Brooklyn 1975

by Robert Moeller

  Junior put the gun in pants and I extended my hand out to Timmy. He looked at me not saying anything and ignored it. “Come on, Timmy. Don’t be a dick.” I said.

  ‘Fuck it.” Junior said. “Forget these guys anyway. Let’s go. Let’s get out of here. They’re lucky Dom came out, broke this thing up.”

  “We’re Lucky?” One of the guys said. He was wearing a gold chain that had a Christ Head on it the size of a baby’s fist. He was the same guy that was egging Timmy on. “We’re lucky?”

  “Fuck yeah.” Junior said, tapping the gun in the front of his paints. “Dom doesn’t come out, one of you is breathing through a hole in your neck.”

  “Hey, hey. Let’s go. This is stupid.” I pulled Junior away and we both headed down the street. My head was spinning. It was like everything, Angela, her father, Vito. Melo.

  And now this shit in front of the Motor Service. As we were walking a bottle crashed beside us. When I looked back, one of the guys was holding his crotch with one hand and giving us the finger with the other. Junior returned both gestures, bending at the knees and bouncing up and down. “Let’s go before they take a shot at us.” I said, not really caring if they did or not. Not that I wanted to die, or anything but by this time we were far enough away that Daniel Boone couldn’t hit us.

  “What are you singing the blues again? Your face looks like someone just died.” Junior said.

  “Singing the blues? Yeah, maybe, you want me to outline it for you again? And what? You have a saying for every occasion? You’re like a fucking Hallmark card. Oh, my stomach hurts. I have to take a shit. You have a saying for that?”

  Junior was laughing. Yeah, if you have to go -- go. How about that? Go downstairs in the church. That bathroom is always open. Otherwise, just go to the deli.”

  “We can’t go to the deli, he’s pissed at us, remember?” A couple of weeks ago we were in there eating chips and drinking beer and before we left we asked for water. The deli guy brought us over a couple of glasses and while he wasn’t watching us we stretched the potato chip bags over the top of the water glasses and turned them over. Then, we pulled the bags out from underneath the glasses, instant presto -- magic-trick. “Remember the water glasses?”

  “ Oh yeah, that shit always cracks me up. I wonder who thought of it?” Junior said.

  “Probably, you just see someone else do it and you do it yourself. Works better with a cup because they can’t see the water in it.”

  “Yeah.” Junior said, ”It’s like the pizza scam. You know, where you order a couple of pizzas for the same block and then when the guy goes into the first house, you make it an apartment, so he goes into the lobby, you grab the pizza for the next place.”

  “And you get what you want for the second place, like you’re there ordering. That was until you stole the guy’s car with the pizzas in them. Remember that?” I said.

  “Yeah, you run with the pizza and all the cheese sticks to the top of the box. What’s the point of doing all that work and having a fucked up pizza, and I returned the car that night, remember? Left it parked in front of the pizza place. I’m not a dick.”

  “Not a complete dick, anyway.” I said before Junior punched me on the arm.

  Our Lady of Grace was a big church. It took up nearly a whole block. I checked the side door and it was open. I told Junior to wait for me and went downstairs. Nobody was around and I used the bathroom. So far, it was the quietest part of my day.

  I was tempted to just stay there but all I needed was to run into one of those freaky priests in a church bathroom when no one was around. When I came outside, Junior was sitting on a mailbox. “Why not make yourself as visible as possible?” I said. “You should just wear a target around your neck, like a bulls eye.”

  “I’m indestructible. Bullets hit my clothes and just stop. I read something about like how the Indians believed something like that, called it the Ghost Dance, or something. They would attach hooks to the muscles in their chest and hang from a tree for a day or so. Felt like it purified them or something. Then the bullets couldn’t hurt them. That’s how they killed Custard. Which reminds me about that. The only guy that survived that thing was Italian. He was like a bugler or something. Instead of fighting he just stood there and played his bugle. He wasn’t afraid or nothing. The Indians just left him alone.”

  With Junior there was always an Italian guy involved. “It was Custer, you dip shit. Not custard. Custard is like cream, or something, like in a pie,’

  “What’s it matter now, he’s dead. I thought his name was Custard, like mustard.”

  “I’m going home. I mean, if I’m not shot up on the way. I need to think about all this shit and figure something out. What are you doing? Maybe you should go see Marty, or something. Get out of here for a while, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Nah, I’m going to go home too. Maybe take a nap and get up later and eat something.”

  “Don’t fuck around, go right home. I’ll call you later.”

  I stood there and watched him walk away. It was like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he was walking in the park or something. Even then, what park was safe these days? Prospect Park was like the Wild West -- I wouldn’t go there without a gun. What are you going to do? Junior was Junior. I’d trust him with my life but by the same token, I knew that he could just as easily get me killed. There didn’t seem to be much of a middle ground. It was more like standing on an ice cube floating in the bathtub, or something.

