Sins of the Father

by Vincent B Davis II

  “You should have let me go out with that boy, Father.”

  “So you could come back with a wee one in your belly? I’m sure an Italian would be around to help you care for it. Bah!”

  “I’m pleased you think so highly of me.” The truth was, she hadn’t been with a man in any capacity since before her mother died four years before. Millie had all but forgotten what it felt like to be wrapped in a strong embrace. But she had spent all those years taking care of her father when he was drunk. Someone had to.

  “Fill me up.” He held up his flask and wiggled it.

  “Say please,” she uncharacteristically demanded, and remained in her seat.

  He snorted and stood to pour the whiskey himself.

  It took both of their combined incomes to provide for their Williamsburg apartment. Patrick worked on the subways being constructed, and Millie worked as a seamstress. She sometimes wondered if her father could cover the cost himself if he didn’t spend so much on overpriced rotgut whiskey.

  He stumbled his way around the room, stomping like he weighed more than his withered frame really did.

  “Mother Mary.” She exhaled, stood, and helped him onto the couch. Then she filled up his cup and took it to him. “I’m going to bed,” she said once he was situated. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for several hours, but her patience was wearing thin. This was the third night this week he had been like this.

  When she turned for her room, he gripped her wrist with surprising speed and strength.

  “Hey.” He forced her to meet his eyes, and for a moment, he seemed almost sober. “I’m not ready for sleep. And I need you to take care of me.”

  She took a seat beside him on the couch, and watched him drink, in silence.

  Her thoughts drifted back to Sonny. She wanted to see him again. She wanted to ask him questions. She wanted to see what color his hair was under that fedora.

  There was something mysterious about him that made her knees weak. Mysterious usually meant trouble, and she wasn’t some spoiled debutante who needed trouble to rescue her from a sheltered life. But she didn’t see trouble in his eyes. She saw kindness. Tenderness. Vulnerability.

  When she came to, she realized her father was fast asleep, his head back and mouth open, flask still open and in hand. She had been daydreaming for longer than she’d realized.

  She froze and waited for a moment before standing slowly to ensure the wood didn’t creak beneath her.

  Millie leaned in. She waved a hand over his eyes. She snapped her fingers. Patrick didn’t budge.

  Still light on her feet, she hurried to her room. She brandished the makeup mirror that had once belonged to her mother and applied a little blush, a touch of rouge to her lips.

  She was going to see that boy. And she was going to have her questions answered.

  Williamsburg, Brooklyn—June 4, 1930

  No one answered when she knocked on Sonny’s door, but after disobeying Patrick, nothing was going to stop her.

  She opened the door and peeped inside.

  “Hello? Sonny?”

  The music of Eddie Cantor carried through the apartment. She leaned in until she caught sight of Sonny on the couch, bouncing his head with the music and singing along.

  “Sonny?”

  He jumped like he’s seen a ghost, and hurried to slide something under the New York Times beside him.

  “Millie?”

  She tried to respond but couldn’t stop giggling.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.” She paused again for another fit. “I’ve just given you a fright a few times now.” She continued to chuckle, but she sobered a bit when she considered why he was so on edge.

  After a brief moment of embarrassment, he laughed at himself and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “You’re lighter on your feet than the people I have around here.” She stepped in and closed the door.

  “Oh yeah, yeah, come in,” he said, ashamed that he hadn’t invited her.

  “Sorry, I should have just gone back home when you didn’t answer. That was quite rude of me.”

  “No, not at all. Did I really leave the door unlocked?”

  “I don’t have a key.”

  “Madonna mia, I’m not the smartest fella, huh?”

  She flushed as she looked him up and down, noticing the muscles his suits hid so well.

  “Already in an undershirt? You must have been working diligently at something.”

  He hastened to pull his suspenders over his shoulders. “I don’t usually have visitors. Just the crosswords.” He nodded to the paper and grinned. “Can I get you something?”

  Her heart began to flutter, but she straightened her back and lifted her chin.

