Brooklyn Story

by Suzanne Corso

  I ran to the bathroom.

  I glared with disbelief at my red cheek in the mirror and then heard a knock at the door. “Samantha, please let me in, honey.” I recognized Aunt Tessie’s voice. I opened the door and saw her standing there, shaking her head. She came into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. “Let me see,” she said as she turned my chin toward her. “It ain’t so bad, is it,” she said.

  “How could he do this to me?” I sobbed. “That son of a bitch!”

  “Better not let him hear ya say that,” Tessie warned. She sat on the closed toilet seat.

  I stood over the sink, looking at my face. “Are you saying he had the right to do that to me?”

  “Of course not, Sam. No one has the right to hit anybody, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. There are ways to make sure these things don’t happen. Like never start stuff in front of anyone.”

  “I didn’t start it,” I protested. “He did.”

  “That’s beside the point,” said Tessie. “I’m telling ya, no arguin’, no complainin’, and absolutely no jealous rages. These guys like to make their women jealous; it makes them feel like more of a man. But if we complain in front of others, they think it makes them look weak, like they can’t take care a their woman. It only pisses him off if he can’t control you.”

  I wiped my eyes with a tissue. “Well, he can’t,” I said.

  “But ya hafta make him think he can. That’s the name of the game. I do it all the time with Nicky.” Tessie got up and put an arm across my shoulder. “It’s good to learn this while you’re still young. It’s not the end of the world.” She gave me a fast tug. “C’mon, let’s go back out there together,” Tessie said. “Smile. Okay?”

  I forced a smile, although I knew Tony’s behavior was wrong. Very wrong, and no amount of explaining could change that. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck like Janice was. That would never happen to me. What happened to my mother—that could never happen to me, either. Never, I vowed. Then an even smaller voice said something to me: “It just did.” The words went on and on in my head as I followed Tessie back to the living room. I knew that I should have left but I was afraid that if I did, the repercussions would be enormous. I did not like feeling that way.

  I dreaded facing anyone, so I walked across the room without making eye contact and took a seat by myself on a folding chair while Tessie joined her husband. Was she glad she’d married Nicky? I wondered. She looked like she was, but how could she be? I was different from these people, I thought. Sure, I wanted to be in love with Tony, but I had bigger and better things to do than placate a macho asshole with lies and strokes so he wouldn’t smack me. Maybe Tony and I should call it quits, I considered. But I had given myself to him. Didn’t that mean anything?

  “Hey,” Tony said. In my simmering rage, I hadn’t seen him come in. I looked up for a moment and then turned away and lowered my eyes. “Hey,” I said in a flat voice.

  “Can I sit?”

  “Your house, your chair,” I said.

  “Look, baby,” Tony said as he took a seat, “I guess I lost it for a moment there.” I said nothing. “Ya givin’ me the silent treatment? Don’ bother, ’cause it ain’t gonna work.”

  I stared straight ahead but felt his eyes on me. “How could you do that to me?” I asked. “I thought you loved me.”

  Tony touched my arm. “I toldya, Sam, I lost it. Rochelle don’ mean nuttin’ ta me.”

  I turned toward him. “Oh, yeah? Well, she meant enough for you to belt me one.”

  “No,” he said, his voice low. “I’m tellin’ ya. It was the way ya talked to me in front of my friends and family.” He squeezed my arm. “I warned ya.”

  I squirmed, trying to loosen his grip. “I wouldn’t worry about your mother,” I said. “She looked happy when you hit me. Probably wanted to join in.”

  “That’s nuts, Sam.”

  “Like mother, like son,” I said. “I didn’t do anything ’cept ask you a question.”

  His anger bubbled up again. “Ya made me look like a fool. It ain’t right. I told ya it wasn’t allowed. No guy wants to look pussy-whipped. I’da told you about her. Just not right then, ya know?” I grunted. He never said he shouldn’t have done it, but he had apologized in his own lame way, hadn’t he? I asked myself. At least he cared enough to try, I thought. I was hurt but didn’t want to break up with Tony, I decided. All couples had problems, I reasoned. Even Grandma had said so. Maybe we could work it out.

  “It’s almost midnight, Sam,” Tony said. “Don’ ya wanna get a kiss for New Year’s?” he purred. “’Specially since I’m goin’ out later and all.”

