Lynne Tillman - No Lease on Life

Being appropriate was boring. She dropped two eggs together. The eggs, light as feathers, gathered speed as they went down. Gravity did its work flawlessly. The eggs hit hard on impact. They could hurt somebody. She hadn’t thought about that before. Everything’s a learning experience.

One of the crusties mooned the block. His ass was dirty, like his face.

Keep your big ass your big noise your big nose your big stink your big eyes your big lies keep your shit to yourself.

If the morons spotted where the eggs came from and spotted her dropping them, they’d be waiting for her tomorrow, like the plot of the scariest TV movie she’d ever seen, about a ten-year-old girl who sees a murder committed outside her school building. The little girl’s dreaming out the window of her classroom and sees the murder in the distance, on a small hill, and the murderer suddenly looks in her direction after he’s done it and sees her seeing him, and she knows he sees her, and she knows he’ll be waiting for her after school, and she doesn’t tell anyone. She’s trapped in the school at 3 P.M. when everyone else goes home, and she’s alone.

That was a long time ago. Elizabeth was eight. She turned off the TV before the end of the movie. Her mother had left her on her own and told Elizabeth she was her own baby-sitter.

It was pathetic. She was her own baby-sitter.

If the morons saw her, Elizabeth would alert the block. She wouldn’t be like that little girl. She’d call Larry and Helen, she’d wake Roy, who’d probably tell her she was being stupid and to go back to sleep, and she’d fight the urge to kill him, which was inappropriate, she had to keep her attention on the real problems and enemies, and she’d alert Ernest, Herbert the deaf tenant, the acerbic super, Paulie, Gisela, Jeanine, and Frankie, and Ricardo, the whole neighborhood, she’d make up flyers, wheatpaste them on buildings, hand them out, she’d make it clear that she was being persecuted by the morons and crusties. She wouldn’t be quiet, she wouldn’t go quietly, she wouldn’t fight alone.

Probably the young super would join the crusties and morons and take his stale revenge.

What were Kurt Cobain’s last words?

Hole’s gonna be big.

Elizabeth tossed another egg. It flew into the street, sailing on a bigger, wetter breeze. It cracked on the side of a passing car. The car slowed down a little then speeded up. Probably the driver saw the morons. Fatboy jumped up and barked. Elizabeth gagged him. She crouched beside him on the fire escape. She was wearing black, it wasn’t planned, it was perfect.

She held her breath and her position, she was crouched and rounded like a basketball.

The ancient black woman phoned the cops again and stuck her body farther out the window. Elizabeth saw her speaking on the phone.

The ancient black woman would say:

— There’s a crazy woman throwing eggs, and there are some unruly young people making noise. Please do something. I’m old, I live alone, I have a bad heart.

When the cops arrived, and they came to Elizabeth’s door, and woke Roy, who’d be enraged, Elizabeth would say:

— The morons saw an egg or two drop over the side of my fire escape, by accident, and tomorrow they’re going to come and get me.

The cop’s eyes would narrow in contempt.

— Why’d you have eggs on the fire escape?

She’d have to go into it, her history, the story of the block, her night, her day, the last twenty-four hours, how she was driven to this act. She’d need backing from others, like Ernest. She’d have to mount a strong case, defend herself. Her heart was beating wildly, it was like a caged animal.

No I’ve never been in trouble with the law just a little I mean I never went to jail yes I lead a normal life I guess yes I’ve got a job part-time I had a few beers yes I’ve done coke grass speed no I told you I’m not high now I had a few beers yes I get along with people ask anyone in the neighborhood I don’t have many enemies some I do I have some yes I like men I live with one what’s that got to do with anything I don’t think of those morons like that are you kidding no I hate needles I hate the blood and poking around in veins yes I have a temper I said I’m not on anything yes I vote what a question no I’m not married I was a little out of control I didn’t murder anyone sure I thought about it wouldn’t you no I’m not crazy maybe temporarily it was an impulse I couldn’t stop no I don’t believe in what I did it’s not a matter of belief I just did it I’m not a member of anything a good life good sex is going to change this are you kidding are you guys going to keep them quiet every night I’m not a vigilante I didn’t take any law into my own hands you must be kidding eggs yes I’m not saying it was right I don’t care if it was right these morons don’t care about anyone on the block they rob me of my sleep I’m robbed of my dreams no don’t tell me about other people I’m not other people are we through now.

She’d explain that she corrected errors for a living, she came from a relatively stable family, there’d been more than enough food on the table, they had more than one table, they had a dining room, a den, a kitchen, a basement, and there were many tables, even a ping-pong table, she was a pretty good player. She’d admit that everyone bothered her eventually.

No one would protect her.

Rounded like a ball, her arms free, she could throw harder. She tossed another egg with energy. It catapulted from her and was lifted by a stronger summer breeze. The egg hit a parked car. The car alarm went off and screamed. It felt like her voice. One of the crusties clapped. Another crustie slapped him on the head. All the morons looked up in her direction. She was hidden in shadow. She’d made herself invisible.

A man died and went to Heaven. When he got there, he met God. He asked God, Please, before I go to Heaven, would you show me Hell? I’ve always wanted to see Hell. God said, Yes, I’ll show it to you. First of all, he said, Hell’s divided into three tiers. And then God took the man to the first tier. It was a room with about eighty people. There was some wine and a violinist. Then God took the man to the second tier. It was a room with about three hundred people. There was a band and wine and some hors d’oeuvres. Then God took the man to the third tier. It was a large room with about eight hundred people, maybe a thousand. There was an orchestra, a band, champagne, and lots of food. The man was amazed and said to God, If this is Hell I can’t wait to see Heaven. So God took the man to Heaven. It was a bare room with about twenty people. There was no food and no music. The man said to God, I can’t believe it. This is Heaven? God says, For twenty people, I should hire an orchestra?

She tossed another egg.

This was her street, her club, it was a democratic party, an after-hours bar with beer in paper bags and morons on the sidewalk. The sideshow must go on. The moon was her night-light. Comic and tragic disruption was her nightlife. It was a joke.

She dropped the rest of the eggs, one after another. They cracked and splattered out of time like a lame chorus line. The acerbic super would go crazy when he saw broken eggs all over his sidewalk.

The morons threw themselves on each other and moshed in the street until a car came along. Then they split for the park. The cops arrived minutes later. They were useless.

There’s no super. There’s no one to complain to. There’s everything to protest because she wanted everything, and she wanted more, and everything was wrong, and everything demonstrated, like a stupid protest march against herself, that she needed money, sex, respect, and her sleep, more of it all the time, so it meant she was getting old and cranky, and would die, because all good and bad things and people come to an end, and everything probably would before she did anything like buy a crossbow and arrow.