He shrugs at that, “Ah, it was just a jape.”
“Jape, yeah. Yeah. For a second there I thought—”
“That I was serious?”
“I don’t know. On the pier I. . . I saw myself an’ it felt like. I felt. . .” I search for the right words. “Like I was—”
“Dreamin’?,” he tilts his head in agreement. “Thing about dreams is, can ya predict what happens? Even better; can ya control what happens?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well ya better survive at least, otherwise what? Ya will be trapped in this story forever.”
I grit my teeth at that. Anger begins to pulse through my blood.
My hand, my hand bears a true wound. A physical wound. And that’s not from some psychic battle or a dream.
“You’re not helping me. Japes and warriors and heroes and dreams. Look at my hand,” I pull off the bandage and thrust it in front of his eyes in the dark. “I don’t think I can do this anymore. I can’t even convince Dance that we should not exult in beating men on the docks. Or murdering them.”
“Ya need him, Liam. For what’s comin’? Ya need him.”
“What’s coming? Tell me?”
“I. . . I can’t really say—”
“The Bard and his stories? You banish Harry? The Swede? The Swede is a depraved man, you know. Then there’s Bill Lovett, Garry fucking Barry, Thos Carmody?” I turn to him angrily. “After talking with Cinders, I think it’s possible Patrolman Culkin disappeared his own father-in-law.”
The crowd begins to cheer as Vincent hangs out of the second floor window with the newborn in his arms, its tiny feet dangling in the air.
“It’s one thing to fight against factions of your own kind, like Bill. But to take arms against a troubled world? And I’m supposed to risk my mother and sisters in the bargain? No. No, there is too much to lose. I am leaving the gang. I’m done. ”
“Liam.”
“You should have named Dance dockboss in the first place, Dinny. Now you have an excuse.”
A coy smile forms on his face, “Liam, remember. Ya can’t be brave until ya’re scared. Ya can’t be honorable until ya’re troubled.”
“I know, I know. And you can’t sacrifice unless you lose something valuable,” I walk away.
“Ya can’t escape, ya know.”
“What did you say?”
“Ya can’t escape,” his broad shoulders swivel in my direction and his eyes find mine. “That thing that attacked ya on the pier? It’s not some other thing. It’s ya’self. The enemy is within us.”
But I turn my back on him and walk up the Hudson Avenue hill, alone.
“There are more battles for ya yet. Ya journey’s only begun,” he calls. “Hey! Isn’t tomorrow ya birthday? Happy Birthday!”
Rule Over the Rubble
The boys had never worked with a hammer before. They had only used them in fights, and it’s not so easy to hit a tiny nail on the first shot without practice.
“Ow, fookin’ shit on a stick, fookin’ damn,” Matty drops the hammer and jumps in place as Willie Lonergan laughs. “Look, I broke the fingernail. It’s split open an’ bloody.”
“Put some butter on it,” Petey laughs and points to the little bottle with a picture of a man with a fish on his back. “Mrs. Lonergan’s got cod liver oil.”
All the boys make lemon faces at that.
The wood for the bunkbeds were stolen last night from a lumberyard on Dikeman Street in Red Hook an’ driven up to Johnson Street by Bill Lovett’s most recent White Hand convert, James Hart, the teamster driver who recovered from the grippe. From there, Richie and Petey Behan had worked the sawhorse for two hours to make slats and posts and beams enough for three bunkbeds. That’s beds enough for four boys and two girls to Anna’s count. Two more will stay on the sofa, while Richie and Willie will share the second bedroom.
Anna stands proudly, No one in my family will sleep on the floor ever again. Not if I can help it.
“Vhere vill you sleep?” Abe Harms asks by way of deduction.
“With the youngest children who need me the most,” Anna looks over along the wall where Matty and Timmy follow the instructions Abe had drawn out for them.
Abe’s family’s business is to build shelving for the thousands of neighborhood Jewish grocery and corner store owners who only contract with people of their own kind. So Abe knows exactly how to design and draw up sketches of bunkbeds for the Lonergan Crew laborers.
