Read Online Love and Will by Stephen Dixon - Free Book Online Page B

“I’ll take care of our car, you take care of him.” He leaves. The second policeman says “Why you do these things we don’t know. You’ve a nice place. Nice and neat. Plenty of room. It’s a good building. Your landlord seems like a nice enough guy. It’s a nice street and good neighborhood. You’re lucky to live here, believe me, and from what I hear, you’re getting it cheap. So no more fuss now, please.” He leaves. I go to the window. The bus is gone. The police car’s backing into a parking spot. The policeman who just left my place taps the police car’s roof. The car stops. He gets inside. The car drives out of the spot and goes through the red light. Several people across the street have come to their windows. Some are looking at me. I smile at the woman sitting on the window seat. She lets down her Venetian blinds and flicks them shut. I drink water from the kitchen tap. I let the water run to get cold. Grace calls. Grace called. I see water trickling out of the kitchen. In the kitchen I see I’ve caused a small flood. I shut the water off. The fire department comes. They drag a hose through my place. The fire chief says to these men “No need.” He says to me “For the safety of all your neighbors, you ought to be locked up.” They leave. I get the mop from outside the window. Someone knocks. I mop. The landlord says “This is your landlord, Mr. Lingley, open up.” I mop. He says “I said open up.” I open the door. He says “I’ve called the police and department of buildings and mayor’s office. If you aren’t out by tomorrow morning I’ll be very much surprised.” He leaves. I lock the door. He says from the stairway “Remember what I said last time about your paying next month’s rent? Don’t.” Grace calls. I drink a glass of beer. I hang the mop over the bathtub. I cut my hair. Grace calls. I run in place. I eat a celery stick. I hear music. I go to the window. A street band’s passing. I haven’t seen one in years. I throw a ball of aluminum foil at it. The flutist salutes me. He opens the foil and shakes his flute at me. I forgot to put money in the foil. I throw two quarters at him. Both coins roll under a parked car. The banjoist says “Thank you, thanks a lot.” The violinist hands his violin to the base player and gets down on his knees to retrieve the coins. A car drives by and nearly sideswipes him. The trumpeter blasts his horn at the car. The car honks back repeatedly and makes a turn at the corner. The band resumes playing and walks to the end of the block. I’m leaning out the window to watch them and nearly fall off the ledge. The landlord says from the sidewalk “Don’t tell me. You’re going to jump. That’ll save you the trouble of appearing in court. But jump from someone else’s building, as what I don’t need now is my insurance rates going up.” I climb back inside and slam the window down. It’s the window I threw the pot through and it completely shatters from the impact and the glass crashes below. The landlord says “That’s it. Out you go today.” He runs into the building. I make supper. Police come. I go into the bedroom and eat and drink. Police knock. I lock the bedroom door and try to nap. A policeman yells “Come on now, sir, you’ve got to unlock.” I throw my hairbrush and shoes through the bedroom windows. The landlord yells “Break down the door before he destroys my house.” I set fire to my bed and toss the chair and lamps into the flames. Grace calls. The police are banging on the bedroom door. Grace calls. The fire department comes. They enter through the bedroom window this time. They put out the fire on my clothes. They put out the fire in the room. I’m put on a stretcher. Grace calls. I’m carried downstairs. In the street I look up at the window