Eggplant Alley (9781593731410)

by Cataneo, D.

  “We still have the other packs to open,” Lester offered.

  With something to look forward to, the walk home was pleasant. Lester remarked that some of the homes on Summit looked pretty nice.

  “For now,” Nicky said.

  They reached the corner of Summit and Mayflower, where they could look down the hill at the Only House With Trees. Lester said, “Look, that one down there even has some fine maples and elms.”

  “For now,” Nicky said.

  Nicky and Lester sat on the front steps of Eggplant Alley and opened the second packs of baseball cards. They chewed the stiff gum and compared their accumulated treasure. A hot breeze scattered the wrappings, and Nicky gathered them before they could blow away.

  “I’ll toss ’em,” Nicky said.

  Nicky went to the gutter to stuff the baseball card wrappers down the sewer. He looked over his shoulder. Lester’s eyes bulged behind his glasses and he chewed madly on his gum as he studied the backs of his cards.

  “Did you know Zeke Samuelson collects classic automobiles?” Lester said through a gum bubble.

  “No fooling,” Nicky said. He reached into his back pocket. He made sure Lester was not looking. This was something he did not want anyone to see. This was something no one could ever know, ever suspect. This was worth a bolt of lightning from the sky, a plague of locusts, seven years of bad luck.

  “This is bad,” Nicky thought, as he dropped the baseball card wrappers and Dad’s letter to Roy down the sewer.

  Dominoes 22

  Nicky’s life changed. For the better.

  The truth was out, and he was a free boy. He was unleashed from the worry and work of protecting a lie from his best friend (and there was no use denying it, Lester had become his best friend, at least till Roy came home). Nicky no longer had anything to hide.

  That photo of Roy, with a shaved head, in his army uniform, the one in the gold frame, extravagantly displayed on the living room table?

  “Can’t hurt me anymore,” Nicky thought, heart soaring.

  Mom and Dad’s loose lips, liable to spill the secret of Roy’s true whereabouts?

  “Let them sing like canaries,” Nicky thought, head swooning.

  He was safe. Nicky enjoyed the truth like a new toy. He was eager to play with it.

  “Hey, Mom, can Lester come over for supper tonight?”

  “Sure, why not? Let’s feed the whole neighborhood while we’re at it.” Mom was beading the cheap plastic necklaces in the humid afternoon. The sweat stung her eyes and made the plastic beads slippery as she worked six hours to earn seven dollars.

  Mom sighed.

  “I don’t mean to be crabby,” she said. “It’s the lousy heat. Of course your friend can come up. I’m glad you finally made a friend of your own.”

  Nicky banged on the door to 2-C, heard footsteps, a bump, a thump, a closet door creak, hangers jangle. “Maybe he sits in the closet all day,” Nicky thought.

  The door opened.

  “You should call,” Lester said, cheeks pink and sweaty.

  “Next time. Wanna come up for supper tonight?”

  Lester glanced over his shoulder.

  “I’ll go ask Mama. You wait …”

  “I know, right here.”

  “Yes. My mama just shampooed the rugs.”

  Lester disappeared into the hot apartment. Nicky heard murmuring. He sniffed the air. He did not smell rug shampoo.

  Lester returned. “Yes, thank you. I may come up for dinner.”

  Mrs. Allnuts called from inside the apartment, “Lester? Is your friend out in the hallway? Goodness. Why don’t you invite that boy in?”

  “He’s got to go, Mother,” Lester called. His cheeks were heating up, from pink to red.

  Nicky nodded and said, “I do gotta go. I’ll see you later. Come up at four.”

  Lester closed the door. Nicky walked to the staircase, but he stopped on the bottom step. He cocked his head in the direction of 2-C and closed his eyes and listened. He heard muffled talking, and then Mrs. Allnuts shouted, “Lester, goodness gracious. What’s the matter with you? Why do you keep putting this in the closet?”

  Lester showed up at four o’clock on the button. Mom had the big fan going in the kitchen window and the little fan going in the living room, but the fans didn’t help. It was a stifling humid night. The kind of night when Roy would say, every time, “This feels like the inside of a used gym sock.”