Abe folds his little fingers together and turns to Anna, “An’ vhen the Leech sees that you’ve upgraded the room, he vill—”
“Raise the rent,” Anna finishes the sentence. “We can pay a little extra now that we’re dippin’ our fingers into the pockets o’ two top earnin’ girls. But I’m gonna have to come through for them, ya know. If we’re gonna get Pickles out, we gotta get Grace away from the Adonis an’ provide protection for her.”
“Yez.”
“Yez what?” Anna lowers her eyebrows and shows Abe her teeth.
He’s been a little too happy to help, this one.
“You don’t trust me,” he says as a matter of fact.
“I don’ trust no one.”
“Trust is important to you.”
“Yeah, and?”
“I must offer you a vay to prove myself to you,” Abe turns to her. “Vhat is it that you vant to do so that I may be of service?”
I want Neesha to come back to me, Anna looks off without answering him.
Neesha had vanished from her dreams. Ever since Richie pledged to protect her against her father and Bill, Neesha had gone. What once was her sole purpose in life, to see him, to be with him again as she had in life, had now fallen into the folds of memory and obscured by time.
I want him back. That is what I want, but Abe cannot help me with that.
It is the one thing in her life she has no control over. And it seems the more she takes control of her waking life, the deeper he has fallen away from her dreams. What did he mean by crowning him king? Or when he said he lives inside another now?
When Anna notices Abe stare at her as she cycles through thoughts, a flood of anxiety washes over her.
He thinks me psychopathic, perhaps I am.
“What do I want, ya ask?” Anna reaches down and picks up her youngest sibling, Patrick. “I want my fam’ly to never know what it is like to be starvin’. I want them never to worry about bein’ homeless or that their lives are any less important than anyone else’s in this neighborhood or any other.”
Abe slowly blinks and bows.
Anna continues, “Ya fam’ly’s business has provided the security I long for, so maybe ya don’ quite understand exactly how important somethin’ like that is. The Lonergan fam’ly’s been the butt o’ jokes for years an’ completely dependent on—” she comes in close for a whisper. “Dinny Meehan. I don’ wanna depend on him no more, see? I wanna depend on myself.”
“Yez,” Abe says. “Thank you for your honesty. It means a lot to me and now I can begin to zee how I can prove myself, and help you.”
“Yeah, how?” Anna gives him a doubting stare.
“Vhat you seek is change,” Abe leans toward her. “But to create change, you need to use tools. Just as these boys are learning to use a hammer and a zaw, nails and wood to create beds for your family, so too do you need a tool for to create a change. But in this case, there is one tool that may precipitate the type of change you zpeak of. A tool to cause change in one fell zwoop, yez.”
“What kinda tool is that?”
Abe smiles and moves his little eyes in her direction, “Revenge.”
Revenge, the word echoes through Anna’s head. Nothing sounds so sweet as that word. It glows amber inside the wound in her heart like a little fire.
That word, my god. I want it. I truly do. I want to make Bill suffer for what he did to my love.
Anna blinks and turns her attention back to Abe.
He knows more about me than anyone, but how
? How does he know about Neesha and I? Did he know that Mickey Kane and I had plans to marry and run away together? If so, did he know Bill was going to come back and have him killed, by my own brother?
“Why would I want revenge?” Anna prods.
“A rebel is not a ruler, because a rebel rides a mad horse and turns all to rubble. Rebels. . . are hotheads driven to take power from those who hold it. That is their role. The job of ruling after power is attained is the business of those who prevail with a cooler head.”
“Ya didn’ answer my question.”
Abe slowly turns his head to her again and points at his own eye, “But now you have vision, but vhat you need first and foremost, before you can think of sweet revenge? You must come into your own, Anna. You must become matriarch of the valuable Lonergan family, yez.”
Little Patrick squirms in Anna’s arms and yells toward the front door, “Mama!”
The rest of the Lonergan brood run through the workers and the lumber that is lined along the middle of the parlor. They scream out for their mother, who walks into the first floor tenement with shock on her face.
“An’ what in the name o’ Jaysus is happenin’ round here, eh? Who’s behind this?” Mary says.
