Brooklyn Story

by Suzanne Corso

  “I’m wakin’ up. You sound good this morning, Samantha Bonti. I’m comin’ over.”

  “No. Yes. I mean, if you come by at two, that’ll be good.” I figured I could cash the check and have Mom’s medications back home well before then.

  “Hey, you seein’ someone else?” he asked.

  “’Course not. I told ya last night and I don’t lie.”

  “I like that, too,” Tony said. “Hey. Ya ever been on a motorcycle?”

  My stomach fluttered. “You got one?” I asked, and felt my mother’s and grandmother’s eyes glaring at my back.

  “Shit yeah,” Tony said. “A Harley.”

  “Wow.” I glanced over my shoulder and saw my mother’s raised eyebrows. I knew that I could never let her or Grandma know about Tony’s bike.

  “See ya at two,” he said.

  “I’m not sure, Tony.”

  “What’ya mean? Ya just said it was okay.”

  I bent my head and lowered my voice. “I mean the ride. My mom …”

  “Don’ worry. I’ll meet ya at the end of the block,” Tony said. I hesitated.

  “Okay?” I squeezed the receiver. “Sure, Tone,” I said.

  “Good. Get ready for the time a ya life. Ya scared?”

  “Should I be?”

  “Nah,” Tony said. “See ya later.” I hung up the phone.

  “What’s goin on?” Mom asked as I sat down.

  “Nuthin’. We’re goin’ out later.”

  “He calls, and you just jump?” Mom asked.

  “It’s just a casual date, Mom.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s how it starts. School’s startin’ soon and I don’ want ya gettin’ tied up with some punk.”

  My face reddened. “He’s not a punk!” I blurted.

  Grandma intervened again. “Sam, if you’re finished with your breakfast, go get the check. Mom needs her pills.”

  Grateful to be given an out, I ran into my bedroom to dress. Thank God for my mother’s sake, Mr. Weisbaum’s place was open on Sundays. Jews celebrated on Saturday; Sunday was for Catholics.

  I was surprised at how easily I had lied to my mother without thinking twice, and I didn’t feel good about it. I didn’t lie. I wondered if that was what bad boys did to you and whether Tony was one. Did bad boys turn you into a liar before you knew what hit you? I decided to get that out of my mind. It wasn’t really much of a lie, anyway. I was just going to have some fun. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

  No matter what I’d told Tony, I was plenty scared.

  “How come you’re wearin’ a skirt?” Tony asked, straddling the idling Harley with his arms crossed after I had rushed to the corner. “I told ya we were takin’ a ride on a bike.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, catching my breath. I felt like a total fool. I knew I should have kept my jeans on, but I had wanted to look feminine. “I wanted to look good for you.”

  “Don’ ever wear a skirt if I ask ya ta ride wid me again,” he said.

  “Want me to go back and change?”

  Tony picked at a hole in the knee of his blue jeans. “Nah. I’ll let it go this time.” He grabbed the handlebars and gave the powerful machine some gas. The bike roared under Tony’s body, itching to start rolling.

  “So where we goin’?” I yelled.

  “Sheepshead Bay,” he responded, and then looked at me intently. “Now I’m gonna tell ya what ta do and be sure ta listen. I don’ need some dumb girl fuckin’ up my ride.”

  I put my hands on my hips and looked him in the eye. “I’m not a dumb girl,” I said.

  “Prove it,” Tony said, and then he explained how and when to get on, how to hold on to him, what to do when he turned corners, and how to get off. I listened hard, determined to show him. “Keep that skirt down, unless you want some horny guys lookin’ at your underpants.”

  “What if I’m not wearing any?” I teased.

  “Ya better be.”

  I swung my leg over the bike, tucked my skirt under my legs, tightened my arms around Tony’s leather jacket. I felt the engine vibrations all the way up my spine as we took off around the corner in a roar of thundering horsepower. I tried not to forget what he’d just told me. “Lean into the turn, not away,” he’d said. It was thrilling! I didn’t want to topple the prize bike, but each time he made a turn, I felt like we were about to fall. I was a quick study.

