“What are you, stupid? We’re comin’ with you! Justin, get your jacket.”
Just like that, the three of us made our way across the street to 207. And a weird thing happened between Rose and me during that short voyage, something that hadn’t happened since our magical trip to Rockaway Beach.
We held hands.
* * *
Rose took over once we were inside, cooking the vegetables and the stuffing and ordering Justin to fill bowls with nuts and chips. She’d never been down to the basement and was impressed by the table and benches.
“Jesus, Eddie did a nice job down here!”
“He’s coming. Promised he’d bring a flan.”
“Yeah, that’s real nice for dessert, Jo-Jo, but what we gonna do about that turkey you ain’t got?”
“I don’t know. White Castle’s open today, isn’t it?”
Rose’s eyes widened. “Burgers?”
“Don’t have much choice, do I?”
Justin laughed out loud. “Damn!” he said. “That’s somethin’ I’ve been missin’ in Seattle! Burgers from the Castle!”
I turned to Rose. “I’ll be right back. And when they get here, don’t tell them I got mugged.”
Justin joined me on the walk to White Castle. We were the only customers in sight, and if the sleepy-eyed girl behind the counter thought she was in for an easy shift she had a rude awakening when I asked her for eighty burgers to go.
“What are you feedin’, an army?”
“Just some family and friends.”
The fry cook got to work on the order, and as the burgers popped and sizzled Justin told me about the place he was buying in Seattle: a waterfront house with an outdoor pool and a heated garage.
“You can visit us, Joe,” he said. “Got plenty of room.”
“Thanks Justin, but I think my traveling days are pretty much behind me.”
“Were you really gonna ask my mother to marry you?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re a brave man.”
I had to chuckle. “Actually, Justin, the brave part was when I changed my mind.”
He shook his head. “You bought the ring and everything. Damn.”
“Got a feeling it won’t be the last time a man buys a ring for your mother.”
We carried the burgers back in two giant sacks. Rose said I’d gotten too many, but they were only three bites apiece, and people had a way of gobbling them like salted peanuts, and anyway, it was Thanksgiving! A day made for excess!
Rose piled the burgers onto the biggest metal tray I had, set the brand-new oven on warm and shoved them in there. As soon as she was done with that I heard a knock on the door, and I went upstairs to let Johnny Gallo and Nancy in.
They hugged me and followed me down to the basement. Nancy had brought a big platter of homemade cookies, which I set on top of the refrigerator. I introduced Rose and Justin to them as “my neighbors.” The Gallos weren’t baseball fans and obviously had no idea who Justin was. Then again, if the President of the United States had been there, they probably wouldn’t have recognized him. They were totally distracted and dazzled by their return to the Ambrosio basement, looking around in wonder like a couple of kids at the planetarium.
“We had our engagement party right in this room, fifty years ago,” Johnny told Rose. “You believe that?”
“Fifty years in September,” Nancy said.
“And you’re still together,” Rose said.
Johnny nodded and shrugged. Nancy rolled her eyes. Justin laughed.
Another knock at the door, and this time it was Mel DiGiovanna, in a fur coat and an Armani dress. Behind her I saw a long black limo pulling away from the curb.
“Let me in before I get shot!” she said with a laugh as she entered the hallway. “Oh, my God, this place hasn’t changed! In case you were wondering, that’s not a compliment.”
“Good to see you too, Mel.”
“You know I’m kidding! Here, take these.” She handed me two ice-cold bottles of Dom Pérignon. “Is he here yet?”
“Downstairs.”
“Ah, we’re dining in the basement, are we?”
“I think you know the way, Mel.”
She thundered dangerously ahead of me on high heels, and when she saw Johnny she put a hand to her chest as if she’d just spotted a movie star.
“Hiya, Johnny,” she all but whispered. Johnny stared at her in wonder.
“Remember me? I used to live on this block.” She touched her nose. “My honker was a lot bigger back then.”
Johnny squinted, then smiled. “Are you little Mel?”
