The Greeks of Beaubien Street

by Jenkins, Suzanne

  Chapter 8

  Andy got up to pour more coffee. When they got together like this to talk, it often went into the night. Andy called his wife to ask her to either join them in the city, or be patient until he got home, but the answering machine picked up.

  “What made you stay here, Uncle Gus?” Andy asked. Gus reached for the cream pitcher before he spoke, pouring thick whipping cream into his coffee first. He looked over at his daughter, hoping she was up for full disclosure. He needed to talk about it.

  “We almost did leave right after Chris was born.” Jill was looking at him, studying his face for hidden secrets. She had never heard this story. “It was a shock to all of us. We’d never had birth defects in our family’s history, at least any that weren’t covered up. There are myths that the Greeks couldn’t tolerate imperfection in infants and that country people would leave a baby with problems on the hillside to die. My wife wanted to bring Chris home, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it. She was worried about the impact having a baby with so many issues would have on the whole family.” Gus hung his head, looking at his hands. “I should have made a stand. But back then, it made sense. The doctors at the hospital said it would be better for everyone if we put him in an institution. They fed him with a tube at first. After her discharge from the hospital, I took your mother back every afternoon to hold him. They transferred him to a nursing home in Rochester. It was too far to drive daily, but she insisted. If I couldn’t take her, she would take a bus. It caused problems. Finally, my father suggested that she get a driver’s license. No women drove in our family so it seemed like a radical idea.

  “But Christina got her license. My father bought her a car, a 1967 Buick. It was so big that we had to park it on Antoine where the street is wider. Every morning she got up at four and started the baking for the day watching the clock the entire time. We baked all the rolls and bread on site back in those days. She’d finish by nine. My father would tell her she could leave. She’d grab her purse, kiss me good bye, and run out the door. It took over an hour to get to Rochester.

  “She made the trip daily until he was six months old and could start taking a bottle. Then they moved him to the state home in Plymouth. It was a long trip; she took Grand River to Plymouth Road all the way. I was worried sick about her driving and it never occurred to me to ask my parents if I could go with her. I had to work. It was what men did.

  “He got better and better physically. However, there was that intellectual deficit. He wouldn’t have survived living here. People are too cruel. My own mother could barely tolerate acknowledging his existence. “‘We don’t have any retardation in our family,’” she’d say in front of me. My mother was a dichotomy all right; a spiritual giant on one hand and an ignorant peasant on the other. It was what I grew up with. But don’t repeat it to your father,” he said to Andy. “It might start a family war. Big Andy is loyal to a fault about family.” Andy smiled; it was true. He’d never heard his father say a negative thing about anyone, let alone family.

  “Of course, just two years later you were born,” Gus looked at Jill. “You were our salvation. You were perfect in every way. You talked before you were one year old, did you know that? I often thought it may have been somewhat of a curse.” He looked at her deadpan. They laughed. “The house was full with you from the start. Your grandparents allowed behavior from you that would have threatened the lives of their own children. I once heard you tell my mother that she would be a lot more attractive if she shaved in the morning, ‘Like my Papou does,’ you said. I thought your mother would faint.”

  “I did not say that!” Jill exclaimed.

  “Oh, you did, and more. We had to all be on our toes around you and not do anything that we didn’t want the entire neighborhood to know about,” Gus chuckled. And then he quietly said, “The daily trips to Plymouth started up again when you were just a month old. And then when you were eight, she had the accident.” Father and daughter looked at each other sadly. It was not a topic that was discussed. This was an important moment, and although she dreaded it in theory, she knew it was time.

  “What happened, Papa? I mean I know what happened, but how did you hear? How did you manage?”

  “Andy, are you sure you want to go down this road with us?” Gus looked at his nephew with pity.

  “I do, Uncle Gus. I have often thought about what you went through; how I would never be able to do it...raise a kid by myself.” Gus smiled at his nephew.

  “I had my parents to help me,” he said. “I remember it like it was yesterday. There was a member of the family available about every twenty-five miles. We often had a relay across the state. I’d take something to Dearborn, Big Andy would take it to Northville, Pete would take it to Nick who worked out of Brighton, and Nick would take it to John in Eaton Rapids. Sophie was in Grand Rapids and Maria was in Saugatuck. No one had to drive more than an hour. My mother had bread and pies transported like that for years. Where was I? Oh, right. I was going to tell you about the day Christina died.

  “She was coming home from seeing Christopher and got tired and fell asleep. That’s all there was to it. No one else was injured. The officer at the scene recognized the name and called Nick. Nick came over to tell us. As much as my parents never warmed up to Chris, they were devastated. I remember thinking that I had to keep it together because of Jill, but then I would look at my mother and see that the news had aged her ten years. Pop, too. I couldn’t fall apart because they needed me.”

  “I remember the funeral,” Jill said. Gus looked surprised.

  “You do?” he asked. “I was in a fog.”

  “Gigi kept saying she didn’t know who was going to go to Plymouth now. I said, ‘You can go, Gigi!’ Talk about out of the mouths of babes.” Jill said.