  By the time we pulled up to Vincenzio’s Restaurant, a local dining spot on Avenue U, I felt like I’d gotten the hang of motorcycling. Although it had been frightening, I had reveled in the freedom I felt with the wind in my face and Tony’s warm body against me. Then Tony freaked me out by popping a few wheelies in front of the restaurant. After holding on for dear life, I was shaken and breathless when Tony stopped at the curb. I inhaled his cologne. That was really living! I thought. I could never tell my mother, but wondered if someone had spotted us on the bike and would blab to her. All hell would break loose if that happened, that was for sure, but I didn’t care at that moment. I was with Tony and I felt good.

  When he turned off the engine, Vin and Richie came out to the curb to ooh and aah over Tony’s Harley. I could not have felt prouder as Tony took my hand and helped me as we got off the bike. Damn, he liked to be on display, and I had to admit that I liked it, too. I patted my skirt down while Tony and his friends knocked fists together.

  I looked behind Richie. “Hey, where’s Janice?” I asked.

  Richie looked at Tony and cleared his throat. “She wasn’t feelin’ so good.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked. “I talked to her this morning and she was fine.”

  “Flu. Came on suddenly.”

  “I ought to go visit her, I guess,” I said.

  “Nah,” he said. “She’s sleepin’. Doctor said she had to get lots of sleep.”

  “She saw the doctor? Jeez, she must be in bad shape.”

  “I jus’ told ya,” Richie said through clenched teeth, “she’s okay. She got disoriented and fell down. Just leave it alone.”

  I stared at Richie’s face. Did Janice have the flu or had she fallen down? It was obvious to me that Richie was lying, but I didn’t know why, and it was pretty clear he wasn’t about to tell me. No matter what he said, I’d visit her after Tony brought me home. I turned my attention back to my boyfriend, who made me feel special, like neighborhood royalty. I was the Queen of May as I walked into the restaurant with the coolest guy in Bensonhurst.

  Vin directed us to where Dara was sitting. We joined her and Tony ordered a lemonade for me and a draft beer for himself. I hoped it wouldn’t affect his ability to ride the bike, but I refused to let anything break the spell. I could always walk home if he got too drunk, I reasoned.

  Dara wasn’t in a good mood and said a brusque hello. I was afraid she might do something stupid like Janice told me she did the last time she was crabby. Dara had picked a fight with Vin and ended up sprawled on the floor. She had to limp home that day. I tried to perk her up. “Ya look nice, Dara,” I said. “How’s it goin’?”

  “Okay,” Dara said with a blank face as she looked me over. “The ride must have been fun. Too bad your hair got screwed up, though.” I reached up to smooth my windblown mane.

  When the waitress arrived with the drinks, Tony ordered a pizza for the two of us. He hadn’t bothered asking me what I wanted; I would have ordered a plate of baked clams because the establishment near the water was mainly a seafood place and Mom rarely splurged on fish. On the rare occasions when I ate out with schoolmates, I rarely ordered the hamburgers and fries and Cokes like everyone else did. I’d have salads and salmon and vegetables instead. I had done research on food after reading about proper nutrition in the grown-up magazines I’d peruse in the school library. It confirmed what I’d always suspected about Mom’s Kraft macaroni and cheese, Weaver Chicken, and Rice-A-Roni, which she’d buy when the welfare check came in. Even though it wasn’t my preference, it was still really tasty.

  The
pizza arrived and I ate my share of the pie and looked around the family-style restaurant, brightly lit with large tables, as the guys talked. Vincenzio’s was one of the places where Brooklyn Boys took their girls to eat and chat and talk about whoever wasn’t there. I’d been there a couple of times, but never with a guy like Tony. It gave me status to be seen with him and I liked that. His great looks didn’t hurt, either. But those weren’t the main reasons I was into Tony. What turned me on the most was how interested he was in me.

  I swallowed a bite as the conversation about matters that were foreign to me went on. “It’s all set, then?” Tony asked Vin.

  “Yeah,” Vin replied, “Tino took care a everythin’.”

  “Good,” Tony said. “Weez can make da rounds later.”

  I had no idea what they were referring to and didn’t care. I was looking forward to making my own rounds around town with a new boyfriend, one who excited me. I couldn’t wait to be on his arm everywhere.

