Loadstar 161/161.d81/sr.homestead act

Text File | 1997-01-01 | 31.3 KB | 1,121 lines

     H O M E S T E A D   A C T

        by Chris Tucker
           Jamaica Plain MA

    The Third Place Winner in

  LOADSTAR's PROSEQUEST '97 Contest



    7:00AM. Alarm clock. Urg.

    Quickly snake an arm out of the
sleeping bag and hit the remote
switch for the electric space heater.
Don't have long to wait. Living in
the back third of an old school bus
does have its advantages.

    7:30. Nice and warm. Open the bag
and hang it on its bar, grab the
plywood under the foam sleeping mat
and pullpush it into its little
"closet". Pull the chair out from my
desk/table and I can start to get
dressed for the trip to work.

    A glance at the indoor/outdoor
thermometer shows me it's too cold
outside. ("Too Cold" is defined as
anything under 40 degrees
Fahrenheit.) Still, all I need is
sweats, boots and my parka. I get
dressed, grab my bag and toss in the
disks of my current project.

    The other two-thirds of the bus
are occupied by Mohammad and Ahmad. a
couple of Muslims who get paid to
keep the block safe. It's a poor
block, which explains the schoolbus.
However, it is a VERY safe block.

    "'Morning, guys! What's for
breakfast, aside from coffee?"

    "Just that, coffee, I am
afraid."

    "Sounds good. Beats what I was
eating for breakfast last year at
this time. There's gonna be a last
meeting of the homestead group
tonight after work. You two sure you
don't want me to ask the group to
bring you in?"

    "No, Kurt. We have a place to
live and a job to do here. Inshallah,
we shall prosper and do the Prophet's
work, peace be upon him."

    "Okay. I get paid today; you or
Ahmed need anything besides
groceries?"

    "Coffee would be nice, as would
be fresh bread from that little
bakery you found. Perhaps, if you're
feeling generous, those little
seedcakes too...?"

    "My pleasure, old friend."

    Slug down the last of my coffee
and out the door. Nice block. Poor,
but safe. Clean too. Another couple
of months and the local gardens start
up again. Fresh vegetables! Forget
dope, just give me a fresh tomato,
right off the vine.

    The Force is with me. Here comes
the bus and I'll be 15 minutes early.
Enough time to have a LONG shower
downtown.

    Cardswipe my way into the
building and head for the basement.
The maintainance guys let us
displaced workers use their locker
room and shower. No money officially
changes hands, but unofficially, this
is well worth the $40.00 a week I
slip them. I don't know where my
busmates bathe, probably the mosque.

    Oh man! Hot water, soap! Heaven!
Dry off and get a change of clothes
from my locker. Yvonne will be
showing up shortly for her shower and
I don't want to linger too long. As
much as I like her and like being
around her, she's mortally
embarrassed that she's wound up
sleeping in her little office. If I'm
not around when she gets here, it
makes her life a little easier.

    8:30 and I hit the vending
machine...literally. A sharp rap in
JUST the right place and about half
the time, it resets to a FREE
selection state. Today's my lucky
day, with less than a buck to my
name, the machine goes free and I
grab a bagel and cheese combo. Pop it
into the microwave and have a hot
"breakfast".

    I toss the first of the disks
into the computer and get to work
like a good little worker, at least
until the little flashing LED on my
keyboard tells me that my
'productivity monitoring' daemon has
fuddled the BigBrother into thinking
I'm churning out the keystrokes.
Bloody bureaucrats. They equate a
certain number of keystrokes an hour
with productivity and they equate
productivity with creativity. Half of
my job is just sitting there, staring
into space. The easy part is the
typing and mousing and graphics. The
daemon intercepts BigBrother and
feeds him a nice high keystroke per
hour figure. My bosses love hard
workers like me. The feeling isn't
mutual, except for Yvonne.

    Nominally my superior, she's just
another underpaid, homeless
cityworker like me. I've known her
for a couple of years, and I really
like her, and I think she really
likes me. If we either of us had a
decent place to live and extra money,
I suspect we'd be dating, buuuuuut,
since I'm living in a bus with no
running water and she's got a futon
hidden in her office where she sleeps
at night, there's bugger-all we can
do about getting to know each other
better except for our office
facetime.