  “She did, too,” Gus said. “Although not every day, she made my father take her every Wednesday. We went every Sunday for years, Jillian and me. We’d take Chris to lunch at Bill Knapp’s.” Gus was afraid to say anymore. The obvious discrepancy in Christopher’s life when compared to the rest of the family was glaring. Why didn’t he just bring his son home as soon as his parents died? As if reading his mind, Jill answered him.

  “Papa, Chris is happy in his group home. He has lived with that same group of men for over twenty years. If you were to have taken him out, he wouldn’t have had the friends here that he has. He’d be alone. It would have been miserable for him. He probably should have been brought home as a baby and then he would have had a life here. Would people really have said so much?” She wondered if IQs were lower back in those days. The thought crossed her mind that her mother might still be alive if the baby Christopher hadn’t been institutionalized. That’s what people did back then when they had a special needs child; at the advice of their physicians, they put them away, Jill thought.

  “My family went every week, still does. At least my dad does,” Andy said. “I know Uncle Nick goes a couple of times a week.”

  Lucky for Chris, when the state home closed he was old enough to live in a group home. He wanted to go with his friends from Plymouth State. Whenever Gus asked him if he would like to come to Detroit for a visit, he always refused. He had never stepped out of the town of Plymouth.

  ~ ~ ~

  Andy left to go home after ten. He knew Dana would be furious with him. He was staying away from home for longer and longer periods, but he couldn’t help himself. It was self-preservation. She was always so angry with him. She had wanted to get pregnant so badly, and was the first to admit afterward that having kids was no bed of roses. Her parents had lived two blocks away and that was why Dana and Andy bought where they did. Then they found land on which to build a house that was more than an hour from Novi, and her support system left town.

  Four of her girlfriends were over on Sunday with their children, playing in the pool he put in because she needed it to survive the boring summer months while he worked. He overheard Dana telling them that she was embarrassed that her husband worked in a
Greektown grocery store. He was stunned; he knew she hated the idea of him working far from her, but embarrassed? When he graduated from college, he realized after six months that he hated his job as a CPA. Dana had agreed that if what he wanted to do was to work at the family grocery store in hopes of someday taking it over, it was what he should do. But what she assumed was that he would move it out of the city, or open a branch, or sell it. Not that he would drive into Detroit every, single day of the week and leave her at home with two kids.

  Andy loved the boys. From their birth he got up in the middle of the night for feedings, did the grocery shopping, got someone in to clean, and tried to do everything he could to be helpful to his wife and ease her burden. But it wasn’t enough.

  Gus let him come in at ten so he would miss rush hour and be able to see his family in the morning. So Dana could sleep in, Andy got up with the boys every morning, fixed them breakfast, and played with them until it was time for him to leave for the city at nine. Three days a week, he left the store early and would be home in time to see his boys get off the bus. He made up for it by going in on Saturdays, but he always brought the boys with him and invited Dana, who declined.

  “Why in God’s name would I want to spend my Saturday with your mother and father in that filthy town? Forget it. I can’t think of anything I dislike more. My parents are hurt because we haven’t been to Stockbridge yet to see their property. Maybe I’ll go alone while you subject our kids to the ghetto life.”

  “Momma will be sorry! Won’t she, boys?” Andy teased, trying to smooth over what she had said in front of the kids so they wouldn’t repeat it to Gus.

  “I doubt it. The only thing I am sorry about right now is marrying you.” Dana looked Andy right in the eye. Things were bad between them, but he hadn’t realized how bad. He was used to having his feeling hurt by her, but even this was over the top. What was wrong with her?

  “I’ll call Gus and tell him I’m not coming in today. We need to talk, that’s obvious enough.” Andy went to her, to touch her, grabbing her arm. He needed to connect with her.

  “Don’t bother, Andy! I have plans today. You think my life revolves around you, but it doesn’t. Go to your dirty store and have a great day!” She pulled away from him and went into their bedroom, slamming the door.

  “What’s wrong with Mommy?” Little Danny asked. Andy picked him up.

  “I made Mommy sad because I forgot to bring her flowers. I’ll bring some tonight, okay?” Both boys shook their heads yes vigorously. Andy vacillated between thinking he should go to his wife and demand that she talk to him or run out the door to escape to work. He chose work.

  Chapter 9

  Being Greek, living above the family grocery store, having a special needs brother, a dead mother, and a little ESP cemented Jill’s outcast standing in the community.

  One day when she was about fourteen she went to the public library to borrow a book and when she was leaving, she overheard a group of boys her age say “Now there’s a smelly Greek.” She whipped around to see where it had come from, knowing it was meant for her, when she made eye contact with the librarian, also Greek. The librarian picked up a book, put it to the side of her mouth facing the crowded room, and mouthed, “Fuck them.” After she got over her initial shock, Jill snickered, flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, and with her head held high, walked out.

  Somehow she was able to maintain that mindset of not allowing the smallness of others affect her sense of self-worth. She led a charmed life and knew it. Certainly, it was sad and tough to have lost her mother at such a young age, but her grandmother loved her, her grandfather cherished her, and her father worshiped her. It was more comedic than anything else that she was out of place in a neighborhood of her own people. It strengthened her resolve to serve them in some way, to turn the tables on them as a way of retaliation. Her revenge would be to make them grateful.

