why was I so weak! Why didn’t I punch him in the face!? Because I was in a state of shock. But that’s probably not what he meant me to feel. I was wearing a pretty revealing dress. I was dancing, maybe he thought I was coming on to him? These people are probably right. Wait!! No they’re fucking NOT!! Everyone was dancing!!
They don’t know how I feel! I’m not some over sensitive child throwing a temper tantrum! Maybe I am, that’s what people are saying. Wait! NO!! I have a right to my own personal safety!!! I still remember that touch and that grab! God I’m so FUCKING ANGRY!!!!!
This is a matter of respect. When you put your hands on someone, not a pat on the back, a shake of the hand, a tap on the shoulder, I mean a lingering touch on any body part, a press down on an erogenous zone or near one, a stroke or caress, you are relaying intent. You are sending a message. If this is between lovers the intent is welcome.
If you are strangers, it is not and relays a different message. I will have you no matter what. You are here for my pleasure. Only that. Nothing else. I am strong and you are weak. I can and will overpower you, physically and mentally. You have sent this message right to the core of the person you’ve assaulted. Yes, assaulted. It will become part of them. You’ve left a permanent impression.
Legal definition of Assault: an act, criminal or tortious, that threatens physical harm to a person, whether or not actual harm is done.
Sexual Harassment definition: behavior characterized by the making of unwelcome and inappropriate sexual remarks or physical advances in a workplace or other professional or social situation.
This is a piece of the same story as my previous short fiction post “The Protester” which I have updated. I’m playing around with timing. Right now, in the writing, this happens right afterMariah and crew begin their protest but in the world the story takes place in, about a week before. Please let me know what you think! Do you like it? The flow of it? Does it seem like the same story? Thank you!!
Alex barreled through her office door. She was livid. The new city budget was so far right it might as well have just cut everything. Road repairs in underserved areas, repairs to public schools, libraries and hospitals, the people of New York City who didn’t make millions, could just fuck right off. That’s what she’d written in a tweet the night before after tossing and turning getting angrier and angrier by the second. She’d taken it down minutes later but not before it was retweeted. 75 times. God Damn Twitter! She sipped her coffee and sat down at her desk.
She winced when John, her assistant, came into her office. No doubt he saw the tweet. She was embarrassed at her temporary loss of judgement. She couldn’t look him in the eye.
“You saw?” She thought it best to just get it out of the way. There was never time to avoid conflict. Not in politics.
“I did.” He was actively avoiding looking at her, ruffling papers in a folder he was holding.
John was good. He was honest with her at all times but never confrontational.
“We’ll have to get ahead of this.” He handed her a piece of paper. “Gwen wrote a statement if the press gets ahold this.”
She looked over the statement. Apologetic but not, reiterating her initial disappointment in the final decision to cut vital services. Alex made a mental note to email Gwen with a thank you.
“Do you want me to send a thank you email to her?” Good old John. Always kept her respectful public persona in mind.
“I’ll do it.” Alex stopped to look at him for a moment. He’d looked tired lately. His energy was down.
“Everything okay with your grandma?” She had to show she cared. Especially now that some of the cuts were for senior services. If there’s one thing she’d learned from her father, it was to keep your employees happy. Make them want you to succeed.
John hesitated for a moment. She clocked his subtle raise of an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry… your mom.” He was raised by his grandmother. As much as she didn’t see the point of calling someone something they’re not, this bothered him. He got drunk at last year’s Christmas party and all but begged her to call his grandma his “mother”. He said anything less was “disrespectful”. It had taken him three tries to get that word out correctly. She should have been disappointed with him but given her past, and given her first experience in being harsh with a damaged person, she couldn’t risk it. Not now that she had the mayor’s office in her sight. She needed him and despite her better judgment, liked him.
She silently cursed herself for being a woman. A man would’ve fired him for insubordination without a second thought. She’d spent her entire career convincing her constituents that her empathy for the downtrodden was her strength and ultimately theirs. It had worked so far for them but convincing herself was another story.
“She’s doing well! Thank you for asking!” John pulled up a chair and sat across from her. He had bad news. He’d always told her something she didn’t want to hear sitting down. “There’s rumblings on the internet.”