    1:00PM. Check the bank dialup and
see if my check was deposited. Yes!
Money in the bank. I eat tonight.

    I've been thinking about this for
a while and I'm gonna do it.

    Yvonne eats lunch in her office
and I go and see her.

    "Yvonne, I'm in a homesteading
group. Monday, we're going to squat a
building and invoke the Year and A
Day law. Our lawyer says we have an
iron-clad case and should be able to
claim the building for a token
payment on back taxes.  We need to
fully occupy the building for that
year and a day and I want you to come
in on this with us. The final meeting
is tonight after work and I'd like
you to come with me."

    Whoosh! Well, I'm in it now.

    She gives me a look that's pretty
much inscrutable. All it takes to
screw me, the group, and get her a
big promotion is to make one phone
call to the Mayor's Office. I get
busted, my friends in the group lose
any chance of a home of their own,
and she'll have enough juice to swing
a place of her own in one of the City
Government Blocks.

    "Kurt, I'll meet you here at
5:00. Thank you for thinking of me."

    Oh, geeze, I gotta sit down.
"Okay, uhhhm, until then, Okay?"

    She could still screw this up,
but I can't see that she would. She's
miserable, sleeping in her office,
I'm certain she likes me, the way she
looks at me in the halls, the talks
we have at lunch. No, she won't do
anything to cause trouble. She'll
have a place of her own in the
building and after a year and a day,
she'll own,...No! We'll own a part of
that building, and they won't be able
to do a thing about it.

    It takes FOREVER for 5:00 to roll
around. Thank God for that daemon, as
I haven't been able to do squat on
the machine for the rest of the day.
Oh, hell! If she goes to the meeting,
she'll get locked out of the
building, where is she gonna sleep
tonight?

    "Kurt."

    "Oh, Hi, Yvonne, look what are
you gonna do about tonight, I mean,
where are you gonna stay tonight?"

    "Don't worry about it, okay?"

    "Okay, if you say so."

    "I say so. Shall we go?"

    We get a bus downtown and take
the train a few stops. The meeting is
in the office of our lawyer. This is
where we take the plunge.

    I introduce her to the rest of
the group, suggesting that she can
have the storeroom as a studio
apartment. The retrofit would be
simple enough and I can do the
drywalling until she gets up to speed
on her carpentry and plumbing and
wiring skills and I realize that I'm
babbling and that I should shut up
and let her speak for herself.

    "Hello, my name is Yvonne. I've
known Kurt for several years. I'm his
"boss", in a manner of speaking. I've
been living in my office for over a
year, since I lost my apartment.
Since they lock the building at
seven, I have to stay there all
night. I have to bathe in the
basement. I have to wash my clothes
during my lunch hour. I haven't seen
a movie in a year, I haven't had a
date in a year, I haven't had a meal
that wasn't microwaved in a year. If
you folks will have me in your group,
I'll... I'd..." she stopped talking
and hid her face in her hands, her
shoulders shaking with emotion. I
hesitated for a second, and then
wrapped my arms around her.

    "Shhhh. It's all right, dear,
it's all right. We know how you feel,
we all know."

    I looked at the group, there were
more than a couple of handkerchiefs
dabbing at eyes. They all have to
agree to bring her into the group.

    Fred, the nominal 'leader' of our
group, looks around at the group.

    "As if any of us would deny
either you, or your, uh, 'friend', a
place in the building. Yvonne, my
dear, you will be most welcome in
this endeavor. Mr. Reilly, would you
be so kind as to add this young
woman's name to the charter so that
she can sign it?"

    The lawyer makes the changes and
insists that Yvonne read the entire
charter before she signs anything. He
also explains the Year and A Day law,
a law over 100 years old, passed
under entirely different
circumstances and never repealed by
the state, despite the lobbying by
the city and property interests.

    "So, that's all we do,", she
asked, "just 'squat' this building
for a year and a day after
registering our intention at City
Hall? What if they deny the
registration?"

