Pins: A Novel (31 page)

18

When Joseph heard it, he almost laughed. Pinned in Paterson. Finally.

He watched Sotorama, trying to feel good. He was supposed to be happy. It was supposed to be over.

The flood of cameras and reporters crowded around Bennie and his lawyer as they shoved their way down a hallway.

“Are you going to appeal?”

“What did you think of the decision?”

“Do you have anything to say?”

Bennie turned his face momentarily toward a camera. For a moment the bright light burned his face white as a small meteor, then jolted to his side, revealing some splotches of acne on his cheek. He spoke with a cold conviction. “We are persecuted, but not forsaken, cast down but not destroyed.”

His lawyer shoved him through the throng, out again through the doors of the Hall of Justice. The cluster of light, sound, wire followed them.

He spoke directly to Joseph. It creeped him. Joseph thought about Bennie going to prison, eventually getting what he feared most, being surrounded by thugs, told what to do every minute, possibly raped. He said to the television, “Looks like you don’t get to eat the world this time, big bad wolf.”

“Joseph, who are you talking to?”

“Nobody.”

His mother descended the stairs, walked into the kitchen, where warm, meaty smells, sizzling sounds made his stomach growl.

“Hey, was there any mail for me?”

“No,” she said.

“Oh.”

Joseph hoped he’d gotten Dink’s address right.

“That was your father on the phone.”

“Huh?”

“Your father.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. He wants to take you to a movie.”

“I thought I was grounded till the end of time.”

“We let you go to finals, didn’t we?”

“Yes.”

“He just called to tell you to stay here until he gets home.”

“Oh, like I’m goin’ somewhere?”

She sighed. “He’s working late on some new house somebody’s remodeling. Could you just put on some real clothes and behave yourself?”

Joseph looked down at his baggy sweats. He did look like a slob, but so what? “You gonna hold dinner?”

“Yes. Can you stand waiting?”

“Sure.” He didn’t want to start a fight again. It was too tiring.

On the way to the movie, his father brought up the news story about Bennie, which got them talking about the other news story, the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. About a hundred gays and lesbians had been arrested on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan for trying to march.

“Do you understand why they were protesting?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said as he fidgeted under the seat belt. He kept leaning forward to change the radio station. The belt kept yanking him back.

“Would you want to do that?”

“I don’t wanna march in some drunken Irish parade.”

“But do you understand why they did it?”

“Sure, it’s like black people with Martin Luther King. Malcolm X. Like they were protesting the prejudice.”

“Right.”

“I’m jus’ tryin’ to help.”

“I know, Dad.”

The radio talked for a while.

“You know, Dad, even though the way they teach us stuff in school, which totally ignores things that are all over the tube, I got an idea about things. I mean, I’ve done stupid things, but I’m not stupid.”

“I’m not saying that.” His father shut off the radio.

“Then why are you taking me to this movie about some gay guys with AIDS?”

“Because I want you to see what could happen if you aren’t careful.”

“Dad, I’m … practically a virgin.”

“I thought you said–”

“I’m nearly immaculate!”

“Joker. I shoulda taken you out of Catholic school a long time ago.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I learned stuff. I mean, I dunno about the Pope being infallible or some things. I mean, I pray and stuff, and I believe in Jesus and the saints. I think they protect me and I know you don’t believe that but I don’t care anymore. I mean maybe sometimes Jesus looks like the old pictures. Maybe angels don’t have wings. Maybe Anthony won’t have asthma in heaven.”

His father said, “I don’t want you to feel forced to go, or not go because I don’t. I think you oughtta give it a chance, but give it some perspective.”

“I am, I just, you know, feeling a spiritual crisis or something.”

“Okay.”

“So let’s not go see that depressing AIDS movie, okay? I’m really not up for it, but I appreciate your helping.”

“Awright. Ya wanna go get some ice cream or something?”

“What, cheer me up with sugar?”

“No, it’s… It’s your day. Whatever you want.”

“Okay. Carvel.”

His father kept asking him if he had questions. He asked them, but it was just about plans they made. If he got in trouble again. If he was called as a witness, what he should say. But he had unanswerable questions. Would Bennie really get raped? Which was worse, hoping for it or getting turned on by imagining it? Could Hunter’s brother come and get him? Would he just get a stray bullet someday, like in
Goodfellas,
how you don’t know when?

 
Streets glistened in the wash of a brief morning rain. The Bronco gleamed after the downpour. Through the drive, Joseph watched a few pink flower petals, some caught in the wipers, fly off the windshield, loosening one at a time.

The kids were allowed to open the car windows, letting spring whoosh in. They glided into the church parking lot with ease. Girls smiled, beamed in their buttercup skirts, delicate hats. Boys became angular cartoons of themselves, their hair shiny with gel, slanted one way or the other. Parents, old people, all smiled, shook hands, greeting each other with extra friendliness.

