An Experiment in Perspective
This one’s a winner. It’s little girls like this that keep me from becoming cynical about the world. Jessica’s not like Leroy. If I had raised Leroy, maybe he would have been a better boy, not freeloading off me at thirty years old with no job and taking drugs and losing his money and always mumbling vicious things with never a word of thanks. I should kick him out. No, she’s not like Leroy. Jessica can sit still. Look how intently she concentrates on the page, determined to hunt out the right answers. She’s not embarrassed to still be sitting at school, doing homework with a little old lady. She doesn’t really need me. Not with that kind of drive. And such a cutie! I’d love to pick her up and hug her good before she leaves. They said we shouldn’t touch the children more than necessary. They talked about lawsuits and protective parents, but I’m not worried. I know a good hug can communicate things that words never will. "Ah, there you are. All done. See? You hardly needed my help at all. Let’s have a hug before you go." I pick her up and squeeze her good, and then I kiss her forehead.
She picks me up to give me a hug and she kisses my forehead. I like Loretta. She smells like flowers and smiles a lot. Now it’s "Run along home now, Jessica. Good job!" and I’m out the door and I skip down the street. I don’t mind homework so much. It’s fun with Loretta. She always brings me candy. And maybe if I get smart, I can help my momma so she doesn’t always worry about things so much. Sometimes the other kids at school don’t let me play with them, but Loretta said that that happened to her too when she was little. I didn’t think Loretta could jump or skip rope, but maybe she could when she was little. And if kids didn’t let a nice person like her play, then kids are just dumb. But now I have to pull on the door to the hallway that goes to where we live. It’s always stuck. I have to pull hard, then "POP!" it comes unstuck and I’m inside. I see our door is open, and then there’s momma standing by the table in her tank top and shorts. She looks up and smiles. I run to her and I grab her legs like they are poles on the playground.
Oh! She’s got my legs! "And what are we so happy about today, Jessica? Usually you head straight to your room!" She doesn’t know, she says, and she flits away like a little bird to nest in her room and play tea party with her animals. I wonder what she’s so happy about. Maybe it’s the potluck tomorrow, I know she likes to play with that little Anderson girl. She’s probably looking forward to that. And speaking of the potluck, I need to go pick up some chips and drinks at the store. It’s a good thing I remembered. I think they close in a few minutes. Where are my keys? Ah. There they are. I’d better lock the door on the way out, since Jessica’s in there by herself. She’ll be fine for a few minutes. The door leading outside from the apartment building is stuck in its frame as usual, and I have to lean into it before it will pop open. It’s nice to have the little corner store so close to our apartment. The prices are higher than the supermarket, but I like that I don’t have to drive to get there. Of course, the employees there are often either surly or don’t speak much English. It’s the price you have to pay, I guess. I see the cashier through the glass now. He’s wiping off the countertop with a towel. There’s the familiar "tink-a-link" of the bells on the door as I open it. I just have to find some chips and soda. I see someone has made a waist-high pyramid out of soda cans. I suppose that’s the sort of thing you do when you have a long shift in a convenience store. I’ll just take a few of those, and then where are the chips? Ah, there they are. A crash! Oh my! Soda cans rolling everywhere! I’ve knocked over the pyramid! "I’m so sorry!" The cashier looks irritated, but says it’s all right. This is so embarrassing. Let me just get these chips and get out of here. He rings me up, but I’m a dollar short. I have to dig through my pockets for change. He taps impatiently on the counter, his lips pursed tight. "Sorry . . . I know I’ve got another quarter somewhere . . . There it is! Found it!" He reaches out, and my knuckles touch the warmth of his palm as I drop the change in his hand.
She has cold hands. I get tired of touching so many hands. I hate my job - so many stupid people always making messes and asking dumb questions and complaining about things. She’s out the door now. I get tired of that stupid tinkling bell, too. I’ve had enough. If I have to pick up those cans, I’m going to close the store a couple minutes early. No stupid customer is going to put me behind schedule today. I go over the door and turn the sign from "open" to "closed". But here comes that guy with the dreadlocks. Ugh! What a filth-bag! "No, sorry, we’re closed now. Go buy your cigarettes someplace else." But he has his hand on the doorframe. That’s it. I’m gonna close this door. I pry his stupid fingers off the frame and shove him back into the sidewalk, locking the door between us.
