A Hero Grows in Brooklyn Page 5

  Mike grabs Pete’s arm, and shoves him out the front door.

  * * * *

  By the time the family moves all of their possessions up the stairs and into the apartment, everyone is exhausted. Steve’s mom and dad go into the bedroom, close the door, and collapse on their bed. In the living room, Steve and Pete prepare their couch for bedtime. It’s one of those that open into a double bed, and Steve and Pete will have to share it.

  When the couch is ready, Pete gets in and starts to flip through his comic book collection looking miserable. Neither Superman nor Batman can help him now.

  Steve goes into the kitchen, sits at the table, and gazes out the window. The window looks out onto Avenue U. Its cement sidewalks are lined with an assortment of shops. Its roadway has one lane in each direction and traffic is fairly heavy even though it’s well past rush hour. The cars parked parallel to the traffic have silver meters beside them that require feeding until six PM. Across the street from where Steve is sitting is a grand old movie theater; on the marquee in big black letters, it says:

  PALM SPRINGS WEEKEND

  Starring TROY DONAHUE and CONNIE STEVENS

  A few stores down from the theater there is an 1890 style ice cream parlor with lots of Tiffany lamps. Teenagers are out with their friends laughing and having a good time. They remind Steve of how he’s left all of his friends back in his old neighborhood. A dark, cold wave breaks over him. He puts his head in his hands and tries not to cry because he doesn’t want to upset the family any more than everyone already is. Just when he feels things can’t get any worse…

  “It’s all your fault!” his mom screams at his dad. “It’s all your fault we have to live in this awful place! It’s all your fault!”

  “Hey, we just had a bad run of luck, Marie! That’s all there is to it!”

  “A bad run! With your lousy gambling, with your lousy drinking, and your boys without decent clothes! That’s not bad luck, Mike!”

  And then Steve hears a smack. His back and shoulders involuntarily shoot upward, and blood pounds through his veins. He runs to the bedroom. Marie’s holding her face, her eyes bulging, her mouth agape.

  “SCREW THIS!” his dad screams and he picks up his suitcase, which he hadn’t unpacked yet, and storms out of the apartment.

  Steve’s mom runs after him.

  Through the kitchen window Steve watches his father climb into the red Impala and slam the car door closed.

  His mother runs out into the street and screams, “Don’t leave us here!” and she tries to open the driver-side car door. It’s locked. Desperately, she punches and kicks the door. “Don’t leave us here!” The Impala tears away. His mom sits down on the curb where the Impala had just been, and she’s crying, “No! No! No! No! No!”

  Pete, who was watching from the living room window, comes running over to Steve and bursts into tears crying, “Did you see that? Did you see that? Daddy’s left, an’ tomorrow I gotta start a new school, an’ I don’t know anyone an’ I hate it here,” all the while he’s swinging and punching Steve.

  Steve, at first, blocks the punches. When Pete begins to tire, Steve gently puts his arms around him. Pete, continuing to cry, buries his head in Steve’s chest.

  A few minutes pass. Then Steve leans back, takes Pete firmly by the upper arms, and looks squarely into Pete’s eyes. With great strength, yet with a choked up voice, Steve says, “You and me, Pete, we’re gonna make it. You’ll see.” Then Steve again holds Pete close in his arms.

  “I’m scared, Steve. I’m scared.”

  “Me too, Pete. Me too.”

  They look around the kitchen and shudder. Standing there with Pete in his arms, Steve thinks to himself, How can I start all over. I put everything into making things work right in Bensonhurst. I’ve lost everything.

  “Come on, Pete. It’s late,” says Steve, and he takes Pete into the living room, tucks him into the sofa bed, shuts the light, and lies down beside him.

  * * * *

  Marie returns to her new apartment door. Before entering she wipes her eyes, straightens out her blouse, and does her best to turn her expression from complete despair to firm determination. When she enters, she sees her boys are in bed with their eyes closed. As she tip toes by them, Steve whispers, “You okay, Mom?”

