Brooklyn Story (35 page)

How are you? I guess you must be doing really good out there. I hope your writing and that radio thing went real good. I haven't called because it seems like you really did lose your love for me. I just want you to know that it wasn't my fault. But I guess it was real easy for you to just walk away after all the time we spent together.

Don't get scared. I'm not trying to get you back. I just want you to know how much I loved you, even when you thought I didn't love you back. I really should have made an effort to get along with your mom better. All I want to say is, please don't go with anyone else. I really couldn't stand that. If you get lonely, call me and I promise we can just have a calzone together, just like the good old days.

—Tony

I dropped the card. What a stretch Tony was making, I thought. From hitting me in the face, breaking into my home, and sleeping with other women to sending me roses and telling me not to sleep with anyone else. What did he think? I scoffed to myself. That I would turn into a nun so he could “stand it”? What a fool he was, I thought. What a fool
I
had been to put up with him for such a long time.

I began to sob. I had put Tony out of my life but he was forcing his way in again. I had waited for him to say “I love you” the whole time we'd dated, but he was too macho to express his love to a girl. Now that we had separated, it was like he was torturing me with his words, the very words I had prayed to hear.

Grandma came to my side and hugged me. “
Oy vey iz meir!
” she exclaimed. “What's going on?” It felt so good being held by her, secure in her bosom. Once again, I felt blessed to have her close to me. I forced a smile. “I'm okay, Grandma,” I said, and then looked up at her. “He ruins everything. I was feeling so good when I got home. I swear to God, I don't ever want to hear his name again.”

“I know, Sammy. I know,” Grandma sighed. “Those damned Italians. Listen to me,
bubelah
. My voice is tired, but my words are strong. I tell you good things of faith like my mother and my mother's mother told me. Everything you need to break this bad cycle has to come from within you.”

Grandma glanced at Mom walking toward her bedroom, cigarettes in her hand, before she turned back to me. “Please don't become the apple that didn't fall far from the tree. It's not your destiny to be like her. Get away from this life. Go,
bubelah
.”

Three weeks later, I awakened sick to my stomach as I had for the previous three days. I had missed my last period and I went to the doctor to confirm what I already knew. I would have rather died than have this baby, his baby.

Two days after that devastating one, I gathered my courage to make a call. When the phone rang in the Kroon residence, Katrina answered and didn't bother to talk when she heard me on the line. “Tony,” she shouted, “it's that girl you broke up with.” I cringed.

It seemed like forever before Tony picked up the phone. “Sam,” he said in an upbeat voice. “Did you get the flowers? I heard you were on the radio and I want—”

“I'm pregnant, Tony.” Dead silence was all I heard for a moment.

“Well,” he said, “it ain't mine.” The ice in his words chilled me.

“Oh, really?” I was still. “Now that's the answer I needed to hear.” Tears welled in my eyes. Damn! I kicked myself and struggled to stay calm. I didn't want to break down in front of him ever again. “Then it must be another immaculate conception, 'cause you're the only guy I slept with.”

“How do I know that?”

I gritted my teeth. “'Cause I'm tellin' ya. Anyway, I don't care what you think. I know.”

Tony raised his voice. “You can't have a baby, Sam.”

“I can if I want to,” I said. “But I don't. Not like this.” I wanted a career and a new man to love me and be with me for a lifetime.

“So take care of it,” Tony said.

“I need money,” I said. “Three hundred. Janice knows a guy.”

“Cash don't just fall in my lap, Sam.”

No matter how it had gotten there, his lap had always been full of cash. I'd seen that too many times to count. But I didn't go there. “You'd rather I had the baby?” I asked. I pictured him mulling things over while I waited for his response.

“I still don't think it's mine,” he deadpanned.

I wanted to scream out “Fuck you!” over the phone, but I didn't go there, either. “It's yours, Tony, and you know it. Do you want to pay support for eighteen years?”

“I don't know, Sam. I just hit up Vin last night.”

I couldn't believe that the big shot in the neighborhood who did all kinds of big deals and collected money from every establishment this side of the street didn't want to part with a lousy three hundred bucks. He and the guys flashed their rolls of dough around town all the time. I'd seen Tony throw C-notes around as if they were singles. He even had a new car, a freakin' Porsche! I shouted to myelf. But that wasn't the time to throw it all up to him. I needed the money and I had to get my condition over with and soon. “I don't have the money, Tony.”

“What, with
two
fuckin' jobs?” he scoffed. The grapevine was still alive and well in Bensonhurst, I thought. That figured. But it was none of his business that I had been throwing more into the pot at home and squirreling away deposit money for NYU.

“I need the money,” I repeated.

He hesitated again. I could almost hear the wheels turning in that dense head of his. I knew he'd never suggest selling my bracelets to get the money, and I hadn't considered that because if he had found out I did, he would have a reason to confront me. I knew the day would come when I would get rid of them—maybe I'd toss them off the Brooklyn Bridge, I had thought—but it hadn't arrived yet. Tony broke the long silence. “I'll see what I can do.”

“You better, 'cause this is serious.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony muttered. “Come over to the house in a coupla hours.”

My already queasy stomach did flip-flops when I showed up at Tony's door. I knocked and Philip answered. I gazed at his sad face. With his scruffy beard and bloodshot eyes, he didn't look too good, as usual. “Is Tony here?” I asked.

