Teen Angel (14 page)

“But everyone else did it,” Sonny cried.

“I don’t care what your hoodlum friends do. You were not raised to be in the street like some common piece of garbage.” She turned away from Sonny.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please don’t tell Dad.”

“I called your father at the factory. He’s leaving early.”

“Mom, you didn’t,” Sonny begged. “Please say you didn’t.”

“I did and maybe he can teach you a lesson. I can’t deal with
you anymore. You were so good as a little girl. But then I don’t know what happened …” Her mother burst into tears.

“I won’t do it again. I’ll go to school. I promise,” Sonny said, trying to hug her mother.

She threw Sonny’s arms off of her. “You and your promises. As long as you live in my house, you cannot do as you please. And I don’t care what your hoodlum friends do. Some friends you choose. Hoodlums. Juvenile delinquents. Drinking, smoking cigarettes, boys. At fourteen–”

“I’m almost fifteen.”

“Just stay in your room until your father comes home. I don’t want to see your miserable face!” She walked out of Sonny’s room, slamming the door behind her.

The letters of her banner sparkled in the mirror. LEGNA NEET. Even if she was permanently crippled and had to be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life, she was proud to have been a Teen Angel. And she did not regret cutting school because it meant one less day of Mrs. King. Even if the party was a drag, somewhat. Sonny buried her head under the pillow.
Nobody loves me, everybody hates me. I’m gonna eat some worms. Big worms, little worms, squishy-ishy-wishy worms
.

A knock on her door startled her. “Sonny,” Mike called. “Can I come in?” He opened the door before she answered.

“The point of knocking,” Sonny lectured, “is so that I can tell you if I want you to come in. I don’t. What do you want anyway?”

“What’s all the screaming about?” he asked, sitting on her bed.

“Nothing.” Sonny stood up and walked over to her dresser.

“Then why was Mommy screaming?” Mike followed behind her.

“Because.”

“Because why?” he asked, looking at her with his head tilted sideways.

“Don’t do that or your head will fall off.” Sonny paused. “Because it’s none of your business.”

“Is Daddy going to hit you?”

Sonny dropped her mascara stick on the dresser. “You know,
you are a first-class moron. And you ask too many questions. Now, beat it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Mike said. “I just don’t want him to hit you, Son …”

She avoided Mike’s eyes. Most of the time, she couldn’t stand his sniffling, draggy face, which she always had to wipe. He followed wherever she went and then always got lost or fell so his knees bled. And she felt so embarrassed by his dumb yarmulka, which she pulled off his head. But now, as he stood before her in his checkered flannel pajamas, she felt something like a wave of love sweep over her.

“Well, are you going to just stand there?”

“Maybe I could talk to him for you.”

“Mikey, thanks but no thanks. You can’t do anything. It’s too late anyway …”

“Do you want to play Jacks?” he asked, placing his small hand in hers. “Maybe Clue. How about Old Maid?”

“Not right now,” Sonny said, dropping his hand, which felt like a tiny shell. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Son. I won’t let him do anything. I won’t. If he touches you, I’ll hit him.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “I want to be by myself.”

“See you later, radiator,” Mike said, winking as he closed the door.

Sonny peered into the mirror. Every pimple, blackhead, pore on her face could be seen. And they all looked ugly. Pressing the forefingers of both hands, she began her search and destroy mission. First, any pimples she found. When there were no more, she attacked pores on her nose, forehead and chin. She began with the tips of her fingers, but she also used her nails and her mother’s tweezer. Afterward her skin looked raw and scarred like a pack of hungry birds had been pecking at her face. Maybe her father would take pity on her.

He came in. She could hear them talking. Her mother repeated the telephone conversation but made it sound worse. Then she said, “Something has to be done with Sonny or she’s going to end up in the streets. I just can’t handle her anymore. Do you understand, Heniek? She’s too much. I’ve done everything that I can but she’s just too much for me …”
Give that lady in the flowered housedress an Oscar
.

Sonny sat on her bed to wait. Then she ran to sit with her back against the door.
What am I going to do?
Her father walked past her room into the bedroom where he changed his clothes. Then he went into the bathroom. She heard the toilet flush.