    "They can't, that's the beauty of
the law. All they can do is file a
pre-emptive claim to the building,
but if we begin the occupation one
minute after they timestamp the
letter of intent, our 'registration'
as you call it, once we are in there,
they can't file the pre-emptive claim
on an occupied building. This is one
time where the layers of bureaucracy
help the citizens. Once we have fully
occupied the building for a year and
a day, we pay the city and state 10
cents on the dollar for back taxes
and it's ours, no strings attached."

    "Where do I sign?"

    "Where else, right on the dotted
line!"

    She pays her nominal one dollar
membership and that's it. There was a
bottle of something alcoholic for a
toast and that was it.

    We make our way to the street.
She tells me that she wants to go to
a real restaurant and have a real
meal for the first time in a year.
What can I do but say yes. We decide
that the local fried chicken
franchise counts as a real
restaurant, mainly because it's right
here and it's starting to snow and we
both want to get inside someplace
right away.

    We get the big chicken dinner
with stuffing and potatoes and corn
and stuff ourselves silly.

    As we sit there afterwards, she
looks at me.

    "Kurt, earlier tonight, you
called me dear. Did you mean that?"

    "Yes. I did. You are very dear to
me. Very."

    "That's what I thought. You know,
you mean a lot to me, too. You've
been more than good friend to me for
the past year. When I lost my home,
you showed me how to get by as a
displaced worker, introduced me to
the maintainance staff, you even
inconvenienced yourself so that I
could shower without seeing anyone
who would know I was sleeping in my
office. I owe you a lot, we both know
this, and you never once tried to
take advantage of me or my position
for yourself or your career. You
covered for me when I had to spend
the day at the dentist. I could have
been fired if they found out I wasn't
in the office. That keyboard daemon
of yours took a lot of stress off me
at a very difficult time in my life.
And you never once tried to get
anything from me! You could have
demanded sex from me for God's sake,
and I would have put out for you in
an instant, I owed you and you never
took advantage of that. It took me a
while to realize that it wasn't
because you were, I thought, gay, but
because you're a decent person, and
that you liked me and respected me. I
think you might even love me..."

    "Well, yes, I think I do, too.
What do you also think?"

    Here we go! Here we go! Her next
few words...

    "I think I love you, too. I'm
full. Let's go home."

    "Well, it's gonna be a tight
squeeze, and I have to do some
shopping first, and I have to let my
'housemates' know there's going to be
a woman spending the night with me.
Hell, they're used to surprises.
Let's go, dear. You can push the
grocery cart for me while I fill it,
okay?"

    "Okay, 'dear'."

    "Kurt?"

    "Yes?"

    "Tell me about this building
we're 'squatting'.

    "Well, first off, we're really
not 'squatting' it, at least not in
the sense of what you see downtown.
We set up a group to research the
possibility of obtaining a building
under the Year and A Day law. We had
to carefully search out tax records
and the like to find a building that
was suitable. Delinquent on taxes,
not yet formally seized by the city
or state, in good condition and
relatively easy to rehab quickly to
allow us to live there starting the
same day we file the letter of
intent. Not an easy set of things to
accomplish without alerting the city
busybodies."

    "We took a year of looking and
found it. It was just formally
abandoned by its previous owners due
to overhigh taxes and a 'bad'
neighborhood. One of the group
members, well, he broke into the
place and scoped it out for us. The
plumbing is intact, as is the heating
plant. All it seems to need is a tank
full of heating oil and the power
turned on along with the water."

    "Monday, at 9:00AM, just as city
hall opens for business, Mr. Reilly
files the letter of intent. At 1
minute past 9:00, we open the
building and move in. The electric
company is called to hook up the
power, Reilly pays a deposit to
another city agency to get the water
turned back on and we pay cash to
some oil company to fill the tank in
the basement and fire up the furnace.
Those of us who have to work will
move in after work on Monday. File a
change of address form with the Post
Office to have your mail forwarded to
the new address and don't tell anyone
at work about it until the address
change goes through, that way, they
can't do anything to screw you with
paperwork and the like."

    "What about that storeroom you
mentioned? I'm going to be living in
a big closet?"