“Yeah.”
“My God! Little Mel!”
He took her in a long, soulful embrace, and I knew that no matter what happened for the rest of the day this trip to Shepherd Avenue would have been worth it to Mel, who turned to me with a thirty-two-tooth smile.
“Crack that champagne, Joey, we’re celebrating!”
I did as I was told with the Dom Pérignon, pouring for everyone in the room. As Johnny and Mel talked over the old days Nancy sidled up to me, looking concerned.
“Who’s that putain with my husband?”
“She lived here the same summer I did. She had a big crush on Johnny.”
“Looks like she still does.”
“I think she’s just glad to see him.”
“Why? He’s an old man!”
“Maybe, but those eyes of his are still pretty amazing, aren’t they?”
Nancy sipped her champagne, trying to hide a smile. “They worked on me, that’s for sure.”
Another knock on the door, and this time my Uncle Vic was standing there in his usual shabbily comfortable attire, holding a large wooden box filled with three dozen clementines. I knew he’d gone to his favorite produce market in Astoria for the fruit. He loved buying in bulk, a funny thing for a guy who’d lived alone most of his life.
“Sure feels funny to knock on this door.”
“It wasn’t locked, Vic.”
“I didn’t know that.” I stepped aside to let him in. He handed me the box. “You like clementines? They’re nice. No seeds. And I like the color.”
He headed down to the basement, where Johnny greeted him with a shout. They stood apart with their hands over their hips, like a pair of gunslingers with no guns.
“Vic, you got so fat!”
“Johnny, you got so bald!”
A true Shepherd Avenue greeting. Then they embraced in a beautiful bear hug.
Then I introduced Vic to Justin. They shook hands, regarding each other like rival gunslingers.
“I hear you could play,” Justin said.
Vic nodded. “I hear you’re pretty good, too.”
Eddie Everything arrived with his promised flan. He was blown away when Billy Debowski showed up minutes later with a box of contraband cigars.
“These are illegal Cubans,” Billy said.
“So am I,” Eddie dared to reply, and the cop and the handyman both got a kick out of that.
I was stunned when I answered the door to find Dr. Rosensohn standing there in jeans and a flannel shirt, carrying a good bottle of red wine.
“Hardly recognized you in your casual clothes, Doc.”
“This is how I dress when the meter’s off.”
“Come on in.”
He followed me down to the basement. I introduced him all around as “my friend Phil,” and nobody needed to know more than that.
Only Billy Debowski knew who he was to me, and I took the two of them aside for a moment to show them something that had been delivered to me a few days earlier, from Nat Grossman’s retirement home. It was a small metal urn containing his ashes.
“Just wanted to promise you guys I won’t be climbing the bridge to dispose of these.”
Billy—already giddy from the champagne—slid a friendly arm across Phil’s shoulders.
“That’s a relief, huh, Doc?”
“I should say so,” Phil said, sipping his ow
n glass of bubbly. “Strictly for professional purposes, I must ask you, Joseph: Where will you keep these remains?”
I placed the urn up on the windowsill, which was level with the driveway. Beside it was my precious White Rock bottle.
“My father’s ashes were high in the sky. Nat’s will stay at ground level. Guess it all evens out.”
Justin had eased naturally into the role of bartender, keeping everyone lubricated, while Rose kept an eye on the burgers and the vegetables. Mel sidled up to me, pointed at Rose and whispered, “This woman you hired is doing a good job.”
“Actually, Mel, she was my girlfriend until a little while ago.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“You should know there’s no such thing as a maid on Shepherd Avenue.”
Mel studied Rose. “I see you went for a younger model, in a darker shade.”
“Hey. She’s not a car.”
“I’m sorry, Joey . . . what went wrong with you two?”
“It’s complicated, Mel, but what the hell isn’t?”
I was relieved to get away from her to answer the door once again. This time it was my daughter and Kevin, standing on my front stoop. Taylor carried a bouquet of red roses and Kevin had an economy-sized bottle of ginger ale.
