*
Poor R ’s apartment is tiny and dark, on the first floor of a
brown brick building in a Mafia neighborhood. Italian rings
out around us: is it apocryphal or are stolen bicycles really
returned? R says it is true. She says she is safe here. Every
window is covered in layers of metal. It is dark, but it is the
45
real Village, not the Lower East Side. It is West. It is not piss-
covered. It is not blood-drenched.
Poor R is refined, ladylike, devoted. She cuts N ’s hair and
sews clothes for her. She makes her meals and feeds her friends.
She is repelled by the company N keeps but she is devoted
anyway, the soul of quiet devotion no matter what the provocation. She wants to be a refuge, a retreat, a nest. She makes sachets of delicate smells. She lights delicate candles to go with
dinner. She cooks delicate souffles and serves many kinds of
cheeses. She goes to auditions and gets jobs off-Broadway in
little theaters. She is small and delicate and refined. She is
quiet and kind. She is genuinely devoted. We come from the
dense torment of our storefront, immersed in the drugs,
smelling of the sex, numb from the violence, nevertheless exhilarated: and she feeds us and lets us sleep: because she is in love and devoted. She is talented, carefully dressed, not pretty,
not handsome, but each feature is distinct so that the face adds
up to an expressive one. She reads books and listens to music,
all in moderation. She loves devotedly, without moderation.
She hangs in for the long haul. She is promising to be there
forever. She wants to be there when N, weary, wants peace.
Given half a chance, she would be the one. But she has no
chance. N is bored. We eat, I leave, N pays for the meal.
*
N is easy to love, devotedly. She is very beautiful, not like a
girl. She is lean and tough. She fucks like a gang of boys. She is
smart and quiet. She doesn’t waste words. She grins from ear
to ear. She is never afraid.
*
Women pursue her. She is aloof, amused. She fucks everyone
eventually, with perfect simplicity and grace. She is a rough
fuck. She grinds her hips in. She pushes her fingers in. She
tears around inside. She is all muscle and jagged bones. She
thrusts her hips so hard you can’t remember who she is or
how many of her there are. The first time she tore me apart. I
bled and bled.
*
Women want her. So do men. She fucks everyone. It is always
easier for her to than not to. She has perfect courtesy and rare
grace. She is marvelously polite, never asking, never taking,