    "No, dear. Since it was full of
old furniture and other junk, we just
called it a storeroom on the
floorplans we drew up for the rest of
the group. It's actually pretty big,
at least as much floorspace as most
studio apartments I've seen, if not
more. It looks as if all we need to
do is just install a bathroom and
some kitchen fixtures and it's an
apartment. The pipes and drains seem
to be easily accessed with some
handsaw and crowbar work and after
that, the plumbing and carpentry is
the work of a weekend. You'll have to
swing a hammer and learn to fit pipe
and do wiring. Part of this business
of keeping the building is showing
good faith that we are going to live
there full time and not sublet our
apartments for profit. I can show you
what to do. It's pretty easy to pick
up. Drywalling is a pain, but it's
quick and will give you a real
private bathroom and shower. That'll
make for a change, eh?"

    "Speaking of change, where do I
hang my clothes in here? There's not
a whole lot of room."

    "Oh, ummm. Okay, ahhh, let me
just reach over here and stick this
dowel into its slots and grab some
hangers out of the niche I use for my
things and, Hey Presto! A clothes
rack!"

    "Bravo! Now, where do we sleep?"

    "Ah, right here." I grabbed the
handle of the sleeping pallet and
pulled it down to its horizontal
position. I grabbed my sleeping bag
off its rack and its mate from the
shelf in the closet. "The bags zip
together into one large bag and the
pallet is wide enough for two people,
see?"

    "You built all this yourself?
Damn, you are clever!"

    "Yeah, well, not clever enough to
anticipate a guest with nothing but
the clothes on her back. I've got
nothing for you to sleep in. I
usually sleep in the nude... Uh, ah
but I can keep my underwear on
tonight... I think I've got some big
t-shirts here, maybe you can wear one
of them tonight."

    "Well, that sounds kinky. The
last time a man offered me something
to wear in bed, it was black and had
a lot of lace trimming on it. My,
what an interesting shade of red you
just turned. I do believe you're
embarrassed."

    "Don't mind me, dear. I'm just
going to die right here." She smiled
at me and finished hanging up her
clothes. I barely got a chance to see
her nude before she slipped into the
sleeping bag. What I did see was
pretty inviting.

    "Well, are you going to stand
there all night, or are you coming to
bed. It's cold in here!"

    Yeah, okay. I stripped off my
clothes, and even maintained some
composure when she quietly applauded
as my briefs came off. I got into the
sleeping bag next to her. I was quite
unprepared for it when she snuggled
up close to me.

    "Kurt?"

    "Yes?"

    "Can I ask you to so something
for me?"

    "Sure!"

    "Can we watch your TV for a while
before we turn the lights out?"

    "Whatever you want, dear.
Whatever you want."

    I pointed the remote control at
the TV on the other side of my space
and hit the ON button. She snuggled
up closer to me and I could feel her
breasts against my side as I slipped
my arm around her shoulder. I can't
begin to describe how "right" all
this seemed to me.

    We watched TV for an hour or so,
the last half of some drama show she
had watched before she lost her home,
followed by the local news. We turned
out the lights and, well, we let
human nature take its course. It had
been well over a year since either of
us had sex with someone, and it was
pretty much amateur hour for a while,
but then, everything fell into place
and we spent a very vigorous hour
warming up my part of the bus.
Afterwards, as I held her, she cried
for a while. The emotional release
after the physical release. It struck
me that she must have been amazingly
stressed out by the past year. Poor
girl. She needs this new home a lot
more than I do, it seems.

    We slept late on Saturday, didn't
get up 'til noon, and only then
because I had a van laid on to pick
up some of my things from storage,
and to pick up Yvonne's things from
work. She was half dressed by the
time I had gotten the pallet and
sleeping bags seen to. Seeing her in
her pantyhose and bra, I had to
chuckle.

    "Whatever would the office
gossips have to say if they could see
us now?"

    "Probably wonder what I was
thinking when I got dressed yesterday
if I was going to spend the night
with a man. This is NOT what I would
have chosen to wear if I thought you
were going to see me in my
underwear."

    "Well, once we get settled in our
new places, you can model the good
stuff for me, okay?"