  “When?” I asked.

  “Right after midnight. Vin and I were supposeta leave earlier but I told him I hadda be with my girl when the ball goes down. See?” he asked, and glanced at Rochelle, who was still in her chair and had kept her eyes focused on us. “I’d rather be with you any day than a gimp who can’t walk. No matter how good she looks,” he added before turning his eyes back to me. I didn’t know what to say to that. Tony leaned close. “Tell me ya love me,” he whispered in my ear, and teased my earlobe between his teeth.

  I leaned away from him. “Don’t ever do that again, Tony,” I said.

  “Tell me ya love me,” Tony repeated as he squeezed my arm again. “I mean it.”

  I hesitated for a long moment. Midnight was seconds away and I didn’t want to contemplate not being with the man who had taken my virginity. “I do, Tone,” I said.

  The ball in Times Square hit bottom and lit up. Tony and I kissed as Pamela shuffled by. “The lovers are at it again,” she said.

  Fifteen minutes later, Tony and Vin gave each other the eye. Vin gave Dara a peck on her cheek and headed over to us. “I gotta go now, Sam,” Tony said.

  I frowned. “I thought we could spend some time … you know.”

  “It’s tradition, Sam,” Tony said as he stood up next to Vin. “We been goin’ out every New Year’s Eve since forever,” he said to Vin. “Right?” Vin nodded, his face blank. “You don’ expect me to break tradition, do ya?” Tony asked. It was something harmless that they always did, I reasoned. Just some stupid thing the guys did to make them feel like guys. Nothing worth getting into another fight over.

  “’Course not, Tony.” I said. I stood and gave him a fast hug as Vin headed for the door.

  “Better not have a long face or my mom’ll think ya didn’t like her party,” Tony said. “Janice and you can go home together when she gets here.”

  I scanned the room looking for my friend, who was very late. I hoped she was all right. “What about Richie?” I asked. “Isn’t he goin’, too?”

  Tony grabbed both of my arms. “What the hell have I been tellin’ ya, Sam? Don’ ask me about my business.” I lowered my face. Tony put his fingers under my chin, pressed his thumb under my lip, and forced me to look into his eyes. “Smile for me, Sam,” he said. “I need ya ta support me. We talked about that, too. Remember?” Once more, I forced a smile. “Good,” Tony said. “That’s my girl.” He let go of my chin. “I’ll see ya around,” Tony said, and then he caught up to Vin and left.

  I didn’t know when that would be. And I didn’t know how long I could stay in his house without him.

  I felt like my mother. I felt like her mirror.

  The ringing telephone beside my bed jarred me for a second time late New Year’s morning. I had decided to sleep in and intended to stay right where I was—huddled under my quilt that was pulled up to my ears—as long as I could. I heard footsteps in the hall, and I knew it had to be my grandmother. Mom’s still unconscious, I thought.

  After a low knock, Grandma opened the door and peeked in. I kept my head on the pillow, with the cheek that had been slapped resting on it, and I looked toward her. “It’s Janice, Samelah. I told her you were still in bed, but it’s the second time she’s called.” Thank God, I thought; she hadn’t shown up at Tony’s house. After I’d waited another fifteen minutes, most o
f it spent during another visit to the bathroom, I split because I couldn’t stand the eyes and small talk from Tony’s family any longer. “Do you want for me to tell her you’ll call back?” Grandma asked in her sweet voice.

  “No,” I murmured, “that’s all right, Grandma.” I stretched a hand to the phone. “I’ll take it. Thanks.”

  “Happy New Year, Sammy,” Grandma said.

  “You, too,” I said as she closed the door. I picked up the extension and then rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

  “Sam?” Janice said when she heard the click on the line. “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, as I cleared the cobwebs. “I was worried, too. Christ, where were you?”

  “I couldn’t tear Richie away from Rocco’s.”

  I paused for a second. “And I couldn’t keep Tony with me,” I said.

  “The annual tradition with Vin.”

  “Right.”

  “Did he call this morning?”

  “Nope,” I replied, and thought about the last time I had heard his voice. “I asked him when he split why Richie wasn’t with them.”

