Say Goodbye and Goodnight

by David Ruggerio

  The bell rang!

  *****

  How is it said? To the victor go the spoils? What a crock! I woke up the next afternoon in a hospital bed in Victory Memorial Hospital. As I struggled to open my eyes, they were met by the desperate gaze of my mother and Gia. They didn’t say it; they didn’t have to!

  On the other hand, my father was beaming. He greeted a continual parade of fans and friends while I slept. When he heard my mother exclaim in anguish, “Figlio mio…figlio mio!”--he calmed her by moving her aside, “Rosa, why don’t you get the boy something to eat.” The moment she left, he turned towards me. I never witnessed such delight in my father’s eyes, “My son, I’m so proud of you!” That was the first time in my life he said those words to me. Was this what I had to do to earn those endearing syllables?

  Gia was overflowing with emotion; she struggled to grip some portion of my hands between all the IV’s that were flowing into my veins. Her eyes were red from crying all night, “Anthony, I was so afraid, I’m sorry…” I knew it was everything for her to keep that in, “Sweetheart, it’s ok, I love you more than life.”

  From behind her, I heard rousing cheers as Albert Columbo came sauntering down the hospital corridor towards my room. He bridled the law for now, and for us, that was another victory to celebrate! For him to make my hospital bed, his first stop after prison was a grand gesture of respect. “Anthony, I want to say congratulations, but I can see it was a tough fight.”

  “It was, but I feel strong enough now that I could knock a building down.”

  Albert beamed, “That a boy!” He turned and hugged my father as though they were two long lost friends.

  *****

  Before being released from the hospital, a blood test detected the Vicodin. Because of that, they refused to give me any additional pain medication. Yet the fact that I was now ranked number one was all the remedy I required!

  Even my mother couldn’t hide her pride; she wallpapered her refrigerator with newspaper clippings, and boasted aloud to Pippi Passero that her son would be the next “champeen!”

  *****

  With the money I earned, I went to 47th Street in Manhattan. New Yorkers referred to it as the Diamond District. It was a little more than a block long, but it had more glitz and glitter than you could ever imagine in one location. Nearly all the vendors were Hasidim, and Izzy had a close cousin whose small booth was in the midst of a crammed thoroughfare lined with many more jewelers and diamond dealers. After running the gauntlet, dodging a street full of hawkers, hustlers, cops, and couriers, I met Aryeh Falkowitz.

  Aryeh was nearly seventy years old, and despite it being almost a hundred degrees outside, donned a heavy, black, three-piece suit with a matching fedora. He had a long gray beard full of crumbs, remnants of the challah he enjoyed for breakfast. He was humorless and spent nearly half an hour on the phone, arguing with someone in a foreign tongue while I patiently waited. I could see this was the type of guy who would treat every sale as though it was his last. As he hung the phone, he turned his attention to me, forgetting he was still speaking Yiddish, “Oh my, I apologize. So, you’re Izzy’s great new fighter? Hmm, stand, let me get a good look at you.” He grasped my shoulder and examined me as though I was a thoroughbred for sale. “Well, don’t worry, my young friend; I will give you the best deal on the street!” He pulled out a rolled-up ball of tissues from his pocket along with lint and a few pennies and gingerly unraveled it. Ten dazzling diamonds rolled out on to his illuminated table. Their brilliance reflected the light in every color of the rainbow. “Which one fits your fancy?”

  I hesitated for a second, “But I came for a ring.”

  “Bubeleh, pick the diamond first, then I make the ring. That’s how it's done here.” He saw my lack of knowledge, and groaned, “Oy vey, don’t worry, it’ll be a-one-of-a-kind, you’ll see, a gorgeous ring for your beautiful bride.”

  When he used the word bride, reality set in. I was about to ask Gia to marry me--for a moment; my mind drifted off to a romantic place. This eternal bond of soul-mates would be something so beautiful that in the natural world, it would be a delicate rose nearly ready to bloom, always with radiant petals left to unfurl to a warm sun. A love that would live on past antiquity, yet…

  Suddenly, Fiddler on the Roof rudely interrupted my exquisite vision; “Oy Moishe, I don’t have all day, what about the diamond?” His impatience forced me to focus; I pointed, “How about that one?” He removed a loupe from his pocket and analyzed my choice, “Hmm, this is a real shvimer.”

  “A what?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry; we call a diamond such as this a shvimer.”

  “Does that mean its shit?”

  “You know, kid, you have a lot of chutzpah! I don’t sell shit! If it weren’t Izzy sending you, I would send you to hell!”

  Something told me that this was part of his sales pitch, so I played along, “Look, my friend, I apologize, now what about the swimmers?”

  “Oy vey, not swimmers! Shvimers!” He regained his composure, “it’s because their brilliance swims across the surface when mixing with other stones.” He then raised his hands to God, “My boy, a spectacular choice!”

  *****

  That evening Albert was taking his wife out to the opera. Lincoln Center and the Met were curious digs for gangsters and hoodlums, but he wasn’t your run-of-the-mill street guy. I was amazed by this man, not formally educated, yet worldly. He could recite from Marcus Aurelius and Cicero, not to mention Machiavelli (every wiseguy quoted from him). He adored the opera and understood their meanings. This would leave Gia and me with an empty house for the entire evening!

