by Roger Elwood
"Sure," he said. "Doesn't everybody want to talk about karrumba and judo and karate these days?"
Squelch started laughing again. And I turned beet-red.
"You are a scream, Chu-chu."
"That's Chachi."
"You don't have to admit it, do you?"
Chachi was about to lose his cool so I pulled him away.
"Singing, remember?" I said.
"Oh, yeah. That's what we're here for, isn't it?"
We started a number called "Looking Good, Feeling Fine:"
I'm feeling so excited,
It's the start of a brand-new day.
The sun couldn't shine much
brighter.
Everything is going our way.
Trouble was, nobody paid any attention. There was a lot of talking, laughing, carrying on, as though they didn't even know we were there.
Finally Chachi had had enough.
I!
"Excuse me, excuse me, he said into the mike. "We're trying to sing a song up here, in case you haven't noticed."
Squelch Welch stopped what he was doing and shouted back, "You trying to say something, Charcoala?"
That did it!
"You, there," Chachi said, jumping off the bandstand and walking forward. "Can I have a blueprint of your brain? You see, I'm trying to
build an idiot."
"The answer to that is look in the mirror, Chumpchi," shot back Squelch. Suddenly his eyes widened and he added, "You think you're tough? Well, want to show us how tough you really are? Let's see if you can keep up with the Squelcher."
Squelch challenged Chachi to a drinking contest. I tried to hold Chachi back but he wouldn't listen, even though he knew this scene was trouble.
They both had glasses in their hands.
"Ready, Chili-face?" Squelch asked.
"Ready, Squeaky," Chachi replied.
Someone called out, "On your lips, . . . get set, . . . chug!"
They guzzled the drinks, Squelch downing his faster and more professionally. Chachi was trying to keep up, but his drink started dribbling out of the corners of his mouth.
They began another round. Chachi was losing that one too. Then he suddenly stopped, putting down his glass.
"What am I doing?" He was asking himself as much as the others.
"Hey, what's the matter?" Squelch demanded. "Pretty boy had enough?"
Chachi grabbed him by the lapels.
"Look, peanut head, I'm the only one who can drive the van home, and I don't feel like wrapping it around some telephone pole just to beat a guy who has foam mush for a brain."
He turned and looked at the others.
"I feel sorry for all of you if this is how you get your kicks. I bet a bunch of you will go driving afterward. Maybe you'll kill somebody. Try and laugh like goons then!"
Chachi took my hand, we gathered up the equipment, and left.
"I guess I was just worried that we would grow apart."
"Oh, that's what's been bothering you? Why didn't you just come right out and say so?"
"I did."
"When?"
"Just a while ago, to Al."
"Chachi, we'll never grow apart. Remember when you were much more involved in music than I was? We didn't grow apart then. Chachi, you and me. . . ."
"You and I," Chachi corrected me.
"You and I have something special. Nothing could ever come between us."
"Hey, sugar cookie, you've got something on your lips."
"What?"
"Me."
6
"Now do you understand, Mom?" I asked. She was silent briefly, then said, "Joanie, why don't you come home for a day or two? We'll talk in person. Will you do that?"
I finally agreed.
"Thanks, Mom. Give my love to Dad."
I hung up the phone and just sat there for a while. Running home to Mama! Whatever happened to my independence?
I put on a coat and went out for a little walk. The rain had stopped. People were taking to the streets, emerging from their cocoons, i saw someone I knew and waved. A couple of blocks ahead was the park where Chachi and I had spent a lot of time.
I approached it slowly, half-expecting to see him there and yet not wanting to see him until I got my head on straight. I sat down on one of the old benches.
The good times. . . .
We did have those. Good as well as bad, but even the bad were manageable with Chachi around.
. . . with Chachi around.
That was really the whole problem in a nutshell. I had suddenly realized that I wasn't complete without him, that I felt empty when he wasn't with me. Rather than go out and have fun with other guys or just let off steam with a group of friends, I retreated as if I were hibernating or something.
I suspected Chachi felt the same way about me. He certainly could act jealous. Like the time I was talking to a customer at Al's restaurant. His name was Tad.
"How old are you, Joanie?" he asked, smiling.
"Eighte—," I started to say, and then stopped myself. "Oh wait. I had a birthday. I'm twenty-four."