  “That’s why he got drunk. He’s always sayin’ how he introduced Tony to Vin an’ all, but he ain’t included on everything.”

  “Why?”

  “Fuck if I know. Richie doesn’t, either, but he makes like it’s no big deal.”

  “Those guys, Janice,” I sighed.

  “I know,” she said, then paused. “Who drove ya home?”

  “I took the subway.”

  “At that hour? Wid all da bums?”

  “It wasn’t as bad as some other things.”

  There was a longer pause before she spoke again. “I heard about the slap. Dara called me first thing. Couldn’t wait ta blab.”

  I ran my fingers over the cheek that had met Tony’s hand. “I didn’t do nothin’,” I sighed.

  “Ya know I know,” Janice said. “Listen. I gotta go have brunch with my family.”

  “Yeah. Tradition.”

  “Meet me at Sally’s at three, okay?”

  Any excuse to get out of the apartment was fine by me. I’d hibernate another hour and then hurry out the door. Grandma wouldn’t mind, and, with any luck, Mom wouldn’t have stirred yet. And she might not be coherent even if she had, I thought. “I’ll be there,” I said, and we hung up.

  Sally’s was packed with hungover diners huddled over coffee cups and some solid food when we met there. The usual buzz of conversation was missing as almost everyone kept to himself. If it weren’t for the clink of glasses, dishware, and utensils, the place would be as quiet as my church, I thought. Janice and I saved our conversation while we waited a few minutes for a booth.

  “Eat sumthin’,” Janice said when we sat down. “I’m stuffed.”

  “No problem,” I said as I grabbed a menu. “I hardly ate anything at Pamela’s party and skipped breakfast.”

  “Not up for a cross-examination, huh?” Janice chuckled.

  “You know it.”

  “Well, at least they wouldn’t have asked about your cheek. It looks fine, Sam.”

  “Yeah, I checked it out in the mirror first thing. But I’m still steamed.”

  “It’s no fun, that’s for sure,” Janice said, “especially in public an’ all.”

  “It’s not just that,” I said. “Tony dancin’ right in front of me and droppin’ me off early all the time … I don’t know, Jan.”

  “You’re too motivated to let that get to ya, or stop ya from gettin’ where you’re headed.”

  “It’s hard enough,” I sighed. “I don’t need the extra baggage.”

  “Don’ let it weigh ya down.”

  I thought about how the next New Year would bring my graduation from high school. “I won’t,” I said, and looked my best friend in the eyes. “Know what’s weird? I miss him already.”

  “Tell me aboudit,” Janice said. “I’ve given up tryin’ ta figga it out.” I placed our order for a Greek omelet and two coffees and then continued the conversation.

  “Speaking of baggage,” I started, “how’s Richie?”

  “Ya think I know? Probably still holed up in bed.”

  “That’s where I’d still be if you hadn’t called.”

  “Nah, Grandma Ruth woulda dragged ya out.” We laughed together and it felt good. Janice leaned on the table toward me. “Listen,” she started, her voice lowered, “now that ya been wit’ Tony a while, I figure I can share some shit I got from Richie.” Janice looked quickly around the diner.

  “He tells you stuff?” I asked.

  She chuckled. “Yeah, when he’s blotto. Swear ya won’ tell a soul.” That word, “swear,” made me think of Father Rinaldi once more. There was no way I’d breathe a word of anything she said about what went on with the Brooklyn Boys to anyone I knew. Especially the beatific priest.

  “Who am I gonna tell?” I said.

  “Vin’s determined to pay the lawyer. Won’t hear of leanin’ on his father for the millionth time,” Janice said. “They’re desperate for money.”

  After a long pause that seemed interminable, I said, “So?”

  Janice looked around again before she strained to get closer. “Richie said sumthin’s goin’ down,” she said softly. “Sumthin’ big.”

  My eyes widened. “While their case is still going on?”

  “Don’ ask me. I jus’ listened,” she said, and then she stiffened and slid back against her seat. Her eyes were focused over my shoulder. I turned around to follow her gaze and saw Richie striding toward us before I faced Janice again. She whispered, “My father musta told ’im where he could find me.”

  “Hey,” Richie said to me as he nudged Janice over and sat down in the booth. His round face sported a two-day growth.

