Being betrayed is like breaking your arms. You can forgive but you won't be able to hug.

-Leo Tolstoy

Louisa pranced upstairs. The euphoria of becoming the newly elected president of the 42nd Street Council allowed her to ignore the bleeding leg wound. It was only after she sprinted up to the fourth-floor landing that she realized her utter exhaustion and, there on the linoleum steps, the trail of congealing blood glistening under the fluorescent lights.

Taking a breather on the landing Louisa recalled that it was her best friend Agnes who had the idea of a neighborhood council four years ago, on one of those balmy summer days too hot to stay indoors. Louisa perched on the wrought-iron fire escape shaded from sun while Agnes pensively sipped from a half-empty beer bottle.

"See that?" Agnes suddenly stood, pointing her chin north to the other side of the elevated 7 train track. "The Chinese restaurant territory - got them own rules, highly organized, steep in tradition, and kept their neighborhood stable for ages -won't bother us as long as we don’t bother them."

Agnes then turned her head to the left and continued her soliloquy. "To the west we are flanked by Flushing Creek, and in the south the Kissena Park - both are barriers against the influx of undesirable elements. However, what keeps me up at night is what’s happening to the east of us." She turned her broad shoulders in the direction of Queen’s Public Library and PS 202 and stared.

"Word on the street is that a turf war is on in Murray Hill - has nothing to do with us, right? Not yet. However, ousted losers in a territorial struggle migrate away from the area of conflict. Where could they go? The Russians already have Beechurst, and the Persians control Whitestone. Unless they could bang in the bottom of the East River, the only direction they could go is to the west - and that’s us. Yes, the dregs from that pathetic gang tussle will cross 149th Street and bring the hood here. Be ready for mayhem my friend - just a matter of time."

Then Agnes stood with her back erect and looked at her friend in the eyes, "This is just me thinking out loud now - what if we start a neighborhood watch where people take turns to walk the street, befriend the neighbors, get to know the businesses, and alert everyone to help whenever needed."

 "Awesome idea! Count me in." Louisa responded with enthusiasm as she usually did upon hearing her friend, whom she regarded as being smarter and more adventurous.

Louisa remembered her childhood. The neighborhood was all black. There were some Norwegians on the other side of Franklin Ave, but most of them eventually moved away. She and Agnes ran up and down the street at any hour of the day without any concern for their own safety. Agnes, a head taller than Louisa, had effortlessly dispatched plenty of banal street bullies crying back to their mothers.

Then things changed. She did not remember exactly when, but she started to hear aunts and uncles mentioning theft and violence. The neighborhood also became more diverse. First, the Russians moved in on 39th Street, followed by the establishment of Egyptians and Turkish enclaves around Roosevelt and Main. Each group treated others with polite aloofness.

"To be successful we need to keep it small and manageable.” Agnes elaborated,” Let's take the 42nd between Main Street and College Point as our base and get to know the residents and solicit for volunteers. We should also start a neighborhood council with voting members to manage the volunteers and do fundraisers. Maybe call it 42nd Street Council? Oh, and we will need a mission statement, charters, and by-laws."

"I can take care of them nerdy stuff." Louisa volunteered.

"I was hoping you would say that." Agnes smiled. "Now let's think about the composition of the council. Diversity is key, with council members could be a reflection of all the groups on our street so everyone would feel like a stakeholder."

Louisa agreed, and they proceeded to list possible candidates - Alexie the Russian, Nasir the Egyptian, Jin the Singaporean ….”

“By the way, could you also ask Sven?”

The only Norwegian left in the neighborhood, Sven was so old that he was friends with Louisa’s grandparents, and she did not remember a time when he did not have white hair.

“Sven is not a representation of any enclave …”

Agnes laughed and uttered under her breath, “It’s for diversity - good optics - to have all shades and ages.”

In a few months the 42nd Street Council was established, and Agnes was voted in as the first president. The neighborhood watch was organized and run by the council. Any non-resident individuals entering 42nd Ave from either Main Street or College Point Avenue would be greeted with a smile and a hello. If they lingered, they would be asked if they needed help looking for someone or something - all of which served as a reminder that they had been noticed.

Almost all adults on the street participated in this venture. Friendship was established, block parties thrown, and the bond of community grew. The 42nd stayed safe through the turbulence of skirmishes on its surroundings. As Agnes received accolades for her ideas and hard work, other neighborhoods emulated their organization and methods.

Then the pandemic came. Almost all businesses and restaurants shuttered. The Chinese restaurant territory north of the train track, stable for generations as Agnes recounted before, collapsed. Waves of what Agnes called “Ronins” roved through the neighborhood. The Neighborhood Council offered passersby cool water and pointed them to shaded resting areas in the summer and the location of heat vents in the winter. At the same time, communication with all the other neighborhoods was maintained and utilized frequently to look for settlements for the displaced.

