#56

She shopped online instead of in stores to avoid being asked if she’d like to save by opening a store card. She crossed the street and would even walk in the wrong direction when she saw a person on the corner in a blue vest asking people if they had a moment for the rainforest.

She often heard other people say “no” in these situations, but when she tried, her voice cracked and her stomach churned. She longed to have a voice that sounded like it did not care. A voice that was always on vacation, that never sweated, never worried where the nearest exit was. When she spoke the word “no,” she felt like she was doing something wrong, disappointing someone, generating bad karma.

Then finally one afternoon, she said it without hesitation.

A man had come to her door asking her to sign a petition to lower the speed limit on their block. She had been napping when the doorbell rang and was still in the fuzzed out zone of waking, and spoke without thinking.

“No.”

“Can I ask why not?” The man said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“No.”

“Do you—“ he tried to get out another question, but she was so overwhelmed by her own voice and continued to utter “no.”

She used different tones, different pitches, trying each oneto get the right fit. She roared, whispered, made round shapes with her lips. She spoke out of one side of her mouth than the other, and then without opening her lips at all. “No, no, no, no…”

The man put his hands in front of him and backed up like he was dealing with a moose in the wild. When he was halfway down her driveway, he turned and ran. She let out one last long “nooooo,” holding the sound until she was out of breath. Back inside her home, she closed the door and smiled and said “yes” to no one.