Ms. Nothing

Dorrie’s neighbors called her Ms. Nothing. They gave her the moniker after burglars ignored her apartment. One day she found the door of her apartment kicked in. Her neighbors hovered in the hall. Brace yourself. You were robbed, they said. So were we. But, honey, looks like they wiped you out.

Dorrie scanned the apartment. Mattress, fan, and library books were intact. No, they took nothing, she said. This is it.

This is all you have? You have nothing.

Miz Nothing, Miz Nothing, a kid crooned.

Don’t be rude, a mother said. Apologize to the lady. If there’s anything we can do, honey... we could help get you some furniture.

No, nothing, Dorrie said automatically. Really.

The neighborhood was rough with a reputation for drugs and fights. Cars with smashed windows and slashed tires sat on the streets for weeks until the police towed them away. Flowering weeds grew in the cracks in the sidewalks. Dorrie sometimes picked them and put them in a glass of water. People worked at night if at all and during the day they watched TV or hung out on the street smoking and talking loudly.

Some of the older men had heard the Ms. Nothing story. She overheard them laughing. They tried to rob her, but she had nothing!

Dorrie didn’t think it was very funny, but one of the women said, They have that story on you, they’ll protect you. You’re somebody, you’re Ms. Nothing. They won’t let anyone mess with you.

That’s nice, she said.

Sometimes she agonized. Should she stay home? Should she go out? Hours passed as she considered her choices. Every year she made a calendar in her notebook: Catholic church lunch, Presbyterian church lunch, doc appt., return books to library, soc.. worker, take bus to mall.

Rose was the only person outside of the neighborhood who visited Dorrie. Dorrie was grateful to Rose for the scones. If she were careful, the scones would last for days. Today she could skip the free lunch in the church basement, where the nuns often lectured her on hygiene.

Take a bath, they coaxed. And change your clothes. I’ve seen that outfit every day this week.

Nuns and nurses: obsessed with hygiene. It wasn’t as though she never took a bath. But she had to make her soap and cheap shampoo last. The nuns and nurses didn’t understand that.

What a nice person Rose was. Never a word about hygiene, never insisted that she furnish the apartment. Who would have thought she would like Ben’s wife? Especially when she disliked Ben so intensely. She thought that his free law practice was a way of using people, that his do-gooderism was a show. Ben the Good. No, I don’t want to be a star. You’re ill, he used to shout at her when she refused to accompany him to a charity event.

Then she donated all their furniture to St. Vincent de Paul and went to live on the streets. When Ben finally found her, she hadn’t slept for days. He had her committed to a hospital. She’d never forgiven him for that. Though she had been sick...

But now Rose had gotten her a part in a play. She was thrilled beyond words. She spent the morning learning her lines. She even took a bath before she left the apartment.