Tag: Love

In which community helps carry the weight. 

The last time Nikki rode in the trunk of a car, we were hitchhiking through central Germany. This time, it’s to keep the fridge upright. 

We found Jennifer through facebook marketplace. She posted a mini fridge for $55. When we arrive, she explains: “I originally posted it for $90,” she says, “and there was a bidding war.” 

She says this as though it clarifies how we got here when in reality it only muddles my understanding. 

Jennifer asks for help carrying her trunk downstairs. Nikki obliges; I carry the fridge. When we get to the bottom, Jennifer offers to drive us to the subway instead. We heartily agree. 

Forty-five minutes later we’re stuck in traffic behind school buses with Hebrew letters on the side, all doing their daily rounds despite it being Sunday. Jennifer tells us about her life and dreams: 

• She always wanted to live in a loft apartment that doubles as an arts space. Today she moves her stuff out of someone else’s arts loft. She’s not making much art these days. 
• She lived for a while in rural northern California, managing a “farm” and “driving hash around”. 
• She raised her son by herself. He’s sixteen now and “I homeschooled him myself” for five years. When I ask for details, she says “More like unschooled. But hanging around me is a whole lot of learning”. 

As Jennifer drives us down [name] street in Bushwick, she points out all the Hassidic jews nearby. “That hat probably costs $3000,” she says, and “Don’t do business with people who say ‘more or less…’” 

“Good for you,” Jennifer says upon learning I’ve bought my own apartment. “Do ya mind if I ask what you do for work?” 

I pass this question to Nikki. 

“He’s a clown school dropout,” Nikki says. “And I am a bioweapons expert.” 

“Modern day hippies.” 

— 

We only end up carrying the fridge down two flights of stairs, up two flights of stairs, and down one avenue block (those are the long ones). We stop five times. Had Jennifer not driven us, the carrying itself would have taken us an hour. Instead, we received a tour of Bushwick. 

On the final stretch, Nikki pauses a few times for grip strength issues. Her strength itself is just fine: it’s a problem of her finger strength giving out. (Fun fact: grip strength is the most sexually dimorphic trait.) Two high school boys walk past us. They look for a bit too long, clearly demonstrating curiosity. After they pass, Nikki says “I’m thinking about asking someone for help carrying this to the light.” 

Six months ago, Nikki was lifting weights at a gym in Reno when she realized she couldn’t re-rack her weights (due not to a strength issue but their height). She flagged down some men in the gym, only realizing after asking that they were standing around chatting because they were firemen called in for something job-related. They ribbed each other about who was going to help her, then clearly enjoyed being useful. 

So far, we’ve lived in New York for 4 days. I look forward to the day when Nikki asks the passing teens immediately. I look forward to the day when I do too. Because we helped carry Jennifer’s trunk downstairs. That’s what New Yorkers do. 

Jennifer has always wanted to live in a loft apartment. And today she is moving out of her arts space. 

We found her through facebook marketplace. She posted a mini fridge for $55. When I messaged her, she said “First person to confirm they can pick it up at 3:30pm gets it!” I immediately texted back “Confirmed: I can do 3:30. Where is it?” 

En route, I tell her we’d love for the fridge to be at the ground floor. “You mentioned you could bring it down the stairs. I’d appreciate that.” She replied: “No. I mentioned i am strong enough to.  You will need to carry it down.” 

When we arrive, feelings are slightly tense, presumably because of the recent request-rejection. 

My partner wonders aloud whether people who feel compelled ot make art do so because they have something they need to communicate that can’t be easily communicated with language. 

I do think many of them feel unheard.