“What’s his name?” I asked.
Her face fell and she looked away. “It’s not like that,” she said.
“Uh huh, tell me—”
“I gotta go to work. Gina called in sick and I gotta cover for her. C’mon Nicky, we need the money and I need a break.” She glanced at my sister, who by now was sitting at the table flipping through an old issue of Glamour.
I nodded, though I couldn’t help but reiterate what I’d said at the beginning of summer when school let out. “Ma, I told you that Jimmy at the fruit stand would hire me on a couple days a week. I could—”
But it was no use. She was already shaking her head and shushing me. “I told you to forget about that. No son of mine is gonna work in the Kitchen. Start that shit and you’ll never get out. Besides, you work hard all year long on your grades, you should be focusing on your schoolwork.”
“But it’s summer.”
“And you should enjoy it. That’s all I ask, huh? Just enjoy it. Trust me, when September rolls around I’m gonna be bustin’ your balls like you wouldn’t believe, and you’ll wish you had a job just so you can get away from me.”
“I could get a job,” chimed Helena.
I glanced at her and frowned, “Doing what? Rollin’ over Duke’s crew with your three-card Monte skills?”
Don’t ask me how she did it, but my sister was aces at that game, and she didn’t even have to cheat. I think it was her small hands and the way she played fast and loose with the cards. One second you’d know where your ace was and the next, fuggedaboutit. She’d gathered many a penny from my jar and had them stashed away somewhere in her room.
“Look,” Mom said seriously, guiding me over to where my sister was. She put her arm around the two of us and crouched down, kissing each of us on the cheek. “No kids of mine are getting jobs right now. Just be kids, okay, and let me worry about all the adult stuff. We’ll be okay, okay?”
I nodded, but I knew that nothing could be further from the truth. I’d seen the bills, seen how far behind we were on rent. If it weren’t for my grandma Nadine sending Mom money each month, we’d be out on our asses living in a gutter somewhere. That was no way to live, but I respected the hell out of my mother for trying to hold things together as best she could, and it was for that reason only that I agreed to watch Helena while she went to her job at the pharmacy.
“Pop by later,” she said on her way out the door, “and maybe I’ll hook you guys up with some licorice or something, okay?”
“Sure, Ma. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Nicky. Never forget that.”
She left, and immediately my sister ran off to her bedroom and shut the door. I didn’t know what she did in there, but when her door was closed she was off limits unless I wanted her throwing a fit, so I went into my own room and left the door open a crack so I could hear what was going on.
I opened my yearbook again and flipped to the page with Sarah Danniels’ picture. She was still there, staring back at me. I half expected some Harry Potter shit to happen and for her picture to come to life, but it didn’t. There was no life in those beautiful eyes of hers, just sadness. I tired to reason with myself. Tried to tell my heart there was no way it could be feeling what it felt when it didn’t even know this girl, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and right now it wanted for me to just bury my nose in those caramel locks and a take a big deep breath while whispering, “I’ll take care of you.”
Little did I know that less than a month later, my heart would get its wish, and it would send my life into a complete tailspin.
THREE
- Sarah -
A week went by before I saw him again. By then, the bruises given to me on that day were a fading purple and yellow riding up my ribcage. A dull ache reminded me of their presence, but otherwise I was desensitized to the pain. I’d had enough of it over the years to start getting used to it, and in my mind I made up some elaborate fantasy over what happened. Like, I’d gone on some adventure Lara Croft-style searching for treasure, and the bandits had gotten the best of me.
I stood outside Carmine’s on West 48th, a little convenience store run by one of my dad’s friends. Carmine didn’t know about my life, or if he did it was all lies, but he was kind enough and had this look in his eye when he glanced at me that sometimes I wondered if he did know what went on at home. If so, damn him for not stopping it.
He’d given me a fistful of licorice and I swayed aimlessly in the breeze outside his store. Summer allowed me a little more freedom. Usually Dad kept me locked up tight during school, but when vacation came, he let his daughter run around some, though I suspected that was purely for his benefit and not mine, just so he wouldn’t have me driving him nuts for three months while cooped up indoors.
During that week, I’d kept the boy’s grin locked away tightly in my heart, and only took it out at night when I was alone under the covers. I imagined him looking at me, smiling. Just the thought of it made my heart thump against my chest, both in good and bad ways. Bad because I knew that even if I were to see him again and through some miracle of the heavens we got to talking, it could never develop into anything more. It would be my death sentence if dad saw me with a boy, but that was just it. It was a good thrill to think about because when it came to those eyes of his, I found myself getting stronger. Like I had something to hold onto now.
Crazy, I know, but in those few moments we shared I knew in my heart of hearts that he and I were connected in some way, though it wouldn’t be until years later that I fully understood what that meant.
“What’s your name?”
A voice startled me and I nearly dropped the handful of licorice I was holding. I spun around and there he was, leaning up against the red brick of Carmine’s shop. I didn’t know what to say, so I just stood there like an idiot while he fixed his gaze intensely on me and I clung to it for dear life. I was afraid that if I looked away I’d lose him. Like he was a mirage that would disappear without warning.
