Mercy

by Andrea Dworkin

  then you hear this thin thread o f something inside, and the

  words ride on it right or they don’t but if you get the words

  perfect they are ju st right on that thread, balanced just right. I

  can’t really do it though because I’m always tired and I’m

  always afraid. I shake. I can’t quiet down enough. The fear’s

  new. I w asn’t some frightened girl. I’m afraid to sit still. I’m

  afraid to be alone. I’m afraid when it’s quiet. A n y time I

  remember I’m afraid. A ny time I dream I’m afraid. A ny time I

  have to sit still alone I’m afraid. I just got this shake in me, this

  terror; it’s like the room ain’t empty except it’s hollow , worse

  than em pty, like some kind o f tunnel in hell, all dark with

  nothing, a perfect void, I’m part o f the void and the air I’m

  breathing is part o f it and the walls o f the room are the tunnel

  and I’m trapped in a nothing so damned real it’s fixed forever. I

  shake bad when I’m alone. I work on the stories barely able to

  hold the pencil in m y hand. I don’t have no dope to calm me

  down. The shake gets less if I smoke some dope, even a small

  joint. Mentally I concentrate on calming m yself down so the

  shake’s inside but I ain’t trembling so bad in m y body, I’m

  more normal. So I sit for as long as I can, writing words down

  and saying the sentences out loud to m yself and then I start

  speeding up inside with fear and there’s no reason and so I have

  to start calming m yself all over again, I concentrate on it until

  I’m sitting still, not shaking. Then he just came right inside.