  I told Gia not to cook; we’d order Chinese from Jade Waa. We both loved it and had tons of laughs watching one another eat, or not, with chopsticks. Usually, she gave up and just loved poking me with them.

  As I walked up to her door, I excitedly checked my pocket to make sure the ring was still there. I rang the bell; she made me wait for an eternity. The imposing oak door then opened, and there she was, in nothing but a sheer, white negligee! I just stood speechless. She giggled, “Well, silly, quick, come in. I’m giving the entire neighborhood a free show!”

  The sheerness of the fabric left very little for the imagination; her smoldering breasts were firm and erect. I knew what we both agreed upon, but trying to eat fried rice and moo shu pork while I peered at her nearly naked body would be a challenge!

  She blithely laughed and cutely scrunched her nose, that subtle show of playful happiness was more erotic than a blatant display of her womanhood. Yet, I stood there, hesitant, how should I proceed? Seeing my apprehension, she stepped towards me, and we embraced. I made a mental note of how wonderful her body felt so close to mine.

  My hand, which was on the small of her back, slowly slid down to her behind. When I attempted that before, she always stopped me. This time it would be different.

  After a minute, we came up for air. “Let’s go up to my bedroom.” I seemed dazed; she felt my hesitation, so she led me by the hand. As we entered, the bed was already turned down. I stood fixed like a statue; it was as though I was the virgin in the room. I was mute with jittery nerves. She closed her door and locked it for good measure. She stood behind me for a moment and then revealed herself. She dropped the negligee; her bare body was bewitching. At that, intuition kicked in; I knew how to proceed.

  I was slow and methodical, cherishing every moment. Gia was shy and anxious. I was as tender as I could be. I reached for her, she was soft and her breasts were warm, so responsive to the touch. Something was disarming about seeing Gia naked. There was a vulnerability in her I couldn’t resist. My eyes traveled from her face to collar bone, so graceful, then to her breasts and down to her loins. She was perfection
.

  Gia reached and removed my clothes. When she got to my undergarments, she hesitated, mischievously biting her lower lip. My look was more forthcoming; My God, go for it! She gently slid my underwear down while I removed my undershirt. Her lips reached for my nipple, her tongue flicked back and forth, teasingly. She then gently took it between her teeth and bit, harder and harder, “Ouch!”

  “Did I hurt the big, bad fighter?”

  The playfulness in her voice was so seductive. I grabbed her, and the two of us fell into her bed. I ended up on top; we both looked deep into each other’s eyes. There was no further foreplay necessary. I entered her as delicately as a man would pick the petals of a dew-laden rose. Her breath was taken for a moment, replaced with a deep, subtle groan. We made love together again and again, and when it was over, we lay together side by side. A holy man telling us we were man and wife was superfluous at that moment. She turned towards me, and her look was beyond beautiful, how could a woman like this exist in this world?

  A perfect moment such as this would never exist again; I reached down to the floor and grabbed my pants. I pulled the box from my pocket; she was curious, “What is it?” She was climbing on my chest to get a better view. I gazed upon her, “Gia, you are much more than I ever imagined existed in this world.” I raised the small box, “Would you be my wife?” Her eyes glowed, teary, and emotion-filled. She gently gripped the box, almost fearful of opening it. As she did, the rainbows from the diamond bounced off her eyes and lit the room in exuberance. She held me as tight as she could, both holding our breath, and as she loosened her grip, our eyes met again, “Yes, Anthony Marino, I would be the happiest woman in the world to be your wife!”

  *****

  Moo shu pork never tasted so damn good! Who needed chopsticks, as we rolled around and laughed together for hours, we fed each other by hand. Such love had never existed; no one in this world could ever separate us.

  We decided that there was not a better time to tell Mr. and Mrs. Columbo as that evening after the opera. It was midnight when his Lincoln Continental lumbered into the driveway. Thinking over the previous weeks, I imagined this moment would be scary, almost frightful, but as I gazed upon Gia, we were meant to be together, and the entire world already knew it.

  “Father, we have something to tell you.” At first, he grimaced; he thought the worst. His business was endlessly filled with bad news and problems. He motioned with his meaty hand, “Let’s go into the living room.” As his giant frame fell back into his leather throne, he might have thought we would tell him that Gia was pregnant. Before Gia could say a word, I felt it was my duty to ask, “Mr. Columbo…” he allowed me to be formal at that moment because he knew this was a magical event, “I love your daughter more than any man could love a woman, and I have asked her to marry me.” His reaction shocked both Gia and me. He seemed to have been holding in these emotions for a very long time, he clumsily grabbed for his hanky, and then the tears welled up. This crowned prince of the underworld began to ball like a baby. The weeping burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face. The muscles of his chin trembled like a small child, “I’m so damn happy!” he grabbed Gia and me and kissed us both; he went back and forth, kisses upon kisses. Gia’s mother stood at the entrance of the room and cried hysterically. Albert pulled us apart, regaining his composure, he ordered, “You two need to go and tell Saverio and Rosa.”