“Richie thought it’d be a good idear to get proper beds for the kids,” Anna says over her shoulder. “An’ his friends decided to help out.”
“Richie?” Mary makes a face at that. “Richie t’ought this up? I just talked to Richie out front an’ he didn’ mention that. Where’d the money come for all this?”
“Ma,” Anna waves a finger at her. “Don’ worry about it, uhright? It’s all for the best.”
“I want all o’ these people outta me home,” Mary drops her purse on the ground. “Out, out! Get outta me home this instant. I didn’ invite ya into me home, but I sure as hell will send yaz away. An’ take this rubbish with yaz. Look, the sawdust has gotten everywhere. The whole place is covered in sawdust. Jaysus, I go to Communion an’ come back to me home turnt upside down, fer godsakes.”
Matty, Timmy and Willie drop their hammers in shame and begin to walk for the door.
“Stop,” Anna’s shrill scream calls out and rings in the ears of all just as Richie comes to the doorway. And the room freezes in place. Even the many children who can’t seem to sit still for longer than half a second, stand motionless but for their darting eyes.
That was louder than I intended, but it worked.
She turns to the children, “Patrick, James, Julia an’ all the rest o’ yaz, sit down on that sofa this very minute. Older ones on the floor. Except ya’self Willie, ya’re old enough to take on bigger responsibilities now. Ya’re a part o’ the Lonergan Crew, got it? Like the rest o’ us, ya report to Richie now. Everythin’ goes through Richie, yaz understand it?”
The children jockey for position on the sofa and agree in unison, “Yes!”
Mary turns to Richie, “Ya’re behind all this?”
Richie stares blankly back at his mother.
“This is Richie’s fam’ly now, Ma,” Anna says.
“Over me dead body, t’is. Yer father will have—”
“He has no say here,” Anna interrupts. “He never has, in truth. It’s ya’self, Ma, who made the decisions for all these years. An’ it’s ya’self that must now let go o’ that role. It don’ fit ya no more, ya eldest son is now head o’ the fam’ly an’ all o’ us,” Anna turns again to the children. “All o’ us must do what we can to help Richie take this fam’ly outta the slums for good an’ ever. An’ wit’ our help, I know he can do it.”
The children turn their heads in Richie’s direction, leaning against the doorway with a saw in his hand.
“He’s just a cover fer ya own idears,” Mary says. “That’s plain enough to see.”
“Doubt will only strengthen us,” Anna raises her voice again. “That’s ya problem, Ma, ya don’ even know a good thing when ya see it. I for one do not doubt Richie. He is the leader we all need, don’ yaz agree?” Anna points to the children along the sofa.
“Yay!” They yell. “Richie, Richie, Richie.”
“Ya ain’t capable o’ rulin’ over this fam’ly, Ma,” Anna continues. “We’ve suffered long enough, it’s time we begin anew. A new day has arrived for the Lonergan fam’ly an’ we will now take charge o’ our own future.”
“Yay!” The children scream again as Anna reaches forward with a big smile to poke little Sarah and Catherine’s bellies with her index fingers.
“Who wants a root beer candy?” Anna addresses the children as a whole.
“Me!”
“I do, me!”
“Please, Anna. Pick me. Anna!”
“Uhright, uhright, sit still. Sit back on the sofa, all o’ yaz,” Anna says. “Everyone gets one piece, but when I hand it to ya, do not take it out o’ the wrapper until I say, understand?”
“Yes,” they say.
“An’ don’ grab it outta my hand either,” she raises her voice at Julia. “Give that back to me.”
“Why?”
“Give it.”
Julia begins to cry, but hands the candy back to Anna.
“Can ya take it from me like a good girl?” Anna asks.
Julie wipes tears and hair away from her face and nods up and down.
“Nice and gentle, uhright?”
Julia opens her palm and when Anna slowly places the candy, Julia closes her palm equally as slow. The rest of the children follow the example as Anna patiently goes from child to child.
“Ya train them like dogs, do ya?” Mary stands next to Anna in front of the children. “These are me childers, not ya own. They came from me body an’ I’ve cared for them me whole life. I am their mother an’ no one, I mean absolutely no one has the right to take childers ‘way from their mother. No one!”