  “I want you to take me out.”

  “Oh? Ah yeah. Sure. Let me grab my coat.” He stumbled over his words, which she found adorable. “Did your father change his mind?” He hurried to the coatrack.

  She nodded. “Mm-hmm. Said he was sorry for being rude and that you should show me a very special evening.”

  Sonny’s face lit up. It was the first time she had seen his smile, and the little dimples around it. She wanted to see it more often.

  “Now the pressure is on. I’m a bit nervous, if I do say.”

  “You were already nervous. Want me to wait in the hall?”

  “No, almost there.” He hurried to button his shirt and tuck it in. He threw a coat over his shoulders and didn’t bother with a tie. “I better make sure I lock up this time.” He winked as they exited out into the hall.

  At the front steps of the apartment, he stepped to the curb and hailed a cab.

  “Where should we go?” he asked.

  “You decide, you silly man.” She almost liked that he didn’t know the rules of courting. Or perhaps she didn’t know them anymore; it had been a while, after all.

  When they entered the taxi, she sat an appropriate distance away from him but felt herself nudging closer throughout the ride, her breathing becoming faster along the way.

  The cab pulled to a stop in Times Square. It was a rather cliché place to take a gal, and the ride had taken far longer than she’d hoped, but Patrick wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon.

  She noticed that Sonny paid the driver a handsome tip, a far cry from her miserly father. He wouldn’t have taken a cab to begin with.

  “I’d ask if you wanted to eat, but I know you already did.” His face shone in the blinking lights of nearby buildings.

  “Maybe some dessert?”

  “Want to see a nickelodeon?”

  “We can’t talk if we’re in a show.” She tried to smile flirtatiously, but he seemed to miss it.

  “You’re a difficult girl to please,” he said, a bit more familiar than he had been previously.

  “Would you have it any other way?”

  “Maybe we could grab a drink?” His eyes widened, and he blushed as soon as he said this. “A tea or something. A decaf?”

  “How about something stiffer?”

  Sonny looked stunned.

  “I don’t drink. Do you drink? I drink. Sometimes. In moderation.”

  He gulped and she laughed.

  She touched his arm for the first time.

  “Just buy me a drink, you silly man.” She realized it was the second time she had called him that, and she felt silly herself. It wasn’t as cute the second time, and she was aware of it.

  He didn’t seem to mind, though. He placed a hand on hers.

  “Well, I don’t know why you’d think that I’d know where to find a place to drink.”

  Her laughter carried across Times Square.

  Millie never assumed she was street smart, especially in Manhattan, but she could tell they passed by a few juice joints as they walked. Each time Sonny would slow and peek inside. The music would pour out, and for a moment, she’d believe they would enter. He’d crane his head inside and then say the place was no good.

  “You better get me a drink soon, Sonny, or
you’re going to have to carry me. My dogs are barking,” she said, pretending to be exasperated.

  “Coming up, princess.” He feigned a smile, but she felt he was more distant than before, more guarded with each speakeasy they passed.

  “Here we go,” he said the next time they found one. Sonny slid the doorman a five-dollar bill, and the man quickly stepped aside to let them enter. Maybe Manhattan rules were different, but who had the kind of money to throw it away so flippantly? She was almost intrigued by it. At the very least, she was curious, but she hadn’t had a chance to ask her questions yet.

  “You sure this is okay?” he asked over the roar of the jazz players and the stomping feet of all the dancers.

  “You act like it’s my first time!” It was, of course. Not drinking, but going to an establishment like this one. She wasn’t going to let her date know this, though.

  “And you want a drink with…alcohol in it?” He lowered his voice as he spoke, as if he were afraid the drunks around him would overhear.

  “I’ll drink you under the table, Sonny.” She realized she was peddling papers. She was too busy taking care of her father to partake very often. The only wine she drank was during communion. But Irish girls, even half Irish, were supposed to be boastful, and she was careful to maintain the image.