The clerk yanks my fingers off the door and pushes me backwards away from the door. He shoved me! I’ll kill him! He can’t do that! There’s still two minutes! I’ll kill him! "Ahhh!" I pound the glass. I’ll find out where he lives. Stupid cashier boy! I’ll go to his house and wait for him and tie him up and beat him for hours. I’ll teach him to treat me like that. But I have to have a cigarette. There’s a liquor store around the corner that sells them. They are more expensive there, of course. Stupid cashier boy. I stump around the corner. Next person that messes with me today is gonna die. Right there. I’ll kill them with my own hands on the spot. But what’s this? My my my. Look at that piece of work, in those tight little shorts. Mmmmm-mmm. Here she comes. I think she’s coming close enough. Just keep walking, and when she passes by, just reach over for a little . . . pinch!
"Ah!" That guy just pinched my thigh! I turn, but he’s already well out of slapping range, chuckling and talking to himself. How dare he?! I’d yell something after him, but I want him to keep going. He’s so creepy looking he makes me shudder. If Bill were here, he’d have that guy flat on the ground in seconds. But Bill is waiting for me at the dance club down the street. I walk on at a faster pace. My boyfriend is a big guy, and I feel safe when I am with him. He’s usually quiet, but he can get pretty angry for my sake. He’s probably been waiting for me at the club for at least twenty minutes. I like to show up a bit late for our dates, just to assert myself a little. I know that no matter what I do or how I act, he’ll treat me like royalty. That’s why I like him. I can get him to do just about anything if I ask right. Here’s the club, and there’s Bill, leaning against a wall inside the door, looking a little uncomfortable. His eyes light up as I come in. He suggests we sit for a quick drink before we dance, and I agree. As we sit, he asks me about my day, and I talk about work and about the people I like and about the people that annoy me. But what’s this? The guy with the dreadlocks who pinched me has entered the club, and is moving towards the bar. I break off my sentence: "Hey, see that guy?" Bill looks, "the guy with the dreadlocks?" I nod. "Yeah, him. I walked past him outside a minute ago on my way here, and he touched my thigh." Bill’s face is reddening. "Why that little . . . I’d go flatten him but I don’t want to make a scene." I bite my lip to hide a smile, "I was so humiliated, Bill. There was nothing I could do! I know you don’t want to make a scene, but I’m afraid of him, and I would feel better if he were gone." Bill still looks reluctant, so I lean over and nibble on his ear.
She nibbles my ear, and it gives me chills. She whispers faintly, "Please?" I can feel the heat of her breath on my neck. I was already pretty close to decking the guy, but that extra inspiration is enough to make me actually go do it. I get up and walk towards him. I’ll teach him to touch my girl. "I’ll teach you to touch my girl!" I shout. His eyes widen, and he takes a faltering step backwards, but before he can react further, I hit him in the jaw hard enough to knock him across the room.
"Umn!" This huge guy hits me, and the room spins around. A wall smashes into me and then the floor comes up and hits me too. I shake my head and look up. The guy is glaring down at me from several feet away. I’ll kill him for that. What did he mean by "his girl"? I look behind him, and there’s the girl with the shorts. She’s got her mouth covered, laughing at me. Maybe I’ll tie him up first. I’ll rape the girl and kill her right in front of him. Then I’ll kill him. I think he sees it in my eyes, though. He’s coming this way again. He looks like he really means to beat me up, now. I shouldn’t have looked at the girl like that. I better get out of here while I can. I’ll get revenge later. I scamper towards the door, and as I duck out, he shouts after me: "If I ever see you again, you die, punk!" I trot towards home. My tooth is loose where that guy hit me. I have a list in my head of everyone who has ever been mean to me, and all of them are gonna die in painful ways. It’s about time I got started. I’m gonna start tonight, in fact. I’m gonna kill someone tonight. It’s time for me to be the one that hurts someone, instead of being the one that gets hurt. I arrive at home and throw open the front door. My step-mom is sitting in a chair watching TV. Ever since my dad died, she thinks she has the run of the house. I’ll teach her who’s in charge here. Yeah, I’ll teach her good. Just come up behind her. She won’t expect a thing. She doesn’t love me. She thinks I’m trash. I’ll show her a thing or two. Just sneak up real slow-like. Reach out towards her neck . . . and . . . grab!
No! What?! Who?! Someone is choking me! I thrash and kick, and then we’re off the chair and on the floor. He’s on top of me, strangling me. It’s Leroy! He must have finally completely fried his brain on those drugs. I claw at his arms and try to claw at his face, but I can’t reach. My vision is narrowing. I can hear my feet pounding the floorboards as I try to dislodge him. There’s a pressure behind my eyes, and my vision is almost gone. Blackness closes in. I feel like I’m sinking, and my weak movements seem distant from me, like they are happening to someone else far away. I feel detached from the situation. I must be dying. I can’t fathom why, but as consciousness fades, I suddenly think of my tutoring charge, Jessica. Although I can’t imagine what it is, there is just something about all this that feels very ironic.
-J.R. Willett