“Oh shit. Of course. Give it to me.” Alex braced herself for comments filtered by John. She only had to triple the negativity of the ones he’d choose to share with her.
John put on his glasses. She tried not to smile. He didn’t need them, he’d told her that also last Christmas. He thought they made him look more serious. To be fair, at 35 he did have boyish good looks and soft green eyes.
This is a draft of something I’m working on. Read if you like. I’ll be taking it down for maintenance soon. Any feedback would be much appreciated! Thank you!!
Mariah locked her apartment door, making sure to check it before heading down the stairs. It was a compulsion ingrained in her since childhood. She’d had recurring nightmares that she’d locked the door but it wasn’t really locked and masked men would come in and do terrible things. She’d always woken up before they did whatever it was they’d planned to do but it left her with a lifelong fear.
Nowadays, living with her elderly parents and autistic 7 year old son, her fear had intensified. She told herself they’d be fine. There was a chance she’d be arrested but she’d done her homework. She knew her rights, this would be a peaceful protest, on public property. She’d even gained the support from other moms, rich white moms. They’d promised to be there. She belonged to a Facebook group for parents of children with developmental disabilities. They were all in agreement that the recent decision to cut funding for special education in the 28th district had to be rectified.
When she got to the lobby she was happy to see her comrades. Isla, a mom with an autistic son and Shay, a mom with a schizophrenic daughter, who had also suffered brain damage from a fall out a third story window. She’d jumped.
Their kids were all in the same program at the local public school. The one that had lost funding and would be gone at the end of the school year. There were others in the neighborhood but couldn’t get anyone to watch their kids. That’s okay. She’d enlisted Someone to Facebook live the whole thing.
“Hi ladies! Ready?” Isla and Shay held their signs up. “Ready!” They answered. “Paperwork?” She unzipped the top of her coat and reached for the lanyard around her neck. She’d fastened a sandwich ziplock bag to the end of it with her state ID and an index card with her emergency contact info written on it. The ladies did the same.
“Remember, stay cool, no matter what. Let me see the back of those signs!” She had written out the law allowing for peaceful protest on the back. They had done the same. On the front, each woman had a blown up picture of their child with the message – Don’t leave my child behind Overturn prop. 83 District 28.
“Where’s that little punk?” Shay looked around for their 23 year old documentarian, Tara. “Yo! This is live!” Tara jumped out from behind a column in the lobby. Tara was an aspiring filmmaker with a younger brother who had Down’s syndrome. She had no training but had managed to build a following on her you tube channel. Her posts were mostly movie Television and video game reviews but she was working on a documentary about her family. Her parents were immigrants from China. They’d moved here when her mother was pregnant with her brother. Tara was five.
“You got me on the wrong side!” Isla immediately turned away.
“She’s messin with you. Right?” Mariah eyed Tara hoping she was right.
Tara laughed. “It’s not live.”
“Alright ladies! Time to check in!” Mariah took her phone out and posted to their Facebook page. Isla, Shea and Tara did the same.
They waited a moment for the other moms to reply. There was a moment of doubt. Mariah had organized a zoom meeting the night before with all seven of them. All but one attended. She’d never met the white moms in person but they promised they were committed to this.
Three Facebook notifications came in simultaneously. There they were. Melissa from the west village, Beth from Soho, and Lisa from the upper west side.
Mariah could see by the look on her comrades faces that they’d doubted their commitment too. After all, their districts still had funding but moms had a tendency to stick together. Mariah was banking on that.
She was also banking on the empathy of their Congress woman who had opposed the cuts, but didn’t do anything to fight the decision once it was made. Surely she was planning on doing so but just in case she wasn’t, they’d be there to remind her of her promise to “give a voice to the voiceless.”
Tara had some inside information from a friend who worked for a delivery service. He’d delivered to her building and seen her coming and going on multiple occasions.
“Alright ladies! Let’s do this!” Mariah led the charge out into the frigid January air.
5th Avenue
Mariah looked up at the front of the luxury high rise, guarding its massive front lawn, Central Park. She hadn’t spent much time in this neighborhood. There was an unwritten rule that if you didn’t have money, you were trespassing and if caught standing still for too long you could be forcibly tossed out. Her fear got the best of her and she led the ladies to the corner, as if they were crossing the street or waiting for a bus. Luckily the building was on the corner of 72nd street. She’d wait for the other moms there. She enlisted Tara to wait by the front.