  The moist linoleum sucked softly at Lester’s sneaker bottoms as he walked into the kitchen.

  “Nice to meet you,” Mom said. She shifted in the vinyl kitchen chair, which adhered to her thighs.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lester said. His wiry hair was neatly parted and combed for the visit, but cowlicks were already unspringing and curling in the moist air.

  “Well, aren’t you a nice clean-cut young man? It’s nice to see these days.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “It’s too hot to cook. So Mr. Martini is getting a pizza pie from Lombardo’s. That sound okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “So polite!” Mom said. “Nicky, I hope you’re this polite when you visit Lester’s apartment.”

  “Me, too,” Nicky said.

  Lester examined the linoleum.

  Nicky said, “Hey, Mom, is it okay if me and Lester go up to the roof and catch a breeze until Dad gets back with the pie?”

  Mom scowled. “Nicky, why don’t you … All right, if you want to. I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t care. But if there’s anybody else up there, you come right down. Don’t talk to anybody. Be careful your friend doesn’t fall off in the dark. He doesn’t know the roof like you do.”

  Nicky said he had to use the bathroom, putting his delicious, evil plan into motion. He carefully closed and silently locked the bathroom door and filled two ancient party balloons at the faucet. He filled them just the way Roy taught him: not too much or they burst in your hand, not too little or they split meekly on impact, producing a thud with no splash. Nicky tucked the balloons under his shirt and cradled them, and the cold water against his belly startled him.

  Nicky rushed past the kitchen and called, “Okay, let’s go.”

  Mom said, “Come down right away if you see lightning.”

  In the hallway, Nicky showed Lester the two quivering, plump beauties.

  “Ever throw a water balloon at anybody?” Nicky said.

  “Of course.”

  “Ever throw a water balloon at anybody from ten stories?”

  Lester’s eyes widened with bad-boy delight. He adjusted his glasses. “No. Really? Very interesting. Won’t it hurt somebody? Really? Oh, boy.”

  On this night, even on the roof, there was no breeze. Lester and Nicky picked their way along the retaining wall and looked out. The streets and buildings seemed closer in the humid night. Rosner’s pink neon sign, sputtering down on Broadway; the dark squares of the rooftops on Summit Avenue; the hazy lights of the apartment buildings by the parkway; the purple hulk of the aspirin factory, dark now because the second shift was laid off last December—all nice and cozy together under the same wet blanket. The sounds were intimate, too. Every window was thrown open. Hundreds of fans whirred; television laugh tracks erupted; ice chuckled in a tumbler; a toilet flushed; a man belched; a telephone rang and the boys could clearly hear a woman say, “Hello. Yeah. What? He ain’t home. Who the hell is this?”

  Nicky led Lester to the Groton Avenue side of the roof. They peeked over the wall. The residents had spilled out of the steamy tenements and onto the stoops, curbstones, and car hoods. They fanned themselves with folded newspapers. They tugged at their soggy clothes. Two shirtless young men leaned against a streetlamp and smoked cigarettes in the cone of hazy light. An old man, shriveled into a white T-shirt, lounged on a stoop and lifted a beer can to his mouth. Someone had a radio going, tuned to the Yankees game. The Orioles were beating them. Only two small girls found the energy for movement. They played hopscotch in the lamplight on the
sidewalk. Nicky and Lester could hear the stone click on the pavement as they played. Nicky and Lester could hear and see it all, and no one could see them. The excitement was almost unbearable.

  “No target in range—yet,” Nicky whispered. “We’ll wait. One of them will wander close enough.”

  Lester adjusted his glasses. He looked at the yellow water balloon shimmying in his hand.

  “I have an idea. Why not drop them on somebody walking through the courtyard? There’s always someone walking through the courtyard. Then we don’t have to wait.”

  “What? Do you have to catch a bus? We’ll wait.”

  “But the courtyard …”

  “I don’t wanna drop it on somebody in the courtyard. I wanna hit one of them.”

  “All right.” Lester shrugged. He pulled his lips together into a pout.

  “Don’t you want to?”