    "Okay."

    We got to the building about one
and after slipping the guard a twenty
to forget about the no workers in the
building without permission rule,
loaded all her stuff from her office
into the van and then we picked up
some of my things for the new place.
A stereo, some cookware and
furniture, my old futon and rack. We
got back to the bus around three and
decided to have a late lunch. There's
a nice little Mexican place around
the corner and we spent an hour
there, eating and talking. Geeze, I
really do love this woman. She's
amazing.

    We decide to spend some money and
go to a movie and dinner afterwards.
I don't know which she enjoyed more,
seeing a movie or eating food that's
properly cooked and was served on
plates and cutlery, not paper and
plastic forks.

    We got back to the bus around
midnight and Yvonne rummaged around
in her stuff for some clean clothes
and a nightgown.

    "Not like I'm going to be wearing
it for very long."

    It was a long off-white satin
gown, which set off her hair
wonderfully. We took our time and
spent a thoroughly enjoyable few
hours. She was right, she didn't wear
that nightgown very long -- just long
enough.

    Sunday, I used my "Y" membership
to get us into the local gym for a
workout with her as my guest. We
really needed to use the shower,
though and spent more time in the
pool than on the exercise machines.
The rest of the day was spent doing
things she hadn't been able to do for
herself, like window shopping,
sitting in the park watching people
walking their dogs, contemplating
where to eat that night. It's sinking
in that she has, in a sense, been
freed from a prison.

    Monday morning was interesting,
with both of us trying to get dressed
in the same small area. She was a bit
surprised when I hugged her from
behind before she pulled her slip
on.

    "One last hug before we have to
become worker and boss, okay?"

    She turned in my arms and hugged
me back, long and hard. I was VERY
tempted to unhook her bra and see to
it that we would be late to work, but
I thought better of it. Besides,
Mohammad and Ahmad were waiting
breakfast for us.

    We got to work on time and spent
a VERY long 30 minutes waiting for
the phone call that the process was
in motion. The call from Reilly
finally came with the news that the
letter of intent had been filed and
that the building was occupied and
waiting for the electric and oil
companies to show up and do their
thing. We celebrated the good news
with a coke and a kiss behind her
office door.

    It took forever for five to roll
around and 30 minutes later, we were
at our new home. Mohammad and Ahmad
drove over in the van with our things
and stayed to help clean up and move
things. I love these guys.

    The power was on and the heat was
coming up. It was a tired and dirty
group of people that gathered
together to celebrate our new
beginning with a bottle of cheap
champagne and several buckets of take
out chicken.

    Yvonne inspected her potential
apartment and was full of ideas on
what she wanted to do with it and
what would be put where and what
colors everything was going to be and
admiring the view from one of the
windows. All this is going to cost
all of us more than a little money,
in my case, that $40 a week I was
paying the maintenance guys will be
going to paying power and oil bills,
not to mention whatever I need for my
place. Still, it's worth it just for
the sound of those two words, "my
place".

    Yvonne spent the night with me
again, as I had a bed and she didn't
want to sleep alone.

    "I've slept by myself for over a
year. I forgot now nice it is to have
someone to cuddle with under the
blankets."

    I suspect that Yvonne will be
spending a lot of nights with me in
the near future. I like cuddling with
her as well.

    The next four days were pretty
much the same thing for everyone. Off
to work, come home ("Come home"! What
a wonderful phrase!) and work like
hell on the building.

    Even though it was in "good"
condition, good is a relative term.
It had been vacant with no heat over
a winter and the pipes needed to be
inspected before we could turn the
water on to each floor. One set of
pipes had burst and they leaked like
crazy, which meant we had to pull
open a wall and do some serious
plumbing and plastering afterwards.
Likewise, the electrical system and
steam pipes had to be carefully
checked out before the housing
inspectors showed up to certify the
place.

    My little one bedroom place was
pretty much in "good" condition too,
only requiring a major replacement of
the bathroom fixtures and floor and
the ceilings in all the rooms. It was
livable until I got that stuff fixed,
but I was glad when it was my turn to
get the drywall lifter and get the
ceilings replaced. No more drafts and
I could then get the ceiling fixtures
switched on for better lighting. The
only thing worse than lugging a new
toilet up three flights of stairs is
lugging a showerstall/bathtub
combination up three flights of
stairs. Thank God it was a modular
installation!