  “Sure, Steve,” she answers in as strong a voice as she can muster. “Things will look brighter in the morning, I’m sure. Get some sleep now.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “Thanks, Steve. That means a lot to me, especially right now. I love you too.” She then enters her bedroom, shuts the door behind her, and sits on her bed.

  Dear God, what is to become of us? she asks herself. When I was young, I turned to Mom for answers. As I got older I found that somewhere inside of me there were feelings that I could listen to and I came to rely on myself. I’d just listen to the inside of me and I’d know what to do. But now, look where it has all led. Dear God, if I can’t rely on myself, who can I turn to? And with this question, Marie buries her face in her pillow and does her best to keep her weeping from seeping out into the next room.

  * * * *

  Steve listens to Pete’s raspy, rhythmic breathing and the soft sobs of his mother. The street’s lamplight is shining into the otherwise dark apartment. Suddenly his hands clutch his stomach. Something inside of him has grabbed a hold of it, twisting it like an old soaked rag. A whisper of a cry of “Oh,” involuntarily escapes his lips. Keep quiet. It’ll pass! Please! Please! There! It’s starting to ease. It’s starting to ease.

  Ever so quietly, he gets up out of bed and slides into his blue jean jacket. Quietly as he can, he pulls the apartment door open, steps into the hallway on tip toes, turns, and gently, very gently, pushes the door closed. The dimly lit flight of stairs has a strong, musty odor. Down in the street, the cool night brushes up against his hot face. Up on the corner, a young couple is climbing into a yellow taxi.

  Steve starts to run in the other direction, down toward the Avenue U Diner. He passes a brightly lit gas station with an old man in overalls filling the tank of a big white Cadillac. A black mutt, with its tongue hanging out, is panting out the back window.

  Sneakers slap pavement. The streetlights are rushing by.

  When he reaches the diner, four men wearing bowling shirts are talking together in the parking lot. Is the big guy Dad?! It looks just like him. Na, his nose ain’t all broken up.

  At Neck Road his mind flashes on his dad screeching away. Good! I’m glad he’s left! I hate him! We’re better off without him!

  At Avenue X, images of he and his dad throwing around a baseball in the park flash through his mind. He’s tried to be a good dad. When he had a little money, no one was ever more generous.

  Across the road, all is dark at Juliet’s Hair Salon. I wonder if that’s where Mom’s going to get her hair done now that we live in this neighborhood. I hope she gets some sleep tonight.

  Shore Parkway and Neptune Avenue whisk by as Steve lengthens his stride.

  Reaching the beach, huffing and puffing, Steve drops to his knees by the water’s edge, his forehead dripping sweat. Looking around, he sees no one is here but a seagull taking quick little steps, leaving little footprints in the sand. Oh, that salty breeze sure feels good. That seagull is looking at me. There he goes, squawking and flying away. Marone, I sure wish I could fly away!

  A crashing wave hits the shore, swirling and tumbling. Steve’s heart pounds. Another crashing wave. His heart pounds harder. “It’s not fair!” he screams up to the purple sky filled with flickering stars. “I can’t start over! I won’t!”

  The ocean glimmers in the darkness, ignoring his cries. Another wave crashes on shore, followed by another, and another, and another. After a while, tears come to his eyes, roll down his cheeks, and fall to the sand.

  CHAPTER 10


  The first light of dawn arrives. Marie sits up. She begins to whisper to herself. “That lousy bum! How could he have left us here! If he comes back now I’ll scratch his eyes out! Oh God, oh God! Listen, please, Mother Mary, what am I to do? Dear God, what am I to do? Dear God, what am I to do?”

  Suddenly, she reaches for her black leather handbag. Ruffling through it with quick, jagged motions, she shakes her head as she takes inventory: six dollars, forty three cents. “Friday, I’ll get a check from my secretary’s salary. Quiet! Stop whispering, the boys will hear me in the next room.”

  The words come silently now. And what if someone gets sick? Oh God! What about Little Pete’s dental work? It’s almost winter. Steve’s dungarees have a hole in them. I can’t ask Mom for help. Ever since Daddy died, Mom’s been struggling so to maintain some dignity as it is! When she finds out that Mike left me, she’ll die. Oh God! She’s gonna die. Oh Sister of Mary!”

