Joshua: A Brooklyn Tale (15 page)

He flinched from the sting of the iodine, as he wondered why she hadn’t yet mentioned his sneaking out of the house. Then, it occurred to him: she was probably leaving that for his father.
I’m
sure
she
is
, he mused, wondering how he was going to deal with that.

Alfred entered the house and was removing his coat when the private phone in his study rang. He had a special line installed about three months earlier, after years of Evelyn’s complaints about his tying up the house phone in the evenings. What she had wanted was for him to stop conducting business at home and spend more time with her. She should have known better.

Thinking it was an important call—what else could it be at this time—he hurried and grabbed the receiver by the third ring. The man on the other end identified himself.

“Yes, good evening Rabbi Weissman,” Alfred said with exasperation, wondering about the rabbi’s perfect timing, and also how the rabbi had gotten his private number.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” the rabbi said.

“Well, I just got home and…”

“Then I’ll only be a minute. You see, I’ve spoken vith Paul today and I understand there’s been some problems in school, and some trouble vith kids in the neighborhood.”

Alfred hated the way the rabbi replaced W’s with V’s, pronouncing
v
ith instead of with.
Why
can’t
he
speak
like
an
American
, Alfred wondered.
And
why
can’t
he
stay
out
of
my
fucking
life
.

“I would say so,” Alfred said. Evelyn had called him earlier to tell him about the shopping center incident.

“Vell, I’m calling to tell you that I have a solution to all this.”

What
the
hell
is
“vell,”
Alfred thought.
Maybe
I
should
ask
him.
Yea,
that’s
a
good
idea.
Hey,
rabbi,
what’s
“vell”?
And
he’ll
probably
answer,
“Vell,
Mr.
Sims,
is
a
vord.”
Alfred said nothing.

“I’ve been thinking about how Paul maybe vould be better off in a yeshiva, yes?”

“In a
what
?”

“A yeshiva,” the rabbi repeated, acting as if Alfred hadn’t actually heard him.

“Look rabbi, with all due respect, my wife and I will handle this our way, and that doesn’t include putting Paul in a yeshiva.”

At this point Alfred’s voice grew loud enough for Evelyn to hear from the den where she’d been watching TV. She got up and came into the study to listen to Alfred’s end of the conversation.

“Please, Mr. Sims, before you make any judgments, it seems you should consider how committed Paul is to being a Torah Jew. You can ignore this if you vant, you can even try to change it, but in the end he vill still be what he vants to be. I suppose you could say that he’s maybe like you in that respect?”

Alfred listened to the rabbi’s point. He knew he had long ago lost control over his son, and also realized that Paul was now sixteen, not quite a “boy” anymore. But yeshiva? That was something else. How could he, Alfred Sims—neé Simenovitz—send
his
son to a yeshiva, after having spent most of his life shunning his ethnicity. It was too much to digest.
What’s
next
, he asked himself.
Who
knows,
maybe
the
kid
will
want
to
become
a
rabbi
?

“There is vone more thing I should tell you, Mr. Sims, though you probably already know.”

Alfred waited.

“The boys in our yeshiva don’t get drafted into the army. Ve claim they are all rabbinical students, and the government doesn’t bother them.”

Being a vet himself, Alfred was aware of 4-D deferments. He often thought about the Vietnam war, and what would happen if Paul were drafted. A kid who could barely make it in Hewlett Harbor wouldn’t fare very well in Southeast Asia. The rabbi had struck a chord.

Evelyn noticed the defeat in Alfred’s eyes, something she’d never seen before. She also knew what it meant. She and Alfred had been far from ideal parents, and now it was time to pay.

The rest of Alfred’s conversation with the rabbi was short. Within himself, he couldn’t deny that Paul’s tenacity was indeed inherited. He recalled a Biblical passage from his childhood, the one about the sins of the fathers being visited upon the sons, and realized that his own proclivities had come back to haunt him.

When he hung up, he was silent for a moment, then looked at Evelyn and said, “Well, I guess that’s that.” His tone wasn’t flippant, just resigned.