    Yvonne picked up on carpentry
pretty quickly. It's pretty much
common sense and keeping in mind
certain things like stud spacing and
the right way to frame a door and how
to safely use a circular saw. She had
the bathroom framing roughed in
pretty good by the time I had some
free time to look in on her and lend
a hand.

    I was right about the pipes and
whatnot being accessible through a
wall. Pulling up the floor to install
the blackwater pipe from the toilet
and installing the T joint was a
bitch, though. Once that was done,
installing the toilet, tub and sink
was easy. We spent Saturday
drywalling and tiling the new
bathroom.

    I spent a lot of time with Yvonne
in her place. She had laid out her
place quite cleverly, with the
bathroom and kitchenette at one end
of the room, with a wall to wall
closet at the other end. The sleeping
area was concealed by a clever
folding screen she made from PVC pipe
and a canvas print.

    The rest of the apartment was
basically living space with the TV
and stereo against the wall near the
window and some cheap resin chairs
and a table making up the rest of her
furniture. Some pictures and posters
decorated the walls until they could
be painted or paneled.

    The following Monday was a treat
for all of us! The phone and cable TV
guys showed up and we now have our
own phones and cable TV.

    The top floor of the building is
rather odd. It's basically a loft. I
don't know who framed off a corner of
it and installed a sink and toilet,
but it was my idea to lug one of the
old refrigerators up there and a
Salvation Army microwave and make the
place a common area for all of us.
Some of the old furniture was moved
up there as well, so we've got chairs
and a couple of tables, lamps and
bookcases, even an ancient Macintosh
computer and printer, if someone
feels like writing a letter or
playing a game. No TV! Just an old
table radio for background music. As
we can spare the time, we work on the
"Commons" as we call it. Painting,
plastering, wiring, etc. We all of us
have lived too much by ourselves in
the past few years, and we crave the
company of others, even if all we're
doing is eating a sandwich or reading
a book. It's comforting to have
someone else nearby who may be doing
the same thing. I'm thinking that
maybe a dart board would be a really
cool thing to have up here.


    It's been six months now. The
building is gorgeous! Everything has
been patched, plastered and painted.
All the floors have been sanded and
finished. The window frames have been
painted and reglazed as needed. All
the initial bills have been paid off
and we now are paying into an escrow
account to take care of the back tax
payment. The Commons is a wonder to
behold. On one of her Salvation
Army/Goodwill expeditions, Mrs.
Pedersen found a set of wonderful old
leather armchairs and a leather
couch, along with a few other pieces,
so now the Commons resembles an
English Gentlemen's Club! A lot of us
spend most of our time there. The
plants and flowers, along with the
indoor "waterfall" I kludged together
really make this a wonderful place to
just hang out.

    Yvonne and I spend so much time
in each other's apartments, we
frequently dash back and forth in the
mornings looking for a particular
piece of clothing or a lost shoe. I
had to assign her a separate drawer
for her lingerie at my place though.
Sharing a drawer for underwear was
not working out, particularly in the
morning when I'm trying to find clean
underpants and have rummage through
bras and garter belts and stockings
and all that other lacy stuff. I much
prefer to rummage through them when
she's wearing them, as does Yvonne!

    Our relationship is getting
better and better and deeper and
deeper. Since we both are on the same
floor, we decided that living
together just now would be silly and
unnecessary. Besides, we're still
getting used to having some freedom
after those years of being, in a
sense, homeless. Sometimes you just
want to sit naked in front of the TV
with a quart of ice cream or a pizza
all by yourself.

    I understand there's a pool on in
the building as to when I'm going to
propose to her. Little do they know I
already have! And that she's
ACCEPTED! We decided to have the
ceremony in a year or so, once we
have full claim to the building and
have some money put aside. I wish I
could have given her a ring, but I
just can't afford it now.