  Tony only had one more beer and within an hour we were back on the Harley. I felt like an old pro, except when he popped wheelies again before we sped off. I hoped he wouldn’t do that on my block. I squeezed his midsection as we rode into the wind, inhaling the fresh air and taking in the scenery. We were a unit of two, roaring our way through a world of sensations that rocked my body and mind.

  “Didja like it?” Tony asked over his shoulder, his blue eyes sparkling, when we stopped at the end of my street. “Sure did, Tony,” I said. I didn’t mention how I had felt about the wheelies. What if he got offended and decided I wasn’t tough enough to be his girl? Then I looked at him with eager anticipation. “How’d I do?”

  “Youse was great. Did you see the looks in the guys’ eyes? They were jealous as hell.” He helped me off the bike, set me on the sidewalk, and remained straddled above the hot metal.

  “Dara didn’t look real happy,” I said.

  “Donkeys are always unhappy. Next thing you know she might even bray. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?”

  I didn’t think so but didn’t have time to respond. Tony pulled me close, arching my back, and kissed my lips. He let go of me, smiled, and sang a few lines from a Diana Ross hit:

  Upside down you’re turning me

  You’re giving love instinctively

  Around and round you’re turning me …

  “Not bad for a tough guy,” I said.

  Tony crossed his arms. “Hey, we’re all goin’ to the movies later,” he said. “Wanna come?”

  “Who’s we all?” I asked.

  “Vin, Dara, Richie, Janice. Ya know, the gang.”

  “I thought Janice had the flu.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot. Vin, Richie, and Dara. So we on or not?” I hesitated. “Don’ worry,” he said. “I’ll pick ya up in my car. I’ll even come in and meet your mom and grandma. Parents love me.”

  I still didn’t say anything. There was nothing I would rather do than go to the movies with Tony, but I didn’t want him to see my home. The furniture was threadbare, so worn-out we had thrown white sheets over the ratty material. Being poor sucked, I thought, as I had countless times before. Would I have to keep my boyfriends at bay and never let them see my surroundings until I walked down the aisle? I wondered. I thought if Tony had the rescuing gene, like it seemed he did, it would work in my favor. If he didn’t, he might be history.

  “What’s the matter, Sam?” Tony asked. “Any girl in Benson-hurst would be glad ta be wid me.”

  “Nuthin’,” I said. I really wanted to go out with him whenever and wherever he planned to take me. And I felt I was a catch, too. Tony and his buddies knew the difference between good girls and bad girls, the so-called sluts in our neighborhood. I was a good girl, every Brooklyn Boy’s dream—young and innocent enough for a guy to mold into what he wanted. That’s how it went down in Brooklyn. I decided Tony would have to see the worst sooner rather than later. My life was what it was, I reasoned, and I had to be proud and grateful for what God had given me, I decided. “I’ll come,” I said. “What’s playin’?”

  “Whatever. Whatcha gonna do now?”

  I smiled. “I gotta go wash my hair and do my nails and all that kinda stuff,” I gushed.

  Tony’s face darkened and his eyebrows furrowed. “Who ya gotta look good for? Tell me and I’ll break his face.”

  “Jeez, Tony. It’s you.” His question hadn’t made any sense, but I felt flattered nonetheless.

  “All right. But I need ya ta know if anybody tries ta get next ta ya, I’ll break his face.”

  “I know you will, Tony.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear sumthin’ hot.”

  Mom and Grandma were taking naps when I stole into the house. I changed my clothes, ran a brush through my windblown hair, and set out for Janice’s. I should have called first but the truth was I wanted to see for myself what was going on. Why did I feel so uneasy, like I was on my way to the dentist?

  When I walked up Janice’s driveway and rang the bell, her mother came to the door. “Hello, Sam,” she said softly, eyes lowered.

  “Hi, Mrs. Caputo. Is Janice here? I heard she has the flu.”

  “Right. The flu,” Mrs. Caputo snarled. “Come in. I guess you don’t know.”

  “About what?” I asked as I entered.

  “That asshole Richie. I swear I’ll kill him if I ever see him again.” Her hands turned into fists as she held them by her sides.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Mrs. Caputo motioned toward the rear of the apartment. “Go in her bedroom and see for yourself.”

