Brooklyn Story (16 page)

Tony didn't answer right away. Instead, he poked his head out his window and jerked a U-turn onto Eighteenth Avenue just in front of oncoming cars that didn't honk or take any evasive action. And no curses or vulgarities emanated from any of them, either. U-turns and double-parking were common in Bensonhurst, as I and everyone else there knew, and no one thought twice about such violations. They were even invisible to cops, who looked the other way or would have felt ashamed if they ticketed anyone for such insignificant offenses. Cops in Bensonhurst were either on the mob payroll or in search of bigger prey.

“It's Vin's,” Tony said in a monotone after the rocking
Cadillac settled on its course. I was dying to ask why he had the car, but those words were stillborn as well. Instead, I focused on the familiar buildings that were whizzing by.

“You in a hurry to get someplace?” I asked.

Tony's massive hands choked the padded, tan leather–wrapped steering wheel. “I've got to pick up my pain-in-the-ass sister from school and drop her at a friend's,” Tony said without taking his eyes off the road. Which was a good thing, I thought as I angled my eyes and stole a glance at the speedometer.

I didn't know what I could do to calm Tony down. There was no stopping a Brooklyn Boy when he got his macho up. I wished the radio were on so some songs could dispel some of the thick air around me. I resigned myself to savoring Mr. Wainright's news by myself until whatever it was blew over, and I attempted some casual conversation instead. “What's her name?” I asked. Tony hadn't talked much about his family other than repeating that they were mine, too.

“Brat,” Tony scoffed.

“C'mon,” I said.

Tony wheeled into a narrow side street without applying the brakes. “You'll see,” he said, oblivious to the startled, reproving faces of the old women on the sidewalks and stoops who were a blur as we sped by. “A typical spoiled twelve-year-old who does nuttin' but pout and complain,” Tony continued. “Everyone just ignores the fat bitch.”

I looked at my agitated boyfriend. “What's the matter, Tone? You all right?”

Tony tightened his grip on the wheel again. “The fact ya don' know makes it worse.”

“What the hell are you talkin' about?” I asked as Tony screeched to a halt in front of a middle school, drawing more reproving snarls from mothers and crossing guards gathering in front. He slammed the gearshift into park and leaned
toward me as he rested an elbow on the armrest. I recoiled against the door as I looked at his contorted face.

“I told ya I wanna know where you are, and the
next
fuckin' day ya disappear!”

My upbeat mood was deflated and my fanciful thoughts about writing that I had longed to share with Tony were dashed and in danger of drifting out of the open window behind me. How could he make me feel so good just a couple of days before, I wondered, and then torment me the next time I saw him? I lowered my head. “Christ, Tone,” I said. “I didn't disappear. All I did was stop at Janice's.” The small lie didn't bother me. Mentioning Father Rinaldi wasn't going to help matters. I searched his face for the softness I knew was buried somewhere in him. “I was home by dinner.”

Tony sat back in his seat and looked over my shoulder, eying the stream of students exiting the school. “Ya jes' don' get it, do ya?” he asked as his gaze returned to me. “What it means to be my girl.”

I did but I didn't want to. I do know what it means, I told myself. Something special that stirred me in my body and my mind. Being with Tony had become part of a future I had envisioned for myself. I had always struggled to keep my hopes and dreams alive; how much of a struggle was it going to be to keep a new dream alive that included him? I wondered. How long would it be until Tony would be ready to begin another life with me? “She's my best friend, Tony,” I said, and thought about that for a second. “My only friend.”

“Ya got me.”

“She's a girl friend, Tone.”

“All ya need is me.”

“Look,” I said as I squirmed in my seat. “You've got the guys, right?”

“That's diff'rent. You'll see Janice when everybody gets together.”

I knew I'd do an awful lot for my relationship with Tony, but sacrificing Janice wasn't going to be part of it. “I like hangin' out with her, just the two of us. What's the harm us bein' close?”

“The harm is ya not where's ya supposeta be,” Tony said, and then he pointed to a short girl with black, matted hair whose midsection rolls strained against her tight red polyester T-shirt. “There's Katrina. We'll finish this later.”