Gradually, over a period of two years, the stress of the pandemic evolved from overwhelmingly unbearable to onerously surmountable. Confidence grew steadily albeit slowly as a sense of new normal set in. Business returned. Old restaurants reopened their doors while new ones popped up left and right. Many boutique eateries found their way into 42nd street.

The 42nd Street Council received plenty of attention and respect for not only fostering the communal ethos and maintaining peace and safety during the time of turmoil, but also being instrumental in helping the dispossessed. In particular, Agnes was often mentioned as an exemplary community organizer while Louisa happily functioned as the quiet lieutenant by her side.

As 42nd street emerged from its lockdown desolation to become a host to the bustling post-pandemic throng, the patrol, if it was partnered with Jin, took longer and longer as the Singaporean made her business to talk to everyone she saw on every walk-by and knew everything about every household on the block.

It was after one of those long garrulous strolls during which Jin told Louisa about Eleanor from the McCain Hardware just had her third grandchild - a baby girl this time as she had wished for; Guido from Gino’s Subs was on the mend after a broken ankle and was greeting customers again by the counter - to everyone's relief; and Gwen from Tommy’s Read Again Books hoped that they won't turn the store into a co-op - unless they allow retail space on the ground floor, in which case it would be even more ideal for the business than the current arrangement; and they sat in the shade to cool down when the slight and loquacious council member hesitantly mumbled something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I was told in confidence by someone who saw the owner of the new sushi restaurant give Agnes a large chunk of toro last week."

"What’s toro?"

"It’s the belly of tuna where the meat is most tender. I never had it, but it is supposed to be flavored like butter - very expensive."

"Interesting. And the owner gave Agnes a piece of expensive sushi?"

"More like a whole chunk - from which multiple sushi could be made."

Louisa, having always regarded Agnes as her best friend since childhood, was sure that as of two years ago she would surely have shared the fancy toro with Louisa. But with the arduous stress and staggering workload of running the 42nd Street Council, she felt they had drifted apart a little as of late.

"And just yesterday I caught a glimpse of Agnes receiving wagyu from the barbecue restaurant."

"And wagyu is … "

"A Japanese style beef known for marble-like fat distribution and intense flavor."

"Let me guess - expensive."

Yes.

"Well, Agnes is well-liked, and if business owners want to show their appreciation - she deserves it."

"For sure, for sure." Jin agreed, but continued. "Although the owner from the barbecue looked angry and helpless when he handed over those items - not typical for gift-giving when people usually are smiling and appear happy."

The first of the cool evening breeze passing through between the buildings ruffled their hair. After a long reticent pause, Jin spoke again, "Agnes is strong and fast…," her voice obscured by the rustle of the leaves.

They bid each other goodbye and went their separate ways just as the sun fell behind the roof of the East West Plaza building. Louisa, trudging slowly, was perturbed and apprehensive about her conversation with Jin. Passing by a five-story walk-up, she suddenly had an idea. She entered the building and marched straight up to the roof. As expected, she found Nasir, who, when not reconnoitering on the street, was usually sunning himself on the roof in a semi-nap - with one eye closed and another gaping at the street below.

"What can I do for you, Louisa?" Nasir asked without looking up as Louisa approached.

"I have just been informed of the possibility that the 42nd Street Council president has been … eh, receiving gifts from local businesses. I thought you always had your eyes on the street. Have you seen anything that could corroborate that story?"

The Egyptian suddenly opened both eyes widely and gazed at Louisa, making her realize that he had never looked directly at her with both eyes before. After 5 seconds he closed one eye again and turned his staring back on the street below.

"Agnes has been extorting the restaurants for the past eight months. You were such close friends I thought you were part of it."

"What? Me! No! No! No! I mean … how?"

"Well, she is a clever girl. She knows the schedule of the restaurant inspection conducted by the New York City Health Department and can sabotage the inspection if she wanted - an overturned garbage can, knocked over stockpot, or even live bugs dropped in salad bowls - things that would require immediate suspension of business license. The restaurateurs pay her off to stay open."

"Why did nobody say anything?"

"For what? You want to go after a powerful queen of popularity with connection? No! I treasure my peaceful lifestyle and like to just enjoy my days soaking up the sun on the roof."

"That’s simply not right." Louisa averred, noting that her teeth were chattering due to anger. "If I introduce an article of impeachment at the council meeting tomorrow, would I have your vote?"

Nasir snickered in response. Louisa remained mute as she was suddenly uncertain if she would actually go through with the motion to remove her friend from the presidency.

After a long pause during which Louisa wondered the Egyptian had fallen asleep, he replied, "That’s brave of you, young lady. We Shirazis have a long honorable tradition of doing the right thing despite the consequences - If you indeed propose the removal tomorrow you will have my vote."