Sonny looked around the room,
There was nowhere to hide
. Once she had sat crouched in the back of the closet. When he had pulled her out, he had dragged along several dresses on hangers. As he tried to pull them off his arms, they became tangled. Finally he ripped them apart. Sonny looked around herself desperately. She wished someone tough like the Gooch was with her right now. The Gooch would tell him where to get off and he wouldn’t lay a single finger on her. She was as scared as the time she got lost in the library and had to run through all the aisles searching for her mother. But she had been little then.
Why did she have to be such an asshole?

He turned off the water faucet. Sonny ran to her dresser in the corner of the room and tried to move it. It wouldn’t budge at first. But when she leaned her shoulder and hip against it, pushing with her full weight, it moved several inches. Sonny continued to push it as she heard him walking down the hallway. She secured the dresser against the door.

He turned the knob of her door. It did not open. “Sonny,” he demanded. “Open the door this minute.”

She did not answer, sitting with her back against the dresser.

“I know you’re in there. Now open this door immediately.”

Sonny started counting backward from one thousand.

“If you don’t open this door, you’re going to feel sorrier than you ever did before. OPEN THIS DOOR! Do you hear me?” He commanded, banging on the door. “OPEN UP!”

“You better open the door, young lady,” her mother said, joining him. “We won’t stand for this. Open the door this minute!”

Sonny was up to nine-hundred-eighty-eight.

“OPEN THE DOOR!” he yelled. “I warn you, Sonny. Do you hear me?”

“Daddy, stop it!” Mike screamed. “She didn’t do anything.”

Nine-hundred-fifty
.

“Go away!” her mother screamed. “Your sister has been a very bad girl. Go to your room!”

“I’m going to count to ten,” her father said. “If you don’t open the door by then, I’m going to knock it down. Do you hear me? TEN.”

Nine-hundred-fifty
.

“Don’t dad. She’ll be better,” Mike said. “She said she will …”

“EIGHT.”

Nine-hundred fifty
.

“Sonny, if you don’t open the door, your father is going to become very angry at you. Now if you don’t want your father to be angry, open the door this minute.”

“FIVE.”

“Dad, don’t hurt Sonny.”

“Mike, I told you to go to your room. If you don’t go to your room, you’re going to get a spanking you won’t forget,” her mother said.

“THREE.”

Sonny stopped counting. She held her breath.

“ONE! Open the door, Sonny. NOW!”

“Sonny, your father just wants to talk to you,” her mother said.

“Open the door.”

“I just want to talk to you,” he repeated.

“No, you don’t,” Sonny said. “You’re going to hit me.”

“No, I won’t,” he said. “I’m not going to hit you.”

“Yes, you will.”

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said. “Now open the door.”

“I don’t believe you,” Sonny said.

“OPEN THE DOOR THIS MINUTE! OPEN THE DOOR!” He began to bang on the door so loudly that Sonny was afraid it would cave in. “OPEN UP!”

“Heniek!” her mother screamed.

“Do you promise you won’t hit me?” Sonny asked.

“OPEN THE DOOR!”

“Say you promise.”

“I won’t promise her anything!” He screamed at her mother. His banging on the door kept getting louder. “OPEN THE DOOR!”

Slowly, Sonny moved the dresser from the door.

“ARE YOU OPENING?”

“Just a minute,” she said. “But you won’t hit me …”

She pushed the dresser. When several inches were still needed to clear the door, he forced it open, banging loudly against the dresser. Then he forced his way in, pushing the dresser with one powerful shove.

“Daddy, don’t,” Sonny pleaded as she moved backward into the room. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t do anything bad.”

He kicked the door shut with his foot. “You think you can make your own rules around here. You don’t have to go to school when you don’t feel like it.”

Sonny scurried backward on her bed until she was up against the wall.

“Why can’t you be good? Is it so hard to be like everyone else?” he screamed, pacing back and forth. “Do I drink? Do I gamble our money away like other men? No. I work long hard hours so you and your brother can have everything. Don’t you have a television?
I never had anything.” He rolled his sleeves up. Sonny could see the veins on his arms and the blue numbers tattooed above his wrist.

“Daddy, I’m sorry–” Sonny began.

“Sorry? You’re always sorry. Why can’t you think before you do something? Sorry …” He pulled his belt out of the loops of his pants.

“I won’t do it again. Please.”

“Do you think I like to hit you?” he said, holding the strap above her so the buckle reflected the light.