  She always wanted to be a police officer. She rarely saw her Uncle Nick, but when she did, he was in uniform. She remembered seeing him the day he delivered the news of her mother’s death; he was beside himself. His parents shushed him, begging him to pull himself together for the sake of Gus. Grief didn’t diminish his appearance. Tall, dark and handsome, with the dark blue dress uniform, a black leather shoulder holster, and his hat in his hands, she was sure people didn’t even notice that he was Greek. He was just ravishing. His wife was an Irish girl he met in Corktown; Paula was a beauty. She had shiny blue-black hair like Jill, but there the similarities ended. Where Jill had black eyes and olive skin, Paula had huge blue eyes and pale, rosy skin. Paula’s figure was rounded and curvy. Jill was like her mother; broad shouldered and flat hipped. At Christina’s funeral, the eight year old Jill approached her.

  “May I say something, Aunt Paula?” she asked.

  “Why of course, Jillian. What is it?” Paula leaned forward in anticipation of her young niece, possibly getting ready to confess her anguish over the loss of her mother. Instead,

  “My Uncle Nick is sure handsome, isn’t he? He’s what the women around here call a ‘tall drink of water.’” She lifted her eyebrow and nodded her head toward where he was standing with his brothers. Paula frowned and told Jill they should be honoring her mother that day. This child was impossible.

  “Don’t you think that’s bad manners, Jill? This is your mother’s funeral,” Paula admonished.

  “Oh, it’s okay. Mom always said the same thing when she was alive. She liked Uncle Nick a lot.” As a child, Jill overheard her mother talking about her handsome brother-in-law to a friend. She later wondered about her uncle’s influence on her decision to be a cop. She didn’t think Uncle Nick and his uniform had much to do with it, but Paula thought it did and made sure the rest of the family knew it, too. Years later, after having too much to drink at Jill’s police academy graduation, Paula approached her husband as he stood talking to his niece.

  “She’s like the daughter you never had, isn’t that right Nicky? Look at you in your uniform Jill! If you play your cards right, your Uncle Nick might leave you something in his will, isn’t that right honey?”

  “Oh Jesus, not this again,” Nick said, kissing his niece on her cheek. “I better get your Aunt Paula home.” Self-conscious of her uniform after that, Jill was careful to be in civilian clothing when Nick and Paula were expected. She’d leave her gun and badge locked in the car.

  It wasn’t only the relatives who thought Jill was odd. Her own mother had doubts. Christina was leaving Greektown to visit Christopher in Plymouth one Saturday when she saw Jill picking at something in the gutter with Dido standing over her, the two of them talking away. She maneuvered the big car around and headed back, carefully pulling up. Later, she would tell her husband about it.

  “The child had a stick in her hand and she was turning over a dead rat. She was crouching in the gutter like a street urchin wearing a red dotted-Swiss dress. That old woman was telling her something, but the minute I showed up, she clammed up and went back to her perch at the gun shop.” Christina looked at her daughter. “What were you doing with the rat? What was Dido talking to you about?” she asked her.

  “Nothing! Dido told me that in Athens, they had rats all over their house. She said during the war they ate them when there was no food,” Jill explained. Christina took her by her arm and gave her a little shake.

  “And what were you doing with the rat?” she asked, exasperated.

  “I just wanted to see it up close. It had a hole in its side and the guts were coming out. There was a long tube curled up…” Christina yelled for her to stop.

  “That is enough! You go to your room right now! I don’t want to hear another word about rats or guts or tubes, do you understand me? And stay away from Dido!” She pointed her finger toward the staircase. “Go!” Jill, not one to let someone else get the last word in, was just as glad to be away from these old people.

  “Fine!” She put her head in the air and walked up the stairs, taking her time, knowing
she was infuriating her mother.

  After Christina’s death, Jill was remorseful for having caused her anguish. Her sense of isolation increased. The other children avoided her; frightened they would lose their own mothers just by association. Now her grandmother would accompany her to Corktown school functions. Or her father would attend if he could get away. Jill would speak only Greek to them, making the family more of a curiosity than ever. When they were on the street, Dido purposely baited the little girl, asking her in Greek if she knew how her mother died and if she missed her. The questioning intrigued Jill; it was as though she had come upon some forbidden knowledge, or viewed a photograph not suitable for children. She’d linger at Dido’s side, thinking long and hard about how to answer the difficult questions. And when she was finally able to put into words her deepest feelings, heartbreaking testimonials of a young girl who’d lost her mother in a violent car crash, Dido would slowly smile, and nod her head in satisfaction.

  Chapter 10

  So excited about her date with Mike Friday night, Gretchen Parker woke up in the morning without her alarm clock. She pulled on her running clothes and sneakers and left the house at six. If she ran a good five miles, she could skip the gym after work and spend that time getting her nails done. Mike noticed when she put in that extra bit with her appearance. She knew she was beautiful; was that so wrong? It wasn’t like she bragged about it but acknowledging it was different. It gave her an edge that most other women didn’t have. Plus, the praise and attention her father lavished on her strengthened her self-confidence when it wasn’t suffocating her.