I live off 23d and Zion, in what the big boy calls “the empowerment zone,” because he wants to build a stadium here.

Of course everybody here in the ‘hood just calls it “the shooting gallery,” because after 1 A.M. there’s only two things you can get on 23d and Zion:  shot up or shot down.

I’m watching and waiting for the ambulance to come and take my neighbor’s body away, lying lifeless in her blue mink coat.  Adrianne was her name; she was the best.

Her husband didn’t permit her to work and he spent almost all he had on pull-tabs.  When she suggested to him her idea to get her G.E.D. and learn computers, he got so mad he threatened to bury her alive in an unmarked grave if she even thought of the idea again.

But the rest of us knew she had an income of her own, offering her self to many for a price.  We kept quiet about it; she asked us to.

She kept most her savings hidden away here and there; fifty dollars in this neighbor’s couch, a hundred dollars under that neighbor’s refrigerator.  I admit it was because of her that I could eat on those weeks when the “empowerment levy” kicked in and took most of what I earned.

“Three more days,” she always said, “and that coffee shop on the corner is ours; and things will be different then.”

That was her plan: a new life around the corner.  But something always managed to to get in her way, and three more days seemed far away.

The two houses sitting on the right and left of Adrianne’s belong to Gail and Caprice.  Those three were tight.  I’m not afraid to tell you that now.  Those two weren’t always clear about what Adrianne was really after.  In fact I don’t think they ever really understood the whole truth.  But rarely were they not seen together, and when Adrianne did have a “customer,” Gail and Caprice kept guard like two cats on a windowsill.

During the day-times her house was full of laughter and conversation.  We hardly remembered we were just one block off 23rd and Zion; being together made danger seem so far away.  We didn’t bring up the bruises on her arms and the cuts on her ears and eyes.  And whenever we did look too intently as about to raise the question, she would just wag her finger again and pick up the step in her voice, “Three more days…and things will be different.”  So we kept quiet as she wanted us to.

She taught us many things:  how to make a casserole that can stretch for six days; the quick and dirty way to make your silver shine; how to write a letter to the city council.  But most of all, she showed us how to make a stranger feel at home.  All kinds of folks found their way to her door, people I never had met before and people I never saw again.  Gail and Caprice sometimes got a little overprotective and tried to stem the tide, —let’s face it, the publicity wasn’t necessarily good for “business”—but Adrianne always let them come in.

One time a girl only 14 years old who had heard of Adrianne made her way through to her.  The girl feared her fancy-man would notice she was gone, so she couldn’t stay long.  “Peace, my girl,” Adrianne said, “you have done well!”  Adrianne then anonymously called the cops and drove the fancy-man away for good.

But when the girl asked to stay with Adrianne, she wouldn’t permit it and told the girl, “You’ll do no good here; go back from where you came and tell the others what they can do.”  Then Adrianne went to Gail’s house and pulled from underneath the refrigerator an envelope that contained one-fourth of all she had saved.  She gave it to the girl and set her free.  But the girl was still afraid, and instead of following Adrianne’s advice, just went and told the others on her street what Adrianne had done.

So, others heard of Adrianne.  There was a man down on the corner who only came out at night.  He wore fine threads and jewelry, and knew many things.  Many sought him out, too.  But when he heard of Adrianne, he was afraid of what she could do.  So he approached her and said, “Great word of you has come to me, and with my help you and your place here can become…well-known.”  He said this because the coffee shop traffic would do him no good.

This made Adrianne very angry, and so she gave him another quarter of all she had saved and ordered him never to tell anyone about her.

During the night-times, after everyone had left and Adrianne’s husband returned, her house was full of screaming and fighting.  It was then I remembered where we were; the danger of the shooting gallery was right across the street.  I wanted to cry out for her to stop her pain, but I covered my ears and closed my eyes and told myself it was just cats howling and car doors slamming.

Three more days and things would be different.  I would see her again in the morning and the laughter would return.

Gail was angry with her because now half the money was gone.  Caprice was upset that the man on the corner got more than he deserved.  The two suggested to her that they take the money that was left and go someplace else where they would reach their goal quicker and they could be left alone.  But Adrianne rebuked them, and told them the time had come.

“If you truly wish to stay with me now, you should spread the bread, shine the silver, and set the stranger the finest place.”

This morning a cold wind was blowing downtown.  The newspapers and TV cameras were there, because the big boy was supposed to make a big announcement.  He stepped up to a podium like a preacher and the man from the corner was standing right at his side.

Together they lifted a sheet from an easel and unveiled a pencil picture of the new stadium, to be built right on the corner of 23d and Zion.  The crowd cheered.  “Three more days,” the big boy boasted, “and things will be different:  this community will be all ours again.”

Adrianne was there and stood up in front of the all the crowd and the cameras, shivering, for she had nothing to wear to protect her from the violent wind.  “This community is ours,” she protested, “and I do not see us in your little drawing.”

The crowd looked again at the drawing and saw that indeed the homes and shops were gone, and they began to question the big boy’s plan in their minds.  The man from the corner recognized Adrianne, and called out for her to identify herself, her name and occupation for all to hear so that she could be…well-known.  But Adrianne could say nothing, so she kept quiet.

Later this afternoon, a woman came to Adrianne’s house.  She looked a stranger, not from these parts, very modest except that she wore a blue mink coat.  Gail and Caprice tried to keep her out because they knew Adrianne’s feelings against fur coats.  But Adrianne said, “Let her be!”, and the woman came in.

“I saw you speak on the TV this morning,” the woman said, “and I saw the whole truth.  Take this coat from me; because I know your journey is gonna be cold and hard.”  When the woman left, Gail and Caprice were embarrassed for Adrianne, and told her that they would take the coat the woman gave her and sell it quickly so that the money they had lost could be regained.  But Adrianne would not let them, saying “This has been given to me by one who believes in me.”

Earlier this evening before her husband came home, Adrianne sat alone by her window in her blue mink coat and thought of the days ahead.  The stadium was so much larger than her coffee shop.  Nothing could stop the stadium’s construction.  She thought of the madness she was in:  the occupation she endured, the beatings she took.

“Enough!  There must be another way for me.”  And she began to pack her things once and for all.

But at the same moment, Caprice was in her own house and saw Adrianne through her window, and so Caprice called downtown and told them everything about Adrianne and what she did.  And while the police came to arrest Adrianne, Caprice took the third quarter of Adrianne’s money kept hidden in her couch and disappeared.

When the police came they shackled Adrianne’s hands.  The man from the corner saw Gail standing nearby and pointed the police to her, too.  When they questioned Gail, she did not call Adrianne her friend, only a bad neighbor.

It was that 14-year-old girl who showed up at the station and set Adrianne free, paying the posted bond that amounted up to exactly one-fourth the amount Adrianne had saved for her coffee shop.  “You’ll do no good here;” the girl said, “go back from where you came and tell the others what they can do.”

As Adrianne returned home, she stopped by the corner of 23d and Zion and there on the corner was a big sign spelling out the new stadium’s construction.  She took out a piece of paper, a pencil, and a hairpin from her purse, pinned it over the sign and wrote on it in capital letters, “THIS WILL BE MY NEW HOME.  PEACE TO THE STRANGER WHO ENTERS HERE!”

She then walked the remaining block home with her head up high, entered through the door in her blue mink coat.  Her husband was there watching the day’s news.

I’m tired of living off 23d and Zion.  But “Stay awake,” I keep reminding myself.  Three more days can no longer be far away, it must be here and now, and I can no longer keep quiet about it.

As to the new stadium, I have the fourth quarter.

Copyright 1995 by Kali Kucera.  All Rights Reserved.