She saw a woman bundled up in Arctic gear walking toward them with a sign. As she got closer, she recognized Melissa. Melissa held up her sign and waved as she approached. Her sign was different. She’d photographed her bespectacled 11 year old daughter holding her own sign with their agreed upon slogan. A sign within a sign. Melissa was an artist.
“Oh that’s beautiful!” Isla admired the creativity.
“Thank you! She really wanted to come. I told her this was a way for her to be here.” Melissa had that hard goodbye look all the ladies recognized.
Shay took Melissa’s hand and squeezed it. “Mine was angry. He said if I don’t come back he’s never taking a bath.”
Mariah felt a secret pride. Lawrence, her boy, was excited for this. He didn’t know exactly why, he was probably just mirroring her father who at dinner that evening said he was proud to have a hero for a daughter.
Lawrence was really into comic books. He probably just saw her as Wonder Woman or Captain Marvel. He’d even wrapped his blanket around her shoulders as a cape. She’d take it either way.
Their phones pinged.
Tara alerting them to come to the front of the building.
“Remember, we’re not gonna block the entrance. Let’s go!” Mariah lead the way to Tara and Beth.
“Lisa’s a block away.” Beth held her phone up. She and Lisa were old friends, thankfully from law school. Neither of them were practicing anymore but their knowledge was invaluable.
Tara pointed to a top floor window. “That’s her.” The light was on.
“Great. Do your thing, go live whenever you want.” Mariah trusted her. She’d seen some of the documentary.
Tara aimed her phone at an approaching cab. Mariah turned to look.
The cab pulled up and Lisa got out. Mariah didn’t see a sign. The taxi driver popped the trunk and got out.
Wow, Mariah thought. That’s some privilege! Using the trunk and waiting for the driver to get whatever’s inside.
Lisa was richer than she’d thought. The driver pulled out what looked like a walker. Lisa, helped an older woman out of the cab. The driver, opened up the walker and handed it to Lisa. The older woman thanked the driver and tinkered with it. Lisa went to the trunk and pulled out her sign then slipped some money to the driver.
“That’s class…” Shay whispered to Mariah.
The older woman lifted her walker onto the curb. All the ladies rushed to help her except Lisa.
“It’s okay! It’s a seat.” The woman got up to the sidewalk and introduced herself. “Rabbi Menkin. Sarah.”
Lisa waved the cab on and joined the ladies. She held her hand out to Mariah. “Mariah? Lovely to meet you.”
Mariah tried to place her accent. Lisa didn’t miss a beat. “I know that look! I’m Irish.”
Mariah was mortified that her online impression of Lisa was so far off. Even more-so when she caught herself wondering if Irish was a good thing?
“Don’t worry! I’m legal! Did your little ones give you the hell mine gave me when you left?”
Lisa immediately put everyone at ease. The ladies laughed and shook hands with her and Rabbi Menkin.
Beth whispered to Mariah. “It’s always good to have a member of the clergy just in case.”
Mariah felt a wave of fear wash over her. Just in case. This was real now. Surely the tenants in this building would see her brown skin, assume she’s homeless or a criminal and call the police who would come and shoot her in the back. She wanted to run. What was I thinking!? There’s probably a special police force for this building alone. Suddenly she felt watched. Under surveillance.
“Hey, you okay girl?” Shay put a hand on her arm. This was something she did when her daughter was lost in her fantasy world.
Oh my God! Mariah sank even deeper into her state of terror. This is worse for her! Mariah believed the police judged how much force to use and how dangerous a person was based on how dark they were. Shay was darker than she was. Pull yourself together!!
I’m someone who takes on the emotions of others. Not just in the moment as it’s happening, those emotions fester within me for an uncomfortable length of time.
I used to think this might be a personal flaw, a sign of emotional intolerance when it comes to others but I can handle my own emotions. I can talk myself of a ledge before reacting.
In my work or in my personal life, if someone has a meltdown and unleashes in a fit of anger, then breaths a sigh of relief because they’ve released their anger as it came, I keep it. At full volume. It’s gone out of that person and into the “atmosphere”, a.k.a, if I’m around, me.
