Stephen Dixon: Letters to Kevin

He opened the blueprints for the 140-story building his company was going to put up in three years and flipped through the prints to page 126. “Here’s your ticket office,” he said, pointing to one of 200 tiny boxes that will make up the 200 offices on the 126th floor. “Great view of the city also, when there aren’t too many clouds below. And sometimes on the same day they’ll be able to see Canada, half of America and the larger ocean liners two days out to sea. And round-the-clock evacuation teams for the tenants during the heavier storms. Special radio communication with local airports so they’ll have instant alerts when planes are flying too low. Sound good? An office you always dreamed of? The crown of a working lifetime and what no great company should be without? Then what about you renting one on the 126th floor? We’ve only eighty offices left on that floor and no more than 12,000 left in the rest of the building. All you need is an okay from our doctors that you don’t go crackers from very high altitudes or get severe nose bleeds or fainting spells from the high-speed elevator rides.” “I don’t need an office for what I do.” “Then rent one just for the kick of the elevator rides. Up and down. What do we care? They’re all automatic, so bring your friends with you and ride them as much as you like.” I told him I could hardly pay for the rent on my cheap apartment, and he suddenly looked cross and showed me the door. “Yes, a very nice door you have here also,” I said, rubbing and knocking on it. “Very sturdy. Good finish. Will the doorbells in your new office building be just as well made?” I left and sat on the stoop across the street. A woman came out the door behind me and said “Now here looks like a young fellow who’s got a mean itch to get to Palo Alto.” “How’d you know?” “A little birdie told me.” On her shoulder was a small bird who never stopped talking into her ear, even when she was telling me this. “I got just the plane ticket to get you there,” she said. She reached into her pocketbook. The bird pecked her temple to get her attention and flapped his wings very fast as if what he was saying was very important. “So sorry,” she said. “But the little birdie just told me a man down the street wants to get to Palo Alto even more than you.” She got on her bike with the bird on her shoulder and pedaled to a man sitting on the curb. “Now you look like a man who wants to get to Palo Alto real bad,” she said to him. “I can’t tell you how much,” he said. “You don’t have to, as the little birdie just did that.” She gave him a plane ticket to San Francisco. A helicopter ticket from the San Francisco airport to Palo Alto. And enough money for cab rides from here to Kennedy Airport and from the Palo Alto heliport to the house on Leary Street where this man wanted to go. “Leary Street?” I said. “That’s Kevin’s block.” I asked him what number. It was the house next to yours. “Could you also give me a plane and helicopter ticket to San Francisco and Palo Alto?” I asked the woman. “I’ll travel with this man. That way you’ll save on my cab rides from here to the airport and from the heliport to Leary Street. And I won’t insist the cabby also pull up in front of Kevin’s house, I’ll get out at this man’s house next door and walk the rest of the way.” All this time the bird was talking excitedly into her ear. “Hold it,” she said to me. “I can’t hear the little birdie over your chatter. Now what’s that you said, birdie? No. You don’t say. That’s unbelievable. Thanks, sweetlife. Know what the little birdie just told me? That there’s a young lady uptown who wants to get to Palo Alto in an even worse way than you two guys put together. Sorry, but I guess she’s the one who gets to go.” She snatched back the tickets and cab fare from the man, got on the bike with the bird on her shoulder and rode away. “Hey lady,” I yelled. “Let us try to prove to you that put together this man and I want to get to Palo Alto even more than that girl.” “Dumbkofs,” the bird yelled back to us. “Well, what do you know?” the woman said. “That’s the first word in English this little birdie’s ever spoke.” That’s when I gave up on getting to Palo Alto. After I finish this letter I’m going straight home. I suppose a nice thing for you to do would be to tell the people next door that there’s a man in New York who wants to get there even more than I do. But then I don’t see how they can know how much I want to see you, unless they have a little birdie of their own. Or the bird the lady has flies out to tell them before this letter arrives. Anyway, bye for now. And no matter what the birdie tells you if it does fly out there, you’ll never know how sorry I am that I couldn’t get to Palo Alto. But quite honestly, getting there turned out to be much too tough a problem for me.

Very best,

Rudy

Dear Kevin:

Right after mailing you that last letter, I went home. But my home didn’t seem to be my apartment anymore, as my keys didn’t fit the locks and my door knocker was gone and there was now a bell.

I knocked on the bell. A man said through the peephole on the door “I’m sorry. But we don’t buy anything, sell anything, want or need anything or want to need, sell or buy anything too.”

“Excuse me,” I said. “But if I’m not mistaken, this is my apartment.”

“You’re not mistaken. It is my apartment.”

“Is this 5C?”

“It is.”

“The apartment 5C on the fifth floor between apartments 5B and 5D at 7 West 73rd Street?”

“That’s the address.”

“And this building number 7 is still on the same plot of land it was on two weeks ago? Or has the foundation been tampered with and the building been removed?”

“I do sleep a great deal,” he said, “and very soundly. But I’m sure this building hasn’t been removed.”

“Has the number of the building or floor or the apartment letter been changed recently? Or the street direction switched from West 73rd to East?”

“No.”

“Then it must be the wrong city I’m in. Is this New York City?”

“That’s the one.”