Anna’s eyes move to Abe, who offers her a slow nod of confidence. She then turns her back to her mother and asks a question at the same time.
“Do ya remember the mornin’ we woke up an’ found Tiny Thomas?”
“Oh my,” Mourning Mother Mary shudders. “Why would ya even bring that up?”
“Who remembers Tiny Thomas?” Anna addresses the young children.
“I do,” Willie answers for them. “He was always sick.”
“Yes, yes he was. He was too small for his age. At six years old he looked like he was four, maybe. I remember him so well,” Anna’s voice cracks as she looks up toward the ceiling and draws all attention to her. “He was too good for this earth. But he didn’ have to die. That? That was avoidable. Do yaz wanna know why he could still be alive?”
The children are too scared to agree, but manage to nod in unison.
“Because ya Ma let him die.”
“It most certainly was not me fault, how could ya—”
“It is,” Anna’s voice goes shrill again. “The black bottle, ya said. We can’t take him to the hospital on account o’ the nurses will give him the black bottle if they need a bed for a rich Protestant.”
“It’s true—”
“It’s ignorant superstition, Ma. Completely ignorant, an’ that is why Tiny Thomas died. He had a simple infection. An infection from stepping on a nail—”
“He was with ya when it happened, it’s ya own fault—”
“Yes, he was wit’ me,” Anna bites down to push back the tears. “But ya were his mother. The mother that should do everythin’ in her power to help her children. But ya wouldn’t help him. Ya couldn’t help Tiny Thomas, an’ he died. From an infection in his foot, an’ ya know what ya mother put on the foot to help heal it?” She turns to the children.
“What?” Little James asks.
“Butter,” Anna stops and look apologetically at Petey. “Butter. Butter. An’ now she believes the pain o’ Jesus Christ runs through her own body. She says she sees blood on her wrists an’ ankles an’ she almost jumped into our little sister’s grave.”
Anna walks deliberately over to her mother, “There will be no more vi
olence in this home, but if ya give us a problem Ma, we will make things much worse for ya.”
“Ya threaten ya own mother, do ya? Ya couldn’t beat me, I have fifteen pounds on ya.”
“Oh, I don’ fight, Ma.”
Just then, Richie stands behind his mother with a solemn look on his face.
“I’m not built to be a violent person,” Anna again turns her back on her mother. “We all have our talents, violence is not one o’ mine.”
Mary turns round, “Richie, are ya going to hurt me, is it?”
“It’s time ya take a deep breath, Ma,” Anna warns. “Take a deep breath, step back, spend some time wit’ Father Larkin. We will give ya money to go to the grocery store an’ we will allow ya to spend time wit’ the children, o’ course, but do not assume ya can make any decision around here wit’out doin’ what?”
Mary looks over her shoulder, “Talkin’ to Richie first?”
Anna smiles, “That’s right.”
“Ya’re nothin’ but a rebel who thinks—”
“No, I’m not a rebel. I’m a ruler. There’s a big difference. A rebel destroys, a ruler creates,” Anna turns on her heel, stands next to Richie and folds her arm under his. “Ya love quotin’ the bible, right Ma? I got one for ya, ‘Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; an’ every city or house divided against itself shall not stand.’”
The two of them stare as Mary bows her head, then looks up along the wall where three bunkbeds are half-built. She walks to them and runs her fingers across the newly cut pine, “This needs to be sanded,” she turns her head back to Richie.
“We got sandpaper,” he answers.
“When ya father comes home, he will have somethin’ to say ‘bout all this, an’ if I know him—”
“He’s in the bedroom, Ma,” Anna points. “He’s takin’ a nap.”
“A nap? Wit’ all this racket?”
“Yeah,” Willie steps forward. “He didn’t react so well when Anna told him to hand over the tribute money he earned workin’ wit’ Bill. So we had to show him how things work now. Things got um. . . ugly. So yeah, he’s takin’ a nap.”
Anna had walked away by then as the boys got back to work. Abe began to follow her, but she waves him away and summons Richie to step outside with her.
Divide the Dawn- Fight Page 46