This is a problem. I can’t blame anyone for reacting to anger, sadness, disappointment or frustration, so there’s no one to blame. No one to give this burden too.
This pandemic has been brutal. I can feel fear as soon as I open the door, on top of my own. Was it just my fear of opening the door? Quadrupled? Maybe. I doesn’t matter, I feel it.
Cats are like this too. If you’re upset, they’re upset. If you’re calm, they’re calm.
I credit my cats for getting me through these intrusive emotions. I’ll get spooked, then they’ll run and hide. My attention is immediately turned to making the cats feel better by faking calm.
They can see through this, so I have to keep using a soothing voice and deep breathing. Very soon, I’ve convinced myself that I’m okay therefore they’ll be okay. I know I’ve been successful when they come out from hiding and check in with me. There it is. Calm. Happiness when I hear purring.
I don’t know how I would’ve survived this time without them!
Never mind. Thought that would sound better than it did. You don’t need to be so close, by the way.
Harry
Oh! Right!
Sammy
But you should also look at the screen….
Harry
Ok
Sammy
Ok…. anyhoo, what are we going to do about the robot? The new one. Just move the screen paws length away.
Harry
I did. Which one? What’s a robot?
Sammy
This one. It’s a robot. Not a cat, not a human….
Harry
Oh yes! Are we sure it’s not a dog? I put the screen at the end of my foot.
Sammy
I mean… have you ever seen a dog? It’s a robot, trust me. I don’t like it. Your feet are long.
Harry
Well, It has food sometimes, I’ve heard that dogs have food. I put the screen on the human. See?
Sammy
Yes! The screen is fine! I know it has food! I’m the one eating it! Not the point!! It’s food from a robot! It’s supposed to come from a human!
Harry
Are we sure it’s not a….
Sammy
It’s not a mouse!!!
See!? Here’s a mouse in the robot!
Harry
Ohhhh…. Mouse! I want Mouse!
Sammy
OH MY GOD! This is not about the mouse!! The point is, FOOD SHOULD NOT COME FROM A ROBOT!! IT DOESN’T BELONG HERE!!!
Harry
I’m okay with it. Food is good. My only problem with it, is, you keep eating all the food. Can I have some?
Sammy
NO!! It’s only big enough for my head. Maybe you should pay attention to when it gives food, not just wait for me to be eating it, then trying to stick your ridiculously small head under mine!
Harry
Ok, well, if I can’t have the food too, then let’s knock it over. Hey Sammy? Why do we have to use the screens if we’re both on my bed? I can see you without it. Can I just come over to you?
Sammy
Really!? This from the cat that wants to be a part of ALL my calls to my friends!? Need I remind you of the last time you were next to me on my bed?
Sammy sends a telepathic memory to Harry.
Harry
That’s not how I remember it….
Harry sends a telepathic memory to Sammy
Sammy
You know what? Forget it. I’m over this. I’m not on the bed now. Don’t look at me.
Imagine you’re standing in a large open field under a suddenly darkened cloudy sky. All of a sudden….BOOM!!! Deafening thunder followed by massive lightning reaching from the sky like a neon skeletal claw grabbing at anything within reach, scorching the field just inches from where you are. This has happened many times before, you know what comes next.
Here comes the rain falling in sheets and wind that blows it sideways. You look in the distance and see shelter. A small wooden cabin. Desperately, you run as fast as you can against the wind and sheets of rain. It takes all your strength, going against the grain, taking the hardest path but if you stop, you will be burned alive, if you open your mouth too wide, you’ll swallow enough rain water to drown you standing up.
Another massive streak of lightning just misses you but you’re closer to the cabin now and you feel strong because you can see shelter. You get to the cabin and to your surprise it’s open!
When you get in, there are others huddled together. They make room for you and wrap their arms around you. They know what you’ve been through. You feel safer than you did outside.
The storm passes as quickly as it came and sunlight streams in through the cracks in the wood. If you leave through the door you came in, you know another storm is inevitable. You can’t go through that again. There’s another door on the other side of the cabin. One you didn’t see before.
You’re unsure of what’s out there but the people you’re with assure you it can’t be worse then where you were. You take comfort, they know what they’re talking about. You feel hopeful and warm. You’ll all go together.
You open the door and step outside….BOOM!!!
Just trying to imagine what someone crossing our border only to be detained in worse conditions than our prisons must feel like. I tried to imagine holding a baby or if you’re like me and don’t have children, your pet or your elderly family member who can’t run as fast but I can’t. It’s too painful.
The second wave on the buffet was well underway. Zta and Bleech were no where to be found. I couldn’t imagine where they were. The line for mammoth was just getting longer and longer. It almost seemed like an assault! It had been a while since I had served so I wasn’t as quick as Roon. Or Bleech even!
I was now picking up meat with both hands and plopping it down on any plate I saw. It was a swarm of furs, beards, plates and hair! Homo’s were getting impatient and now, no one was controlling the line! There was something happening in my chest. A small animal pounding it from the inside? Was I the first pregnant male and about to give birth? Through my chest!? I couldn’t take it so I dropped the meat down on the buffet and tried to organize them.
“Everyone will get more mammoth if you just stand in a line! Remember earlier? When you all stood in a line?”
Silence. I could hear the flicker of flames from the torches to the heating pits.
Then, aggressive grunting, hair pulling, Homo’s pushing each other and grabbing all the meat they could! There hadn’t been anything like this since a neighboring tribe accused us of walking on one of their flattened paths. They sent their flatteners to un flatten one of our paths and resulted in almost everyone from both tribes grunting and hurling balls of snow at each other. Que told me about it so it might not have been as dramatic as he made it out to be but I do remember a lot of frozen beards that day.
I looked over at Keen, who was just rolling his eyes and started putting out his fire under the broth. Someone started pounding on the buffet slab. I couldn’t see who through all the grabbing and pushing.
Zte! Where was my precious little Zte! I don’t know what came over me but I jumped up onto the buffet slab and right into the angry mob. I had to find her! I started pushing Homo’s furiously to get through but someone grabbed my hair! Then, my beard! Through all the chaos, I heard someone shouting a word.
“Fight!! FIGHT!!!”
Whomever was grabbing me, let go.
Fight!? All Homo’s were now heading out of the cave chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
La, Lom’s wife, pointed at me and screamed, “Your fault!” Before storming out. Surely it wasn’t! I had to remind myself of that because I did have a tendency to blame myself for any feast related fiasco.
Joog and Keene helped dust me off and pull the meat out of my hair.
“Look at this cave!!” LOOK AT IT!” Joog was now kicking chunks of meat into piles. The table was in shambles.
Keen was putting out the last of his warming fire. “It’s just Lom and Pol. Lom apparently bumped into Wen on the way to the buffet disaster we’re going to have to spend all night cleaning now.”
He was right. There was meat everywhere. Even on the walls! No way we could leave it overnight!
“Why don’t we just invite those asshole Erectuses in! We’ll tell them the meat is raw but it’s covered with dirt. They’ll jump around like idiots and clear this place out in seconds!” Joog was being sarcastic but he may have come up with the perfect solution!
We heard shrieking coming from outside. I panicked when I realized I still didn’t know where Zte was.
I ran outside. I almost fell to the snow when I saw Zta, Zte and Bleech, watching the fight. Thank the branches! Thank the ice!!
Pol and Lom were circling each other, growling and occasionally lunging at each other. This was how all hunter fights started. They’d fight to the death.
I joined Zta, Zte and Bleech. “They all rushed the buffet. There’s meat everywhere. No one can go back in there.” I told Zta, making sure not to sound like I was in anyway blaming her for takingso long with the Erectuses.
“I’m sorry. The Erecti didn’t trust us. We had to get Roon.” Zta picked Zte up.
“No no! I’m not blaming you! It’s just there was no one to make a line!” I hoped that sounded convincing. I was about to say more but Zta shot an angry glare at me so I decided not to.
“Erecti?” A disembodied voice came from behind me. Bleech jumped back. It was the old woman with our boys. “I like it! Easier to say! And quicker! Multiple Homo Erectus. Erecti! Good job sweetheart!”
“Thanks mom.” Zta handed Zte to me as she reached for the twins. “Pol and Lom are at it again.”
The old woman groaned like she was about to die, finally, but then something completely unexpected happened.
She started pushing Homo’s aside and made a path right into the fighting circle!
Pol had grabbed onto Lom’s beard. Lom was trying desperately to loosen his grip by swatting at Pols hand. Pol held tight and swatted Lom back.
“Stop it!”
“No! YOU stop it!!”
Pol took his pocket spear from his fur tie.
Everyone gasped.
He threw the spear into the snow, untied his tie, then stuffed it into Lom’s mouth! Some Homo’s couldn’t bear it and turned away.
Que threw up.
The old woman grabbed them both by their beards. “Boys! BOYS!!” She pulled them apart. They were still swatting at each other but they were to far away fromeach other to make contact.
“STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!!” The old woman yelled so loud that later on, some would claim a large stampede of mammoths were very close by.
Pol broke free from her grasp. “But he…”
“NNNNOOOOOO!!” This time her voice was not only loud but high pitched. There was complete silence.
“Lom! Say you’re sorry to you brother!!”
“But, he’s the one…”
“SAY YOU’RE SORRY!!!”
This time, even I had to cover my ears and I had one year old twins that would have screaming matches daily!
“Sorry…” Lom mumbled something into his beard after saying this.
“What was that!?” The old woman tightened her grip on Lom’s beard.
“Owww! Sorry!!”
Pol snickered. The old woman turned her attention now to him.
“Sorry! I’m sorry too!”
“Good boys. Now hug!”
Pol held his arms out reluctantly.
“Mom…”
The old woman was having none of this. “Lom! You’re the older brother! You’re 15! Act like it!”
Lom dragged his feet in the snow but he did hug Pol. It wasn’t long before they were crying in each other’s arms.
Everyone cheered for them, some cried themselves and depending on how into the berries they’d gotten, hugged each other as well.
It was the perfect ending to maybe the best feast of my life! Roon had survived his injury, everyone had quickly forgotten about my poorly designed face mud, Zta was there to witness our daughter growing up before our eyes and most of all, a hunter fight with no death! There had never been two hunters that were angry with each other and worked out their differences with words! Completely on their own! With no interference!!
As the hunters were working out their issues, Zta had arranged the drummers around the main fire pit to lure everyone there, and had sent Bleech to bring the Erecti to the banquet cave to eat all the meat that was on the floor and walls. Joog, Keene and I dragged the rest of the broth and berries to the village center where we all celebrated right up until the sun came up!
The cave drawings by the entrance of the banquet cave depicting what was being served. Drawn in the days we served antelope. Roon was supposed to draw a mammoth but couldn’t due to his injury.
After the initial rush at the buffet, things quieted down. Homo’s sat, drank, laughed, cried (mostly the hunters).
I was about to go relieve Zta at the buffet when I saw a small group gathered by the entrance. They were all hunched over gesturing to each other. Every so often, one would look around. I knew exactly who they were. Small foreheads, pronounced jawlines, very hairy. Erectuses from the upper caves.
One of them saw me looking at them and they all turned their backs pretending to look at the cave drawings. They nodded and pointed like they understood what the drawings meant but we all knew they didn’t.
I pretended I didn’t see them, most of the other villagers would get really upset if they knew they were there. I knew they were looking for Roon, who’s mother’s father was Erectus. He’d always ask for a break around this time to go outside for “fresh air”. He would sneak them a bundle of raw meat and berries. They weren’t great at making fires. Good thing they all had so much hair.
I was about to go back to the roasting pit when Bleech waved at me. I saw he had a bundle in his hand, Zta quickly put her hand over it.
I got to the buffet to talk to him. “Ummmm….. can I go breath air?” He asked. He was nervous and almost used the hand he was holding the contraband to wipe sweat off his forehead. Zta stopped him.
“Sure! But make sure you go around the side of the cave.” That was Roon’s hand off spot.
“You know what? I’ll go with him!” Zta gave him a slow wink and a smile when she said this. She knew about this arrangement, I had complained about it the first few times it happened. The first time, she got angry with me saying they were Homo’s too even if they weren’t excepted in our sophisticated society. She was right. We all had Erectus inside us. My father’s father’s mother was one.
“Good idea! I’ll watch the buffet!”
I watched nervously as they made their way to them. I looked around to see where Que was. If anyone would notice this was happening it would be him. Thankfully, he was at the broth station downing small cups of fermented berries with a couple of the other flatteners. I knew I’d get a “What happened last night?” from him the next day.
I winced when I saw Bleech cup his free hand around his mouth and say “From Roon.” His free hand was facing the wrong way. Anyone could see what he was saying. Thankfully, Zta jerked her head toward the outside and she pushed Bleech in the right direction. They waddled after her.
“Maybe they’d like a welcome drink! Or how about a nice fur brushing!” Joog sneered as he dropped off more meat. He shot a disapproving, “This guy! Right!?”, kind of look at Keen, who was nearby stirring his broth. Keen shook his head. The one thing they agreed on. Keen referred to them as “waste thrusters”. Sadly he had a point. They were pleasant enough but they really didn’t know what to do with their own waste. They gathered it in their hands, held it straight out then just dropped it. They had at least learned to rub snow on their hands to wash it off. Still wouldn’t shake hands with one of them.
You’d think I would’ve lost my appetite thinking about all this waste, but the meat looked mouth watering. I could tell Zta had done some extra basting.
Lom and his wife La came back to the buffet for seconds. “Medium rare.” I was grateful I’d missed the initial, “Why can’t I have a rare piece!”, rant Lom was famous for.
I moved the meat around trying to find the most undercooked piece when I did something I shouldn’t have. “Sorry to hear about….” Wen cut me off with an overly aggressive “Shhhh!” You didn’t want to mess with a hunter wife. I looked at Lom who was clearly caught off guard. His eyes and mouth wide open. I could see he was about to tear up. Wen took his plate and held it out for me to drop the meat on. As soon as I did, she lead him away but not before giving me a serious death stare.
My husband and I lived in East Harlem for 6 years. It was our first apartment together. It was great in the beginning because we had a place together.
Close proximity to NYC’s upper east side, great restaurants and bars, a 6 minute walk to Central Parks European gardens. Absolutely beautiful even if you had to walk through the ghetto to be there.
The sixth year, we had a deadly gas fume situation. I had gone to my parents house in the suburbs for Christmas and came back to gascious fumes. My husband had lived in such squaller that he didn’t even notice it. My other neighbors had lived the same way or were illegal and didn’t want to call the authorities for fear of being deported.
Growing up in the comfortable burbs and believing I deserved all America could offer, I called con Ed and was instructed to open all windows and wait outside. It was about 20 degrees. I called my landlord who told me not to call con Ed.
I already had and they showed up within the hour. A technician took a carbon monitor into the building and immediately evacuated everyone. There was a deadly amount of carbon trapped somewhere.
Here we were. All tenants, outside in the cold. The landlord sent someone to open the basement where the boilers were.
Con Ed turned everything off. Heat, hot water. The exhaust wasn’t working. The firemen were called. They did their own assessment, apparently if I hadn’t called, everyone in the building would’ve been dead within the hour.
This put in motion the most difficult time I’ve ever experienced in a NYC apartment. About a month of going back and forth with my landlord and con Ed. My landlord had hired her own technician who diagnosed the problem one way, where con Ed sent their own technician who diagnosed the problem another way.
New Year’s Eve, I got a call from con Ed to come to the building for a reassessment. This is after me calling con Ed constantly, it had been a week with no heat or gas, that means no hot water or stove.
They came, my landlord gave me the code to unlock the basement for them. I had so much hope. When the technician showed up I said “Thank God! We’ve all been without heat and hot water! There are children here! And elderly people!”
I let him in to the basement, not gonna go into what I saw down there. It looked like a hostage was being held there. I’ve pushed that down because I have no idea what to do about it.
He looked at the meters and told me there was nothing he could do.
“Can’t you just flip a switch!?” I pleaded.
No, he couldn’t. That was going to be a very cold New Years for all tenants, and would continue for weeks to come until the landlord’s technician and con Ed’s technician come come to an agreement of how to describe what the problem was.
Semantics! We were all freezing, microwaving three tupper ware containers of water in order to bath, all because of fucking semantics!
You’d think we’d not owe rent during this time but no, we did. We all did.
It eventually got sorted out. Cutting through red tape as we all lived like squatters paying thousands of dollars to be in close proximity to the upper east side and the European gardens it wasn’t safe to venture out to.
That’s New York! Damned if I don’t still love the bitch!