  Marie grabs a pillow to muffle a sob, and with her face pressed against it, she smells Mike. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth last night. With a horribly wrenching effort she muffles another sob. She begins to kick her feet and pound her fist into her mattress. Stop it already, she screams silently to herself. You’ve got to stop this already!

  Finally, she sits up and blows her nose. Well, I’ll just have to go down to the welfare agency and sign us up. There! It won’t be so bad. I’ll just go downtown and sign us up, that’s all. Welfare! Welfare! Oh God, oh God!

  There’s just no way around it. I’ll just keep Steve home from school and take him along and we’ll pretend we’re just gonna do some shopping downtown. We’ll make a day of it.

  I can’t go down there alone. I just can’t. Even though Steve’s sensitive and maybe he does cry a bit too much, in difficult times he’s great to have around. Uh oh! What about Pete! When Pete hears Steve’s gonna get the day off, he’s gonna want the day off also. I guess I won’t force him. This has gotta be as hard for Pete as it is for me. I just don’t have the heart to force him.

  * * * *

  A few hours later, streams of yellow sunlight are slanting through the curtainless windows and onto the couch-bed where Steve and Pete are sleeping.

  “Come on, boys,” says Marie in her long pink robe, her eyes, puffy. “It’s time to wake up.”

  Steve rising onto his right elbow looks at the black Emerson clock radio beside him. “It’s nine-twenty, Mom. We’re late for school.”

  “Where are we?” asks Pete, sitting up, looking around the room.

  “We’re in our new apartment,” Marie answers. “Listen boys, I decided to take the day off from work and to keep you both home from school.”

  “Our new apartment?” asks Pete still very much confused.

  “Yeah,” says Steve. “We moved here yesterday. Don’t you remember?”

  It begins to come back to Pete. His face darkens. “Did Dad ever come home, Mom?”

  “No. He hasn’t.”

  “Well, when is he?” Pete asks looking fearful at what the reply might be.

  “I really don’t know, Pete,” Marie answers. “Instead of going to school today, we have a little job to do.”

  * * * *

  On the rumbling train heading toward the welfare agency, Marie sits with her two boys. The car is nearly empty. There’s an elderly couple at the other end, both reading. With the train rumbling and screeching, voices won’t travel. The train provides a kind of semi-privacy.

  “Dad might not be coming home for awhile,” Marie says.

  Little Pete’s eyes begin to turn watery.

  “You’re sad, Pete, because you miss Dad,” says Marie.

  “No I don’t. I hate him. He didn’t even tell me he wasn’t comin’ home. He doesn’t care ‘bout me. I hate him!” Then, softer, he repeats, “I hate him.”

  Marie takes out a tissue, hands it to Pete, and tells him to blow his nose. Then she says, “Part of Dad loves you very much. That’s the part of Dad that we love. Don’t ever forget that part. There’s also a part of Dad that we hate. Everybody hates part of their dad. I’m beginning to understand that now.” Quickly, Marie takes out another tissue and this time she blows her own nose. Then, in a choked up voice, she adds, “But don’t ever forget the part of Daddy that we love.” Once again she blows her nose.

  “Hey,” says Steve, “I thought I’m supposed to be the cry baby in this family.”

  Everyone laughs through tears.

  CHAPTER 11

  The next morning Steve wakes up to the sound of wind rattling the apartment’s windowpanes. Marie is in the kitchen sipping hot tea, warming her hands on the large ceramic mug, her face showing signs of another long and grave night. Softly, the radio begins to play Ruby and the Romantics’ Our Day Will Come. As Marie listens to the song’s words, an exceedingly faint smile begins to form around her eyes and lips—just perceptible enough to light up her pale complexion, a light like a thin ray of moonlight softly falling upon a prison’s wall. When Marie spots Steve with his eyes opened, her reverie flees.

  “Steve, better get going. It’s getting late.”

  “Mom, let’s take another day off.”

  “I’m afraid there’s no getting around it Steve, you and Pete have to start your new schools today and I have to go back to work or my boss is going to fire me. As it is, I’m going to be late because I have to get you both registered all official-like.”

