Brooklyn 1975

by Robert Moeller

  He moved away from her like he was being pushed and then turned and dove into the water. He emerged quickly, shouting and gulping for air. “It’s freezing.” He said.

  “Just walk around using your feet to look for it.” I said. “You can’t see anything anyway.”

  “Don’t help him.” Erica said.

  “It’s his property, Erica. Whatever you might think of it, it still belonged to him. That was pretty immature of you to just throw it in like that.”

  “Oh, here we go.” Erica said. Now her hands were on her hips and she wasn’t carving things in the sand with her toes anymore. “So you think he should be walking around with a gun, do you? Do you? “

  “That’s not the point, is it? It wasn’t yours to throw away.” I sounded like a lawyer or what I thought a lawyer sounded like.

  “Yeah.” Junior said.

  Erica turned to him. “You shut up, Flipper, before I come in there and hold your head under the water until you’re dead.”

  “Oh, you’re tough now? I though you were Miss Goodie Two Shoes?” Junior said, splashing water at her. “Watch my dress. You get this wet and I’ll really have to kill you. And if I don’t, my mother will.”

  “That I believe. About your mother, that is.” Junior said.

  “Leave my mother out of this.” Erica said. Junior threw his hands in the air. “Hey, you brought her up, not me. I didn’t say anything. You know why? It’s because I’m in the ocean looking for my gun, the one you threw in there.”

  Erica and I walked back up the beach to Marty. I tried to put my arm around her but she shrugged it off. Marty was sitting there, wearing my jacket and smoking a cigarette. “What’s he doing down there.” She asked.

  “What does it look like? He’s looking for his gun.” Erica said.

  “You’re always fighting. You fight more than we do by ourselves.”

  “That’s good to know, Marty. Really.” Erica was smiling but her words weren’t. “One of these days I’m going to kill him, I swear.”

  Marty made a fist. “One of these days, Alice, to the moon…” She passed a cigarette to Erica and rose and kissed her on the forehead. “If you let the boys in Brooklyn drive you crazy, trust me, they will.”

  I took a cigarette from a pack that was wedged into Junior’s shoe and lit it. None of us were smokers but we always smoked when we were partying. The cigarette, mixed with the ocean air, tasted really good. I guess if I were a smoker, it would only be outside. Otherwise, I think, because of my mothers’ smoking like there’s no tomorrow and our apartment reeking of smoke, I’d just not bother with them. Not like it didn’t smell like smoke everywhere you went. People smoked on the train, in elevators and in stores. People even smoked on the bus. In the movie theaters, the air was a thick haze of smoke that wafted through the projected film like a cloud crossing a mountain peak. In my mother’s case, she was either smoking, lighting a cigarette, or putting one out. The butts were piled in ashtrays, crushed into coffee cups, and even put out in uneaten plates of food. Sometimes, she’d even toss them in the toilet and they’d come apart and color the water like piss. I’d crack open my window on the coldest winter day, just to breathe in something that wasn’t coated in smoke. When I first met Erica, she thought I smoked because she could smell it on my clothes. I told her it was my mother’s smoke.

  I fiddled with the cigarette pack as I smoked. A rolled joint, the ends pinched closed, was mixed in with the cigarettes. I took it out and ran it under my nose. It smelled healthy and fresh. I guess that’s why they called it grass.

  Junior came out of the water without saying anything. He was dripping wet and holding the gun. A piece of seaweed was strung across the barrel and when he noticed it, he shook the gun and it flew off. “Let’s get the fuck out of here already.” He said. I sat there smoking, not saying anything, and watched him get dressed He used his shirt like a towel and wiped his legs down before putting on his pants. And then, dried off his chest and put his jacket on and wrapped the gun in his shirt. “Let’s go.”

  Erica walked ahead of us with her head down. I know she thought that the gun belonged in the ocean and she also didn’t like losing an argument. She should of known that trying to convince Junior to lose the gun was hopeless. I didn’t care one way or another but knew that if Melo came at us for what Big Mike had done to him, the gun would come in handy. I also knew, that our romantic plans for the rest of the evening were finished. Erica was in a bad mood and Junior was soaking wet. As if to confirm what I was thinking, when we were back at the car Erica said she wanted to go home. I could see it coming, so didn’t push it much. Marty looked back at her and then looked over at Junior. His hair was plastered to his head and he wasn’t saying anything either. “Yeah, me to. I’m really tired.” Marty said.

  You got the feeling that the girls had already decided to go home while we were still on the beach. “I mean, this was still a great night, right?” Marty looked around the car.

  Erica nodded her head slightly. “Yeah, I had fun.”

  “You had fun?” Junior asked. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I did. For the most part.”

  “Well, look at me now. I’m fucking like a crab. My shirt is ruined and so maybe is my jacket, for what, Erica, tell me? Would you.”

  “I didn’t push you in the ocean, did I? You went in yourself. Nobody forced you. And your clothes aren’t ruined, you just need to wash them.”

  Junior bit his knuckle. It was an Italian gesture that meant -- I could kill you but I won’t. Not today, at least. Suddenly, I was very tired. I mean, it was late, and everything but once I knew that Erica wanted to go home, all the energy just drained out of me. All I wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed. “Hey Junior.” I said. “You have a wet suit on, get it?” Erica laughed and Marty just looked at us.

  “You’re supposed to wear it while you’re in the water, not afterwards.”

  “Very funny, you hump. Actually, it is kind of funny now that I think about it. A wetsuit… What are you Johnny Carson, or something?”

  “I’m always funny, right Erica? That’s why she likes me. I make her laugh.”

  “I’ll give you a laugh. I’ll give you a shoe in your ass.”

  “A wet shoe? Get it.”

  “No. No, I don’t. My shoes aren’t even wet. Get your facts straight. Now the rest of me, that’s wet. My gun, that’s wet too. I’m like fucking Aqua Man.”

  “Or a crabby crab” Erica added.

  “Oh, if you weren’t my friend.” Junior said.

  “What? What would you do? Hit a girl? Be like Melo, tough like him?” The back of Junior’s neck was covered in sand and Erica reached over and brushed it off. Junior sat there holding hands with Marty while he drove. “You wouldn’t do that, not you.”

  I wondered if Erica had the same sort of feelings about Junior that I had about Marty. You never know, right? I mean, if I could have them, why couldn’t she? Maybe, it was the way she touched him just then. I don’t know, I’m probably imagining things. Junior and I pretty much shared everything, why not the girls? Marty had her hair tucked behind her ear and I stared out from the dark at the side of her face. I think the sex I wasn’t having tonight was being replaced with some sort of fantasy sex, like something you read about. I looked over at her, searching her face for a clue, but there wasn’t one. She looked like she always did, maybe more dressed up, more mature, something like that, but maybe I wasn’t good at reading her mind because usually she told you exactly what she was thinking, even if you didn’t want to hear it.

  As we drove up to her house Junior asked her if her parents would be surprised to see her home. She shook her head no. “No, I’ll just tell them I wasn’t feeling well.” As she talked, white peppermint Lifesavers clicked together in her mouth like little fingers snapping. “Or maybe I’ll tell them that I didn’t like the idea of being around a gun.”

  “And remember.” Junior said, “shooting it, too.” Erica ignored him and opened the f
ront door and hugged Marty, kissing her on the top of her head. “You guys just go, I wait till Erica gets in and then walk home from here. I kissed Marty on the cheek and exchanged glances with Junior. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I walked Erica up to her front door and waited until she found her key in the little purse she was carrying. “Did you have fun?” I asked. She smiled and tugged at my hair. “Yes. Yes, I did. I’m tired though. I’ll call you in the morning.” I kissed her and headed back up the street. I waited until I turned the corner before lighting a cigarette and walked the ten short streets to my house.

  When I got to my apartment building, I checked the hallway to make sure no low-life junkie wasn’t waiting there to jump me before going in. It was late but not that late. I opened the apartment door as quietly as I could and stepped inside. Someone was lying on the couch wrapped in a blanket. The television screen was all snowy and the picture was rolling. “Hi Ma.” I said. “I’m home from the prom.”

  “Ma’s sleeping.” It was Rainie. “She went to bed early.”

  “What are doing up this late?”

  “Melo broke up with me. And he told me that he’s after you and Junior. He’s serious, too.”

  “What did I do?” I asked.

  “He thinks you told Big Mike that he hit me and that’s why they shot him.”

  “So, tough shit. What if Big Mike found out about by himself, like a little birdie told him, or something? And besides, Mike is a made guy. What’s he going to fuck with him? They’ll kill him.”

  “He’s after you and Junior, not Big Mike.” Rainie said, brushing the hair off her face. “This isn’t good, he’s crazy, you know that, and so are his friends.”

  “I’m going to bed.” I said. “You should too. It’s getting late.

  “Aren’t you listening to me?” She was sitting up now.

  “I am, but I can handle it. Don’t worry.”

  “You’re so stupid.” She said and stood up with the blanket wrapped around her and went to her room. I waited until her door closed before sitting down and taking off my shoes. When I looked up, the glowing end of a cigarette was coming at me in the dark. It was my mother. “Hi Ma. I’m home and going to bed.” She didn’t answer but the cigarette moved across the dark room. “Goodnight, Ma.”

  Chapter Three

  The next morning I woke up late and missed school. I think Rainie tried to wake me up before she went to work but I don’t really remember. When I went outside, my mother was in the living room. She was leaning halfway out the window smoking a cigarette. “Nice out, Ma”, I said, not really expecting an answer.

  “It’s beautiful out.” She said. “Why aren’t you at school?”

  I was surprised she said anything and stumbled thinking of an excuse. “There’s no school the day after the prom. It’s like… Like a holiday, or something.”

  “Holiday, my ass.”

  “Oh come on, Ma. I was out late. It was the prom and everything. Besides, I go to school every day. Just like I promised you. Right?” You want to have some breakfast with me? I’ll make some eggs.”

  “It’s lunch time already. Have some of your sister’s ziti. I’m not hungry.” She said while pushing the air in front of her with her hand like she was swimming before sitting down in front of the television. “She makes it like I used to.”

  “Where’s Rainie?” I asked, even though I knew she was at work. It was so rare to actually be talking to my mother that I was trying to keep the conversation going. I tried, anyway. But whatever button you pushed to turn her on must have been turned off. She sunk into the couch, as usual, and just stared at the television. If you asked me, she was staring through the television, straight through the walls, and out into the world. It must have been like X-Ray-Vision except for the fact that she wasn’t interested in seeing anything.

  While I was sitting in the kitchen eating lunch the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it”, I said. I got up and went to the intercom, which was right by the front door. “Who’s there?” I asked.

  “It’s me, Betty.” I buzzed him in and stood there waiting for him to climb the stairs.

  “Jesus. What happened to you? “ I said when he came in. His face was cut up and swollen and his nose was pushed into his face and his nostrils were caked with blood.

  “I was looking for you at school. You or Junior.” He said.

  I cut him off. “Lets go in my room.”

  “Ma, Betty is here. We’re going to hang out in my room.”

  Betty looked at her and back at me. “Hi, Mrs. Deleo.” He said, not really sounding sure of himself but more likely, of her. She didn’t respond and I just looked at Betty and shook my head and sort of pushed him into my room. “Is she O.K?” Betty asked, gesturing to the door and outside it, my mother.

  “Yeah, she just doesn’t say much, is all”

  I was sitting on the windowsill and Betty was lying in my bed. So, tell me, what happened.”

  “So, like after the prom last night I stopped at the bar, the one up on the Avenue. You know, Sally’s place. It was late but I thought my cousin might still be there, right? So, anyway, he wasn’t. So, I’m sitting there by myself having a beer. Only a couple of old guys are there when the door opens and in comes Melo and a couple of his friends. One of them is the fat guy he’s always with. What’s his name? I forget.”

  “Tommy the Drain.” I said, already knowing where the story was going

  “Yeah, that’s it. So anyway, Melo comes over and sits next to me. He got a cane, or some shit and he hangs it off the edge of the bar. And then, he starts in. So, where are your friends, he goes. I go, what are you talking about even though I know he’s talking about you and Junior. You see this, he points to his foot. Those friends. So, I go, you mean Big Mike? I haven’t seen him. That’s when I can feel the belly of that fat fuck touching my back. Like he’s creeping up on me, or something, breathing like a one-lunged pig. When I turn around to see what this fuck is trying to do, Junior cold-cocks me right in the face. Knocks me right off the stool. What a shot, I’m telling you. It was like I was hit with a brick.”

  “Where did you get that shit?” I asked. “One-lunged pig?”

  “I don’t know, maybe some song from Black Sabbath.”

  “So I’m down on the floor, the fat man’s loafers inches from my face when Melo takes the cane off the bar and cracks it across my nose. I could hear the fucking bone snap. Anyway, they leave me there and before he leaves, he looks down at me and says, “Tell your friends that when I catch them, they’re fucking dead…”

  “I’ll call Junior later.” I said. “But what I don’t understand is that he must know that Big Mike will hear about this, right? What the fuck? He must be crazier than I thought.”

  Betty didn’t say anything or maybe he said, “I don’t know.” Anyway, it was just what I needed, more trouble.

  “Betty, you got to go the hospital with that.” I pointed at his nose. “They’ll fix it for you.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll go home and see if my mother will take me.”

  “Doesn’t it hurt?” I asked.

  “Not really, it just feels funny, like I’m congested, or something. Like a cold.”

  “You crack me up. You got a broken nose and you’re sitting here saying it feels like a cold. What’s that, huh? What’s that, Betty?”

  “I’m just telling you, it doesn’t really hurt.”

  I sat for a while talking to Betty and watched him as he ate two enormous squares of Rainie’s ziti washed down with half a quart of milk and when he was finished I walked him downstairs so that I could talk to him without my mother hearing us.