I come in late, about 1:00 AM. The new resident, a transgender hooker named Della, about 25 years old, with the roundest face and eyes I have ever seen, is at Bill's door across the hall from my room. She knocks softly, as she does almost every night now. She cradles a bottle of wine in the crook of her arm. She wears pajama-like red silk pants with some kind of Asian flower-art embroidered on them. Bill, who holds advanced degrees in physics, is retired from the Merchant Marine. His hair and beard are all snow white, the longest in a flophouse full of aging hippies and junkies.
There is no answer, so Della walks back up the hall to the community kitchen and tells her secret, forbidden roommate, Julie, that Bill isn't answering and she'll try again in a few minutes. Julie, thumbing through a copy of People Magazine, says she'll just stay in the kitchen until Della comes back. Della tells her not to forget.
I enter my room and change into a bathrobe, ready to head upstairs and take a shower. Before I can leave my room, Della has returned and is knocking on Bill's door again. I wait. Bill finally answers and says Entrez, mademoiselle, entrez. Della tells Bill he is very sexy and sweet with his French. The door closes and I leave my room for the shower, seeing Julie in the kitchen as I walk past.
I take my shower and walk back downstairs. The kitchen is now empty. I close my door and get dressed for bed. Suddenly, Bill is yelling loud for Della to get that tramp Julie out of his room. What is she doing in here anyway? I hear Julie bolt past Bill's door and fly up the hall to Della's room, slamming the door. Bill is on fire, yelling at Della out in the hall. How can you bring that trash into our home? I should call the police for this. You have disgraced our home, Bill yells.
Della calmly tells him she does not want to see the police and that he can have his $25 back even though he already got what he paid for. That will make everything even, she says. Bill says he doesn't care about even, only about her, sweet beautiful her, but if Julie ever tries to come back and steal his money he will hurt her real bad.
Bill goes back into his room and smacks his door closed. Della heads back toward her room. I look out into the hall to see if the smoke has cleared. Suddenly Della's mildly retarded sister, Angie, comes bursting through the front door and tromps down the stairs and yells and screams for Della. Angie's face is bruised and bloody. Oh Angie, Angie, what happened? Della asks.
Angie's pants are a mess, twisted and muddy. She sits on the floor and cries. Della is on her knees cradling her sister's head in her lap. Why do boys do this? Angie yells out. Why? Why do they have to do this? It's okay, Angie, it's okay. I'm here. You'll be okay. Angie says they'll fire her at work for this. No they won't, Angie, no they won't. They like you. You're good. You do a real good job. They'll keep you. Don't worry, Angie, they'll keep you.
Angie's cries and howls are muffled by her sister's arms. Gradually, Angie stops crying and starts to smile at Della. Della runs her fingers on Angie's hurt face. They'll keep me? Really? Of course they'll keep you. They'll keep you forever. Forever and ever. Just like me. You're real good. They're not going to let you go. We'll make something up. It'll be okay. Come on, let's go to the ladies room and get cleaned up. It'll be okay.
