Appreciation At The Door
(Published in Bomb Magazine, 2003)

Mike, his wife June, and child moved into a loft next to Richard. Richard and Mike were friends from art school – they both painted. They were on both sides of thirty, Richard being after.

Three years of sharing this place – even though there was each a separate entrance and a door in between. Mike had had it. You see, Richard was the complete alcoholic, his cigarettes and drinks were on the same schedule. And he smoked more than two packs a day. He would sleep with a drink next to his bed. In the morning, he would have to drink through a straw because of the shakes. Then there was pot. He sold pounds, held pounds, smoked continually. There were as many pot roaches as the New York kind. He also bought scales to weigh pot. To buy these kinds of scales you have to give up your identity to the government. He did that because the Massachusetts guy asked him to. In turn, the Mass guy would be very liberal with Richard, hence the pounds. Richard was from Texas, just ask him. He also took karate some time in the past. Kung Foo – snake style – he would give a demo any time of day. He often would show Mike how he would kick his ass when the time came. Mike took note. Richard was weak with booze the smell around him was of gin, pot, b.o., cigs and beer and oil paint. A sweet sickly mix. He tortured mike, by reminding him how unstable and illegal his living situation was. Mike’s side had baby beds, clean dishes, sometimes flowers, and yellow curtains. Richard’s was sticky. The dishes had mold. Stale half eaten catsup sandwiches and a full length mirror that made everyone look a lot taller and prettier.

There was no door on the bathroom or toilet . And a mirror rigged to reflect the toilet from the kitchen. The bath was in the open. He somehow got intimacy mixed with private bathroom and toilet business. Mike wanted out. Even though his cheap rent. Although he didn’t like his cold wife much, he loved his baby and liked having a family. And wanted a safer home for them. Mike did get a small art studio outside of the house. He didn’t go till after the dishes. He took care of his kid during the day. Eight or nine he would take off.

Richard always thought that Mike’s wife was a dish. Maybe you got the best piece of ass, Richard would say. And would take the opportunity to loose his keys when mike was gone. Same story each time. June this is Richard, I’m drunk and I lost my keys, can you let me in. This made her uncomfortable. He never lost his keys when Mike was at home. Mike told June not to let him in. Fuck him, Mike said. So next time, it was sorry Richard, I’m not coming down. Richard found his keys and shortly was at the door that separated the apartments – calling her a cunt, a bitch and a whore. Mike came home a few hours later and was told this. He walked straight into Richard’s side. Richard was naked, some coke whore was there also. Mike you better leave – Richard warned. Mike walked slowly toward him – Richard you are a lush and a phony. Then Richard started his Kung Foo show complete with sideways walking, fancy hand movements and not looking Mike straight in the eye to psyche mike out. Mike lunged to grab Richard by his long hair. Slammed him face down to the dirty floor. Sitting on his back, Mike held Richard’s face up by his hair. Pounded the right side of his face. Mike pulled Richard’s hair hard and asked a question, “are you gonna whip my ass now, Richard?” Pow, to the side of his face again. Then bounced his face on the floor, pulling it hard back up. “Are you gonna use karate on me Richard?” Pop, pop to the face, slammed Richard’s face down again, then the coke whore jumped over Richard’s head. Screaming and naked. Mike couldn’t reach Richard’s face so he pounded him in the kidneys. Angrily, he tried to reach around her to hit his face again but hit the floor instead. This broke his hand. He left back through the door.

That separated heaven from hell. All kinds of shit hit that door. Words, objects, threats, Then the police came through it. They could see the bitter contrast, they could also see the bottles, the crack vials and the stench. They saw Mike’s baby and his toys. But Mike did walk into Richard’s home and beat him up, so they were going to arrest him. They started to hand-cuff him when mike said, so Richard could hear him through the open door, “Hey Richard”, as the police clamped down the cuffs, “when I get downtown I’m going to tell them about how you buy scales for that guy in Massachusetts. And how he fronts you pounds.” The police started out with Mike when Richard had a sudden change of heart. Instantly, he told the police that he wouldn’t press charges after all.

The police let Mike off. His broken hand was swelling up. It was quite now and Mike felt it was safe to go and get it fixed. In the morning he comes home proudly with a cast and June greets him at the door with “I wish you hadn’t have done that.

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