The Refrigerator Door is Broken

The Refrigerator Door Is Broken

by Bernice Holtzman

The refrigerator door is broken

Knocked out of alignment somehow

I discover it in the evening

I go to bed and dream that my entire ceiling has fallen in

The girl above me has bookshelves and plants

Water seeps down slowly

Then picks up speed and volume

I frantically move sentimental objects out of the path of the flow

I live with my mother in this dream

I beg her to call the super

But she's on a personal call and refuses to be interrupted

Finally I convince her and the super is called

He needs a work request form filled out before he can respond

I have no choice but to call you

Because you're a renowned plumber, and the best

I phone your office and am transferred three times

When I finally reach you, you reluctantly agree to come

But tell me I must wait until the end of the day

Because you're teaching classes at your international plumbing school

You're uncaring and cold

I go out into the street to pass the time

And find that a Bastille Day festival is in progress

I take a seat at a table

And am approached by a man with a mustache and accent

We chat amiably

He makes advances and when I demur

Things turn ugly and he leaves in a huff

When I get up I realize he has taken my blazer as punishment

I see an ex-boyfriend drive by with another couple in the back seat

They need a fourth

I climb in beside him

But when he starts to drive we go backwards

I feel dizzy but hang on

We stop at a park and put down a blanket

As we're enjoying the day

He tells me he wants to call a woman we saw engaged in a solo sexual activity during our drive

He has dated her before

"We're all the same to you, aren't we?" I ask

"Yes," he replies

He drops me off at a bar and goes to meet her

I wake up disturbed and late for work.

I believe this means I need to reevaluate my relationships

Understanding the connection between my unmet childhood needs

And my attempts to reconcile the past

By the choices I make and the men I select in the present

Armed with the knowledge

That I now have the power of an independent, autonomous adult.

Or maybe I just need to fix the refrigerator door.

Bernice Holtzman is an author of poems, short fiction, autobiographical pieces, two (so far) children’s stories, and all manner of clever commentary. Her work has appeared in The National Poetry Magazine of the Lower East Side. That was 30 years ago, and she’s still talking about it.