  The door opened and he was in. I heard the locks unlocking—

  N ew Y ork locks, real locks, I heard the cylinders turning, but

  I didn’t grasp it, it was just a noise I couldn’t associate with

  anything, and the door opened before I could register the

  sound and he’s there, the g u y’s there, short, dark, w iry, sort o f

  bent but from rage, a kind o f twisted anger in his muscles, he’s

  tied in knots and it twists him all up and he’s raging all over the

  apartment touching things and screaming and it’s him, they

  told me he was locked up, it’s the guy, paranoid schizophrenic

  they said, a very smart guy they said, but out o f control,

  locked up, smart they said, a very smart guy but really fucked

  up in the head, hears things, sees things, paranoid, has

  delusions, and the landlady’s not here and no one’s here to

  calm him down who knows him or to say who I am and he’s

  screaming and I am saying who I am and saying the names o f

  the landlady and his neighbors and saying, oh, they didn’t

  know he’d be back, and I was just here for this second, a few

  hours, a day, and I was just leaving, just now, and he’s

  screaming and he’s hitting the table and he’s suddenly silent

  and staring and he’s between me and m y stuff and I say I’ll be

  back for it and he shouldn’t w orry and it’s all okay and o f

  course it’s his place and I haven’t touched a thing, and I’m

  trying to get m y coat but he’s in the w ay and he’s between me

  and m y laundry bags, and me and m y papers, and I grab the

  coat in a fast ju m p and swoop and I say the landlady will come

  back for m y stuff or he can put it outside and he’s standing

  there rigid and I run, I have the coat, I keep talking, I get out,

  out o f the apartment, out o f the building, down the steps in the

  hall, down the stoop, out, and I’ve got the keys to m y old

  friend’s apartment, m y old peace friend, for the sofa outside

  the kitchen and she got me the loony’s room and she said to

  come back anytime so I turn to her, I’m pretty scared and I’m

  shaking and I’m running and I don’t know if he’s calling the

  police because there’s no one in the building to say who I am or

  that they said I could stay there and I’m running to m y old

  friend’s place and it’s a bitter cold night with the wind at about

  fifteen miles an hour, under zero, the streets are deserted, they

  are bare, and I think well okay, I’m safe, I got out, anybody’d

  be shaking, I took everyone’s word that he wouldn’t be back

  without enough warning, I relaxed, I took things out o f my

  laundry bags, I was there a couple o f months nearly, I mean, I

  never completely relax and I never completely unpack; and I

  w asn’t asleep, thank God, but now I have to figure out where

  to go, and I run to m y old friend’s apartment and I have the

  keys in m y hand but I knock first because maybe she is there

  and she is inside and she asks who it is and I say I am me and I

  say what happened, that the guy came back, showed up,

  opened the door, was in, and I ran and I need a place to sleep

  tonight and it’s, ah, freezing out there, and she says there’s

  someone with her and she doesn’t want me to come in because

  he’s with her and I say okay, fine, yeah, it’s fine, yeah, it’s

  okay, yeah, okay, because you don’t press yourself on

  someone even if they told you always to come to them and

  they gave you keys, they have freedom and if they say no then

  you ain’t wanted there, and I think about saying to her you

  have to do this because I have nowhere to go and nothing and I

  will die out there, this ain’t no joke, tonight’s a dying night,

  but you can’t push yourself on someone and I figure she

  knows that anyway and you can’t count on no one, they will

  let you die and that’s just the truth, and she don’t even open the

  door to see my face or pass me money, she keeps it locked and I

  hear her fasten the chain, and I’m in the hall o f her building and

  I think I can go to Jill’s art opening, it’s all I can think of, a bar’s

  more uncertain, more dangerous, and I can spend at least a few

  hours there inside and there’s people there I know and I can

  find a place to sleep maybe on someone’s floor, I don’t want to

  fuck anyone, I just know I don’t, but maybe I can find

  somewhere, I only got a couple o f dollars and it don’t last long

  and you can’t stay warm through a whole night on it and I

  don’t know anything past I have to find a place to sleep tonight

  and get out o f the cold and I will w orry about the rest

  tom orrow, where to go and what to do, I will think about it

  tom orrow, and I say to m yself that I ain’t scared and so what

  and this is nothing, absolutely nothing, piece o f cake, no

  problem, I’ll just go and have a drink or something at the

  opening and I’ll ask around and the art opening will last maybe

  until two a. m., and then there’s only four hours or maybe five

  until dawn, five really, and I can do that; I can do it; if I think

  four hours I can do it and then after it’s only a little more time

  and there’ll be light; I can do it; it ain’t new and I can do it; and

  probably I can find somewhere to sleep and if I have to fuck I

  will but I don’t want to but so what if I do but I w on ’t; I can last

  through tonight. I’m walking in the wind, it’s like swim m ing

  in the ocean against a
deep and deadly tide, I’m walking down

  to Soho, the streets are bare and the wind is cruel, just fucking

  brutal cruel, I get about half a block at a time and I try to find a

  doorw ay, warm up, walk as much more as I can stand, the

  wind just freezes you, your chest, your blood, your bones; it

  fucking hurts; it ain’t some moderate pain, it’s desperate like

  some anguish possessing you. Soho’s industrial lofts and.

  galleries and a couple o f bars, there’s long streets with

  nowhere to go, it’s as if the doorw ays disappeared because the

  buildings are industrial buildings and there’s elevators you

  have to use to get inside, not normal doors, the painters living

  there are illegal and there’s no shops or stores to step into and

  Jill’s gallery is w ay downtown, near Canal Street, a long walk,

  and the cold’s hurting me and I’m afraid. M y mind is rocking

  back and forth from I can find someone and if I have to I’ll fuck

  them even no matter what and I can make it from two to six if I

  have to, I can. There’s no bums out, there’s no whores,

  everyone’s folded inside some crease somewhere and anyone

  who ain’t might not live until morning; there’s nights like that;

  and I get there and I take the warehouse elevator up and it’s

  white, it’s a huge warehouse room painted a glossy white and

  there’s all these people dressed in real clothes, you know,

  outfits, for style, and the w om en’s all acting nice and flirty

  with the men and it’s warm and the men’s all acting smart and

  polite and civilized and there’s wine, white wine, and there's

  Stoli and bourbon and ice, and there’s cheese and some little

  pieces o f food, some little sandwiches, tender little things you

  can eat in one bite, yo u ’d be hard pressed to take two, you

  know those funny little sandwiches that are always wet and

  sort o f wilted, and the room ’s so shiny and white and big the

  people almost disappear in it, the ceiling’s so high you feel like

  a little ant, and it seems the people are sparse though there’s a

  lot o f them, they don’t look like the wind got to them but

  rather they’re all polished up, all shined, and there’s paintings

  on the walls, Jill’s paintings, and in the middle o f the room

  there’s Jill but she’s not looking all polished up, she’s sort o f

  gray and miserable, and I say hi and I congratulate her and

  she’s mad and sad and I say well it’s a big deal, really, and your

  nerves are bound to get frayed, aren’t they, and she gets darker

  and stranger, and Paul comes over, and she glowers, and he

  says some pleasant things, and she and he seem to agree that

  the paintings are on the wall and the people are in the room,

  and there’s a certain amount o f tension over this, and Paul’s

  saying normal things like hey have something to drink and

  there’s food, take some, or have some, and I’m saying the sort

  o f foolish things people say about paintings, aren’t they

  strong, aren’t they interesting, haven’t they grown, don’t they

  dominate the room, and it works kind o f like Valium because

  Jill evens out and there’s a small smile out o f one side o f her

  mouth at least and I think I should just walk around and see

  about finding someone I can ask for a place to sleep, and I walk

  around, and I have one drink to warm up because I can’t drink

  because I don’t know what the rest o f the night will be and

  relaxing isn’t in the picture until there’s shelter and I have a wet

  sandwich and I chat with this woman and this man and they’re

  mostly painters and they really all want to say something

  about the relationship, Paul and Jill, not the paintings, so

  there’s this catty, gossipy quality to everything and also it’s all

  secretive because no one wants to be accidentally overheard by

  Jill or Paul and while Jill is staying one place, dead center in the

  room, just standing there by a particularly big painting, Paul is

  all over, behind people, in conversations, introducing people,

  the real host, the scout leader; and he chats with me awhile too.