  “I don’t care,” Lester shrugged. “I just don’t want to start a riot or anything.”

  “Oh, there won’t be any riot,” Nicky scoffed. “You afraid of them? Give it to me. I’ll throw then both if you don’t want to. Are you chicken or something?”

  “I am not chicken. I want to. I just don’t want to start trouble. Why start something with them?”

  Nicky slumped down. He sat with his back to the wall. Lester sat against the wall, imitating him.

  “Why? Because it feels good,” Nicky said. “You want to know why? You haven’t lived around here long. You don’t know. I’ll tell you why. Because of them, no one wants to live in Eggplant Alley anymore. All my friends moved away because of them. And there’s no more stickball around here because of them. And you can’t walk down Groton Avenue at night because of them. My mother does beadwork so maybe we can save up enough money to get out of here. Because of them. And the Good Humor man doesn’t come here anymore. Because of them.”

  Lester didn’t say anything.

  “Yeah. I’ll give them a nice bath.”

  Nicky knelt and peeked over the wall. Lester peeked over with him. They watched in silence.

  One of the young black men under the streetlight dropped his cigarette. He stepped on the glowing butt and strolled off the sidewalk between two parked cars.

  “Here we go,” Nicky whispered.

  The young man walked casually in the street, straight toward Eggplant Alley.

  “Coming our way,” Nicky said.

  The young man put his hands in his pockets and walked toward the apartment building. He looked down at the pavement as he walked. Nicky and Lester crouched lower and lower as the young man moved closer and closer. Then the young man was directly below them, ten stories straight down. The boys ducked.

  Nicky felt his heart hammering. He said, “Hold on. Listen.”

  There was silence.

  Lester said, “What’s he …”

  “Quiet.”

  The iron gate that led into Eggplant Alley creaked.

  “He just went through the back gate,” Nicky said. “That’s right below—” He jabbed a finger at a section of wall four feet away. “There. It’s right below there. Throw. Now!”

  Nicky smoothly heaved his water balloon. He tossed it over the section of wall precisely where he had pointed. Lester flung his, too. He threw it wildly, as if the balloon were something he just wanted to be rid off.

  Then came the sweet moment of tantalizing suspense, the tingling seconds between when water balloons are thrown and when they hit.

  Pause.

  Splish.

  Pause.

  Thunk-clunk-splish.

  And an enraged, garbled voice howled from below: “Whuh the …! Son of a blumpin’ crack! No good! Hey! Son of a …! Bam glibbing cashew bluppers!”

  Nicky and Lester clutched each other by the shoulders. Their cheeks puffed out with suppressed laughter. Their heads quivered with smothered giggles. This was funny, and even funnier because they could not laugh.

  Then from Groton Avenue: “They came from up the roof. I saw ’em. They came from up the damn roof.”

  Nicky said, “We better get out of here.”

  Now they were the hunted.

  Even better.

  Nicky and Lester pounded across the tar to the roof door and piled down the steps to the ninth floor and pressed the elevator button. They were breathless with fear and joy. They listened. Somewhere in the lower floors of the building, feet shuffled angrily. Swear words echoed up the stairwell. Were enraged citizens running up the steps? Coming for them? Nicky and Lester were wild with excitement. Nicky pressed the button madly. They needed to get in the elevator. Once they were on the elevator, they were safe. Just two kids riding the elevator.

  Roof? We weren’t on the roof.

  The elevator arrived, the door trundled open, and they jumped in. They leaned forward, hands on their thighs, to collect themselves. They were laughing and sweating and talking between gulps of air.

  “I wonder what that … second one hit?” Nicky said. “It sounded like it … bounced off something hollow. Maybe that guy’s head!”

  “I have to … admit … this was very interesting,” Lester said.

  “Did you see me time it just … right? Am I the best … or what? Roy taught me that. All you have to do … is memorize landmarks. I’ll show you. Next time, we’ll toss some … eggs. You should hear an egg hit a car … windshield from ten stories. Crunch! Splat!”

  “Ha ha ha! Very interesting.”

  The elevator shuddered to a stop on five.

  “We better settle down,” Nicky said, choking down a last laugh. “My mom will know we were up to no good. She has radar, I swear.”