  Languidly, Steve heads to the shower. As he dries himself off with a large white towel, he hears his mother cry out, “Put on your one new shirt, the one Uncle Ricky got you for your birthday. It’s in the second drawer from the top. The first day in a new school you should try to make a good impression.”

  As he dresses, Steve wakes Pete.

  “Mom says we gotta go to school today Pete. Better get going while the bathroom is open.”

  “School? Come on Mom!” Pete calls out to the kitchen while rubbing his eyes. “Just one more day off! Please Mom! I’m begging ya. Please!”

  “Let’s get going, Pete, and I mean now!” Marie responds.

  Pete looks up at the peeling paint on the apartment ceiling and cringes.

  * * * *

  After a windy five block walk, the family steps into Pete’s elementary school—a six story, red brick building. When the paperwork is done, Pete anxiously looks up at Marie and Steve.

  “Come on, Pete. It’ll be okay,” says Marie. “You’ll meet lots of new friends.”

  “So, we’re going to have a new student here,” says the principal, greeting Marie with a warm smile. As he leads the Marinos out of his office to take them to Pete’s new first grade class, he spots a boy sitting on a wooden bench beside his secretary’s desk. “I’ll deal with you when I get back!” he says sternly.

  The hallway is dimly lit. A large banner on the left wall encourages everyone to join their General Organization and to vote for their G.O. officers. Opening the classroom door, the principal says hello to the teacher and her class.

  “I don’t know anyone,” says Pete, clearly frightened.

  Steve gets down on one knee in front of Pete, and looking eye to eye with him, says, “Pete, if we’re gonna get out of that dump we’re in now… well… well, it’s gonna be a whole lot easier if we get a good education. Get in there now and show ‘em what you can do!”

  “Okay, Steve,” says Pete. “But Steve… Steve… after school, could you… I’m scared ta go home ta da new place an’ be by myself. Mom, she don’t get home till late. Could you come home right after school an’ meet me there? Could ya, Steve? Could ya, Steve?”

  “Sure, Pete. In fact, right after school I’ll run home and I bet I’ll beat you there.”

  Pete smiles and gives Steve a hug. Then he hugs his mother, wipes his nose on his sleeve, and walks into the classroom.

  CHAPTER 12

  After Marie signs some papers and dashes off to wor
k, Cunningham Junior High School’s secretary looks Steve over. “Better take a seat over there, young man,” she orders as she points to a wooden bench. “It’s going to take a little time to figure out what classes you’ll be taking.”

  Suddenly, two police officers and several parents show up. As the principal steps out of his office to greet them, one of the male parents walks right up to him and starts hollering in his face, “Who’s gonna be the next to die!? Huh!? Who’s gonna be next!? Answer me! Answer me!”

  The principal glances over to Steve, and then firmly ushers all those involved in the commotion to his inner office and shuts the door leaving Steve and the secretary wondering what’s going on.

  * * * *

  “I’d like you all to meet the newest member of the Cunningham Junior High Community, Steve Marino,” says Mrs. Vogt, his new teacher. “Please make him feel welcome.” Then, on the long blackboard in the front of the room, she writes Steve’s name in large curly letters.

  There are two big kids in the back of the room. Upon hearing that Steve is new, both smile at each other. The bigger of the two whispers something into the ear of the other and the smaller guy breaks out laughing. Steve begins to feel uneasy.

  “Steve,” says Mrs. Vogt, “please take the open seat in front of Tom Giordano and Ron DeFelipo,” and she points in front of the two big kids.

  Christ! Steve says to himself as he heads to his assigned seat.

  “Tom, Ron, I can tell from your last names you’re fellow paesanos,” says Steve with a smile, his mind racing, struggling to find some way to make some personal connection with these guys. They nod hello and then look up to the ceiling and begin to softly whistle. Steve sits down with his back to Tom and Ron.

  Whispers and giggles begin to come from behind him. Glancing back, he observes the whispering ceases. When he turns back around to face the front blackboard, there’s a burst of laughter.