My daughter never looked more beautiful. It was as if a line of tension across her brow had finally eased, allowing me to see what she looked like when she wasn’t frowning.
I don’t know if she was happy, but I suspected she wasn’t unhappy. And Not Unhappy was a lot for anyone with Ambrosio blood to be thankful for.
I embraced them together, one on each arm. The noise from downstairs was rich with shouts and laughter. I knew I wouldn’t be missed for a few minutes.
“Ready for the tour?”
Kevin had only been to the upstairs kitchen that time he’d come over. I showed them my bedroom and my name under the windowsill. Taylor laughed at the sight of the chickens strutting around in the backyard, and then I took them upstairs to see the empty flat. The maple tree in front of the house had lost its leaves, so the light up there through the bare branches was brighter than I’d ever seen it. Taylor seemed enchanted.
“This would be, like, four thousand a month on the other side of the river.”
“Consider this your home away from home. Nothing like a sleepover in East New York to help you unwind.”
I brought them downstairs and introduced them all around. Vic was delighted to see Taylor, and he made a fuss over the roses.
“First flowers in the history of this house under the Ambrosios!” he declared. “Hey, Joey, you got a vase or what?”
I didn’t have a vase. A plastic bucket from under the sink would have to do.
Kevin suddenly looked pale, staring wide-eyed across the room. I was worried about him.
“You okay, Kevin?”
He nodded, swallowed. “Is that Justin Wilson?“
“Yeah, he’s a friend of ours,” I said casually. “Go introduce yourself. He’s a hell of a nice kid.”
Rose shook Taylor’s hand when I introduced them, a gesture that morphed into an awkward hug. Then Rose hurried back to the stove to make sure the burgers weren’t burning.
“You’re working too hard, Rose. Take a break.”
“I’m okay. We better eat these babies before they’re ashes. And listen, I really do.”
I was confused. “You really do what?”
“I really do love you, Jo-Jo. In answer to your question about the L word. I think you knew that.”
I swallowed hard. “Well, I do now. And I feel the same way about you.”
“Too bad God has that funny sense o’ humor, huh? Keepin’ us apart, first with the years, now with the miles.”
“Damn, Rose. You wait until now to let me know you’re a poet?”
She laughed, a sound that coincided with a knock at the door. Still tingling from Rose’s words, I went upstairs to answer it and there stood Jenny Sutherland in jeans, a peacoat and a wool cap, clutching a big glass jar of nuts and raisins.
It was probably the way she would have dressed on Thanksgiving fifty years earlier, and she undoubtedly would have brought the same gift in 1961.
Same clothes, same gift. Same girl? Who could say? I was so stunned to see Jenny that I couldn’t speak. I just stood and stared.
“Kinda cold out here, Joey,” she said, prompting me to let her inside.
“I’m sorry, Jenny. I’m kind of shocked. Really didn’t think you’d show up.”
“You did leave that message, didn’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Is he here?”
“Downstairs.”
“Does he know?”
“No, he does not.”
She looked for a moment as if she might turn and flee. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I put an arm across her bony shoulders and led her down those echoey stairs to the basement.
And there stood Vic in the middle of the floor, demonstrating his old batting stance to Justin, Billy, Kevin and Dr. Rosensohn. His feet were wide apart and his hands were as high as his head, the same stance I remembered from a long-ago game for Franklin K. Lane High School, when I saw Vic hit an impossibly long home run. Back then, I thought my uncle could do anything. Maybe he still could.
“Hey, Vic. An old friend wants to say hello.”
He turned to look at me, hands still held high, and then he saw Jenny and his hands fell to his sides, like the hands of a puppet whose strings have suddenly been cut. He was breathing hard as he regarded her from head to toe, as if she’d just beamed down from outer space. She inched toward him. For what felt like forever all he could do was breathe and all she could do was giggle nervously, as if she didn’t know whether to expect a kiss or a slap.