  The boys breathed in short gasps when they entered the apartment.

  “You look hot. Go wash up,” Mom said. “Your father should be here any minute.”

  Nicky and Lester were in the bathroom when, over the rush of the faucet, they heard the apartment door slam open followed by hollering. They hurried out, hands dripping. Dad stood in the entryway, shaking and swearing. In his trembling hand he balanced a pizza box, bashed, folded into a V-shape, oozing water laced with tomato sauce. A tatter of yellow balloon hung limply in the crease of the box.

  “What happened?” Mom said.

  “What happened? I was coming in the back way and some colored mutts hit me with a goddamn water balloon, that’s what happened!”

  “You know you shouldn’t take the shortcut at night,” Mom said.

  “No-good stinking rotten colored sons of bitches. What’s it mean? What’s it mean when a man can’t even walk home with a pizza pie without getting attacked?”

  “Did you see them?”

  “No, but I heard them. They were yelling something at me after they hit me. I saw one guy near the building, but it wasn’t him. He almost got hit himself.”

  “Maybe he was their lookout,” Mom offered.

  Mom took the battered pizza box from Dad. She opened the lid. It was like opening a book with a huge wad of chewing gum pressed between the pages. A gooey spiderweb of mozzarella stretched between the cardboard.

  “I’ll see what I can save from this mess. Boys, did you ever eat pizza with a spoon before?”

  The boys played board games after dinner. Mom ironed. Dad watched the Yankees game. Then the boys begged and Mom telephoned Mrs. Allnuts to make the arrangements for Lester to sleep over. Mom did not need to be begged hard. It was clear she enjoyed having two boys underfoot again.

  Nicky lay in his bed. Lester was in Roy’s bed.

  “That was the first game of Monopoly I ever won in my whole life,” Nicky said.

  “Very interesting,” Lester said. “I have never won one.”

  “You will.”

  Lester went on, “Does this ever happen to you? The teacher always calls on me when I don’t know the answer. Never calls on me when I do know the answer. Never.”

  “Alla time,” Nicky said.

  “Very interesting.”

  A damp breeze lifted the curtains and swept across th
e beds. Neither of the boys said anything for a long while.

  “So what do you think is going to happen when your dad comes back?” Nicky said. “Do you think you’re going to move away?”

  “I really don’t know,” Lester said carefully. “I guess a lot depends on what happens around here.”

  “What happens around here?”

  “If the atmosphere improves.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’ve said it a million times. Nobody wants to live in Eggplant Alley anymore. But who knows? Maybe that will change.”

  Nicky said, “Well, don’t hold your breath. This place is going downhill. Like my grandmother used to say, one thing leads to another.”

  The springs of Roy’s bed cheeped. Nicky clenched his eyes at the sound. He was glad Lester could not see him in the dark.

  “My grandmother had a saying, too,” Lester said. “She used to say, ‘Dominoes can fall in either direction.’”

  “Very interesting,” Nicky said.

  “Yes, it is. So you know what I think we should do, first thing tomorrow? No matter what?”

  “I dunno? What?”

  “Play stickball.”

  “Nobody plays …”

  Lester said, “You’ve said that a million times, too.”

  Nicky said nothing for a while. Then, “I guess we could give it a try.”

  “So we try? No matter what?”

  “Okay. Sure. No matter what.”

  “So we push the dominoes in the other direction. No matter what.”

  “All right, already.” Nicky shrugged in the dark. “No matter what.”

  The springs of Roy’s bed cheeped as Lester fidgeted into sleeping position.

  Cheep-cheep.

  The sound was like a lullaby.

  Shoes 23

  The next morning, Nicky and Lester stood in the Building B vestibule and watched the rain pour into the courtyard of Eggplant Alley. The drops hit the pavement so hard, they appeared to bounce. Water chuckled in the drainpipes. Spattering pools formed on the courtyard walkways. The boys looked up at the rain. They looked down at the two baseball mitts, the two Spaldeens, the broomstick. They looked up at the rain again. They felt foolish, like two boys carrying surfboards in a snowstorm.