  But I’m scared, because I know this will end and real life will

  come back. I know the trick’s not to look desperate. I know

  the trick’s to seem as if there’s nothing wrong; w hy the hell do

  you need to sleep on someone’s floor if nothing’s wrong? I

  can’t think o f any plausible reason but I figure it’s not rational

  as such, you know, reasons, it’s attitude, you have to have a

  kind o f calm as if it’s just normal so no one thinks they’ll have to

  give you anything; or care for you. So I make m yself steady

  and I think this is normal and I ain’t so scared as actually I am

  and I think well Jill knows everyone here and she’s m y friend

  so I’ll ask her and I take her aside, meaning just a little o ff her

  mark, and I say I need a place to sleep and is there anyone here

  who might put me up ju st for one night, and she says she’ll

  think about it, and I smile and act as if it’s okay one w ay or

  another and I drift o ff and more time passes, and I’m drinking

  soda and thinking, every second thinking, m y heart beating

  too fast in fear, but outside I’m calm and simple, and Jill comes

  up and says, listen, I’m going home with Paul so w hy don’t

  you stay at m y loft, and I say that’s great, because it is, and I am

  fucking happy, I think even it will be nice, it’s a big place, it’s

  sort o f dark but it’s fine, you know, with a bed on a kind o f

  platform, a mattress really, and it’s really nice, you know, so

  I’m at ease, I mean I am really happy, and I pour m yself a stiff

  drink, a real fine drink, and I’m chatting aw ay like a real

  person, you know, I can’t emphasize enough how m y heart

  slows down and how m y blood stops racing and how inside

  m y head calms down and I’m just a person, not so shiny as the

  others but not scared no more, more like a happy girl o f the

  regular kind, and then, once the adrenaline has subsided

  altogether, I feel how tired I am, I feel how it’s worn me out, I

  feel how cold I got and how I’m just dragged out and

  enervated, weary, and it’s midnight by now , I been at the

  opening a long time, and I think it’s decent to leave, so I go to

  Jill, and she and Paul are holding hands and they are looking

  happy and I am glad there’s a truce and I ask if I could go to her

  loft now , and she’s upset or confused or something, and m y

  heart sinks, but he says, look, I’m going to stay at Jill’s loft

  with her, it’s ju st easier, so w hy don’t you go to m y place, it’s

  empty, there’s no problem, I’ll give you the keys, okay? I say

  things like I don’t want to put you out and arc you sure it’s

  okay and he says what is obvious, I ain’t putting him out

  because it’s a big night for Jill and he’s staying with her at her

  place because it’s ju st better for her that w ay; and I say fine; and

  everyone says fine; and he’s going to give me the keys and

  directions because I’m not su
re where it is from here and I’m

  waiting for him to come tell me these things, he said he’d write

  them down, and fatigue is dragging me down, and I get my

  coat and he comes and says hell I’ll just walk you there, it’s no

  big deal, Jill’s going to be here for a couple o f hours yet, I’ll

  walk you and come back, it’s just a few blocks away; and I was

  glad because I didn’t want to get lost and I don’t know it

  around here so good and it’s late and the streets are a little scary

  down here, it’s not a regular neighborhood, and the wind has

  made the streets bare and menacing as if it’s blowing dark

  shadows in your face to smother you, and we go out, and it’s

  colder than before, you are turned half to ice and the streets are

  empty, just this naked cement with tides o f wind sweeping

  over it like a sandstorm in the desert, and he says shit let’s get a

  drink, and we step into a bar, we fucking dive into it, grateful

  it’s there, and w e’re at the bar and I’m drinking my Stoli

  straight up and I don’t have no money and I say so because I’m

  planning to pay half because that’s fair and also I don’t want

  wrong ideas communicated or to take advantage because he’s

  a famous painter and he’s saying shit it doesn’t matter, it’s so

  fucking cold we w on’t make it if we don’t take care o f

  ourselves, and we talk about Hem ingway or something, and

  we take o ff again, and we get a little further and there’s another

  bar and we dive in, grateful, and we sit at the bar and there’s

  another Stoli in front o f me and w e’re talking about some actor

  he knows w h o ’s shooting cocaine and he’s saying it’s a tragedy

  and I’m thinking yeah it is; and I’m saying Jill will w orry and

  he’s saying there’s plenty o f time and I’m saying we should

  just brave it and walk to his place and he’s saying it’s Jill’s

  opening and she’s the center o f attention and that’s how it

  should be and it’s good for her, she needs to stand more on her

  own, and he’s proud o f her, and it’ll be fine, and there’s

  another Stoli and another and another bar and another and he’s