— That’s important.
— I was fine here, until 1973, that’s when I collapsed. I was accused of being involved in drugs, which wasn’t true. Then I had a terrible, terrible love affair. Men never meant much in my life, believe me. I did not even love him. It was like he was doing black magic to me. It was the first time in my life, I was thirty-six. It was horrible. I just collapsed.
— Then your hip went out?
— From standing on my feet too long. But I had a problem before. I was beaten up by the police in 1964 when I was arrested.
— In Switzerland?
— I didn’t pay my hospital bill in India. I had enough money to pay for an Indian hospital, but they said that I was white and I had to go to a luxury hospital. I knew in advance I couldn’t pay. Then one night the troops came and picked me up and kidnapped me and took me to Switzerland where I got beaten up very badly. They went inside me to see if I had drugs, of course I had no drugs. I was in the hospital. And they beat me up, to make sure I would spit out drugs. But I had my hip problem even before.
— How did it start?
— Child abuse. I went through hell, but I’m happy to be here.
Elizabeth knew she should get going.
— My family didn’t want to have anything to do with me. First of all because I was my mother’s daughter, and because I look like her. I look exactly like her. Except I’m lighter, My mother was of gypsy background. So was my father.
— They’re gypsies?
— French Huguenot, but of gypsy background. I am so light, my family didn’t want to have anything to do with me. They’re assimilated.
— When did they give up their gypsy ways?
— When they became Huguenots in the fifteenth century. They were kicked out of Spain and became French Huguenots. People don’t know that the Huguenot religion was founded by the Jews and the gypsies and the Arabs, who were kicked out of Spain. The Catholic religion didn’t believe in money, but the Protestants believe in money. The Thirty Years War was based on this, it was a money issue. The so-called religious war.
Elizabeth was tempted to melt with Gisela on the sidewalk. She could lose herself in salty, humid dispiritedness.
— What happened to your mother?
— I have no idea. Yesterday I told my social worker that my first memory was of my mother, how beautiful she was.
Elizabeth scrutinized Gisela’s dry, pale skin.
— Are you eating OK?
— To tell you the truth, I’m so depressed since my burglary, I don’t eat right. I eat bagels, with cheese, butter. I do eat a lot of fruits. I drink water a lot.
— Your skin is looking a little better.
— Because I’m over that problem. My soul is better.
— About losing your children years ago?
— All of that. That’s why my skin looks better.
— I don’t want children.
— I didn’t want them, they just didn’t have abortions, and no protection in those days. I was a runaway, and somebody took advantage. It wasn’t rape. I was raped later on.
Gisela looked down the street. There was some commotion on the corner. They watched it together. A couple of boys were being territorial. No weapons. It broke up.
— Thank God, I’m rent-controlled. If I lose my apartment, that’s it. I don’t go out, I stay home. I only walk the dog. You don’t see me.
— Not much.
— Because I only go to the doctor or grocery shopping, I walk the dog, that’s about it.
— It’s good to get exercise.
Elizabeth hardly ever exercised. She walked. Gisela thought about something else, Elizabeth could see some caution, storm alert arrows, crossing her face, and then the concern passed, or Gisela pushed it away.
— Don’t you ever complain about a social worker. They have more power than you think.
Elizabeth didn’t have a social worker. She complained to the wrong people on the block. Elizabeth didn’t tell Gisela about her problems with the young super, Gloria, or Hector. Gisela shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Her dog was hunkered down on the hot sidewalk. He looked miserable. It was jungle humid. Gisela glanced at her dog, then at Elizabeth. She ignored her pain.
— In Switzerland, everybody who’s a humanist ends up in a mental hospital, because they don’t want human beings. There are only banks and insurance. The guy who was the founder of the Red Cross, Jean-Henri Dunant, he ended up in a mental hospital too. I go now.
Gisela brought things to a conclusion with flair. She started to move. She glanced at Elizabeth again.
— You look good today. Yah.
Gisela appreciated Elizabeth’s appearance. It didn’t matter if Elizabeth hadn’t slept through a scarred night that might’ve terminated in her loss of control, a night that could’ve resulted in her assassinating someone. Gisela’s version of reality was unique, cut to fit. Everyone’s was. Most versions were less radically altered than Gisela’s. Gisela wasn’t about fashion. She had style. You had it or you didn’t.
Elizabeth didn’t argue with anyone’s style or experience. Only sometimes with what it meant. Gisela, as she herself put it, was rent-controlled. Elizabeth was rent-stabilized. Elizabeth would look up Jean-Henri Dunant in the proofroom. The room had a reference library. They had to check themselves before they corrected anyone else, to find the rectitude or error of their own ways first.
What’s the difference between Chinese food and Jewish restaurants?
With Chinese food, after an hour, you’re hungry again. In a Jewish restaurant, after an hour, you’re still eating.
She had to lose the friend and the job.
In Memoriam. If you hanged yourself, I’d feel guilty for a minute. Then I’d get over it. All the smiles in your repertoire can’t sugarcoat your treachery. You deserve yourself.
Elizabeth approached the scraggly little tree in front of a popular bodega. Most people on the west side of Avenue A congregated there. She nodded to some of the men. Sometimes Hector played cards with a couple of them. They sat out in front at a table. Hector always lifted his hat and tipped it when he saw her. He was courteous. His hat-tipping inspired panic in Elizabeth.
The scraggly little tree was enclosed by wire mesh. It was home to penned-in chickens and a duck. They had a plastic tub of water they could jump into. They couldn’t wade. They couldn’t fly or run. They had each other. They looked sick.
— Sweet chickens, cute duck, Elizabeth said to a man.
He was dropping lettuce leaves into the enclosure.
— Si.
— They’re yours?
— Si, they’re mine.
— They’re sweet.
— The children like them.
Hope you’re not going to eat them, she nearly said. They were too sick to eat, even if he wanted to.
Three ruined alcoholics graced the corner. They were slumped in their usual places. Three men sprawled or asleep on the ground. Occasionally a woman. Swollen, red, black-and-blue faces are more awful in the heat. One man was holding the morning’s pint. He passed it around. They stayed close to the liquor store, but not too close. They lay next door to the corner slice-of-pizza store. It had a cat in its doorway. Elizabeth never talked to any of them. They vomited all over the corner.
He didn’t throw up, he held his liquor, walked in his sleep in tacky hotel rooms that I thought were cool. I could’ve become pregnant. He wanted a kid, he’d left one already. I would’ve had an abortion. He was drunk all the time. They didn’t have abortions for Gisela. All her kids gone, dead, if she really had them.