AN EFFORT: MIRROR, MIRROR

I don’t bother closing the sleeping couch as I’d only have to open it again tonight. Nevertheless, I take pride in my neatness and straighten the sheet and smooth the fading green blanket over it, turn down one corner. My small flat is definitely small but fits my needs perfectly.
There are two windows that easily slide up and down, giving me a view of the Hudson. Something is always going on out there. Once in a while the fire boats put on a display, complete with rainbow colors. I’ve witnessed ferry boats get in trouble. Watching is usually better than some idiotic TV. show.

 

I have an adequate kitchen, a counter top microwave and an old bathtub on claw feet that has a rubber hose attached for my showers and I am a happy king of my domain.

 

Assets, assets, I have assets. There are only four apartments on each of four floors in this miniature brownstone building. My haven is on floor two with an elderly, quiet woman who looks about 65 next to me on my right hand. She’s cordial and pleasant, doesn’t bother me nor do I annoy her. To my left is a stunning knock-out young woman who I wouldn’t mind bedding on my sleep couch if I had any guts at all.

 

Many nights I fantasize about up-grading my living space, going to something brighter, more modern, more opportunities. I can afford it but should I? Who do I have to impress? Nobody! It takes a moment and that stuff gets filed in a blank hole in my mind.

 

Right now I am working on a way to get my arms around Debra who is singing in her shower. Pictures of the warm water running down her back thrill me. Hesitation kills me. She and I smile to each other when by chance we meet on the stairs. Once she had a heavy bag of groceries and I carried it to her door. The load of cans felt like feathers. The ‘thank you’ and smile she gave me lit up the hall, my day.

 

I have lots of time to think about how I would run the U.S. if I were president, which far away country I would like to visit if I had company
and too often, not enough, I try to analyze my short comings, see them but can’t take a step to move on. Why am I shy with women, great with guys? I am straight, straight as William Tell’s arrow so it’s not a hidden desire to come out of the closet. I’m not in one. Ladies can be lovely. I adore them yet am tongue-tied, get nowhere.

 

Wolfe’s Tailoring Inc., where I have come up as far as I expect to go, Jr. V.P. , offers me chances for dates, for commitments. Dolly has hinted she’d like to go out with me but I turn a deaf ear. Rhoda actually suggested we get together for dinner the following week-end. I tell her I am busy. ‘How about next week?’ she asks. Not too fast with excuses, I have none . Dinner goes well. Food is excellent, better than Rhoda’s company. Seldom do I use the word ‘hot’ but do believe she is hot for me or any man in or out of his trousers. Somehow I manage to dodge her offered lips at her door, keep my pants zipped up, warmly shake her hand and tell her, ‘ I’ll see you at Wolfe’s in the morning.’

 

Back in my car, my self hatred explodes, my inadequacies torment me. I grip the steering wheel as if it were my own neck. Home is not far. It is puny, empty, yet the thought soothes me until I taste bile, bitter as vinegar. ‘Call Rhoda, Dork.’ I will, I promise myself–sometime I will.

 

From next door I hear music, put my ear against the wall. It’s Linda Ronstadt, my all time favorite singer. I can see her wanting so much ‘Someone to Watch Over Me.’ ‘It’s an omen, god. This is an omen!.’ God doesn’t answer but somehow lightning strikes me. Perhaps it's just that my pants got too tight. I take a bottle of white wine from the fridge, wrap a piece of foil around it, comb my hair, walk a few steps to knock on Debra’s door.

 

Her hair is damp, her robe somewhat revealing. ‘Feeling lonely, Debra?’ I ask.  ‘May I come in?’ ‘How did you know I’m feeling lonely tonight? Do come in. I’ve been wondering for a long time when you might try to get acquainted. ‘ She checks her robe, holds it closed, takes the Volare’ wine, we talk. 

 

 We make music together and I don’t have to go next door to my sleep couch.