Tony's sister ambled toward the Cadillac and bent over outside my window. “Jailbait” was written in glittered script across the front of her shirt. “Who's this?” Katrina scoffed.

“Jus' get in back,” Tony ordered. Katrina opened the door and I leaned forward while she squeezed behind my seat. Tony eased the car away from the curb.

“Why do I haveta ride in the back?” Katrina moaned as she slumped into the leather, shoulders hunched.

“Shut the fuck up, willya?” Tony said. Katrina pouted and looked out her window.

Regardless of her attitude, I wanted to smooth the way. Hell, I thought, she was the first member of his family I had met and I was determined to get off on the right foot. I turned around to face her. “I'm Samantha,” I said. “It's nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, right,” Katrina said without looking at me.

“How's school goin'?” I asked.

“What's it to ya?” Katrina snarled. I gave up and turned around.

“Be nice to my girl, Katrina,” Tony said as he negotiated a turn.

“What for?” she responded. “You'll have a new one soon enough.” Tony jerked the car to the side of the street and twisted toward his sister with his foot pressed against the brake pedal. “Behave yourself or you'll be hoofin' it to Becky's,” Tony growled. “I mean it.”

Katrina kept her gaze fixed outside the window. “Whatever,” she muttered.

Tony turned around and pulled away. “Sam's a part of our family now,” he said. Katrina turned her head toward the front.

“We'll see about that,” she said. “Dad's too zoned out to care one way or the other, but Mom'll sure have something to say about it.”

“Mom's gonna love Sam, Katrina,” Tony said, “and ya can jus' keep your sour opinions ta yaself.”

I wondered what had caused a bitter disposition in such a young girl. Over time, I felt, we'd grow closer and I'd find out, and maybe then she'd be more receptive to me. Maybe then I could help her.

Katrina's mentioning their parents led me to thinking about them. Janice had only met them briefly a couple of times when she and Richie stopped by to hook up with Tony. All she had said to me was that Philip Kroon seemed like a lost soul and Pamela was your typical middle-aged Bensonhurst wannabe who died her dark hair blond and wore tight-fitting clothes. I'd see for myself at some point, I reasoned.

Tony pulled up in front of a well-kept two-family house and leaned across me to open my door. Katrina pressed the back of my seat into me, causing me to hunch over almost to my knees, and exited without saying a word. She headed up the walkway and didn't look back as Tony gunned the motor and took off.

“She's just a typical teenager dealing with her hormones,” I said.

“Pay her no mind,” Tony said. “She ain't important.”

I looked at him as he drove on. “She's your blood, Tone.”

“Don't remind me,” he said. “What's important is that you an' me are together.” Tony glanced at me. “The way it's supposeta be.”

I gazed through the windshield and squinted in the
late-afternoon sunlight as I thought about a lot of things that were supposed to be. I was supposed to have a father in my life and a normal relationship with my mother, be better off than I was, and have an uncomplicated relationship with a boyfriend. But I had none of those, and that was just how it was for me on the Brooklyn side of the bridge. I knew the only thing that was completely in my control was my station in life.

As we drove in silence I revived my glee about Mr. Wainright's news. I told myself that I could deal with anything at home or with Tony that came my way as long as I kept my feet moving forward toward the other side of the East River span. I looked through my side window and a tight smile came to my face as I contemplated anew that journey for a minute longer.

“So where we headed?” I asked, turning toward Tony once again.

“Sally's.”

I thought that would be a good place for us to finish our earlier conversation. It had been great to be there with Janice, I thought, but it would be even better with Tony. “I love that place,” I said.

“I'm meetin' the guys. Ya just get sumthin' ta eat and keep quiet about what we talked about. Save it for when we're alone.”

“Sure, Tone,” I said, looking at his profile. “You know I want to make you happy.”

He grinned for the first time that afternoon. His soft side was returning and I melted. “Yeah, well,” Tony said, “I've got some ideas 'bout how ya can do that.”