  “It’s ok; we can do it tomorrow.”

  “Oh no! You have to do it tonight! Wake them up if you must!”

  *****

  My mother cried, while my father’s chest nearly burst open with pride and happiness. Here was man and woman, along with their two families; never had God made such a perfect union!

  Sal came stumbling down the stairs from a deep sleep, “What’s all the racket?” Saverio turned to him, “Come and kiss your new sister. They are going to be married.” Sal laughed as he embraced Gia, “Big surprise? What took you two so long?”

  Chapter 15

  Seething

  For the next few days, the world outside didn’t exist. I was walking on a cloud; Gia and I were inseparable. My friends no longer saw me alone, which to a few of them became bothersome. There were things they wanted to speak about, and would not do so in front of Gia.

  If storm clouds already hungover Red Hook, little did they know, a magnitude eight earthquake was on its way! When Louie heard about our engagement, he howled like a wild animal. This tortured soul nearly came out of his skin. He told all who would listen that he would kill me, and amongst his crowd, they took those types of threats very seriously.

  *****

  Meanwhile, the Son of Sam continued to terrorize the city. His bizarre, type-written letters to both the police and newspaperman Jimmy Breslin sent New York into a tizzy. In the gigantic void left by the Vietnam War and Watergate, he grasped the country’s attention. Young couples no longer went out at night; people were frightened to death. This sick manic was the east coast’s version of Charles Manson!

  None the less, I didn’t have a clue; it was all about my amore. I endured life as a fighter, one step at a time, one punch at a time, one round at a time. Gia came along and knocked me out! Instead of being methodical, things began to move at blinding speed. Always a careful person, I became indifferent to the world around me.

  *****

  Saverio and Albert went beyond a first-name basis; they became spit-swapping pals. Whatever resentment my father harbored after my brother's decision, was mended by Albert’s friendship. For the first time, I saw my father blissful, smiling, and telling jokes at the table. One Saturday afternoon, we were all sitting around the table, he caught us all off guard, “Hey, did you guys hear this one?” Gia looked at me in wonderment; we all shook our heads no. “Ok, why do melons have weddings?” Was this the same man who planted all those fig trees in sorrow and anger? We all shrugged our shoulders in unison. He was so excited, “Because they cant-a-loupe!” He wrung his hands together, anxiously awaiting our reactions.

  “Wow, Pop, that was hilarious!” He was beaming!

  Sure, the joke was ridiculous, but it signaled that my father could finally look at himself in the mirror, and he liked what he saw. He gazed around the table and was ecstatic to see what he and my mother had borne. We all were successful, but more importantly, we would succeed him in a fashion that made him proud.

  I felt terrible for Sal and Angie; our engagement rained on their parade. Although Sal asked Angie to marry him first, they decided to have the child first, and then they would set a date for the marriage. Meanwhile, the neighborhood's newest bosom buddies (Albert and Saverio) already set a date for Gia and me. We would become husband and wife on May 20th, 1978. Around our neighborhood, it felt as though it would be a royal wedding of sorts. Albert’s stature in the underworld demanded that he invite much of Gangsterdom, including his friends, acquaintances, and enemies. Saverio also had his share of friends. The funny thing was no one asked the bride and groom who they wanted to invite?

  *****

  This would be the first time I ever challenged Izzy’s decisions, “Why do I need another fight if they’re offering a shot at the title now?”

  “Kid, trust me on this.”

  “Why? Do you think I’m not ready yet?”

  “Anthony, don’t ask questions if you might not like the answer.”

  Izzy was proposing for me to fight Junior Rodrigues, a hardened veteran southpaw who fought for the championship three times. “Kid, this test will set you up for da title.”

  “Alright then! When is the fight?”

  “February 11th.”

  I stood up in his office and lifted the pages of his Cute Cats wall calendar, “Izzy, why don’t you have a calendar with
naked girls like normal people? What’s up with the cats?”

  “Stop breaking my balls, da price was right.”

  “Oh, you mean someone gave it to you for free.” That always brought a grin to his face.

  I found February, “Hey Izz, that’s Valentine weekend. That’s no good.” He stood up, angry as all hell, “What’d I tell ya about girls, they’ll be the ruination of a fighter.”

  “What! You’re telling me you have a problem with Gia?” He softened his stance, “Of course not! Come, sit down.” He reached down to his tiny office refrigerator and handed me a Manhattan Special, “Kid, I see ya now, happy and all. You’re becoming civilized, and that’s an awful ting. I don’t see da same hunger in ya!”

  “Oh, come on, you must be kidding.”

  “You don’t have dat killer look in your eyes anymore.” He seemed to tear up, “Ant, I love ya like a son. This relationship we got here is not all about dollars and cents.” He pulled out a hanky and blew his nose, “Goddamn it, I remember when ya furst came into my gym, ya must have been twelve…”

  “No, eleven.”

  “…exactly! I’ve watched ya grow up. You’re not like da other guys; ya got a big heart. Maybe too big?”

  I heard enough, “Alright, then.” I stood, and before I left his office, I turned, “Monday morning?” He smiled and nodded, “Tell ya beautiful bride, I say hello.”