"I'm going to a party later and I'm asking you to come with me, Lucky Lady."
"Sorry, Tad. I think we're doing another song later."
"I'll wait."
He put his arm around me. I began to get the impression that I'd have trouble shaking the guy.
"It might be really late," I told him. "It might be tomorrow."
Tad moved closer.
"I said I'd wait, and I meant it, doll."
"I can't go," I said firmly.
"When Tad asks, you go."
He leaned over as if he were going to kiss my neck. A hand came down hard on his shoulder.
Chachi!
"She said no, Buster," Chachi reminded him.
Tad very deliberately stood up. He was bigger and broader than Chachi—by several inches.
"Butt out, Songbird," Tad growled. "You want to step outside? It's up to you. Maybe you're afraid of smearing all that make-up on your face—you know, the stuff hiding those wrinkles and pock marks."
Chachi's face became red, and I mean red.
"With pleasure. Now!" Chachi responded.
Chachi and Tad headed for the exit. I chased after them. Tad lunged for Chachi as I tried to step between them. Chachi accidentally clobbered me and I fell. Tad started laughing, and then Chachi decked him, only this time it wasn't an accident.
"Cream puff," Chachi said, bending down beside me. "Are you hurt? Should I call an ambulance? Oh, I'm sorry, luv."
I was rubbing my cheek as he helped me stand up.
"I'm glad you never really get mad at me!"
. . . with Chachi around.
If anything ever happened to him it would destroy me.
"Hello," an unfamiliar voice said.
I looked up, snapped out of my private thoughts.
A deeply lined old face smiled. "May I sit here too?" the woman asked. I nodded, trying to smile. She sat down beside me, groaning a little.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
"Just old," she said simply.
Several minutes passed. Finally she turned to me, her smile gone, an expression of concern replacing it.
"Sometimes when we are old we lose a bit of our hearing, a bit of our eyesight, a little here and there of what we once had. But maybe we gain some things also. I can't read minds, young lady, but I can sense that you are sad and maybe confused. Is there a chance that I can help in any way?"
As she was talking, the pigeons began to gather at her feet. She interrupted herself to take some seeds from a paper bag she held in one hand. She was absolutely delighted to see the birds. Several hopped up onto her lap and ate out of her hand.
"You love them, don't you?" I observed.
"Yes. They come here every day. They depend on me. They know I won't let them down."
Her words cut right through me. I sat up straight.
She didn't seem to notice my reaction but went right on tal
king.
"And I depend on them too."
"You do? How?" I asked, curious.
"They give me joy. They give me something to look forward to day after day."
"But what about your family?"
"Those who did care are dead. Those who don't have left me on my own. They can't be bothered."
As she spoke, a fleeting look of sadness passed over her face and then was gone.
"I feed other creatures that God has given us, you know. The squirrels, for example. I have them eating out of my hand."
The wind was more chill. The old woman pulled her slightly frayed, gray coat tightly around her.
"It's not pleasant to live alone."
"But what about being free to be alone?"
"My husband and I couldn't stand to be without each other, yet there were occasions when we had to get away and be alone. But you know, we couldn't wait to get back to each other each time. Now I have total freedom. I don't have to consider his wishes at all. But I also have no choice. He is gone."
She took my hands in her own and looked at me intently.
"My dear, I don't even know your name but let me tell you that I feel your ordeal. I really do. I can only say that when you are in love, it is wonderful. You will be cut adrift soon enough. So do everything you can to keep that love alive even if it means surrendering a little of your 'freedom.' "
She cleared her throat, fighting back the tears. "I'm totally free now, yes, but at the same time I am also a slave," she added.
"To what?"
"Loneliness, dear girl. Loneliness."
I reached out and hugged her.
We talked a bit longer and then I got up and started walking back to my apartment. Then I turned and looked back and saw her there, sitting alone on the park bench, her head bowed.
Even the pigeons were gone.
7
"Chachi!"
"Hi, I'm feeling better now."
"Good. I've been thinking about you."
"I couldn't get you out of my mind, either. I didn't even try."
"How soon can you go out and rejoin the world?"
"Tomorrow."
"See you then?"
"Sure."
"Till tomorrow. . . ."
I hung up the phone.
And smiled.
Joanie loves Chachi?
Uh-huh. . . .