  “What do you want, then?”

  “Whatever you’re having.” Another check she couldn’t cash.

  “I’ll take two brown,” Sonny said to the server girl who approached.

  “One each?”

  “I’ll take six, then.” He grinned at her and shook his head. Millie was impressed when he didn’t crane his head to check out the waitress in that skimpy dress.

  The drinks were there quickly. Millie found herself amazed that this “restaurant” could serve alcoholic beverages so flippantly. She was just as impressed that he bought six drinks at two dollars a pop like it was nothing. Even her father would have found that excessive, but Sonny didn’t seem to squirm. Perhaps he just really liked her, or perhaps he had more money than a Williamsburg apartment would suggest.

  “Salute,” Sonny lifted one of the shots, and Millie did the same.

  “Slainte,” she said in her native tongue, and took the entire shot in one gulp.

  Millie fought back the bile in her throat and pretended she wasn’t affected.

  Sonny’s face scrunched a bit, but she could tell it wasn’t his first time. She grabbed the second shot and waited for him to do the same.

  He laughed.

  “You don’t want to enjoy the music for just a moment?”

  “I thought you bought these so we could drink them?” she responded.

  He shrugged and picked up the next shot.

  The both took it again, and this time, neither of them reacted as much.

  Her stomach already felt warm from the alcohol, but perhaps it was just the cigarette smog and body heat that clouded the room.

  “Another?”

  Sonny laughed again. She watched him attentively, and wanted him to keep laughing. That smile sure was handsome.

  “Am I going to have to buy more after this?”

  “I’ll let you know when we’re done with this one.” She was aware that she was acting like some other girl; perhaps she was pretending to be the girl she figured Sonny wanted. Regardless, she was enjoying herself.

  She took the next shot along with her beau.

  “Do I need to get more?” he said.

  She leaned in and touched his shoulder playfully.

  “Do I look like I’m satisfied?”

  He tried to stifle a boyish grin, but she noticed it anyway. He turned to signal the waitress, but Millie was already feeling light-headed, in the best sort of way. She wanted to keep drinking because she wanted to make a mistake tonight, and she knew he wouldn’t do it sober.

  “Have you ever kissed a girl before?” she blurted out. Millie was surprised to find that she didn’t regret it.

  “Why does everyone ask that?” he answered, playfully offended.

  “Have you?”

  “Of course, I have.”

  “Want to kiss another?” She leaned in and pressed her chest against him, looking up at his eyes. They had never seemed so handsome before.

  And he didn’t hesitate. Before she knew what was happening, she was swept up in his embrace, and his lips were on hers.

  A shout came from beside them. “Oh, Sonny Boy, enjoying yourself?” Both of them jumped, startled.

  “Jesus, Buffalo, I nearly hit you,” Sonny said, pulling away from Millie, not hiding his disappointment. The man approaching wrapped his arms around Sonny’s neck and rubbed his knuckles over his head. “Stop.” Sonny pushed him away and tried to force a smile. His irritation was visible, whether he wanted it to be or not.

  “Come on, pal, I had to say hellos to you. Who’s this?” He gestured to Millie. The girl who’d approached with the man stood by with a coy grin on her face. She wore a vulgar dress and a flowered headband that made Millie feel inadequately prepared for the occasion. The flat-brimmed hat and yellow chemise Millie wore wasn’t nearly as revealing, or accentuating.

  “None of your damn business, Charlie.” Sonny’s patience was clearly wearing thin. Millie didn’t want any trouble, but there was a part of her that did want to see Sonny’s true side. If it was violent, she was surprised to find that she might still like it. Perhaps it was just the alcohol.

  Charlie touched her hip.

  “She’s a sweet thing.”

  “Charlie!” Sonny pushed his associate violently. The man adjusted his expensive suit and starting breathing heavily through flared nostrils.

  “What’s eating you?” Charlie asked, adjusting the stylish hairdo that had momentarily been swept to the side.