    Well, we've had our first
addition to the building group.
Karolyn, the lesbian on the first
floor, has asked us if her girlfriend
can move in with her. The charter
requires that we all be consulted and
approve of this sort of thing before
we take full claim to the building.
Is she coming in as a significant
other or is she seeking to become a
member of the charter group? There's
some legal ramifications either way
to our getting ownership of the
building. The amazingly devious Mr.
Reilly, our lawyer, points out that
as long as the girlfriend maintains a
separate 'legal' residence, she is
merely a visitor and has no effect
either way under law. In this case, a
legal residence is a mail drop with a
street address which just happens to
be the same address as Reilly's
office. For the modest sum of $1.00 a
month, Grace will live in a small
shoebox of a closet in a law office
two subway stops and bus ride from
where she will merely be "visiting"
her "friend" on a regular basis.

    Grace is quite impressed by her
new digs, having shared a one bedroom
apartment with three other women for
almost 2 years. She has set up an
easel, of all things, in the Commons.
She's an artist, it seems. She has
fit in well with us, even though
she's amazingly shy as yet.

    Mohammad and Ahmed showed up
today with a big bag of fresh
vegetables for me and Yvonne. They
now have a real building to live in,
a small storefront that was abandoned
and that they occupied under the Year
and a Day law. Reilly is handling
that one for them.

    Today is a filthy day indeed.
It's cold, but not cold enough, so
it's rain instead of snow. The wind
is blowing like hell outside, and as
people come home from work and drift
up to the Commons for hot coffee, we
all are nervous. It's been a year and
a day since we occupied the building.
We are waiting to hear from the
lawyer if we get the building for the
token payment on back taxes. We
should get it, but we won't know
until we hear from him.

    I'm up on the roof. I'm too
emotional to be with other people
right now. I know we should have no
problems, but still. I don't want to
lose this. For the first time in too
long, I'm happy, I'm content. I'm in
love with a wonderful woman and she
loves me too. So I wait in the lee of
the stairwell shack for the news.

    "Kurt...?"

    "Yow! You scared me. I didn't
hear you. I was... well, lost."

    "Kurt, he's here. You want to
come down and hear what he has to
say?"

    "Yeah, I suppose. Let's go."

    Yvonne puts her arm through mine
and snuggles up close.

    "Look, no matter what, we're
staying together. I love you and I'm
not losing you, got that?"

    "Yes ma'am!"

    Mr. Reilly is there, waiting for
us.

    "I'll make this short and as
painless as possible..."

    Oh shit! We don't get the
building! Yvonne clutches my arm, as
I'm a bit off balance.

    "...here's the tax receipt and
the deed. It's your building now. My
bill will be in the mail Monday. Now,
who's got the champagne?"

    That bastard! He enjoyed that! I
ought to slug him, but Yvonne is
tugging me towards the stairway to
the lower floors. I think she has a
celebration of her own in mind.

    An hour later, when we get back
to the Commons, the party is in full
swing. Finger food is being heated in
the microwave, and there's plenty of
beer and soda. Reilly is telling
Herman that the corner building has
just been abandoned by its owners and
that there may be a food co-op
looking to move in and use the
storefront for selling food and
living and working in the rest of the
building. That would be a boon to the
neighborhood.

    I get a plateful of pizza rolls
and some Cokes. Yvonne is sitting on
the couch, looking out at the city. I
sit down next to her and give her one
of the Cokes.

    I notice that she's got tears
streaming down her face.

    "Geeze, what's wrong?"

    "Nothing. I'm happy. I don't have
to worry about not having a home
anymore. It just hit me, that's all,
'I have a home'."

    "Yeah, that does have a nice
sound to it, doesn't it?"

    I tap her Coke with mine.

    "Here's to a life of taxes,
bills, washing dishes, sweeping the
floor and all that other stuff that
makes having a home so tiresome. I
can't wait, how about you?"

    I put my arm around her and she
snuggled up close. We looked out at
the city and the filthy weather. The
rain pelted against the glass, with
the occasional rattle of ice or hail.
The wind was howling by now.

    "Turned out to be a lovely day,
don't you think?"

    "Indeed it did, sweetheart,
indeed it did."

               The End