“The New York City that’s in New York State?” “Let me check my driver’s license for that. Yes, the license is for New York State. So this must be the New York City you want in that state.” “The New York State that’s in the United States?” “I’m sure that’s right.” “You realize I’m now speaking about the United States that’s on the continent of North America. And which has parts of the world’s two largest oceans on either side of it. And lots of little lands around it called islands and waters inside it called rivers, lakes and streams.” “I’m not an expert on geography or oceanography,” he said. “But I think everything you said just now indicates that we’re talking about the same United States in North America.” “Then maybe the North America continent with my apartment 5C is in a different hemisphere.” “Since our Western Hemisphere is the only hemisphere in the world with a North America continent on it, then this has to be that one.” “Then maybe the Western Hemisphere with my 5C on it is no longer on the same planet it was on when I was lastin my apartment.” “We’re both now talking about planet Earth?” he said. “The very same. The one that goes around the sun and has a moon called Moon and right now is closer to planet Venus than it is to Mars.” “Well, I’ve been listening to the radio all day. And if either one of the two hemispheres left planet Earth, I’m sure one of the news reports would have mentioned it.” “Maybe the Earth with my apartment 5C left the solar system. Did any of the news reports say anything about that?” “Not a word. Even if I didn’t hear of it on the radio or even read it in the paper, I’m sure I would have seen some kind of actual physical change taking place in the sky if our one and only planet Earth suddenly switched over to another solar system.” “Maybe the solar system which has my apartment 5C on it switched to another galaxy.” “Now a change like that I’m sure I would have known about before you knocked on my bell. If not through the radio, TV, newspaper or with my own eyes, then someone would have stopped by or at least phoned to tell me of such an event. Because since our solar system has always been part of the same Milky Way galaxy as far back as anyone can tell, that, sir, would be news.” “No. I’m sure that must be the case,” I said. “Let’s say it was. And the solar system which has your apartment 5C on it had changed to another galaxy. Your 5C would still be on the same spot on earth it was always on, except billions of light years away from where Earth once revolved in its solar system.” “Then the only answer left is that the galaxy which has my apartment 5C in it is no longer part of the same universe. Or never was part of this universe, but has all the same names of streets and countries and planets and stuff of your universe. And that’s how I got fouled up in trying to find the right address.” “Now there you might have a point. Maybe in your travels you made a right when you should have made a left, and got lost and somehow found your way into another universe with all the same names of apartments and planets and galaxies of your own universe. But as far as this universe is concerned, apartment 5C of 7 West 73rd Street, New York City and State, United States, North America, Western Hemisphere, planet Earth, solar system, Milky Way galaxy, is mine.” “I don’t know,” I said. “Somehow the idea of our two universes looking exactly alike except for your apartment having a doorbell when mine had a knocker still doesn’t seem possible. I better see the landlord.” “When you do, give him this check for my next month’s rent.” He stuck a check through the peephole. It was made out to the same man for the same rent that I used to pay for my apartment 5C in my universe. The landlord lived in a second-floor apartment just like the one mine lived in. Except this landlord also had a doorbell instead of a knocker, so maybe this was a different universe I was in after all. I rapped on the bell. He opened the door and said “Mr. Foy, How nice to see you again.” “You’re probably mistaken,” I said. “There’s no doubt another Rudy Foy in your universe who looks just like me.” “Oh no, Mr. Foy. Mr. Brin of 5C phoned to say you were coming and that I should clear up some problems for you. First of all, all the door knockers in the building were removed a week ago when I had doorbells put in. I saved your door knocker, as I thought you might have grown attached to it after a year.” He gave me a door knocker. It looked like the old knocker on my 5C door. Though who’s to say that two door knockers in two universes couldn’t be made by two different door-knocker companies with the same name and then be worn down exactly alike too. That didn’t seem too out of the question when I thought of the coincidences so far that everything else in this universe has looked, acted and been called the same thing in mine. “Secondly,” he said. “You haven’t lost your way and wound up in another universe. You just didn’t pay your last three months’ rent in this universe. So I had you evicted a day after you left and rented your apartment to the Brins.” “That’s absolutely and totally and without further question absurd. Because you can’t have me thrown out of my apartment when I’m not there. And no matter which universe I’ve been in for the past two weeks, I know I haven’t been in any apartment 5C in either of them since I left. I’ll just take this matter up with the courts.” “I had the Courts evicted the same day as you for also not paying their rent.” “Then I’ll go to the mayor’s office to fight my eviction.” “The Mayors adopted a baby while you were gone and converted their office into a nursery.” “Then I’ll get a lawyer. We both know there are at least two of them in this building alone.” “A Mr. Barry Lawyer on the ground floor and a Ms. Mary Lawyer in the store in front. They’re unrelated though.” “I thought she was an Unrelated before she married another Mr. Lawyer and had her name changed.” “She could have been. But no matter how many lawyers you see, you’ll never get your apartment back.” I went to Mr. Barry Lawyer’s office on the ground floor. He said he’d take my case, but only for money. “Why should I give you money to take my case?” I said. “Because not only would you then have my case, but I wouldn’t have anything to carry my typewriter and papers in.” “Then go peddle your case somewhere else. It isn’t worth anything to me anyway.” I went to the store in front of this building where Ms. Mary Unrelated Lawyer had her office. She said “I’d take your case for nothing, Mr. Foy, as I believe you were evicted illegally. But I have so many other cases to take care of first. There are the Henry Cases and Bernard Cases and Judith Case and Simon and Susan Case and all their little Cases. I’m truly sorry.” I knew I’d never get back in my apartment now, so the only thing to do was hit the road. But there are no roads in this part of the city, only streets and avenues. So I went to South Road in Central Park and hit it with my fists till my hands hurt. While I was hitting the road I kept telling myself how dumb I was for not having sent the landlord my three months’ rent, even if I didn’t have the money.