  I headed to the familiar place where Janice and I had had so many sleepovers together, talking all night long about our dreams and giggling, too, about boys. We had done our hair there and let cucumber masks dry on our faces, and concocted harmless pranks and schemes, like the time we climbed out her window late one night into a tree and ran around the neighborhood with no purpose other than to see if we could get away with it.

  I opened her door and saw that the windows were shut, the blinds were lowered, and the lights were out. A place that had always been so joyful seemed like a funeral parlor to me. I could barely make out Janice’s form, huddled in her bed. I reached for the light. Janice turned away from me onto her side. “Janice, it’s me,” I said. “What’s going on?” She didn’t move and didn’t respond. “Geez, it’s hot as hell in here,” I said, and opened the window next to her bed without taking my eyes off her. “Janice,” I said again. She turned slowly and I gasped. Her face was black-and-blue and one eye was so swollen it was almost closed. “Oh my God!” I shouted, and rushed to her side. I wrapped my arms around her. “What the hell happened?”

  “I thought I was so smart,” Janice wailed. “I guess he really got me this time.” She made a sound like she was trying to laugh and in the next moment she was sobbing.

  “How could he do this to you?” I demanded.

  “It was my fault, Sam. I shouldn’t have talked back to him in front of Vin last night. I know that. I just hate it when he acts like he owns me.” She sat up, grabbed a tissue, and dabbed her eyes. “Ow!” she cried. “Everything hurts so bad.”

  “Your father know about this?”

  “No. He’s out with his friends. I begged Mom not to say anything. With the people he knows, there’s no tellin’ what he’d do.”

  “He’ll see for himself when he gets home.”

  “No, he won’t. I’m not comin’ outta this room for a coupla days.”

  I steamed. Where did Richie Sparto come off, doing this to her? “He had no right,” I said. “Wait’ll I tell Tony. He’ll take care of this.”

  “Sure he will,” Janice said. “Richie’s his best friend. Do ya really think he doesn’t know?”

  “You think so? But how could he go along with it?” I asked as I looked at my friend’s bruised face. Tony couldn’t possibly know the extent of it and do nothing, I thought. Tony was a peacemaker. “I’m gonna go tell him right away and you’ll see. Ri
chie’ll never get away with this.”

  Janice grabbed my arms and glared into my eyes. “Ya can’t!” she begged. “If ya do, Richie’ll never speak to me again. Ya don’ know how it is,” Janice sobbed. “Please don’ ruin it for me, Sam.”

  I could hardly believe my ears. It was already ruined, as far as I could see. Would Janice really just go back and be with Richie again after what he’d done? I wondered. I stroked my best friend’s hair.

  “Don’t worry, Janice. I won’t say a thing. To anyone.” I also wondered if Tony would ever do something like that to me.

  The doorbell rang at a quarter to eight Sunday evening. I had been ready for an hour but I stayed in my bedroom while Mom went to the buzzer. Although waiting had made me nervous, I was glad Tony was late because I needed the extra time to try on every outfit in my closet. Although I did not have a lot of great choices among my mother’s hand-me-downs and discount store items, I managed to pull something together. I was poor, there was no denying that, but I always made what Grandma called “a suitable presentation.”

  I had settled on a royal blue dress gathered at the waist and I checked myself in the mirror one last time. I fluffed my hair and ran my hands across the $1.99 number that Mom had purchased for me at our local St. Jude thrift shop, a favorite among the welfare recipients in the neighborhood. I looked pretty damned good, I thought. I wore a touch of light pink lipstick because I didn’t want to give Mom and Grandma any ammunition against my new boyfriend. I’d apply a dark red shade on the way to the movie theater.

  I glanced at my makeshift desk and my portable typewriter. Even though I had a lot of new material in my head, I had been too excited and preoccupied to write anything that afternoon. I’d catch up with my journal later, I decided, and then Grandma’s booming voice filled the apartment. “So you’re Tony,” she shouted.

  Everyone knew Grandma was hard of hearing, something she never admitted. She refused to wear a hearing aid, which made her talk even louder because she couldn’t hear herself all that well. It was funny how she yelled the loudest when she was meeting new people. It was as if she figured they’d all hear better once they got to know each other. The elderly woman’s eyes were so soft and loving, everyone was smitten with her.