Raleigh
Yesterday morning I poured boiling water onto my left foot. I was making coffee and looking out the window at the guy in the next-door apartment, who was wearing a cowboy hat. Of course I stopped pouring once I’d burned myself. As the skin peeled off, I wondered when this string of bad luck might end.
February 19, 1982
Raleigh
Someone has drawn a swastika on the outer wall of Mrs. Ewing’s back porch and written beneath it IMMORTALITY.
“Ain’t that just about the silliest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?” she said when I pointed it out. “We ain’t Nazis here, and you know that’s a Nazi sign.” She laughed. “We ain’t Nazis and we ain’t Communists neither.”
After she left for work, I went looking for the door to her hot-water heater and found a magazine called Players’ Exchange. It’s for black swingers and is arranged by state. There were only two North Carolina swingers listed. One was a submissive lesbian who wrote that she was potty-trained and ready to travel.
I’m assuming the magazine belongs to Mrs. Ewing’s son, the one who was in Vietnam and lives with her.
February 28, 1982
Raleigh
I went to the movies last night with Sally and Lyn’s friend Mitch, who is gay and cute and wore a pink sweater. He lives in Atlanta. On his little finger was a ring with jewels in it. As the movie started, he emptied half his popcorn bucket into my lap, saying, “Here, David, have some.”
It wasn’t an accident, but I wasn’t sure how hard to laugh. I don’t know how to react to Mitch.
March 11, 1982
Raleigh
Mrs. Ewing has an unplugged freezer on her back porch. She opened the door of it yesterday, and after gagging at the horrible smell that came out of it, she saw a tail and screamed. I covered my face and discovered that the tail was attached to a squirrel, a rotting one in a paper bag.
Mrs. Ewing covered her mouth as well and told me that she’s afraid of squirrels. When she sees them in her yard, she runs. “How did that thing get into my freezer?” she asked. “And in a bag!”
Her son Chester, who was in Vietnam and has nerve trouble, stepped out to complain about the odor and told his mother that he’d put the squirrel in the freezer, thinking she might want to cook it. Then he returned to his room and shut the door—didn’t even help clean up the mess.
“I ain’t never cooked a squirrel in my life,” Mrs. Ewing said after he’d gone. “Wouldn’t know how to, wouldn’t want to.”
We have painted her bedroom Pink Whisper with brown trim—her idea. The dining room is a shade called Zest.
March 15, 1982
Raleigh
I worked late and the Kerwins invited me to join them for dinner. I said that I couldn’t because I had Greek class—a lie, but I don’t know them well enough to eat with them. I should have said yes because I’m broke until Thursday and wound up having Cream of Wheat for dinner.
March 17, 1982
Raleigh
Dad called last night to ask if I wanted to go to Greece with him, Lisa, and Paul. He’s paying for the plane tickets and hotels, so of course I said yes—how could I not? They’re all going for two weeks, but I think I’ll stay longer. I figure I’ll need at least $600. I’ll also need to make accommodations for Neil, who’s mine now, completely.
March 25, 1982
Raleigh
Yesterday was Dougie’s birthday, and he wore a cap with a Confederate flag on it to work. Here we are in a black neighborhood, already unwelcome. I don’t get it. I’m surprised to learn that he’s only twenty-two, not because he looks so young but because he has a three-year-old daughter who’s in his ex-wife’s custody. I’d been told he married a wealthy woman for her money, which is hard to believe because he’s such an ugly guy.
To celebrate his birthday, Dougie went with Bobby and Tommy to a club called the Switch. They must have gotten really loaded, as the only one who came in today was Bobby, and he didn’t show up until noon. There was a lump on his head, and he said that he got it when two bouncers took his watch and threw him out. He didn’t seem angry about it, just resigned.
April 2, 1982
Raleigh
This morning a female sheriff walked through my front door without knocking. I went into the kitchen, and after I identified myself, she apologized. She was looking for apartment number 6. I was glad to point it out to her. I hope she takes those two and locks them up.
I received another ultimatum from the phone company. They demanded $60, so I went down this afternoon and gave them $30. While in line I saw Lloyd D. He was a tenant of Mom and Dad’s who moved out, owing them $600 in back rent. I ran into him twice after he got his eviction notice. On both occasions he said, “How can your daddy do this? Doesn’t he realize I’m his last white tenant?”
Lloyd is an alcoholic. He was drunk at the phone company office and very difficult to understand. He took forever at the window, talking about the weather and so on, and after he walked away, the cashier rolled her eyes.
April 9, 1982
Raleigh
Mom called the tenants in one of the Colleton Road units to tell them a repairman was coming to fix the water heater. The wife answered. Her voice is high and soft, and—like a lot of people, probably—Mom mistook her for a child. “Can I please speak to your daddy?” she asked.
“Uh-uh, Wendy,” the wife said. “Sorry, babe.” Then she hung up.
Mom told me this, and we laughed and laughed. Do the tenants know they’re our dinner conversation? In our minds we all but own them.
April 10, 1982
Raleigh
Mom locked herself out of the house and had to crawl under the railing onto the sundeck. She’s not an athletic person, not limber in any way, so it’s such a startling image, her legs dangling in empty air.
Jokes I heard:
Q. What’s better than roses on a piano?
A. Tulips (two lips) on an organ.
Q. Did you hear about the man with French asthma?
A. He could only catch his breath in snatches.
April 13, 1982
Raleigh
Tommy breaks into drugstores to steal Valium. This is how he supplements his income. He and Bobby and I drove over to the Fast Fare for snacks this afternoon. There I was with two guys without shirts who stopped on our way out to play six rounds of a video game called Frogger.
As I rode home from work, one of the handlebars came off my bike. So that’s another thing to take care of.
April 15, 1982
Raleigh
Bobby brought his three-year-old son to work with him. An unsupervised child on a construction site. I seized up whenever he approached a Skilsaw, but Bobby had a good attitude. “Cover your ears, Brian!” he’d yell. Brian was eating caramels. They got all over his hands and, subsequently, his ears.
April 17, 1982