“He hadda go out,” Philip said. I was about to cry again. “Did he leave somethin' for me?” I blurted. And then rage started to build within me. How could Tony put me in this position? I wondered. Having to ask for the money from his father. I was pregnant and didn't want to see much of anybody, least of all someone in Tony's family. It was hard enough to explain to Mom and Grandma why I was crying so much. I had never been a liar growing up and I hated having to lie again as I had for months. A lot about me had changed since I'd met Tony, I thought. I had to change back to the person I was before, I vowed. But I had to get past my crisis first.

Philip reached into his pants pocket and took out a wrinkled envelope. He handed it to me and I took it with trembling fingers. “Do you want to come in for some iced tea?” he asked. His gesture struck me as sad, and for a moment I felt sorry for him. His world, probably the only one he'd ever know, was confined to a leather armchair, dark bars, and smoke-filled card rooms. But I never wanted to see or be inside that house again. “No, thanks,” I said, stuffing the envelope into my purse.

“Do you have a message for Tony?” Philip asked.

“No, I don't,” I lied once more. I resented what Tony had just put me through. He was such a coward, I thought. He couldn't even face me but I just wanted to be rid of everything that had anything to do with him. I wanted to tell him that but I turned around and walked away. I was relieved it was over.

I headed for the subway and when I sat down on a molded plastic seat, something told me to open the envelope. The distress about what I had faced came right back when I found one hundred dollars in it. My rage returned then—how could Tony be such a creep? I asked myself. How? And how would I get over my ordeal? I decided I had no choice but to ask Janice if she could loan the rest of the money to me.

On the way home, I had an overwhelming urge to light a candle. I took a familiar detour to Our Lady of Guadalupe.

I looked up at the cross outside the church as I always did, but went to the pew in front because I wanted to be closer to the Blessed Mother. I knelt before Her statue and prayed as I had never done before. The last time I had looked at Her, I recalled, was after Tony had taken my virginity in his parents' bed. The thought of that in church made me want to die inside. I adored the Blessed Mother and believed in Her, and felt ashamed about my recent past and my current condition. But I knew that She would help me and answer my prayers.

When I had finished asking Her for guidance, I went to light a candle for my family and my troubles and for the horrific decision that confronted me. Father Rinaldi came into the sanctuary and walked over when he saw me lighting a match. As always, he looked wonderful. “Hello, Father,” I said.

“Hello, Samantha. Isn't it nicer here than in a hospital?” he asked.

“Sure is, Father.”

“How are you, child?”

I turned away from him and my hand shook as I lit a
candle. “Everything's good,” I said, and then admonished myself. How dare I lie in church! And to the purest of men! Hadn't I sinned enough already? I decided if I was going to change, I had to start right there. I blew out the match and turned back to the priest. “Father, I need to talk with you … about … my condition.”

“What condition?”

I was afraid and felt as if the entire world was listening to me at that very moment. I cast my eyes down to the marble floor. “Father … I'm pregnant. And I don't want to be. I never wanted to get rid of something more in my life.” I looked into his face and knew I had said something terrible to that holy man.

Father Rinaldi pursed his lips and put his sure hand on my shoulder. “Let's talk by our Blessed Mother,” he said. “She will guide us.” He took my hand and led me back to the pew across from the statue. His voice and his touch soothed me.

“Is Tony Kroon the father?” the priest asked when we had sat down.

“Yes.”

“Do you love him?”

“Not anymore. I was crazy to ever get mixed up with him.”

“The church and I will help you and your child.” He offered assistance, I thought, instead of reminding me that he had told me to stay away from Tony. He's so good, I said to myself. I wanted to be more like him—honest and pure and selfless. But I also knew that no matter how wrong an abortion was, I could not have a baby, least of all one with a crippled soul like Tony's. I just could not. I squirmed in my seat. “Has he hurt you?” Father Rinaldi asked.

I looked away. “Yes, Father. In many ways. I've been wronged and done wrong and that's why I know I can't keep it, not under these circumstances; besides, who will take care of my sick mother and grandmother? They need me more than this
baby. I just want to make this a bad memory and go on with my life … I need the money to get rid of it, you're my only hope at this point.” I could tell that Father Rinaldi was beside himself, caught up in his own fear of me even asking such a thing.

“Samantha, the church … me … I cannot give you money for an abortion. It would be unethical. I mean the mere word can strike me dead. It is not our belief.”

I just frantically hung on to his sleeve. “Well, it's the only belief I have, Father, will you help me? I beg of you … I have to be rid of this and the life that I once had with this person. I've been hurt way too much.”

“Samantha, you are straining me so here. My heart bleeds for you and your thoughts. Do you hear what you are asking of me, as a holy man of the most highest? We must do confession immediately. These horrible thoughts have to leave you.”

“I don't care about confession, I just want to be rid of this baby, I am sorry … so sorry.” I had cried so much I couldn't feel my eyes any longer. I was so desperate.

“An abortion is a mortal sin, Samantha,” Father Rinaldi said. “The Church cannot condone that.” He squeezed my hand. “That's not the answer, child. You must seek strength from our Holy Mother.” I turned back to him and to those eyes that had never lost their luster. “She will help you with what it is you must do,” Father Rinaldi said, and he guided my head to his shoulder. I clutched his black sleeve tighter as my tears of desperation and humiliation fell upon it.

We stood in front of Mary for over an hour, but who was thinking about time when I was consumed with a way out of this? I never stopped begging him to help me. Finally, in my last breath of hope and despair, I gazed upon him one last time.

“Wait here.” Father Rinaldi left to go to the rectory and, after what felt like an eternity, slowly came back with a look of death and despair covering his face. He leaned into me, grabbing me with all of his might, and placed something into my
pocket. I looked at him knowingly and ran out of the church as fast as I could. A poor man was left clenching his fists in his heart and falling to his knees in front of Mary.