computer course. The house had a backyard … They told me no. I was denied.
“Do you know that they are paying $1,900 every month for me to stay here? Sixty-three dollars every night. So for two nights you’d have the $95 right there. I told my social worker that. I said it don’t make sense and he agreed with me but he is not the one that made the rules; and he was right.
“Next Tuesday is my birthday. I’m just praying God that somebody will offer me a home. Just go to some kind of real estate or broker and explain myself. Even if I have to start a little crying. Somebody will think: ‘This family isn’t going to destroy my place. They are nice people.’ And he’ll offer me a lease.”
At first I think she means this is her daydream. But it turns out that this really is her plan. “I’m planning to wear my pleated skirt, my white blouse, my navy jacket and—I won’t wear heels. I’ll wear these shoes.” She shows me flat, plain shoes that have a Saks Fifth Avenue label. “I have had these shoes for thirteen years. I take good care of things. My mother got them on a sale for me when I was a teenager.”
Under the pillow she is leaning on there is a pack of Newport cigarettes. She smokes continually while we talk; and even though she knows it makes her asthma worse, she tells me that she cannot get herself to stop. She says it cuts her hunger.
“Last night I had a dream of an apartment. It was so real I keep on thinking that I went there in my sleep. My daughter had her own room, pink and white with something up over the bed. A
canopy
is what it’s called, I think … The boys, they had to share a room. I painted that room blue; there was a spread over the bed that Doby slept in. It had football pictures on it. My kitchen had a phone, a stove, refrigerator, toaster, all of those nice things. My dining-room table was glass and it was simple, plain and clean. In my living room I had a pretty couch and lots of books, a big bookshelf, and there were plants beside the window, and the floor was what I call a
parquet
floor and it was waxed. My bedroom had a nice brass bed, a lot of books there too, and pillows covered with fresh linens, and the drapes were nice bright colors. Yellow. Like the linens. And the neighborhood was clean. The neighborhood was nice. The neighbors liked me. And the landlord liked me too. He said that we could use the backyard, so we bought a grill to barbecue outside on summer nights. Then I woke up. And all my dreams, all my wishing, it went down the drain. It was a dream.
“Four years ago I used to be the happiest girl you’d ever see. You’d see me smiling. I’m not happy anymore. Four years of my life went down the drain. Four years are gone. I lost it. [Cries.] Things inside of me, not things that you could see.
Inside
things, I lost it. I don’t have it in my
inside
anymore.
“Yesterday I had to be at welfare. A lady came in with a little baby. She was sitting there all day. All she asked was for a place to take her baby so that they could sleep.They’re probably still sitting there right now—or at the EAU. A tiny baby. All day long I look at them. I sit there and I shake my head. I’m thinking: Years ago they built those projects and this lady and her baby, they would have been put into a nice apartment in those projects. Do they build those places now? I read in the paper they are building something called mixed-income housing, and I studied it real close and what it said is that it’s for the moderate, the middle, and the poor. They gave an income, an amount of money, for ‘the middle’ and ‘the moderate’ and another for ‘the poor.’ The poor were people who had $15,000. I said to myself: That isn’t poor. That isn’t no way near where I am at. What good will that do for somebody like me? If they’d just fix up some of these places, boarded buildings, they’re all over—they are
every
place you go in New York City—I would love it. It don’t need
“Do you know that they are paying $1,900 every month for me to stay here? Sixty-three dollars every night. So for two nights you’d have the $95 right there. I told my social worker that. I said it don’t make sense and he agreed with me but he is not the one that made the rules; and he was right.
“Next Tuesday is my birthday. I’m just praying God that somebody will offer me a home. Just go to some kind of real estate or broker and explain myself. Even if I have to start a little crying. Somebody will think: ‘This family isn’t going to destroy my place. They are nice people.’ And he’ll offer me a lease.”
At first I think she means this is her daydream. But it turns out that this really is her plan. “I’m planning to wear my pleated skirt, my white blouse, my navy jacket and—I won’t wear heels. I’ll wear these shoes.” She shows me flat, plain shoes that have a Saks Fifth Avenue label. “I have had these shoes for thirteen years. I take good care of things. My mother got them on a sale for me when I was a teenager.”
Under the pillow she is leaning on there is a pack of Newport cigarettes. She smokes continually while we talk; and even though she knows it makes her asthma worse, she tells me that she cannot get herself to stop. She says it cuts her hunger.
“Last night I had a dream of an apartment. It was so real I keep on thinking that I went there in my sleep. My daughter had her own room, pink and white with something up over the bed. A
canopy
is what it’s called, I think … The boys, they had to share a room. I painted that room blue; there was a spread over the bed that Doby slept in. It had football pictures on it. My kitchen had a phone, a stove, refrigerator, toaster, all of those nice things. My dining-room table was glass and it was simple, plain and clean. In my living room I had a pretty couch and lots of books, a big bookshelf, and there were plants beside the window, and the floor was what I call a
parquet
floor and it was waxed. My bedroom had a nice brass bed, a lot of books there too, and pillows covered with fresh linens, and the drapes were nice bright colors. Yellow. Like the linens. And the neighborhood was clean. The neighborhood was nice. The neighbors liked me. And the landlord liked me too. He said that we could use the backyard, so we bought a grill to barbecue outside on summer nights. Then I woke up. And all my dreams, all my wishing, it went down the drain. It was a dream.
“Four years ago I used to be the happiest girl you’d ever see. You’d see me smiling. I’m not happy anymore. Four years of my life went down the drain. Four years are gone. I lost it. [Cries.] Things inside of me, not things that you could see.
Inside
things, I lost it. I don’t have it in my
inside
anymore.
“Yesterday I had to be at welfare. A lady came in with a little baby. She was sitting there all day. All she asked was for a place to take her baby so that they could sleep.They’re probably still sitting there right now—or at the EAU. A tiny baby. All day long I look at them. I sit there and I shake my head. I’m thinking: Years ago they built those projects and this lady and her baby, they would have been put into a nice apartment in those projects. Do they build those places now? I read in the paper they are building something called mixed-income housing, and I studied it real close and what it said is that it’s for the moderate, the middle, and the poor. They gave an income, an amount of money, for ‘the middle’ and ‘the moderate’ and another for ‘the poor.’ The poor were people who had $15,000. I said to myself: That isn’t poor. That isn’t no way near where I am at. What good will that do for somebody like me? If they’d just fix up some of these places, boarded buildings, they’re all over—they are
every
place you go in New York City—I would love it. It don’t need
Similar Books