“I promise …” Sonny began to cry.

“Now she cries. Someone has to teach you how to behave. Turn over,” he commanded.

Sonny began to cry louder, clutching at her father’s arm.

“Do you hear me? You asked for this. Now turn over!” When Sonny refused to budge, he lifted her up and turned her over so she lay on her stomach. Then, with the strap, he began to slap her behind. But it didn’t hurt too bad because she was still wearing her longline panty girdle.

“Have you had enough?” he said. “Maybe next time you won’t do something stupid.” His eye caught the banner hanging over her bed. “Teen Angel?” he muttered. “Is that what you and your hoodlum friends call yourselves?” He reached up and tore it off the wall. “Teen Angel. Shmeen Angel. I’ll give you a Teen Angel!”

“Daddy, don’t do anything to it!” Sonny bolted to grab the banner out of his hands.

“This is what she cares about. Not her mother or school. Teen Angel …” He took the banner in both hands and tried to rip it.

Sonny tugged at his arm. “Stop it!” As she tried to get the banner, the belt flew out of his hand and the buckle’s sharp edge cut the side of her chin.

“Oh!” Sonny cried out in pain, covering her chin with her hand.

“Genia, come quickly. Sonny is bleeding!” he screamed.

Her mother ran in, followed by Mike.

“It just fell out of my hand,” her father said, shaking his head.

“What did you do to her?” her mother demanded, running to Sonny.

“It was an accident,” he said.

“My God!” she screamed. “How could you do this?”

“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” He beat his fist against the headboard, making the whole bed shake. Then he ran out of the room.

“The maniac,” her mother said. “Beast!” she called after him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt my little girl,” he groaned as he locked the bathroom door behind him.

She dabbed Sonny’s chin with a wad of cotton. “This doesn’t look so bad.”

Sonny turned her face away from her mother.

“Now how can I see if you do that?” She tried to stroke her hair but Sonny shook her hand off. “You know we both love you, don’t you? That’s why we have to protect you.”

“Is Sonny going to die?” Mike asked.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said.

Sonny stared down at the ripped banner lying at the foot of her bed. Though some of the glitter had disappeared, she could still make out the letters.

Sonny got four stitches. A gauze pad was taped to her chin. So she stayed in bed with
Photoplay, Modern Screen
, and a stack of
Archie
and
Superman
comic books, eating pizzas and strawberry floats. Not too bad at all even though her mother kept saying junk like “Can I get something for my poor little girl?” As for her father, he worked overtime every night, returning after she was asleep. Then he slept into the afternoon and left soon after he awoke. She was relieved not to have to see him.

“I won’t touch myself. I won’t …” She tried to keep her fingers away. But she couldn’t. “Okay, just this time. But no more.” Even if she was deforming herself more than she already was,
No, D.B.’s didn’t hang as much as hers
, she did it anyway. She was a doctor searching for a cancer cure. An astronaut in a rocket landing on the moon.
Gently
. A Morse code operator tapping a message that would save the country from a surprise Communist attack.
Hurry! Hurry!

They saw each other across a crowded dance floor. Ruben! He ran to embrace her. Then the music began. “Sonny …” Ruben sang, “I know a girl named Sonny. She’s wonderful, she’s sweet, the cutest girl on the street … SONNY!” As they walked away together, he looked into her eyes. “I never knew you had green eyes. You’re so lovely …” She smiled shyly. “I love you.” They kissed. Although she kept her eyes shut, tears glistened like stars around her eyelashes. THE END
.

After the doctor cut the black thread which looked like little worms in his hand, he asked, “How did you cut yourself anyway?”

Before she could answer, her mother said, “She fell down roller skating. You really should be more careful, Sonny.”

She didn’t say anything. When they reached the street, her mother asked, “Did it hurt bubeleh? It’s okay. You look just fine. The doctor said you won’t have a scar. You see, everything turned out all right.”

Yeah, they were the family from
Father Knows Best
, where there was a terrific father like Robert Young who smoked a pipe and listened to his children. Then there was Jane Wyatt, who never got nervous and cursed. And the kids never
really
got in trouble. Maybe they dented a car. Or they were accused of cheating on a test but it turned out that they hadn’t really and then the father figured it all out and everyone was much closer at the end.
Leave It
to Beaver
.