  I got home without seeing anyone and when I opened the apartment door, Rainie was standing there. Our faces almost touched. “You hear what happened?” She said.

  “What? What now? Martians land in Central Park?”

  “They killed Big Mike. It’s on the front page of the paper. Big headline.”

  And there it was: Mob Wars Heat Up Again!

  My head was spinning. It was like Big Mike’s Cadillac was moving even though it was just sitting there on the page surrounded by cops. I sort of read the story but it didn’t seem real to be reading about someone you knew in the paper. Or used to know.

  It must have been on the news too, because my mother said something like “He was a nice kid, always polite.” before sinking back into her own personal gloom.

  “You think Melo did it?” Rainie asked.

  “He wouldn’t have the balls.” I said. “Whack a made guy? No way. They must have killed him for whatever reason. Jesus Christ, we were just over at Motor Service looking for him. They said he was in Florida. They must have known something.”

  “Or maybe it was some other guys, you know, from New York, or somewhere. It’s always something, right?” Rainie’s arms were out in front of her like she was holding something. “Oh, some girl called you. Some girl named Angela. She left her number, I wrote it down. Not that I don’t like Erica, or nothing.”

  “I’m going to take a nap. And maybe I won’t wake up until tomorrow if I’m lucky.”

  “You’re lucky, no school tomorrow. It’s Saturday.”

  “Wake me up if Junior calls, would you. Or Erica, too.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m going to be doing on my Friday night, sitting here like a nurse waiting for you to wake up, or answer the phone, whatever. I’m going out with the girls. I’ll knock on your door before I leave. That’s all. I’m not like your maid or anything.”

  “No, you’re my nursemaid.” Rainie gave me the finger before she left.

  Chapter Five

  I lay there drifting in and out of sleep. It was like I had a fever or something. One minute I was holding my tee shirt up looking at a tomato sauce stain from the calzone and the next I was dreaming about the blood stains on Big Mike’s car. In the newspaper photograph, they were just black smears but in my dream, they were as red as the gravy on my shirt. Erica was there too, talking to me. Angela was dancing naked. Marty was burning me with cigarettes. Junior was singing. It was sick, and besides that, the dream had a texture like an old army blanket. It was
like the air in the dream was all wooly and abrasive -- I could even feel the fibers of the blanket in my mouth, taste them, even. Then, I was in church, and a statue of the Virgin Mary was talking to me and my nose started bleeding. I was telling her something about being embarrassed by the size of my thighs. Like they were too big, or something. It was like I was fucking tripping in a major way. It’s amazing, if you think of it, how much crazy stuff is in your brain. And how when it gets all mixed up like that it just explodes on you, twisting everything up like a bomb. Truth is, maybe at some point I was embarrassed by the size of my thighs but I can’t remember worrying about them lately.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder shaking me. Rainie was leaning over me with her breasts almost falling out of her dress. “Wake up. It’s almost ten o’clock.” I opened my eyes and she was standing there with her hands on her hips. She was all dressed up and smelled like perfume. A scarf was loosely knotted around her neck. I guess I was lying there looking at her like she was a stranger.

  “Wake up. I’m waking you up like you asked, so wake up. I’m going out, maybe to the city or something, with Heidi and Baba.”

  “Is Baba that fat girl?” I asked. “The one you work with?”

  “Be nice, would you. Not everyone’s perfect like you.”

  “I’m up. I’m up.” I said, not really believing it myself.

  “Be careful. You have any problem, you call me, O.K.”

  “Yeah, what are going to do?”

  “You know what I mean. Just be careful, things are crazy lately.”

  “Your things are crazy lately, my things are just fine.” She said. “I can mind my own business.”

  I rolled away from her and must have fallen back to sleep. It was like I was drunk or something. I just passed out. There was still all this clattering in my head. My dreams were soaring and loud, people were knocking on my door, a woman was crying, car doors were slamming.

  Maybe it was just the usual noise from the street or noise I remembered hearing. At one point I tried getting up but my head weighted a ton. When I finally woke up it was light out. It must have been early because the only thing I could hear was a bus racing down the street. I went to the window and stuck my head outside. Everything smelled fresh and clean. The trees waved in the breeze and shimmered like they were underwater, like seaweed does. I felt rested for a second before I remembered all the shit that was going on and my body kind of sagged. When I opened my door I could see a foot wearing a bright red shoe hanging off the end of the couch. I knew it wasn’t Rainie because she would never sleep on the couch on Friday night. Saturday was the day she slept in, sometimes until two or three in the afternoon. And red shoes – forget about it.

  I went over to see who it was and when I looked Baba opened her eyes to meet mine. “You have a late night?” I said.

  She wiped the sleep from her eyes before saying anything. “You’re in your underwear, put something on, will you? Melo hit your sister again.”

  “What? What are you talking about? I thought you went to the city? How’d you run into Melo?”

  “Heidi was afraid of getting on the train. She said that she had a feeling about something, I don’t know. So we went to some club on Eighty-Sixth St. instead. Melo was there when we were leaving.”

  I could feel something like a scream rising in my chest. Baba started to say something but I stopped her. “Go back to sleep.”

  I open the door to Rainie’s room and went in. The shades were drawn and it was still dark in there. She was sleeping on her side and I walked around the bed to look at her. Even without any light I could see that her lip was cracked open. A scab had formed while she was sleeping. She must not have taken her make-up off because I could see the black lines of mascara that circled her eyes were all smeared.

  That motherfucker, I thought. This has got to stop, like today.

  I took the edge of the blanket and covered her up, just the way you see people do it in the movies. She mumbled something but never opened her eyes.

  When I came out of Rainie’s bedroom, Baba was sitting up smoking a cigarette.

  “Tell me what happened? I asked.

  “I’m not talking to you until you put some clothes on. What are you deaf? Have some respect. I’m company here.” The smoke was coming out of her nose like a bull in a cartoon before it attacked.

  I went into my room and put on my pants and came right back out. “Now, tell me what happened. You sure it was Melo?”

  “What, like now I don’t know who he is, of course it was him. I’ve been telling her that he’s a prick for a long time. So, anyway, we’re coming out of the club and everybody is sort of milling around outside. You know how it is on nice nights. Nobody wants to go home. Anyway, we hang out there for a while and then we’re walking up the street to get a cab, up by the White Castle. That’s where we saw him. He and his friends were sitting on a car eating. He sees us and he goes “Hey, Lorraine, get over here.” Like he thinks he owns her. I grab her arm and we keep walking. I’m like “Fuck you.”

  “So he comes up behind me, with his cane and everything and pushes me. Look at my knee.” She pulled the blanket up and showed me her knee, which was scrapped. “I got up and was going hit him right in the face until I looked at him. He looks like a fucking crazy man – like his eyes are rolling in his head. So I’m like, so I grab Rainie and I’m like “Let’s go.” Not only that but Heidi is like frozen in place, you know how she is –afraid of her own shadow. Before we could walk away he like smacked her in the face asking where you are, you and Junior. Says he’s going to fuck you up. One of his friends pulled him away and we ran up the street and grabbed a cab. He’s crazy, I’m telling you. Someone got to talk to somebody about, you know…” She put her finger to her head “Whacking this mutt. I’d talk to my brother but he’s in jail until Christmas.”

  Her brother was called Black Sheep and was seriously disturbed. I didn’t say as much to Baba but just thanked her for helping Rainie home.

  “No problem, she’s my friend, right? And not for nothing, but you look pretty good in your underwear, you know what I’m saying?” She was kind of smiling while she smoked and was giving me the eyeball. Jesus Christ, not Baba, I thought.

  Suddenly, I was starving. “You want some breakfast”, I asked Baba “Something to eat?”

  “What’s there?” Baba said.

  “If it’s Saturday, then it’s potatoes and eggs. My mother makes them on Friday night. You want some?”

  “Yeah, why not. I’ll eat with you,”

  Baba got up off the couch and stretched. She wasn’t naked or nothing but the top of her dress was sort of down around her hips and she was wearing a whatever-you-call-it, some lacey thing. She made a show of slipping her dress on and I made a show of slicing some bread. Making this sandwich was like a ritual to me, so it wasn’t that hard to ignore her.

  I cut a whole loaf of Italian bread in half and smeared it with ricotta cheese, then I added roasted peppers, hot peppers, and some ham and then the potatoes and eggs. I closed the sandwich, drizzled it with olive oil and then put it in the oven.

  “Be ready in a minute.” I said. But when I looked in the living room, Baba wasn’t there. She must be in the bathroom, or something. I grabbed on of her cigarettes and climbed out on the fire escape to smoke, just what I needed, right, a cancer stick. Still, it relaxed me and I sat on the fire escape steps smoking while my stomach growled. Baba stuck her head out the window and after looking around said, “I’m not getting out there.”

  “I’m coming in.” I said. “Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

  “You got any juice or anything?” Baba asked.

  “Look yourself. I don’t know. See what’s in there.”

  When I came in, Baba was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a beer. She was rubbing her arm and when she moved her hand there was a new tattoo on her arm. Not that I was keeping track of her tattoos but it was still reddish, so I knew it was recent.