“Aw man, you see that shit? Now why do you gotta be that way. Okay, fine, I’ll try on one more dress, but that’s it.”
“Without the pants.”
“Man, do I really have to?”
“If you want the surprise, yes.”
“Why does life have to be so hard? So where’s the fuckin’ dress?”
“Hang on, and stop cursing. I left it over there.”
In a rush to get the whole thing over with, and forgetting for the moment that he was still wearing the other dress, Larry followed Diego to the opposite end of the rack.
“Oh, crap! Why didn’t you tell me I still had this fuckin’ shit on?”
“Stop cursing, will you?”
Larry quickly pulled the dress over his head and flung it high into the air toward the other side of the rack.”
“Here, try on this red one on. I saw it before when you were in there changing.”
Larry reluctantly snatched it from him, and without another word, shuffled towards the dressing room, dragging the dress along the floor behind himself.
Two aisles over, Butchie’s mother lay a second blouse over her arm. She was now heading between the dress racks to the checkout with her son.
“Hey, Diego. What‘re you doin’ here?”
“Butchie! Oh…uh…I’m with my mother. She’s trying something on.”
“Oh, yeah…well, hey, this is my mother.”
“Hi, ma‘am, I’m pleased to…”
The heavy curtain to the dressing room suddenly swung to the side with Larry looking down and brushing the front of the dress flat. “This better be it, because I…I… oh, crap!”
Opened mouthed and wide eyed, Larry melted where he stood, in the middle of the aisle with a sickening feeling welling up in his stomach. The dress fit perfectly with Larry’s chubby knees barely showing below the hem line. His red cheeks matched the dress to a T.
“Well, well,” Butchie slowly said.
Covering his mouth, he suddenly exploded with laughter. As soon as he was able to, he quipped, “Hi there, Mrs. Rivera, so pleased to meet you.”
“Come on Butchie! Let’s get out of here!” his mother barked.
Larry said nothing else. Totally defeated, his arms were left hanging loosely at the sides of the dress, his head hanging as low as he felt inside. Turning quietly around, his heels scuffed the floor as he shuffled his way back to the dressing room, his short and chubby, powder white legs, fully exposed beneath the dress.
And Diego never even liked that dress, nor any of the other ones Larry had tried on. It was all in jest and he enjoyed every minute of it. He pulled the one he had set aside from the rack, a dress he had already picked out the first time his friend stepped into the dressing room. It was a red dress of a totally different style, size 7 petit.
After an appeasement of not one, but two banana splits, Larry exited Woolworth’s holding his belly, ‘less it fell to his knees. With a satisfied look on his face, he licked the chocolate from the corner of his mouth and headed with Diego to Baker’s Shoes on the next block. Spared from trying on anything else, Larry found out what the surprise was—nothing—nada—zilch, and it pissed him off for being had so easily.
When Diego got home, he laid the shopping bags on the kitchen table and sat with anticipation.
“Hijo, what ees all dees?” asked Ana, rummaging through the bags.
“I’m taking you to church tomorrow. It’s been a while and I know you would like to go.”
“Jess, a long time. How deed ju get all dees? How much deed all thees cost?”
“Mom, don’t worry about that? I found some money, that’s all.”
“Oh, mine goodness! Ju find moe-ney? Where?”
“In the street. It was laying in the gutter.”
“Een dee street? Maybe somebody ees lookeeng for dees money?”
“I don’t think so. I waited around for a while, but nobody came by. Go ahead, Mom, look inside.”
Ana took the dress out of the bag, held it up and sighed with a beginning of tears. “Look at thees dress. Eet ees so preedy. (Sniff) Fourteen, ninedy eight? So much moe-ney! We could by food weeth thees moe-ney.”
“I got you shoes to go along with it and a pair of stockings.”
Ana reached into the other bag and put the shoe box on the table. She wiped her eyes and opened the box carefully as if any sudden move would make it all disappear. Unfolding the paper wrapping carefully to the sides, she took out one of the shoes.