  “She’s not that kind of girl.”

  Sonny puffed his chest out, and for a moment, Millie thought he might hit the man. She almost wanted him to. She would have liked to see a man defending her rather than demeaning her like her father did.

  “I meant no offense, Sonny. I thought she was just a comare like this one,” Sonny’s friend said, gesturing to the girl behind him, who didn’t seem perturbed by the comment.

  Sonny’s demeanor relaxed, and he turned to Millie. She could tell from his gaze that he was embarrassed.

  “Sorry. Let me get everyone a drink, okay?” He smiled like he meant it and leaned in to give Millie a kiss on her flushed cheeks before he departed. She nearly melted.

  But then she was left with Sonny’s strange friend. Who was this man? Why did they know each other? And why did both of them have enough money to buy expensive suits?

  “That fella is a stand-up guy, you understand?” Sonny’s associate stepped closer. He seemed to want to make up for the disruption.

  “Is that right?” Millie played along. She wanted to hear more.

  “He can take care of you too. He’s a big shot. Got me? He and his own half of Little Italy. There isn’t a business on Mulberry or Elizabeth that doesn’t pay him a vig.”

  “Oh, what do you mean?”

  The man Sonny called “Charlie Buffalo” seemed pretty stunned. His jaw dropped, making him look like a Neanderthal. He knew he had made a mistake. Millie played along like she was really stunned. But she’d had her suspicions to begin with. It didn’t change how she felt about Sonny. She still thought he had more sadness and kindness in his eyes than trouble. She still wanted him.

  Regardless, the little fellow departed quickly, dragging his woman of the night with him. Millie smiled triumphantly.

  “Hey, where’d they go? I got drinks for everyone.” Despite the question, Sonny seemed relieved.

  “How’d you know that fellow?” she asked. She already assumed the answer, some sort of criminal activity. But she wanted to see how he’d respond. Either way, he still treated her better than how a law-abiding citizen like her father did.

  “Oh, him? I know him from work. I work in a barbershop. He gets his hair cut the
re.”

  “He seemed awfully familiar.”

  “What?” The music was picking up, so Sonny had to lean in.

  “I said, he seemed awfully familiar!”

  “Oh, long-time customer.” He smiled but didn’t show his teeth like she wanted, and passed her another shot.

  “More for us, I guess.”

  “You sure we should keep going?”

  “Just take your shot, silly man.” There she went again. Was that the best she had? She drained the shot, and he did too, so perhaps he didn’t notice.

  They took a few more, at her bequest. She was well aware by now that the alcohol was getting the better of her, but she didn’t care.

  She locked eyes with him and didn’t break it until he met hers. She wasn’t quite bold enough to voice her desires. She’d need a few more shots before that. But she wanted to make her body language as clear as possible.

  A commotion broke out across the restaurant, disrupting their intimate gaze.

  Three men in fine suits stood around a man with his face smooshed into the felt of the table before him.

  “And if you don’t pay me by tomorrow evening, I’ll find you. And I’ll make you eat more than felt, capisce?”

  Millie noticed Sonny couldn’t take his gaze off the incident.

  “Come on, we should go.” He kept his gaze on the gentlemen across the room, but took her hands in his and started to lead her toward the door.

  “Wait, we still have two drinks!”

  “I’ll buy us more.” He picked up his pace.

  “You don’t owe them money,” she said, pouting.

  “I should have never brought you to a place like this. I’ll never be able to look your father in the eye again.”

  Millie thought she replied, but by now, it was becoming hard to focus. Everything was a blur.

  The only thing about the ride home that she remembered was that, this time, they sat side by side, and he had his fingers interlocked with hers. He couldn’t quite look at her, but his thumb continued to rub her hand. She took that to mean something.

  Next, she recalled when they arrived at her door.

  “Good night, Millie.” He tried to kiss her on the cheek like their necking in Manhattan hadn’t happened. She twisted until he was forced to meet her lips, and then she wouldn’t let go.