Laura, Vic and the Pillow

Fiction by Ivy Dillinger



Because everyone in New York is despicable, Laura, Vic’s cranky neighbor, is moving to Spain as soon as possible. She holds rosary beads a lot and prays every night and frequently says "bastard." She complains with precision. Mr. Irons, the landlord, is "creepy." "His eyes are like a rodent’s and his oily moustache makes him look like a greasy sex offender." Laura runs a tanning salon. Her customers are gay and rude. Laura’s 40.

Vic, who lives in 3A, was home watching college football. Laura, who lives in 3B, knocked on his door. Vic became nervous. Ringing phones and unexpected knocks make him nervous. He’s working on it. As a self-improvement exercise, as a way of breaking a destructive habit and escaping his comfort zone, in the hopes of gradually improving his life, Vic decided against peeking through the peephole. Time to live spontaneously. He took a deep breath, reminded himself to appear friendly and welcoming - or at least not frightened – and opened the door.

Vic is 60.

Laura was chewing gum. "Your safety chain," she said. "It’s off."

"Right."

"That’s dangerous."

"Okay."

"How do you know who’s knocking? I could be someone coming to get you. I could kick the door in."

Vic unfolded his arms – he remembered the negative body language thing he learned in that book by the self-help guru with the toupee. He said with a smile, "I suppose so. You’re right."

"Can I borrow a pillow?" Laura snapped a bubble.

Vic didn’t want to lend her a pillow. Her hair – in his opinion – was ratty. He didn’t like the idea of ratty hair on his pillow. (To be fair, her hair isn’t that ratty.) He said sure, then hated himself for his weakness, then reminded himself that he’s not perfect and to be more forgiving of his miscues and to not hate himself. He took a deep, slow breath to calm himself.

"The movers took everything," said Laura. "I forgot to remember to keep a pillow."

"Take this one, it’s fine."

Laura examined the pillow. "Got anything firmer?" Vic did, but said he didn’t, then Laura thanked him and returned to 3B. Vic felt wonderful about saying he didn’t have a firmer pillow. A small step, but each one counts.

That night, as the initial entry in his new journal – his first journal in over forty years – he wrote: "Take THAT, nitwit!"