Diego mirrored her smile. “They looked like the shoes in the closet, the ones you used to wear when you dressed up. I was lucky, they still had the same style, so I bought them. How do you like them, Mom?”
Ana couldn’t believe it. Tearfully shaking, she leaned forward, kissed her son on the cheek and said, “Ju making ju momma so hoppy, Diego.”
Sunday Morning
“You’re going to look beautiful,” said Karen, finishing up with Ana’s eye liner. “How does she look, Diego? Come see.”
“Wow, Mom! You look pretty. I really mean it.”
“Stand up for a second so I can fix your stockings,” said Karen.
Ana carefully stood and checked her makeup in a handheld mirror while Karen straightened the hems of her stockings so that the thick black lines ran down the exact middle of the back of her legs.
“You have dancer’s legs,” said Karen.
“Gracias! I used to be strong. I donce a lot.”
“Go ahead and sit and I’ll put your shoes on.”
“Mom, I can’t believe how pretty you look.”
“Whaddya mean you can’t believe it?” said Karen. “She was always pretty.”
“Well, yeah I know, but you know what I mean.”
“Of course I do. I’m only kidding, can’t you tell?”
Diego smiled. “I think I better get up to Atlantic Avenue and hail a cab. I want mom to get a seat in church.”
Ana blew her son a kiss. “Good idea, Hijo.”
Taxis heading back to Manhattan often cruise Atlantic Avenue on their way to the Brooklyn Bridge in order to avoid traffic on Flatbush Avenue. In less than ten minutes, an empty one pulled to the curb.
“Turn left here. I’m going to 240 Dean Street. I have to pick up my mother.”
“So where’re ya goin’ after dat?”
“St Paul’s on Court Street.”
“Dat’s a short hop. Why didn’tcha walk? I coulda got a ride to Manhattan by now.”
The disgruntled cabby lowered the red flag from the meter to a three o’clock position.
Diego looked away. Thirty-five cents already and we haven’t even moved yet.
As soon as the taxi got to the front of the house, he ran up the stoop and into the kitchen.
“How come you don’t have your coat on?” he said.
“Ees too ugly to put on over thees preedy dress. I have thees instead.” Ana closed a black, lace shawl around her shoulders.
“It’s cold out. I’ll get your coat.”
He returned with it and held it open. An overall brown color, speckled with red, yellow, and white dots, the right pocket of the coat was torn with half of it hanging down the outside. The bottom button was missing, leaving a tuft of brown threads behind.
“I cannot find dee openeeng,” Ana said. She continued to feel behind herself for the sleeve through the tattered lining.
“I’m always wanting to feex thees coat, but I’m forget to send Diego to buy dee thread I need. There…now dee other one.”
She adjusted the coat around her shoulders before fastening the buttons. “Eef I knew I was go to dee church…”
Karen said. “Don’t worry, Ana, it doesn’t look that bad. I’ll help you down the stairs.”
Arriving at church by 10:50, Diego and another parishioner assisted Ana up the stone steps to the double doors where the last of the nine o’clock faithful were still exiting. She immediately took off the coat, stuck it under her arm and entered the third pew from the front. The c
oat, she left folded on the bench, adjusting the shawl over her full breast before sitting down.
Nudges from attentive wives turned their men’s focus away from her and back to the altar.
The rest of the church soon filled with every seat taken and the back entryways starting to crowd with late standees. Bob Scanlon and his wife were in a row opposite Ana’s, and he had noticed.
Fifteen minutes before the end of the service, Diego walked three blocks up Court Street to hail a cab on Atlantic Avenue.
Outside the church, four men stood on all sides of Ana with offers to assist her down the steps. It took two to hold the taxi door open.
“Why didn’t you put your coat on?” said Diego.
“Ees not so cold,” she said.
“She’ll be all right,” said a man holding her gently by the hand.
At the top of the steps, Scanlon watched her go into the cab.
“Are you coming?” his impatient wife asked.
“I’ll be right there. Don’t worry about me! Go on, what’re ya waitin’ for? I’ll catch up!” He folded his arms in front of his chest. “Look at them two,” he muttered, to no one but himself, his head shaking subtly from side to side.
“Court and Carol,” Diego said.
The taxi zipped straight down Court Street, and in less than six minutes, pulled in front of Rinaldi’s Pizzeria.
Ana sat up straight and peered out of the window. “What are we doeeng here?”
“Come on, Mom. I’m treating you to lunch.”
Excited for the rare treat, Ana couldn’t believe all that was happening. “Oh, mine goodness. Thank you, Hijo.”
“Don’t worry about getting home, either. I have enough.”
A table inside, next to a window, was empty. Ana laid her coat across her lap, stuck the torn linings inside the sleeves and folded it over. “Thees day ees so good. No rain, I’m go to church, we take a toxi, and now ju are buyeeng me pizza.”
The kitchen door to the restaurant swung open. “Diego! Slap me five, man.”
“Hey, Louis. How’s everything?”
“Good! Long time no see.”
“This is my mother.”
“Hi, Ma’me.” Impressed, Louis asked, “What can I get you folks?”
“A large pizza, two Cokes and some zeppolis.”
“You got it! I’ll be right back.”
“Well, Mom, are you havin’ fun?”
“I’m likeeng dees. So ju were here before?”
This is the place I told you about. Remember last summer when me and Mr. Jackson, and Larry, and the guys all went to the piers?”
“Jess, and Louie chase those bad boys away. I remember what ju told to me.”
“Right, well, we came here a few times after that.”
The door to the kitchen opened and this time it was Anthony. He came out carrying their plate of zeppoli’s and sodas. “Looka who we gotta here…Mr. a Diego. And who’s a thisa beauty?”
“Hi Anthony, this is my mother.”
“So young, and with a face like a the angels. That’s a fine aboy you gotta there.”
“Gracias.”
Anthony sat with them and reiterated the story about the gang of kids that had given Diego and his friends so much trouble. “Nunzio, heeza ina the Brookaleen detention.”
“The Atlantic Avenue Jail? What for?”
“Stealeen the cars. He’s a big athief, thata boy.”
After finishing most of the pizza and getting ready to find a cab, Diego looked out of the window to where Louie and his wife, Yolanda, were approaching the pizzeria.
As soon as Louie entered the restaurant, he scanned the room. “There you are!”
“Louie! What a surprise,” said Diego.
“Ant’ney called me and told me you wuz in here. Hi, Ana, you remember my wife?” Louie took a second, long look at her. “Wow, now dats a plate o’ meatballs. Ana, you look like a queen!”
Ana blushed.
From behind Louie, a tall man around Ana’s age stepped forward.
“This is my older brother, Danny. He ain’t neva been married ‘cuz he been too busy playin’ in traffic.”
“Hi, Ana. Nice to meet you,” said Danny.
Ana looked back flirtatiously, ‘though with a hint of shyness. “So why ju playing een dee traffeek?”
“I’m a bus driver.”
The get together lasted for over an hour. When Louie and Yolanda got up to play records on the juke box, Diego took the opportunity to use the rest room. Ana found herself alone with Danny.
“Why done ju get marry, Donny?”
“I never met the right one.”
“Not even to geeve a ring?”
“Yeah, I got close a few times, but you know how it is, we bus drivers work crazy shifts…weekends, holidays. It can be stressful at times in a relationship and who’s gonna put up with that?”
“That ees too bod.”
“I was with the last girl for seven years. I really thought she was the right one, but she walked out on me. She hated my hours. Heck, I only have another five years to go for my pension.”
“Five jears? Ju are too young. What weel ju do then?”
“Move! I’ve been thinking…maybe to the island. It’s quieter out there. I thought I’d take the test for the Post Office…get another pension going. At least they have regular hours and I’ll still be outside. It’ll be good for me to walk a little after so many years behind the wheel.”
“I con understond that, Donny.”
The table filled again as everyone returned to their seats. After the music selections played themselves out, they all exchanged goodbyes. Danny gave Ana and Diego a ride home and walked them inside.
“Ju want some coffee, Donny?”
“I have to go in early tomorrow and need to get some sleep. Coffee keeps me awake. But thanks anyway.”
As he left, he shook hands with Diego before stepping through the outside door. Addressing Ana, he said, “I’m glad I met the both of you today.”
Ana smiled sweetly from her doorway. “Bye, Donny.”
“I’ll walk you out,” said Diego. That front door was fixed, but it still doesn’t work very well.”
Danny stepped out onto the stoop, still searching for the words he could have said to Ana, but nervousness was still keeping his mind a horrible blank. He said goodbye again to Diego and took four steps down before turning around with a thought.
“Say, would you mind if I go back in for a second to ask your mother if she could go to a wedding with me?”
Diego brightened with an all knowing grin. “Not at all, Danny. I think she would really like that.”
Monday afternoon.
Standing in front of D’avino’s, Scanlon eyed the open door left ajar by Karen’s two girls.
There’s something on that roof that has been interesting that kid. Not only that, but he and his mother sure seem to be spending a lot of money, lately.
His watch read 2:47. He crossed the street and went up to the top floor, the heavy footsteps, alerting Mary to the keyhole.
The heavy steps continued as the cop walked down the hall toward her, and then the reverberating sound of size 12 shoes on metal as he purposefully climbed the steel ladder.
Relieved to see that it was only a cop, Mary settled into the easy chair and as usual, dozed with the TV left on.
Fifteen minutes later, Diego closed the outside door and entered his apartment. “Hi, Mom!”
“How was school?”
“Okay…pretty good, actually.”
“Are ju hungry, Hijo?”
“Not right now.”
“Ju should eat sometheeng. Eet ees not good to go all day weethout eating sometheeng. I con make ju some hamburger and fresh fry if ju like, or maybe ju want some…”
“Mom…Mom, hold on for a second. First of all, they’re called French fries, not fresh fries. But besides that, I’ve been thinking. I need to tell you something really important.”
“Impo
rtante? What ees eet, Mijo?”
“You better sit on the couch. This is a real loo loo.”
“A le lo li?”
“No, no…it’s…it’s not about island music.”
“Mine goodness. What ees dee mattor?”
“It’s nothing bad. It’s about the money I found.”
“Dee feefty doe-lars? I know. Eet’s all gone. Done worry about thees.”
“No Mom…I didn’t tell you the whole story.”
Ana read the worry on Diego’s face. As they both sat on the couch, she reached for his hand and with surety and a consoling tone, said, “Whatever eet ees, we con feex eet.”
“Mom, it’s nothing like that. It’s kind of good actually.”
Ana sat up and attentively focused on her son.
“Okay Mom…it’s this way. You remember when I found the money, right?”
“Si, of course.”
“Well…it wasn’t fifty dollars.”
“Oh?” Ana straightened.
Diego took a deep breath, looked into her attentive, brown eyes, and with reserve, softly said, “It was ten thousand dollars.”
Speechless, Ana’s lower jaw dropped. Her eyes opened wide and she sank into the sofa. “Ten thousond doe-lars? Oh mine goodness!” Covering her mouth, she gasped through her fingers.
“Take it easy, Mom. It’s all there.”
Ana bolted upright, calmed herself and said, “So…where ees, there?”
“The roof!”
“Here? Thees roof? Thees roof ope here?” Her forefinger was left pointing at the ceiling.
Diego quietly nodded.
Turning from him, she thought long and hard. “Thees ees bad moe-ney. Eet ees dee moe-ney every bodee ees lookeeng for.”
“I know, but that’s over. Nobody knows about it but me.”
Shaking her head, Ana said nothing else, but remained silent while contemplating about what to do.
“Mom?”
“No! I’m theenkeeng!”
Her son waited with a held breath.
“Did you tell this to ju friends?”
“No, nobody.”
“Not to Meester Jacksown?”
“Nope!”
“Not even to ju friend, Larry?”
“Nope, not even Larry.”
Ana continued to think, then finally said, “Go get dee moe-ney. Bring eet here. We will kept eet quiet for now.”
Adrian Del Valle - Diego's Brooklyn Page 13