But neither of those thing happened. They just gazed at each other in wonder as the room fell silent, the way it does in Western movies when the villain enters the saloon. The guys backed away from Vic, leaving him and Jenny alone in the middle of the floor.
Jenny took off her cap and shook her hair the way she had as a kid, when the world was nothing more than a shiny ripe apple, just inches from her grasp.
“Well, Victor. Did I wreck your life?”
He actually chuckled at the question. “No. I didn’t need your help to wreck it.”
She dared to touch his cheek. “Still handsome.”
“I’m old and I’m fat.”
“I’m old and I’m skinny.”
“You still painting?”
“No. Never had a real talent for it.”
“Kind of like me with baseball, huh?”
“Could be.”
They’d run out of words, standing there like two ancient kids at the prom, too shy to ask each other to dance, and then Rose, bless her raging heart, stepped in behind Vic.
“For Christ’s sake, give her a hug!” she cried, and with that Rose literally shoved Vic into Jenny’s arms, which opened just in time to catch him in the most beautiful embrace I’d ever seen, as if they were sharing one heart and breaking apart would have meant death for them both.
Jenny was giggling through flowing tears, her face buried in Vic’s shoulder, and Vic’s eyes were shiny as he rocked her in his arms. He caught my eye and spoke just two words, smiling as he said them, and you really had to know my uncle to know he meant them with affection.
“You prick.”
We all laughed and the room came back to life. Good old Dr. Rosensohn, fuzzy from champagne and red wine, took me aside to ask me what the deal was with Vic and Jenny. I told him their backstory, and what I’d done to get them together.
He seemed impressed, even though his eyes were at half-mast. “In my racket, we call that shock therapy.”
“Actually, Doc, it’s just a reunion of two old friends.”
He shrugged. “You may be right. On the other hand, I may be right.”
“Or maybe we’re both wrong, and it’s just a fuckin’ party to celebrate the fact that we’re all gla
d to be alive.”
“I’ll drink to that,” he said, toasting me with his glass before draining it and turning to Justin for a refill.
“Jo-Jo, the food!” Rose called to me from the stove. I raised my hands to get everyone’s attention.
“There was a mishap involving the turkey this morning,” I announced, “so the main course will feature burgers from White Castle instead. Please sit wherever you’d like.”
Rose set the platter of burgers in the middle of the table, then set out the vegetables and the stuffing. Everybody piled onto the benches, laughing at the sight of this bizarre feast.
“What’s this?” Johnny Gallo asked, pointing at the stuffing.
“Chestnut stuffing,” I said.
“Yeah? Can you call it stuffing when it ain’t stuffed into anything?”
“Good question.”
We ate, we drank, we laughed. We’d hit that magical stride at a gathering where everybody seemed to be having a good time, and nobody was left out.
Vic and Jenny were cocooned at one corner of the table, talking softly as Jenny nibbled on the nuts and raisins she’d brought.
Would anything come of this reunion? Who the hell could say?
Taylor and Kevin sipped their ginger ale and dug into the burgers, and so did everybody else. I thought Nancy would be annoyed by the attention Mel was paying to Johnny, but Nancy was laughing her head off over something Eddie Everything was telling her, while Justin seemed fascinated by whatever Dr. Rosensohn was telling him, and Billy Debowski had everyone’s attention when he stood up to prove that a White Castle hamburger can indeed be eaten in a single bite.
Rose and I sat together, saying little as we held hands under the table like a couple of schoolkids.
“Good Thanksgiving, Jo-Jo.”
“Thanks, Ro-Ro.”
She gave my hand a squeeze. “I ain’t gonna forget you.”
“You’d better not.”
“Oh, Jesus. I’m happy and sad at the same time. What the hell does that mean?”
“Means you’re an intelligent person, Rose.”
When the main meal was over, out came Nancy’s cookies, Eddie Everything’s flan and Vic’s clementines, and then Billy broke out his box of Cuban cigars. All the men lit up, even Justin and Kevin. The basement air went blue with smoke.
Return to Shepherd Avenue Page 24