She shared a final glance with him, and left the room.

Alone in his study, Alfred looked around, reflecting over what his life had become. He pictured his mother, how she would have been proud of Paul in a way she had never been of him. He also reminisced about his father, a simple man from the old country who, though forced to work on the Sabbath, never lit a cigarette from sundown Friday through Saturday evening. Avrum Simenovitz, a devoted Jew, would have been appalled at the life his son had chosen, yet would have found great satisfaction in his grandson.
Yes
Mama
, Alfred thought,
now
Papa
is
really
turning
over
in
his
grave
.
Turning
over
and
laughing.

A week later, Paul Sims was enrolled in the Yeshiva O’havei Torah on Eastern Parkway in Crown Heights, a high school yeshiva for boys under the auspices of the Lubavitcher Hasidim. That Sunday, his father accompanied him, and most of his worldly possessions, to the dormitory. As the car pulled up, Rabbi Weissman was waiting outside on the sidewalk, holding the black fedora which Paul had kept at his home. Alfred and Paul emerged from the car, shook hands with the rabbi, and the rabbi handed Paul the hat.

Alfred watched, wincing as his son put the fedora on, relieved that Evelyn had chosen not to accompany them. He looked at Paul, and realized for the first time that his son was truly a stranger. And deep in his heart, sadly enough, he understood that this was exactly what he had forced the boy to become.

CHAPTER 15
 

“If I ran away, would you come with me?” Celeste asked.

“What are you talking about?” Joshua replied.

“One day I’m gonna go,” she said. “I just wanna know if you’re coming.” Her eyes were pensive, her voice soft and serious. She looked past him, at the trees behind the park bench on which they sat.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Don’t know,” she answered hesitantly, her eyes still looking elsewhere. “Don’t matter.”

“I thought things were okay now.”

“What’s okay?”

“You know, your father don’t hit you and Jerome any more. And you and I are okay, too.”

“Oh.” Impassive.

“Oh
what
?”

“I guess you’re right,” she said without conviction.

He let it drop, but was still worried. He wanted to tell her he would go anywhere with her, only he couldn’t. A year ago there wouldn’t have been a question, he would have packed his bags on the spot. But now things were different. He’d been off the streets, getting straight A’s in school, and his mother had been treating him like a man. Moreover, Loretta was growing tired and needed him around. He wanted to be with Celeste, but he had responsibilities. He hoped she would understand that he couldn’t choose between her and his mother, and prayed he wouldn’t have to.

The next day, Celeste didn’t show up in school. Joshua wanted to ask Jerome if everything was okay, but they hadn’t spoken since the stabbing incident. It would have been a poor ice breaker for him to remind Jerome of his continued involvement with Celeste.

Joshua couldn’t figure Jerome out. He believed Jerome hated his father, and might one day even kill the man himself. In any event, Jerome had become quite the “holy roller.” He attended church several times a week, and spent most afternoons and weekends at Roy Sharp’s home, studying religion with Roy’s father, the preacher. Joshua wondered if it helped.

After lunch, Joshua noticed that Jerome didn’t return to class, and wondered if Jerome had also been concerned about Celeste’s absence. He reassured himself that she wouldn’t have run away without him.

Or
would
she
?

Just as the class was about to begin, he got up and hurried home.

He tapped on her bedroom window, but she didn’t appear. Harder, and still nothing. Something was wrong. He tried the back door to the building, but it was locked, so he decided to go around to the front.

He ran up the alley and down the block. As he approached the building, he saw a large crowd gathered out front. In the street sat two police cars and one unmarked car with a flashing red light. On the sidewalk, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Williams and Jerome talking with two plain clothed policemen whom he recognized: good ol’ Detectives McQuade and What’s-His-Name.

He came a little closer, and was about to ask a bystander what was happening, but before he could, Mr. Williams spotted him, pointed angrily, and yelled. The next thing he knew, the police were running toward him.

Now, there were many things Joshua had learned on the streets, and paramount among them was that when the cops run, so do you. It didn’t matter why, or what they suspected he may or may not have done; he could ponder all that later. For now, fleeing was the only option.

