The blanks are where the expressions of their faces would be.
Yes. Y-E-S. One word. Three Letters. It can change your life. Yes, I want you to star in my next movie. Yes, you?ve got cancer. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes. It?s simple. For one entire day, I must say yes to everything. No matter what it is and no matter who asks me.
I walk down East 65th towards the subway. I never noticed before that the gum on the sidewalk makes patterns. If I look carefully I can see my name, Eva. I look up at the sky and feel happiness. My name is in the clouds, too. A car pulls up beside me.
?Need a ride?? the man asks, staring at my chest under my cotton shirt.
?Yes,? I say. He opens the door and I get in. The car smells of cigarettes and sweat. I lean back, my head sinking into the soft leather headrest. ?Where are we going?? I ask.
?My place,? he says.
?I like this radio station.? I say.
?No more talking,? he says and turns off the radio. I twist in my seat to look at the car behind. It?s a minivan. A woman sits in the driver?s seat. She is talking on her cell phone and drinking a cup of coffee. A little boy sits beside her. He waves at me. I wave back. I twist back around and sit. I try to pretend I?m holding something in my hand. If I can feel the imaginary weight and don?t eat anything today, the stars will come out tonight. ?We?re here,? says the man. I look around. I?m on a Monopoly board. There are rows of neat, green houses. Each has a name. The Homestead, Tall Cedars, Mayfield?s. The names don?t suit the houses. The houses are sterile. The gardens are neat. The curtains are drawn. The doorsteps are sinister. They are glaring at me. I hope the man takes me inside soon. ?This one,? he says. I climb the steps and jump through the door. I don?t step on the doorstep. In the house there is a coat stand. It has two coats on it. It should have three. The man hangs his jacket on it. I put my coat on the floor. It only needs three. ?Bedroom?s this way,? he says. I follow him. There is a hole in the carpet. It looks like someone?s eye. The man is in the bedroom, counting out bills and putting them on the nightstand. ?One twenty enough??
?Yes.?
?Well, are you going to take your shirt off??
?Yes.? I sit down on the bed next to the man.
?Hit??
?Yes.? The man puts a square of paper on his finger next to my nose. I look at it. The man closes one nostril and mimes snorting. I copy him. It feels like a little rocket blasting off up my nose. The man puts one leg either side of me and pulls my skirt down. He throws my panties away. He does something to me that?s never been done before. It hurts. I try to think of ordinary things. The flowers in my window box. A fried tomato. But they morph. Dead flowers in the dirt. Blood blooming on a dinner plate, a red red rose. It hurts. I cry. He hits me. I look at his face. It?s like this:
The man laughs. He rolls off me. I pick up my skirt. Everything goes dark. My head hurts. The dark is beautiful.
I wake up on a doorstep. I get up. The doorstep is sinister. It?s night time. I know that time has passed. It was day before. My arm hurts and the red red rose is blooming on my forehead, dripping onto my nose. I walk away. This sidewalk has no gum. My name is gone from the clouds and the stars are not there. Out, out, brief candle*. A curtain twitches across the street. A woman looks out, staring at me. I cringe away and carry on walking. I turn the corner. A man walks down the sidewalk coming towards me. Not the same man.
?Are you all right??
?Yes.? He looks like this:
He looks at my head and then my arm.
?Is it broken?? he asks.
?Yes.?
?Come with me.? I follow him to an expensive looking sports car. It is yellow. I hate yellow. I sit. My bare legs slide around on the slippery leather. I am not wearing any underwear. It is still in the Monopoly house. ?What?s your name?? I don?t know what to do. This isn?t a yes or no question.
?Eva.? I stretch it out into three syllables. As long as I don?t say no it?s fine.
?I?m Andrew, I?m taking you to the hospital.? I nod. Someone has driven a nail through the center of my head. Is this what it feels like to die? Everything goes dark. My head hurts. The dark is beautiful.
Someone is prodding my head. I open my eyes. Her face is like this:
?You?re awake. What?s your name??
?Eva?
?Eva what??
?Eva No one,? the nurse sighs.
?Allergies??
?Yes?
? What??
?I don?t know?
?Pollen??
?Yes?
?An tibiotics??
?Yes,? the nurse looks at me. Her voice is sharp like a series of clicks.
?Your arm is broken. You?ve got stitches in your forehead. When you give us your name you can go home.? I deliberate. Names are powerful things. If I give her mine I won?t belong to me anymore. I?ll belong to the state.
?Eva Noone.? Like Eva No one. The nurse leaves. I get up off the bed. My shoes squeak on the polished floor. I can see my face in it, but stretched like a moon. Andrew is gone. He is p
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