The pews were packed with families he’d never seen before. Lilies exploded in clusters along the aisles, white ribbons hung up along the sides. The priest’s speeches, prayers were filled with goodness. Joseph listened to every word. Sunlight shot through the abstract glass. He could almost see the beams solidify into gold rods.

The Easter egg hunt on the church lawn afterwards was pleasant, cordial. Cakes, cookies, desserts lay out on a table whose skirt of a paper table cloth kept blowing up. Joseph got to pig out while his parents talked to other parents about anything but him, he hoped.

“Hey, Netchie, how ya doin’?” Marty Bonfiglio and Terry German-something, a couple of Mike’s friends, approached.

“Pretty good.
 
Happy Eastah.”

“Ask him,” Terry whispered.

“Hey,” Marty said. “We was thinkin’ of askin’ you to show us how you flattened Miller. You know, like lessons.”

“Sorry, boys. You can’t afford the fee.” Joseph grinned wide, then shoved a forkful of cake into his mouth. The boys retreated, piled stuff on their plates, dealt with, dispensed. Nobody was going to get to him today. His face beamed, no frowns, no smiles, though. He imagined himself blank, unreadable, like the scribbled drawing the news artist had made of him, sitting upright, no facial features, like the picture of the angel in
My Mass Book,
the
Young Catholic Missal
Mike received before his First Communion. Even Mrs. Lambros said hello. He didn’t even mind wearing the suit, since his mom had put a little flower in his lapel like he had a date with Jesus. Everybody was good, nice. Really nice.

“Irene wants us over for coffee,” his mother announced as she strapped in her seat belt, careful of her corsage.

“How many us’s?” his dad asked.

 
“Just us, us.” She turned back in her seat, “Kids, can you all be good for a little while longer?”

Joseph thought she meant the two cherubs on either side of him. He’d let them have the windows. He was a wall to put between them, even if they were being good.

“Yes, Ma,” Mike and Sophia said in unison.

But then Marie looked at Joseph. Dino’s eyes glinted in the rear-view a moment, like every other guy that scared or comforted him; Bennie, Mr. Khors, the cops.

“What, me?” he blurted. “I been good all year.”

“Okay.” She turned back.

“I’ll be extra good all day!”

“How long is till midnight?” Sophia asked.

“Why? You stayin’ up?”

“I wanna know how long we have to be good for.”

 
Everybody laughed, like a little party just blasted into the car, but then they had to explain to Soph the difference between “laughing at” and “laughing with.”

Why was she putting her sunglasses on to walk across the driveway, the same way she put them on whenever they left the courthouse? Who did she think she was, Jackie O?

Dino had stripped off his suit, jumped into his Sunday jeans, sneakers, an old Mets sweatshirt in record time despite Marie’s protests. They looked funny, she still in her Sunday best, while he was ready for the sofa.

“I think our host might want to cook for us again,” his father whispered.

Joey mimed choking his own throat. His dad whacked him once on the butt, just playing, but it sort of jolted him.

Mike darted to the basement, inspecting his dead thing collection. He’d had to throw it out when his mother found a desiccated toad Mike was “drying out” so he could paint it. The other appeared forlorn but surviving, but it was hard to tell with toads.

“Jo-eee! I’m hiding and you can’t find me!”

“Bet I can!”

At first Joseph tried to figure out some way to get Sophia to fall asleep. More candy would do it. One bump up, she’d crash like a zombie. Sofia’s fifth birthday had been a month before, but she still had yet to stay awake through most movies.

 
“Watch it with me, Joee-oo.” Sophia laid out their collective Easter booty; marshmallow bunnies, jelly beans. Joseph traded his chocolate bunny for Sophia’s malted milk balls, each peppered with pinks and blue.

“Soph-ioo, you see da sprinkles?”

“Yup.”

“How do dey do dat?” he said, holding one egg extra close to Sophia before popping it in his mouth.

“Da movie!”

“Yeah, it’s on. First we gotta read about our little friends. See those letters?”

“F.B.I.”

“Very good.”

“Yay!” Her little hands clapped. “Sing the songs with me!”

He didn’t know why he did it. He couldn’t explain it to his mother when she burst in, but they started watching the movie, Joseph was just, not happy, for sure, but relieved or giddy, not in the mood for crying again, so he just started waving his hands a little during the opening song, and Sophia kept laughing, so he stood up when Aladdin came in, and started doing the actions he saw, singing, thinking how cute the guy was, especially when his voice cracked, wondering if it was weird for him to want to have sex with a cartoon. He picked Sophia up, carrying her around like Abu, sitting on the sofa with her in his arms – “one skip ahead a my doom” – jumping up and carrying her while she laughed, then spinning around as their mother appeared out of nowhere and yelled something and he fell down with Sophia in his arms, and that was why she started howling, not because of anything he did.