He eased the Cadillac into a vacant space on Eighteenth Avenue and then ignored the meter as he strutted toward the diner. I let myself out and hurried to catch up, slipping an arm around his when I reached his side. Tony thrust the glass door
open and headed for the last booth, where Vin Priganti and Richie Sparto were drinking coffee. Tony waited for me to slide into the vacant seat and then plopped beside me.

“Hey,” Tony said to his friends with an extended fist.

“Hey,” they responded in kind, then nodded toward me.

“Hi,” I said.

“How's things?” Richie asked me. I didn't have to look toward Tony before replying. “Great,” I said as I thought about Mr. Wainright.

Tony reached across me, grabbed two menus, and dropped one in front of me. “I'm not really hungry, Tone,” I said.

“Order sumthin',” he said as he scanned a menu.

I wished I felt like eating as I viewed the selections that I had seldom had the opportunity to enjoy. “Okay,” I said after a moment. “Just get me a fruit salad.”

Tony closed his menu and slid it past me. “I'm havin' a burger and fries,” he said, and looked across the table. “Youse eat already?”

“Sally's holdin' our order,” Vin Priganti said. “That thing go okay so far?”

Tony clasped his hands and sat back. “Routine,” he said.

Vin glanced at Richie and then faced Tony. “Good,” he said as he slumped against the faux red leather. “You're movin' up in my family.”

Tony beamed. I wondered what it was going to take to move up in Tony's family. Katrina hadn't been a promising start. “I appreciate that, Vin,” Tony said.

Vin crossed his arms. “Everythin's fallin' inta place,” he said. “Meet us at Rocco's after you're done.” Tony nodded.

Rocco's, owned and run by Janice's father, was one of the neighborhood hangouts. Only for Italians of a certain persuasion, that is. Any nerd or Jew or black person soon found that out upon wandering into the bar. Janice had told me many times of Richie's carousing there. Tony didn't seem like much
of a drinker to me, and I didn't know about Vin, but I pictured them puffing their chests in such environments.

“What's da latest with that DJ?” Richie asked Vin as he chewed on his hamburger after the food had arrived.

“Oh, dat
finocchio
? Don' look so good fa him,” Vin scoffed, and the guys laughed.

“I haven't seen dat faggot lately,” Tony said.

“Don' matter,” Vin said. “Somone's gonna do a piece on 'im sooner or later.”

The Brooklyn Boys continued talking as if I weren't there. I picked at my fruit until they had finished eating and then everyone stopped outside for a moment. The boys tapped closed fists and Tony and I went back to the Cadillac. I jumped in while he pulled a parking ticket from under the wiper blade. He crumpled it and tossed it into the street before sliding in behind the wheel. His scent wafted toward me.

Tony put the key into the ignition and turned to me before he switched it on. “Listen, Sam,” he started, “I don' wanna make a big deal outta how it hasta be between me an' you. I jus' want ya ta do the right thing.” He gazed into my eyes. “Unnerstand?”

“Sure, Tone,” I said. “But I gotta be able to see Janice. It's not like she doesn't belong.” Tony turned away, started the car, and held the wheel for a moment. I could see him thinking. “She dates your best friend, doesn't she?” I said.

Tony switched the radio on and eased the car from the curb. “Ya jus' gotta know how I feel about ya,” he said with a measured cadence. “I gotta be able ta find ya when I gotta see ya or hear ya voice.”

My eyes lingered on Tony for a moment before I responded. His passion was genuine and I melted once again. It felt good to be close to him. I knew we belonged together and decided we'd just have to get used to each other. Learn to get along like every couple had to. “I'll give you Janice's number. If I'm not there, I'll be home. Okay?”

Tony snapped his chin forward and back. “All right. But dat's it.”

I reached for his shoulder. “I promise,” I said.

Tony leaned toward me and moved his arm across the burl console. He rested his hand on my knee and squeezed. “I don' wanna hafta talk 'bout dis no more,” he said. “Now I gotta drop ya off.”

Tony kept his hand on my leg and I felt his touch through my new jeans as we made the short trip to my apartment. It was just a matter of time, I thought. It had only taken a couple of hours for Tony to calm down and for us to renew our connection. Imagine what a year would do, I asked myself. We would get closer and closer while we distanced ourselves from Bensonhurst. I was sure of that.