Louisa thanked Nasir and walked back out onto the street. Finding herself yet still unable to fully commit to any particular course of action, she meandered down Main Street, ruminating. As the first street light came on, she found herself in front of Clair’s Beauty Supply. After a pause to thank her subconsciousness that led her there, she went up to the second-floor apartment and found the door open - as it always was as she remembered from her childhood visits accompanying her grandparents. She walked in and was immediately enveloped by the scent of marijuana - also consistent with her childhood memory - and saw Sven smiling from behind a thicket of cannabidiol haze.

"You look just like your grandmother." He commented with a nebulous drawl. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Louisa explained her dilemma and the desire for some grandfatherly advice. The Norwegian peered through his unruly white lock with a rare flash of keenness.

"You have two choices." Sven’s lazy drone suddenly became concise and analytical. "First, let it be - say and do nothing. The street is in peace. Everyone is happy. The restaurants pay for protection - no different from paying rent, taxes, and utilities, a - forget it Jake, it’s Chinatown - solution."

"But I would have allowed this wrong to continue - I wonder if I could live with myself with that knowledge."

"Ah, that - looking in the mirror and feeling good about yourself - thing. Such a youthful conundrum. When you get to my age, you will learn to live with all kinds of turpitudes and regrets with callous comfort - so convenient." He chuckled.

"As usual, when people ask for help with decisions - they actually have already decided. So you prefer the righteous course, the hard one, the one by which you will lose your best friend and stir up a hornet's nest - and allow you to live the rest of your days in lonely dignity. Well, here is a little secret - " Sven leaned forward and whispered, "There is no wrong choice, - whichever way you decide, and regardless of the consequences, when you are as old as I am, you would have convinced yourself that you made the right decision - nothing in the world is as powerful as self-deception - so have no fret."

Contemplating, Louisa remained quiet.

"Oh, and if you are calling for a vote of no-confidence tomorrow, talk to that Russian to secure his vote."

"Between you, Jin, Nasir, and I, we already have four out of six votes. A two-thirds majority will carry the impeachment - I know because I created the by-laws."

"Yes. But two-thirds only gives you a technical win - good in passing budget resolutions and deciding the venue of the next fundraiser. However, what you are planning is an insurrection. In an uprising it’s good to have everyone behind you - not just a voting majority. As we used to say in the Norwegian forest, bring all your swords to the battle. A unanimous vote is decisive - it tends to settle the argument, minimize the chance of future resurgence, and give you a stronger political mandate for any reform you may want to institute."

"I hear you and agree completely.” Louisa nodded. "Really appreciate your insights."

"You know …" The slow drawl suddenly returned as Sven wrinkled a smile, "Your grandparents would be proud of you."

She bit Sven goodbye and hurried to Alexie’s studio apartment above a Cuban bakery. So as not to disturb Alexie’s sleeping granddaughter, Louisa explained her predicament in the dimly lit hallway imbued with the aroma of boiling guava paste and rising dough.

"I admire your courage young lady, and I would toast you with potato vodka in accordance with our blue Russian tradition anticipating a revolution - except the bottle is under the mattress and I don't want to wake Anya with the noise of retrieving it. But are you truly ready for it.?"

"Yes. It would be a unanimous decision other than Agnes’s vote; the motion will be carried."

"Just like that? You think?" The Russian simpered. "Have you read Chinua Achebe? - A person who has just come in from the rain and dried his body and put on dry cloth is more reluctant to go back out in the rain again than another who has been indoors the whole time. Agnes, like us, came from poverty and never had access to power or material goods, has now gained notoriety, respect, as well as a taste for toro and wagyu, and will not give it up without a nasty fight . So get your votes in. But also be ready for a knockdown drag-out brawl once the result is counted."

*****

Louisa started her climb on the stairway again after her breathing had eased and heart slowed down. Alexie was right. Louisa recalled the 42nd Street Neighborhood Council meeting earlier that day when she was shattered by her best friend’s venomous stare as she was informed of their decision to remove her from the presidency.

Grimacing, Agnes shrieked, “Who you think you are? My neighborhood council, my idea, my work, and my connection to business. You lot are only here because I allowed you to be. Think you can replace me? Think again.” She pounced.

Louisa remembered Jin’s advice: Agnes is powerful and fast, but lacking in finesse. She would charge at you like a football player. Just side-step and let her pass, then pivot on one foot and turn around, then you have her entire undefended back to work with.

Louisa finally reached the seventh floor and stopped in front of apartment C just as the door opened.

"Good morning Louisa." The man at the door greeted her cheerfully, as she spit out the tip of Agnes’s right ear from her mouth and started licking the oozing gouge on her left hind leg made by Agnes’s sharp claws.

"Oh my goddess that looks nasty. Let’s go to Dr. Gustaveson later to clean that up so it won’t get infected. Now, ready for your morning milk?" The man tickled her neck as he asked, and Louisa purred, wondering if she would run into Agnes in the vet’s office later that day.