Brooklyn Story (34 page)

I hadn't told my mother or grandmother what happened with Tony when I had gotten home Friday night. When they had asked me why I was in a bad mood, I told them I had PMS and to just leave me alone. I couldn't tell them that I had let Tony hurt me again, that I was pining for an honest, loving relationship. And I couldn't breathe a word that Tony was the one who had broken into our house. My mother would have been livid. After all, she'd moved me to Bay Ridge to get away from the guy. What would she do next? I wondered. Have Grandma send me away to Hebrew school?

No, I couldn't bear to undergo my mom's wrath nor give her something else that she would hold over my head for the foreseeable future and use as a weapon whenever the mood struck. But I reconsidered confiding in Grandma the next day. It would have been comforting for me because she was much more broad-minded and forgiving than Mom, but I knew, even though Grandma wouldn't come right out and say it, that she would have been hurt by what she heard. Anyway, I was so ashamed of myself, I decided to let the incident fade away. Besides, I was about to appear on my first radio show and I wanted to do well. I needed to focus on what lay ahead.

Over the next two weeks, I attended a couple of meetings
in Manhattan with Mr. Greenburg. Each time I got on the subway, I felt like it was my birthday. I didn't think about Tony once, as my mind was preoccupied with things that were more important to me. I was so grateful for the opportunity to get on with my life and to put him behind me once and for all.

One afternoon when I'd come home from class exhausted, I sprawled on the couch while my mother started preparing her Kraft macaroni and cheese and eggs in the kitchen. When someone knocked on the door, she went to answer it because she was expecting Cynthia, who would be picking up her baby.

“Janice Caputo!” Mom announced, and I jumped up.

“You're a sight for sore eyes, Sam,” Janice said as I threw my arms around her.

Tears welled in my eyes. “Jesus, Janice, where the hell have you been?”

“That's a damned long story,” she said. She smiled at Mom and gestured toward my bedroom.

We sprawled on my bed, our favorite place to talk, and Janice began with an apology. “I'm so sorry, Sam. I hated ta leave ya in the dark, but I was afraid if I talked to ya, Richie would find me.”

I frowned. “That's ridiculous. Don't you trust me?”

“More'n anybody,” Janice said. “But I don' trust Tony. I know how he can turn the screws when he wants ta know sumthin'. I didn't wantya ta know where I was so you wouldn't get tricked into spilling the beans. The last thing I needed was an angry visit from Richie.” Janice knew all about the tricks the guys pulled, and her words reminded me of Tony's treachery.

“What happened?” I asked. “Tony told me Richie said you'd lost your mind and they sent you to a nuthouse.”

“What a joke! Richie was cheating again and used my face like a speed bag when I busted him on it. I couldn't stand it no more, Sam.”

“I was worried that's what it was.”

“Never again,” Janice swore.

I reached for her hand. “I'm glad, Janice.”

“What about you and Tone?” she asked.

I skipped the details about Tony's latest betrayal. “He's just like Richie and the rest of them,” I said. “We're through.” Janice smiled from ear to ear, but I sensed there was more to her satisfaction than what I had just said. Her eyes were lively and it looked like she'd lost some weight. “There's something else, isn't there?” I asked.

“How did you know?” she bubbled.

“It's all over your face,” I said. “You're in love, Janice Caputo, aren't you?”

Janice squeezed my hand. “For real this time,” she said.

“Huh?”

“A guy named Roberto Gianotta. He owns a garment business and he's loaded. Ya should see him! He's distinguished, and treats me like a princess. His wife divorced him a couple of months ago and my aunt had him over for dinner. He's the perfect guy. I swear, the wife should have her head examined. He has this big house about a mile from here, with his own housekeeper. Her name is Linda and she told me she didn't like the wife at all. Too demanding.”

I was so happy for her but it sounded too good to be true after such a short period of time. And then I thought that maybe good things are always right in front of us and we just had to see them, as Father Rinaldi had said. Regardless, I was thrilled to have my best friend back and shared the joy that she continued to express.

“I tell ya, Sam, legit is the only way to go. This guy is so fine. He thinks I am, too. And guess what? He asked me to marry him and I said yes!”

“What?” I exclaimed. Falling in love so fast was one thing, I thought. Getting married was something else. “You're so young, and you hardly know him!”

“I know this guy's the real thing and I'm getting married. Well, not right away. But we're getting engaged.”

“Jeez, Janice. What did your mother say?”

“Guess,” Janice said, grinning. “As long as his name ain't Richie Sparto and he ain't from Bensonhurst, she'd let me marry just about anybody. Can ya believe it, Sam?”

Maybe that was the way it was supposed to be, I thought. Maybe after enough hard lessons it was easy to know exactly what was right and what should be done. And maybe Janice was teaching me again. My face broke into a huge smile and I hugged my best friend. “Just promise you won't disappear again.”

“I swear. After all, I gotta stay close ta my maid of honor.” We shared a trademark giggle.

“When do I get to meet him?” I asked.

“As soon as ya want.” A tight smile came to my face. “What's wrong?” Janice asked. “Ain't ya happy for me?”

“'Course I am,” I said, and then I couldn't resist unloading my recent baggage. “But something happened and I couldn't tell anybody else.”

“It's Tony, isn't it? Didya run into his fist? I swear ta God, if he hurt ya, I'll call Roberto. He knows everybody and—”

“He didn't beat me up,” I interrupted. “But two weeks ago …” I told Janice everything about the panties in the bed and my discovery about the break-in. “He said they belonged to some girl Vin was screwin',” I said, and Janice remained silent. It was a relief to share it all with someone I trusted. “I've had an ache in my chest ever since, because I allowed him once again to put a dagger in my heart.”

