Brooklyn 1975

by Robert Moeller

  Anyway, I noticed that we needed some ice and went to the machine outside the office and filled the cooler. A party needs ice, right? When I came back with the ice, the girls were there. They bought a radio from some hardware store. “Wow.” I said. “That’s nice.”

  “Only thing we could find out here. It’ll do the trick though.” Angela said. “Now I’m going to take a shower. Get all this sand off of me.”

  “I’m next.” Marty said.

  “I already took one. I’m fresh and clean.” I said.

  While Angela was in the shower, Marty took her hair out of a ponytail and started combing it. “I need to wash my hair, or else.”

  “Or else what?”

  “Or else it will get so tangled that I don’t even want to think about it. Oh, I almost forgot.” She said, before reaching into her bag, which was next to her on the bed. “Check these out. My brother gave them to me before I left.”

  “What? What he give you?’ I said, sipping my beer.

  “Look, Quaaludes.” She said. “Three of them. You want one?”

  “Yeah, sure. If you an Angela do them too.”

  “Oh, we are. We talked about it in the car. I almost forgot I had them. You do them before?” She asked while running a brush through her hair. “Ever?”

  “Oh yeah.” I said and I was telling the truth, I had done them before. “If they’re good, they’re good. Real good, knock you on your ass if you’re not careful.”

  “What else we doing tonight anyway?” She said. “And beside, I hear they’re good for sex.”

  “Let me hook that radio up.” I said trying to change the subject. “See if we can find a good station out here.”

  Marty continued brushing her hair and Angela came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head. She was only wearing underpants and didn’t have a shirt on. “Sorry, I left my stuff out here.” She said, before noticing the pills on the bed. “Oh, I’ll have one.” She said, before popping the big pill in her mouth and then taking a swig of my beer to wash it down. Marty laughed and took the last one. I handed her my beer and she swallowed. “That’s that.” She said. “Now, I’m going to shower while I still can stand up.” We all laughed.

  I fidgeted with the radio but was having trouble getting a station to come in. “Nothing on out here.” I said, starting to get frustrated.

  “Let me try, you know, a woman’s touch.” Angela said. “Why don’t you be a gentleman and open some wine fore us. We picked some up when we were out.”

  I found a corkscrew and opened a bottle and poured two glasses out into these clear plastic cups that were in the cottage. “No wine glasses here, sorry.” I said.

  “We’ll make do.”

  “You ever do one of those before?” I asked her. “You know a Quaalude?”

  “Yup, a couple of times. I like the way they make you feel, like all relaxed.” She said.

  I grabbed another beer and went outside, leaving her to figure out the radio. There was a beach chair out by the picnic table and I plopped into it. The Quaalude would take about a half an hour to hit and since at the moment I had nothing else to do, I sat there and waited. Next thing you know the Rolling Stones are blaring out of the window followed by Angela shouting that she had found a station. I forget the name of the song but it was like from the sixties, not that old. Angela followed the song outside. She was dressed in a tee shirt and shorts. “Feel anything yet?” She asked, sipping from the plastic cup.

  “Nothing.” I said. “It takes a little while.”

  “Yeah, twenty minutes, or something.” She said.

  “Yup. Where’s Marty, still in the shower?” I asked her.

  “Yup. She’ll be out. You like the station I found? Something from Boston -- Hard Rock something or other.”

  Yeah, I like the Stones.” I said. “What’s not to like?”

  Angela was swaying along with the song. “Nothing.” She said. “Nothing at all. Besides Mick and Keith are cute.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I like them too.” I said, teasing her. “I have their posters on my wall at home. Them and the Partridge Family.”

  Yeah, I’m sure you do except I’ve been in your room, remember?” She was swaying along to the music. “And you don’t.”

  I stood up and held her moving my feet back and forth, pretending to dance along with her. “What, I’m supposed to be honest about everything now? Even with you?”

  “That would be helpful.” She said.

  “What’s all this about tonight?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, sometimes things just happen. It’s not like you sit there and plan them. I mean, Marty and I talked about it. She wants to be with us, not like forever, but for now. You know, she’s in pain because of Junior. Maybe, this will help.”

  “And you?” I asked. “Why you?”

  She smiled. “I’m accepting when it comes to stuff like this. Why not? We can do whatever and see what happens, right?”

  “I mean, I’m game, it’s not like this is reality or anything. We’re here, and it’s sort of a fantasy anyway. So, why not?” I said.