Then he came closer and I instinctively backed away a couple of steps. I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, but I couldn’t help it. People came near me and I flinched, it was what I did.
“Whoa,” he said, holding up his hands. “Hang on a sec, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
I know.
“My name’s Nicholas,” he told me. “Nicholas Rossi.”
I didn’t back away any further, but I didn’t say anything either. Nicholas Rossi, I repeated over and over in my head. Nicholas, Nicholas, Nicholas. He wore a pair of beige cargo shorts and a white muscle top that clung to him like a second skin. He was tall and lithe, with defining muscles only made more prominent by the sweat glistening on his flesh. His hair was gelled in an organized mess and he wore just the right amount of cologne. Not overpowering, but enough to make me want to breathe him in forever, as long as it meant he didn’t have to go anywhere.
“I love licorice,” he said.
I blinked. Licorice? Then I remembered the bunch of it in my hand and looked down at the red strands sticking out my tightly clenched fist. I quickly took one and offered it to him, which he gladly accepted with that wicked grin on his full and plump lips. He ripped off a piece and chewed with his mouth closed, just staring, like he was waiting for something.
“I’m Sarah,” I finally said.
His smile widened and there were pieces of red licorice stuck between his teeth. I laughed. I didn’t know many guys, but the ones I did know were too cool to do something like that, to show off a mouth full of candy. It was charming, and the more he did it, the more nervous I became, because I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt there was no way I was going to be able to resist him, and that could spell big trouble down the road if anyone ever found out.
“Do I got something in my teeth?” he joked, making me laugh even harder.
It felt good to do that. So much of my laughter these days felt forced, but with Nicholas it was just natural. Like we’d been friends forever an
d were just hanging out, having a good time.
That feeling was soon replaced with dread though when Carmine came out to see what all the fuss was about. I quickly shut my mouth as panic overtook me, and watched as he and Nicholas looked at one another. Carmine was big. Not just tall, but round. A big ball of dough squished inside a pair of jeans and a button-up dress shirt. Nicholas was fit, but if anything happened it wouldn’t be too hard for Carmine to squish his head like a grape between his meaty hands.
He turned to me and held up a sausage finger, saying, “Watch yourself,” before going back inside his shop.
I wasn’t sure what he meant. Was he going to tell my dad that I was with someone? Or did he mean for me to be careful and make sure my father didn’t find out about it? So many conflicting emotions ran though me and my breathing became heavy. I was playing a dangerous game. Taking my life in my own hands, really, but then again, so what? If not now, when? For so long my life had belonged to other people. Was it so wrong of me to want to reclaim a little of it?
I looked over at Nicholas, who stood there with a concerned look on his face. He knew something was wrong, and it actually pained me to see him worrying about me.
He swiped his hand across his chin and without warning he took me by the wrist and pulled me away from Carmine’s. I didn’t protest, but rather just let him lead me down the street further away from danger. The feel of his hot fingers wrapped around my pale skin wasn’t lost on me. It was the first genuine human contact I’d had in many years, and it made my head feel fuzzy. It wasn’t supposed to feel good, I told myself, but I’ll be damned if it wasn’t the best feeling.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I wanna show you something,” he said.
Out of nowhere that song from Aladdin popped into my head, with the lyric I can show you the world, running through my mind.
My pulse quickened and I glanced away so Nicholas wouldn’t notice me smiling.
Show me, I thought. Show me the world.
* * *
We sat atop his apartment building on two lawn chairs overlooking the street. Off in the distance, the Hudson River gave way to New Jersey while the breeze blew strands of my hair every which way around my face, but I didn’t care. I felt alive for the first time ever, high above the world and with a guy I barely knew by my side, yet with him I felt safe, and that was all I cared about.
Nicholas picked at a thread on his shorts, but neither of us said anything for a long time. We sat in silence, taking in the smell of one another. His cologne made me want to bury my face in his neck and breathe deep while wrapping my arms tight around him, but the question he’d soon ask loomed over my head like a dark cloud, forcing me back to reality.
“So what was all that back there?”
I thought long and hard about what I’d tell him. Somehow the truth just didn’t seem right, like somehow it would shatter the moment. Besides, my father had always told me that if I breathed a word about what went on at home to anybody, he’d make me suffer more than I’ve ever suffered before in my life. I hated how afraid I was of him—of his threats—but it was what it was.
I shrugged but didn’t meet Nicholas’ gaze. I detested lying to him, but was it really lying if I never said anything at all?
He nodded. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”
I quickly looked up to see the sincerity on his face. It was unmistakable, and made me want to cry. I’d always been forced to do things I didn’t want to do, and now here was someone the complete opposite of everything I’d ever known. He couldn’t possibly know how much those words meant to me.
Nicholas reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. The feel of his fingertips lightly making their way across my skin caused my breath to hitch and the hair on the back of my neck to prick up, and he smiled at the delightfully uncomfortable way he made me feel.
I forced myself to swallow, asking, “You always bring girls up here?”
“Oh yeah,” he said smugly, his hazel eyes narrowing into a mischievous look. “All the time. Helena and I come up here and fool around every once in a while.”