  “Happy New Year,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he responded. “Youse eat yet?” His speech was labored.

  “Sam’s waiting for her order,” Janice said. “I had brunch at home. Wish you coulda been there.”

  Richie ran both hands through his disheveled hair. “My fuckin’ head’s still poundin’,” he said. He didn’t see Janice’s narrow smile as he perused a menu. “Don’ know what the fuck I feel like havin’.”

  “Stomach okay?” Janice asked.

  “Fuck no,” Richie replied. “Prayed to the porcelain god all night and it’s still rumblin’.” He missed both of our smiles after he said that. “I’ll just get a double order a toast and some coffee,” Richie said as he closed his menu and looked up. “What’re youse two talkin’ about?”

  Janice’s eyes met mine. “Nuthin’,” she said. “Girl stuff.”

  “Sorry I missed it,” Richie cracked. “Where’s Tone?” he asked me.

  “No idea,” I said.

  “Seein’ him later?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Well, I’m seein’ ’im an’ Vin in an hour. Wanna send a message?”

  “Just tell him I said hi, and that I’ll be at home.”

  Janice turned toward her boyfriend. “Willya be long?” she asked.

  “Don’ know,” Richie said, and then he smiled. “Vin said he’s got sumthin’ for me.”

  Janice and I caught each other’s eyes again. “That’s great,” she said. “We gonna hook up after?”

  “Don’ count on it.”

  “Okay. I’ll be home, too,” Janice said, and then looked at me. “Ya wanna hang at my place?”

  “Can’t,” I said. “I got homework. School starts tomorrow.”

  Respect was the topic as I pounded away on my Smith-Corona that evening. Over a couple of pages, exploration of that theme led to expanding it to include acknowledgment of oneself. You can’t respect someone else, I wrote, if you don’t respect yourself. I wrestled with where one should draw the line, and counseled that one should pay attention to what the head is saying while also listening to the heart.

  I sat back and took my own advice for a few minutes. I had to deal with what Tony had
done. While there may not have been any outward signs on my cheek, the sting remained with me. The thought that he had crossed my own line nagged at me. And then I thought about my mother.

  Although it hadn’t been physical abuse at home, I’d put up with a lot more from her, I reasoned. Was it just because of a blood tie? I wondered. Did Grandma’s deflecting of some of the shit that came my way help me to maintain my dignity? Regardless, I concluded, I wouldn’t have to deal with it too much longer. I was headed for the real world, which would bestow enough affirmation to remove me from Bensonhurst and insulate me from the slings at home … and from Tony’s. I decided I wouldn’t let him cross that line again.

  My fingers moved once more to the keyboard. He always talked about respect, but it can’t be one-sided, I wrote. It can’t be just about the other person. And it can’t be just about two people, either. There were others, such as my grandma and Father Rinaldi, whose feelings needed consideration, and times with those such as Mom and Pamela when accommodation had to be sought. You may not be as close to them, but you had to give them their space as you fought to establish your own.

  I finished the article and slipped it into my bookcase. It’s a good start to the year, I said to myself. I rose from my desk, straightened my hair, and took another look at my face in the mirror even though neither Mom nor Grandma had said anything about it during dinner. When I had assured myself that an unpleasant chapter in my life couldn’t be read on my face, I shut off the light and opened my bedroom door. As I headed down the short hallway, Lawrence Welk’s familiar “an’ a one, an’ a two, an’ a three” reached my ears. Grandma sure held sway over her space, I chuckled to myself.

  New Keiser High School was abuzz the next morning. Everyone was upbeat despite the vacation being over, showing off some of their presents and trading tales of holiday revelry. I fit right in; more than a few girls remarked about the bracelet that jangled on my wrist. A gift like that said a lot to my peers, as did getting picked up at school with a Harley or a Porsche. The grapevine had already spread the news about me and Tony, and I garnered more interest from the girls, who probed me for some juicy details about a local hunk. The word “respect” popped into my head again as we chatted in the hallways and stairwells. Did they sense how close Tony and I had gotten on Friday night? I wondered. Did my passage into womanhood and the hard-won confidence that came with it show on my face? Regardless, pieces of the article that I had turned in came to me along with the girls’ questions, and I gave them just enough to confirm my standing with Tony without violating my relationship with him.