He ran up Rochester, onto Eastern Parkway, and by the time he passed Dubrows Cafeteria, it seemed the police had stopped giving chase. He slowed down, caught his breath, and started walking. He assumed Celeste had probably run away, and that the police were betting he had something to do with it. Now that he had run, they would be certain.

He had to find her. He wandered the neighborhood, searching alleys all afternoon, and once it was dark, he ventured back out to the street. He figured the night would camouflage him, for these days there were lots of “brothers” roaming around the neighborhood, and to the cops they all looked alike.

It was past midnight. He’d been searching for almost twelve hours, was tired, hungry, and worried about his mother. Celeste had either disappeared or had already returned; in either case, he was convinced he was wasting his time. He decided to go home and face the music.

As he sauntered down Rochester, he noticed some hookers across the street, outside the park. He knew there was prostitution in the neighborhood, but had never been out late enough to actually see it. He stopped, stood still, and watched for a while as several cars cruised by.

Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind and lost his balance. Someone was pulling him backwards into an alley. He couldn’t tell who it was, and tried to resist. His sneakers scraped the concrete as he struggled to free himself, but his assailant was too strong.

Once in the alley, he was thrown to the ground, and noticed a third person watching. He got up slowly, looked at his foes, and swallowed hard. Faces from the past.

Big Bob wore a cool expression. “Well, well, look what we got here,” he said.

Bones grinned, but said nothing.

Joshua was also silent.

“Long time no see, Peanut, my man,” Big Bob continued. He smiled widely, revealing a large mouth of browned teeth and gold caps.

Joshua nodded. It was a good time to be agreeable.

“You got nothing to say for yourself?” Big Bob asked.

Joshua looked at them; he had to figure a way out. “You know, the police are looking for me all over. So is my Mama and her friends. They’re probably not far.”

“Poss-ib-ly,” Big Bob responded, “but seems they ain’t found you yet, don’t it?”

“But they will, probably soon.”

“I suppose we should be scared,” Big Bob said as he and Bones chuckled.

Joshua realized he was stuck there. His fear was showing.

“I heard about you and that girlfriend of yours,” Big Bob said. “Seems you bought yourself some trouble.”

“You know about that?”

“I know everything, don’t you realize that by now? Ain’t nothing happens on these streets I don’t know.”

Joshua didn’t respond.

“Another thing I know is what that young girl’s daddy been doing to her, and I don’t mean those little beatings.”

“Huh?”

“I’m saying her daddy been doing her.” He and Bones chuckled again.

“Bullshit!” Joshua barked.

“Now, you ain’t that stupid, are you?” Big Bob asked, looking directly into his eyes. Bones was still laughing.

“You were always a liar!” Joshua said, shedding his fear. He didn’t care what they did to him at this point.

“Suit yourself,” Big Bob said.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“What difference does it make? You don’t believe it noways.”

“That’s right, I don’t!”

“Good! So let’s get down to business. First, you owe me, and I intend to collect on that debt.”

“I still got the money. I can go get it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I ain’t that dumb. I let you go now, I’m gonna have to come looking for you all over again, and I don’t got time for that. Now, I also believe there’s some interest due. And last, there’s a little matter of loyalty—it don’t look good for business if I let someone get away with what you did, understand?”

Only
too
well
, Joshua thought. “So, what are you gonna do?”

“What am I gonna do?” he mimicked. “I ain’t
gonna
do nothing. Fact is, I already done it.” More laughing. “You see, Peanut, my man, I know where your little girlfriend is. Like I said, I know everything. Get my meaning?”

Joshua knew Big Bob wanted more than to simply kick the shit out of him. “Where is she?” he asked.

“She’s safe, for now,” Big Bob answered, as he looked out the alley, across the street toward the hookers. He turned back to Joshua with another wicked smile.

One
day
I’m
going
to
kill
you
, Joshua thought; “What do you want?” he said.

“You sure you wanna do business? You know, that girl is a lot safer with me than with her daddy. At least with us, she makes good money for doing that sort of thing.”