  “It’s not a fantasy, though. It’s real. I mean the feelings are real. Look, we’re close and you and Marty just lost Junior. I liked him but I didn’t know him like you two did.”

  “Let’s just let whatever happens to happen. No plans, nothing like that.” I said.

  As we were talking, Marty came outside. It was like the sun had polished her skin to a perfect kind of dark brown. She looked like one of those sculptures at the museum. She was shining, I mean, like glistening.

  “I have moisturizer if anyone wants. It’s good for your skin right after the beach, helps so that you don’t peel.” She said.

  “Or it makes you look like you’re perfect.” I mumbled.

  What?” Angela said.

  “Nothing.” I said. “Nothing for me, my skin is fine. Perfect.”

  We spent the next hour or so sitting by the picnic table talking while we smoked and drank. The Quaaludes hit me a little while after Marty came out and I could tell the girls were starting to get stoned too. Maybe stoned is the wrong word for it. More like your body just relaxes under your head, like it gives way or something. Not completely or anything, just almost completely. When it got dark the bugs started biting. They were all over the place and so we decided to go inside. We stumbled into the cottage and Marty turned the radio around so that it was aimed inside. Glen Campbell was playing, or some shit like that. “I am a lineman for the county…”

  Marty started singing along with the song softly. And then Angela joined in. “Sing it, Angie.” Marty said, like they were on stage or something. I laughed because, well, it struck me as funny. Probably, I was just rocked on the “Lude”.

  “Let’s smoke some reefer.” Angela said.

  “Oh yeah, the icing on the cake.” I said. I sat at the table and cleaned the seeds from a pile of weed and broke a bud down between my thumbs. Then I rolled it, a big fat one, and twisted it in my mouth. Marty picked it up and using a cigarette from the ashtray lit it up. She must have inhaled too deeply because her eyes bulged and she started coughing.

  Me, I’m laughing again because everything is funny now, right?

  Marty has her eyes closed and she’s like running in place shaking her head back and forth. Angela takes the joint from her and takes a hit then passes it to me. The pot is like the express train to the Quaalude. No stops, nothing. After the first toke I’m floating around this fucking cottage. I mean I’m not even sure what the three or four other hits I took before the joint was finished added to the mix because the first one was enough.

  “Let’s turn the lights off.” Angela said. “I bought some candles.”

  I waited until she found them and lit them before shutting the lights off. The girls had glow-faces from the candlelight. I put three cigarettes in my mouth and lit them all at once before passing two of them to the girls. Basically, we were all zoned out, too stoned to talk, so we jus
t sat there and smoked.

  “Let’s push the beds together.” Angela said. “And all lay down.”

  The girls moved one bed and I pushed at the other with my legs until they were together.

  I took my shirt off and went and locked the cottage door. I could smell the ocean and it looked like it was foggy outside, or maybe it was just my brain. I stripped off my shorts and jumped into the bed and covered myself with the sheets.

  The girls laughed at me before starting to undress. Angela finished first and came and lay next to me. “Come on Marty.” Angela said.

  Marty took off her tee shirt and waved in the air while she twisted her hips. I could see the tan lines from her bathing suit on her chest and shoulders and they flickered in the candlelight as she danced. Then she reached down and opened the button on her shorts before pulling them off. By this point, my head is spinning a little. Not like sick spinning but more like wow spinning. As I’m watching she slips out of her underpants and with a final flourish, blows out the candles and gets into bed with us.

  Now, if I were a real asshole, you know, someone that needed the attention, I’d give you a blow-by-blow account of everything that happened after the girls finished kissing each other. Everything, that is, that I remembered. But I’m not an asshole, at least the last time I checked, so I’ll just say that I was surprised by some things, pleased by others, and fucking amazed that I was in attendance.

  You need more information, call the operator.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I woke up the next morning and the bed was a spray of sheets, breasts, and arms and legs scattered in every direction. I sat up for a moment before falling back into bed and curling up with Angela. Marty yawned and slid across my back like a warm blanket. Angela turned over and kissed me and then looked at Marty and smiled. The smiles turned into giggles and then they exploded into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked. “You two have a secret language or something?”

  “Yeah, it’s the language of love.” Angela said. “Haven’t you noticed?”

  “And be happy we included you.” Marty said.

  “Just that once?” I asked. “Because, I mean, I’m still learning the language and probably need a couple of more classes.” I said. “Maybe, five or ten more. I’m not the best student in the world.”