My face fell. Helena? Who was that, and what exactly did he mean, fool around?
Nicholas laughed. “Relax,” he told me, “Helena’s my little sister.”
Through closed lips I licked my teeth and scowled jokingly at him. He knew how he made me feel, and I liked it. Liked the way he wasn’t afraid to bust my chops over it, like it was no big thing because he liked me, too.
But as the minutes went by and we stared into each others’ eyes, with mine sometimes traveling down the length of his torso to look at his bare muscles, I got the feeling that this was something new for Nicholas. Maybe it was the way his knee wouldn’t stop shaking, or the way he fidgeted in his seat, but it gave me the impression that he hadn’t been with a lot of girls, if any, and I found that to be even more attractive. It was like he was putting himself out there, and for me. Doing something he normally wouldn’t do because his heart told him it was right.
I knew the feeling. I’d never so much as kissed a boy let alone sat so close to one outside of school. They were just as much a mystery to me as I figured girls were to them. Yet with Nicholas I wanted to explore. Unravel the wonder behind his laughter and smile, and get to know everything there was to know about him.
He held out his hand and without even thinking about it, I laced my fingers with his, letting them dangle between the chairs. He breathed deep, saying, “This is nice, isn’t it? Just two people, hanging out.”
I stared out over the Hudson and nodded. It was nice. The way he smelled, the way he made me feel, it was a nice vacation from my normal sadness, and as our clutched hands swayed back and forth between us, I wanted the feeling to last forever.
“Tell me something,” he said. “Anything. You pick. I want to know about you.”
“I don’t have a sister, or a brother, but I’ve always wanted one.”
“That’s cool. You got a mom and a dad?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, Helena’s ten and she’s a holy terror, but you can’t hate little sisters no matter how much you want to, huh?”
“Are both of your parents around?” I asked.
“I got a mom, and somewhere I got a dad, but don’t ask me where. He left about a year ago and never came back.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, it’s better off that way.”
I knew what he meant. Many a times I’d wished my father would just disappear and leave us for good, but I wasn’t that lucky.
“You go to 35?” he asked, switching the subject to school.
“Manhattan High,” I rolled my eyes. Just the thought of school gave me butterflies in my stomach, but I’d suffer through them if it meant not having to talk about family.
“What do you want to be?”
Again, I was left without an answer. I’d given up a while ago thinking about what I was going to do with my future, because there wasn’t any scenario in my mind that didn’t involve my father. If he had his way I’d be chained to the bed for the rest of my life, living with him until one of us was dead.
“C’mon,” Nicholas pressed, “you must wanna do something.”
I shook my head, my hair gently swishing back and forth over my shoulders. “I don’t know,” I said flatly.
He looked puzzled, but didn’t say anything else for a while.
I hated that I couldn’t just come right out and tell him what I wanted to. Tell him that my life was a living hell and that every part of me wanted to just run from it every second of the day, right up until I met him, and now I was more confused than ever but in a good way, because being there with him gave me hope. Hope that somehow I’d make it out of my crappy situation and find my place in the world.
“Well, I want to be a writer,” he said. “Novels, you know?”
And then he went on and on about the books he liked to read, and the kinds of stories he liked t
o write. I sat clinging to his every word. The last thing I would have ever expected a kid from Hell’s Kitchen to want to be was a writer. It shocked and intrigued me, both in the best way possible. Hearing the enthusiasm in his voice when he talked was contagious, and it wasn’t long before I had the widest grin on my face.
“What?” he asked. “You think it’s funny I wanna be a writer?”
“No,” I said boisterously. “I think it’s awesome. Maybe some day you could write me a story, and then I can open up a bookstore and sell it for you.”
His eyes narrowed into two slits and he looked at me disbelievingly for a second. “You bustin’ my balls, Sarah?”
I shook my head. “If I was bustin’ your balls, you’d know it.”
His eyes widened into quarters and he laughed the sweetest laugh I’d ever heard. Loud and full of life. Full of passion. I couldn’t help but laugh with him.
“Sure, you can sell my books,” he said. “I think that’s a novel idea.”
“Novel Idea, that’s what my shop will be called then.”
He squeezed my hand, offering me a cute, lopsided grin as he looked into my eyes, nodding ever so slightly as if acknowledging the connection we both shared.
When the conversation somehow made its way back around to family, I listened intently as he told me all about his father, who’d left them a year ago and what a drunk he’d been. When he mentioned the way he’d abused his wife with words and infidelity, I couldn’t believe how closely Nicholas’s life mirrored mine in some ways. He never mentioned his father beating him the way mine did, but he did talk about the way he made his son feel, which was the same way I felt. Worthless.
“So when he left it was no big thing, you know? It was like, the entire atmosphere in the apartment changed. No more walking on eggshells and stuff. Mom seems happier, though she has a lot to handle, but she gets by. I help her out when I can, cleaning and stuff with Helena. She doesn’t want me to get a job, just focus on school so I can get the hell out of here one day. What about you, you want to get out of here?”
Saint Nicholas Page 2