Bones laughed hard.

“What do you want?” Joshua repeated. He tried to stay calm, despite what he’d heard about Celeste’s father.

“Looks like the boy wants to do business,” Big Bob said to Bones.

“Seem so,” Bones replied.

Big Bob was pensive for a moment. “This here’s what I want from you. Listen now, so there ain’t no misunderstanding!” He looked at Bones who nodded and echoed, “No misunderstanding!”

“First,” Big Bob began, “I want my five hundred dollars. Second, I want an additional five hundred dollars interest…”

“But I ain’t got…”

“
Don’t
interrupt me, boy!” He looked at Bones. “I think we might have to teach the boy some manners.”

Bones nodded again.

“Now, where was I?” Big Bob mused. “Ah yes, the third thing—your disloyalty. There are many ways to make you pay for that.” He stuck his face in Joshua’s, and pressed his forefinger into Joshua’s chest. “Many ways,” he repeated. “But I’m in a generous mood tonight, so I think I’ll just tack on another five hundred dollars.”

Joshua’s face burned.

“Yes, another five,” Big Bob said again. “What’s that come to?” he asked, looking at Bones.

“One Thou-sand Five Hun-dred Dollars,” Bones proclaimed.

“That sounds about right,” Big Bob confirmed.

“Where do you expect me to get that kind of money?” Joshua asked.

“I hear your Mama has a rich boss, the same boss your girlfriend’s daddy has. I also heard this man once paid a lot of money to get you out of trouble with the police. He’ll pay again to get you out of this.”

“What if he won’t?” Joshua asked.

“If he don’t,” Big Bob said, leaning in to Joshua’s face, “then your little girlfriend’s gonna have to work it off in trade! Get my meaning?”

Loud
and
clear
, Joshua thought.

“Now, you get going and round up the money. You got twenty-four hours, not a minute more. Tomorrow night, at this time, I want you to walk up and down the sidewalk. I’ll find you. Any cops or surprises, deal’s off, and the girl stays with me.” He looked at Bones, adding, “That wouldn’t be so bad, she’s a nice looking thing.”

It was close to one in the morning when Joshua entered the front door of his building. He had been dwelling on Big Bob’s assertions about Celeste and her father, which made some sense in light of Celeste’s recent behavior. He walked through the lobby, and took the stairs to the basement. He came to the Williams’ door, rang the bell, and waited.

Through the space under the door he could see that the lights were on, and figured they were still awake, waiting for news about Celeste. The door opened and Mr. Williams’ face appeared.

Williams, who had probably been expecting the police or even Celeste herself, appeared shocked. He instinctively grabbed Joshua by the shirt, pulled him inside, and threw him across the room. Joshua knocked over a lamp and some other ornaments, landing hard on the wooden floor. The lamp came down on his head and fell to his side.

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Williams yelled, running from the kitchen. She saw Joshua on the floor, and was about to help him.

“Stay where you are!” Williams demanded. “I’m gonna teach this boy a lesson.”

Joshua was lying face-down; the room was spinning; he felt nauseous. He vaguely heard a woman yelling, “
No,
No
!” but it was hard to hear anything above the ringing in his ears. Through blurred vision, he was barely able to see Williams come at him a second time. He tried to get up, but couldn’t.

Williams lunged through the air. Joshua managed to turn on his side to avoid getting crushed, causing Williams to also land on the floor. Joshua saw that the impact had weakened Williams, and tried once more to hoist himself up. But Williams’ arm reached out and held him down, though the man’s face was also on the floor.

Joshua saw the solid brass base of the broken lamp about two feet from his eyes. He reached and grabbed hold of it, feeling it was heavy enough to be useful. Without hesitation, he swung it with all his strength and smashed it into the back of Williams’ head. Williams’ hold loosened, then went limp.

Joshua pulled away.

Williams wasn’t moving.

Joshua figured Williams was unconscious, and was about to drop the lamp. But he couldn’t, he had to make sure that Williams would never again bother Celeste. He had to finish the job. All he knew was madness as he raised the lamp and delivered the final blow.