  “We’re all about improving your grades.” Angela said. “Right Marty?”

  “Right, Angie.”

  Last night swirled in and out behind a haze of beer and drugs. I remember some things as clear as day and others merely as a suggestion of something. I mean, maybe suggestive of something. This morning, with the light shining into the little cottage everything was there in the open, it was crazy. There’s this expression you sometimes hear—fucking like there’s no tomorrow. Well, that’s what it left like. I could see it on the girl’s faces and wasn’t sure if they wanted to make these moments last forever or end as quickly as possible. Afterwards, we lay there all holding hands, each of us breathing heavily.

  “Brooklyn seems so far away.” Marty said.

  “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” Angela replied.

  “I suppose we’ll have to go home soon.” Marty said, while running her fingers through my hair.

  I just stared at the ceiling nodding my head.

  “It’s where we belong, I guess.” I said.

  Marty sat up with tears in her eyes. “That’s fucked up, isn’t it? That there is a place like this on earth and we belong somewhere far away where all we have are dead boyfriends, a brother in and out of jail and probably heading right where Junior is. Life’s not fair, I’m telling you.

  I think I’m going home so I can leave for good, fuck it. Maybe, not for a place like this but somewhere far away, like maybe where they pick up the trash, you know what I’m saying? I’m tired of Brooklyn, the shit you see, everything, like that glue-headed kid flying off the roof. What’s that? What’s that supposed to be? Entertainment or some shit? It’s like living there just makes you harder and harder until you aren’t anything but a reflection of what you see everyday.” She was looking at us without really seeing us, maybe more like looking through us.

  “Junior said we we’re going to get married. And you know what? I was so stupid because marrying him was like marrying the city. I mean he was attracted to it, loved it. You know how he was. Brooklyn this, Brooklyn that… Nothing bothered him, and you know what, he was like into making it worse. He didn’t give a shit about things, did he?”

  I thought about defending him when she looked at me but decided to let her just keep talking.

  “And you too.” She was pointing at me. “You’re the same way, maybe not as bad but the same. You’re like my brother, just whatever and whatever, nothing matters. Nothing ever matters.”

  “I miss Junior too, Marty. He is my best friend, even now that he’s gone, dead.”

  “And the easiest thing is to go back home and be like him.” She said.

  “I’m not like that. I’m different.” I say.

  “You’re not different, you’re just alive.” She said and got up and went to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

  “What’s with her?” I asked Angela.

  “She’s mourning, upset, just let her be. She’s angry too. You know, mad at Junior.”

  “No shit.” I said. “Why is she taking it out on me? What did I do?”

  “Like you said, you’re best friends with him. She associated you with him, sees him in you.”

  “Don’t seem like much of a reflection.” I say.

  “Look, she’s mad at him, mad at everything. I mean, it wasn’t like an accident or anything, something you can explain.”

  “I can explain it.” I said.

  “Yeah, and she can too. But for her it’s different. The way she sees it, it could have been avoided if Junior were smarter. You see what I’m saying? You know how they are always talking about choices in school?” She paused to look at me. “Anyway if you went to school they’d talk about choices there, you make good ones and everything is fine. Bad ones and bad things happen.”

  “What if you don’t have a choice?” I said. “ I mean look at you, look at your father and brother. You didn’t choose them and I don’t have to tell you what they’re up to.”

  “I know, I see my house, the cars. I can count. I look in my wallet. I see what’s there. I know where it comes from.”

  “I mean, do you? Do you really?” I said.

  “I don’t know the specifics, if that’s what you mean, no. But I get the idea. I hear stories about my father. I know what he does for a living. Still, what are you going to do? He’s my father and Vito is my brother. Truth is, I’m not really close with Little Vito but with my father I am. But you know, despite that, I’m going to do what I want to do. You know, get a place in the city. Go off on my own. Make something of myself. I’m not going to sit around in Brooklyn and get married off to grease ball friend of the family, or worse, some wannabe tough guy looking to impress my father. Fuck that. I see my mother home all the time. I see what it’s like for her. I think I’m different than them, than her”

  “Me too. I think, anyway. It may not seem like it but I’m fighting something. I can’t put my finger on it. I mean, I think girls are more mature, more thoughtful, or whatever. I’m trying, though. Like, I told Junior something bad was going to happen to him. He wouldn’t listen, never listened. I tried though, I really did.”