Janice threw her arms around me. “I'm so sorry that ass-hole broke your heart again.”

“I never want to see him,” I said, and then hesitated for a moment. “But it's kinda confusin'.”

“Ya miss him, anyway,” Janice said.

“No, just why it took me so long to get it.”

“It's understandable, Sam,” Janice said. “He was your first. But he sure ain't gonna be your last. Forget Tony, cuz he's no good.”

“I found that out the hard way.”

Janice grabbed my hand with both of hers. “I'm gonna see if Roberto knows a nice guy you can date. Then we can be a foursome, just like the old days.”

“I think I'd like to forget those, too,” I said. “And I really don't want to date anybody right now.” I filled Janice in about the radio show. She bubbled.

“I knew it, Sam. You're the most talented person I ever met. You're gonna be somebody.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked.

“It's as sure as that bridge is across town.”

“Thanks, Jan. Every time Tony shows up in my life, bad things happen and I forget who I am and who I'm supposed to be. It's like I lose my mind. Maybe
I
belong in the nuthouse.”

Janice shook my arms. “Ya belong right here. Ya jus' hafta stay away from that blond heartbreaker. I tellya, my mom's right.” I knew she was right and she continued. “Them guys think they're God's gift. And, really, they're nothin' but trouble. That's why I had ta get away.” Janice looked down. “I got sick of having my own heart broken.”

It was my turn to hold her arms. “Well,” I said, “things have sure changed for you now.”

Janice's face brightened. “How does the name Mrs. Janice Gianotta sound?” she asked.

I thought about how sweet it would be to hook up with a real guy, a gentleman in every sense of the word, who would care for me and support everything I wanted to do. “Sounds beautiful,” I said. It felt so good to have Janice back, I thought. I felt my resolve strengthen to let the Dutchman go and embrace my life without him.

“Didya tell your mom that Tony busted inta your place?” Janice asked in a hushed voice.

“God, no,” I said. “I was afraid of what she'd do.”

“Well, it's behind ya now,” Janice said. We talked some more and shared a few more giggles. Just like old times.

I awakened on the day of my radio show feeling nauseated. I had gotten accustomed to the periodic fluctuations in my stomach from the roller-coaster ride I had been on, but I was not prepared for how frightened I felt. What if I blew it? I worried. But I was heartened by the fact that Janice was going to go with me and that I wouldn't have to deal with Tony no matter how it turned out. I steeled myself and concentrated on what I had to do to get ready.

After I put on my best skirt and blouse, I applied some makeup, thankful that I had learned how to do that properly, and then filled my favorite bag with what I would need: two books on dating and my newspaper articles.

My stomach churned. I looked at my watch, breathed deeply, and waited for Janice to show up. We would be taking the subway to Manhattan and when the show was over, Janice had promised to take me to a Greenwich Village café for lunch, compliments of her new boyfriend's credit card.

I didn't tell my mother I was so afraid that I felt sick. She might have forbidden me to go, telling me I was too young, too frightened, or too something. But I was too determined.

When Janice arrived, I grabbed my bag and hugged my mother and grandmother on the way out. The moment we got out onto the street, my stomach settled, and with each step we took toward the subway station I knew I was getting closer to where I wanted to go.

I did such a great job with the radio show that a celebration was exactly what was called for. Janice and I sat at a sidewalk
table and she told me to order anything I wanted. It felt good not worrying about how much something cost, and not worrying about the person picking up the check and how he had gotten the money. And it felt even better to have a lot worth talking about. I was a writer, that was concrete, and that day I was a girl who had a radio spot.

Janice flashed Roberto's gold credit card with a giggle, and I loved that she had found a man outside the circle. Life was better in the real world, that was for sure. Janice had found someone out there, I was finding myself there, and maybe I would find the right kind of man there, too, I hoped. She raised a glass. “Here's to you,” she said, and took a long, cool drink of lemonade. “Ya did it, Sam. Ya was great.”

“Was I really?” I asked, needing to hear it again. Maybe that's what all creative people need, I thought, and I made a mental note to work that out on my Smith-Corona. “It felt like I started and then it was over. I can't even remember what happened in between. Do you think Mr. Greenburg was happy?”

Janice smiled from ear to ear. “I think he was ecstatic,” she said. “I can hardly wait for it to be aired. Wait'll everyone hears ya. You're a natural, Sam.” I took a deep breath as a waiter brought our grilled chicken salads. Maybe I had done well enough to gain a foothold across the river, I thought. “I'm so proud of you,” Janice said. I was proud of myself, too. I had dumped Tony, my best friend was back, and I was almost at my goal.

Janice and I ate with gusto and then ordered dessert and coffee. We had talked the whole time about our good fortune. As I looked at her, seated across from me, Father Rinaldi's words about seeing everything echoed in my mind. I only saw good right then, and knew that I'd be writing a lot more about that, too.

When I got home, I burst through the front door and dashed into the kitchen to find Mom seated with a beer and
a cigarette in her hand and Grandma having Entenmann's coffee cake. She swore by Entenmann's, no other, even if he did pack a lot of sugar in his cakes. After all, Grandma felt, he was a Jew.

“I did it!” I cried out. “I was wonderful today.” When I got little reaction from my family, I was surprised and disappointed. “What the hell happened here?” I asked. “Did somebody die?”

Mom looked at me through her thick, wrinkled lids with vacant eyes that used to be big, beautiful green cat eyes. “Didya look in the living room?” she asked.

“No, I just came right in here to see you. I thought you'd be happy for me.”

“We are,
bubelah,
” Grandma said. “Real proud.” When my mother would not look me in the eye, I walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. On the coffee table was a white box filled with a dozen long-stemmed red roses that were visible through the clear cover. I picked up the card. “Sam,” the envelope read, and I opened it: