The Greeks of Beaubien Street

by Jenkins, Suzanne

  “There is something you can do,” Gus responded, noting his brother’s handsome profile and rugged good looks and feeling sick thinking of his wife in those muscular arms. Looking away from his brother back to the glass window he said, “Something that might be difficult for you; something that you may decide is asking too much. I am going to ask you to stop fucking my wife.” Nick, the blood drained from his face, looked at his brother, his mouth working, but no sound coming out. What was there to say?

  “We got his blood type today,” Gus continued. “There is no way he could be mine. I’m going to go on pretending he’s my son, but now you’ll have to pay. A grocer’s salary won’t be enough to pay for the care your son will need.” He looked at his brother again, this time with disgust. “Unless you want to tell our parents, I think this is the best way to handle it. My wife wants to stay with me,” he said with a different tone than the rest of his recitation, proud, with his head held high. There would be no threats, no ‘if you come near her again’ speech. Gus was no match for Nick’s physical strength and stature. But he would keep his family intact if he could, swallowing his pride, trying hard not to watch for signs that they were still seeing each other. It wouldn’t be Gus’s style to spy on his wife or demand to know her whereabouts. He’d keep their secret.

  However, his mother, the unnamed head of the family, already knew the truth. When Gus and Christina announced that she was pregnant, Eleni put her hand to her mouth; she knew right away that it wasn’t Gus’s baby. And when the little baby was born with so many problems, not even looking like he belonged to their family with slanted eyes and a tongue too big for his tiny mouth, she feared for him, believing in an archaic notion that he was being punished for his parent’s stupidity. What would the rest of the family say? Bringing the baby home to live in the apartment was never an option. That apartment belonged to Nick and Eleni and there was no way they would bring a child with that many problems into it. He needed to go where strangers would take care of him without the knowledge of his parentage.

  Of course, once she held him, forced into it by her unknowing husband, Christopher’s sweet innocence overtook Eleni and she was smitten. But he was still not welcome to come home. It would be too disruptive and they had a business to run. Eleni was gentle with Christina again; she was just a frail human being, not a conniving temptress. Nick was her oldest son, but she was angry with him. He was an intuitive man and it didn’t take long for him to notice that his mother had distanced herself from him and Paula. Without thinking of the consequences, he went to her and asked her, with attitude, what her problem was.

  “Do you really want me to tell you?” Eleni asked with a low voice and narrowed eyes. Nick felt like someone had thrown a bucket of hot water on him, like he had been caught in the worst of lies, a childish response for someone who had been generally honest and trustworthy most of his life.

  Not willing to get into a match of the wills with his mother, he shook his head no and left the room. He would avoid her for days until she drew him into conversation once again. Paula didn’t suspect anything either. She was just as shocked as the rest of the family about the baby’s health. When a well-meaning but ignorant neighbor came by to inquire about Christina and used the word retard to describe the baby, Paula lit into him. She told the confused man that the baby had Down’s Syndrome, a relatively new term in those days, and he was never to use the derogatory term again. He wasn’t to call him a mongoloid or handicapped, either. Christopher would never come to live in Greektown, so no one would get to meet him anyway. It was sad and a relief at the same time. The family couldn’t talk about it without someone crying, the men ashamed and the women heartbroken.

  When Gus brought his wife home from the hospital a week later without the baby, it was both sad and anticlimactic. Anna had come into town to help Eleni take down the nursery that Christina had set up weeks before, the whole time Eleni biting her tongue to keep from saying anything to her one wise daughter-in-law. Dealing with an ancient belief system, she blamed the baby’s condition on acts of sin his parents committed. The wages of sin are death. That he would outlive his mother and grandmother wasn’t an option. His delicate little body and huge physical problems, Eleni thought, meant death was eminent. When he defied the odds and lived surgery after surgery, she couldn’t bear it and although she went to the hospital to see him, holding him and rocking him, it was at that juncture that the decision was made that she might not be able to have a relationship with her grandson. She didn’t have the courage to continue visiting.

  Christina was angry that the nursery had been dismantled so soon; it was her job and one that she hoped to avoid if she could convince her mother-in-law of the value of bringing the baby home. But she did penance and kept her mouth shut. After one last meeting with him, she tried to never speak to Nick again, guilt and regret driving most every move she would make. Like her mother-in-law, she believed the act of sexual intercourse had caused the damage to the baby. She could pinpoint each and every scripture that supported her guilt. As soon as she was able for a short time after the birth, when she wasn’t driving to or from the hospital to see her son, she served her husband in whatever way he would allow. She made sure that she did more than her share in the store, taking over the jobs she was capable of. Anything he wanted from her, she gave him. She would make it up to him somehow. Eleni saw her daughter-in-law’s devotion to Gus and Nick’s broken heart, and put the knowledge she had gained into the deep recesses of her brain. It was as though the affair had never happened. Almost.

  Chapter 29

  Never had Albert Wong looked forward to the weekend more than he did this week. Even though it was still early in the week, he was exhausted and disgusted from having continuous contact with Marianne and Jacob Parker and longed for a few days of down time with Roger. As he got off the elevator and walked to his apartment, he could smell faint food odors and was grateful that Roger thought of dinner. Albert usually didn’t mind picking something up on his way home, but tonight he was so scatterbrained that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. He’d had nothing to eat since that cream filled monstrosity Jill shared with him hours ago for breakfast.

  “I’m here,” he hollered, letting himself in the door. Roger leaned out of the galley kitchen and greeted him.

  “I was just starting to worry,” he said. “Busy day?” Albert took his holster off with the gun still in it and put it in a locked drawer in the cabinet by the kitchen wall. He walked into Roger’s waiting arms for a long overdue hug.

  “It was gross, is what it was. A mother who raped her adorable daughter with a baseball bat because she disappointed her, and a father videotaped wearing his daughter’s bra and panties. It was a sight.” He hugged Roger back and then stepped away. “Let me get changed. What are we having?”

  “Chinese,” Roger said.

  “That’s what you’re having. What am I having?” Albert asked teasingly. Roger just laughed at him and shook his head.

  “It’s Tuesday. Nana Wong is coming,” Roger explained. “She’s in the mood for Lim’s Gardens. Go get comfortable. She’s taking the bus so you don’t have to go out. There’s a surprise for you on the bed.”

  Albert walked through the living room to the hallway, glancing out the wide expanse of glass at the city of Windsor across the river in Canada. Albert loved their apartment. They bought it right after the building was completed fifteen years ago. Slowly, as the economy in general declined and Detroit hit rock bottom, unit after unit went into foreclosure. Roger and Albert were able to scrape up money from their retirement funds and that of Nana Wong’s to buy them at a steal. They were the majority shareholders in their building now, but it also meant sacrifice when something major needed replacing. Last summer the air conditioners for the public spaces gave up the ghost, and there wasn’t enough money in the general fund to pay for replacements. Roger, Albert, and Nana Wong had to dig several hundred thousand dollars out of loans and personal money, but it was wort
h it. As of last month, all of their units were rented for top dollar, six units they didn’t own that had gone into foreclosure were sold, and the building was full again. It had a reputation for being well-run with a general fund that was finally doing well, thanks to the Stock Market recovery.

  Now, with their equity in the building, they were in a good position to buy their vacation home in Saugatuck and help Nana Wong find her retirement dream home. Albert entered their comfortable master suite. On the bed was a bag from TJ Maxx. Uh oh, Albert thought, thinking he may be getting new clothes he wouldn’t like. He and Roger had different ideas about what Albert should wear. But it wasn’t clothes. They both loved anything that reminded them of the beach and he’d found sheets printed with star fish and coral, not exactly lake motifs, but lovely just the same. There were matching towels and soap dish. Roger was thinking the same thing Albert was. Time to buy at the lake.

  Roger had a short time before he retired, and if the state of Michigan didn’t tank and go bankrupt, he’d have a comfortable pension to look forward to. There was nothing he loved more than to pamper Albert, to make sure he had a relaxing evening after his hellish days as a Detroit cop. He puttered around their kitchen, setting the table with good china and silver, along with fresh flowers from the market in the city center. Even if he was serving just pizza, Roger made sure they ate in luxury. Nana Wong enjoyed it too.

  “How is it that my men set a better table than I do?” she would ask. Albert reminded her of the family dinners they had years ago, all prepared by her. No men helped out in those days. She would shyly acknowledge it. “Yes, that’s true. At one time I could really cook up a storm. No one to cook for anymore!” Her boyfriend was health conscious which ended Nana Wong’s frying extravaganzas; those would be the most missed by Roget and Albert. She’d take wonton wrappers and fill them with everything from diced shrimp to chocolate pudding.

  “We’d be as big as houses if you still cooked like you used to Nana,” Albert reminded her. They had a delightful meal together. Roger brought up the subject of vacation houses again, a favorite of the threesome. “I think we need to go to Saugatuck this weekend, what do you two think?”

  “I’m ready,” Albert said. Nana Wong nodded her head yes, hiding a big yawn. She was ready to get out of the city. They’d drive her back to Tireman before it got too late and have an early bedtime. They were all growing old.

  Chapter 30

  By midnight, Jill had had enough poker and emotion. She gave Alex the heads up.

  “Dad, I’m going to get going,” she told Gus. “Don’t anyone get up. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” she said, loathing a big hug-fest upon her departure. Gus alone walked with them down the stairs to the door which led out to the streets.

  “I love you, dad,” she said as she hugged Gus. He hugged her back. There was nothing more to say to each other about the revelations made. “See you in the morning? I mean, I am still welcome for breakfast, correct?” He hugged her again, and chuckled, nodding his head, yes. He didn’t trust his voice to answer.

  “Okay, well tomorrow morning it is,” she said. They left to walk to her car in silence. It wasn’t until they closed their doors that she looked at Alex and just shook her head.

  “I didn’t have a clue. Not one iota of a clue. How dense can one person be?” She had her hand on the key.

  “Why are you at fault? It seems no one else knew either,” Alex answered. “Boy, talk about a shocker. I wonder what shape Nick’s wife is in.” Jill finally turned the key and the motor started. The streets were deserted of people or moving cars. She drove slowly, letting the night’s events flow over her.

  “Well, it answered one question; why Paula never liked me,” Jill confessed. “I bet she thought I was Nick’s, too. That’s what I thought at first, did you get that? I thought my dad was about to tell the roomful of people that I wasn’t really his. It’s why I told him I had changed my mind. I didn’t need to know. Jesus! My mother! Who’da thunk!” She maneuvered the car through the narrow streets of Greektown, cars parked on either side. They came to an empty space about a block from her apartment, just a few cars down from Alex’s car. They’d have to walk from there.

  “Do you mind if I go home tonight? I’ll take Fred with me if you want,” Alex said. Jill didn’t need him to stay with her because she was upset, but it was strange timing, she thought. She looked at him, searching his face.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine, I really am. I have to work tomorrow so I can’t drink. It’s just, well...I’m feeling a little like I’d like to put paint to canvas.” He smiled at her sheepishly.

  “Cool!” she responded. “Just remember, it’s already after midnight.” They walked to her apartment to get Fred. He was such a nice dog. She had forgotten about him cooped up all night. Alex bent down to kiss her.

  “If you come over after the funeral, hopefully I’ll have something to show you,” he said. “Something new.” She was curious and excited. People were so amazing; you just never knew what would motivate someone to creativity. She was beaten down from the events of the past days and the disclosure this evening, but Alex’s optimism was contagious.

  “Um, can I walk Fred with you? He can poop in this neighborhood as well as yours,” she said. Alex smiled and agreed. He wouldn’t have to keep watching over his shoulder if he walked Fred here; it was a safer neighborhood. They strolled the dark street, rehashing the details of the night. She couldn’t see her mother and her Uncle Nick together. Her mother was in awe of Nick, always talking about how handsome he was, how nervous she felt around him. And all along, she had slept with him. It gave her a view of her mother that she had never had before. My mother the seductress. Could it be? Or was it all Nick’s fault?

  “I can’t dwell on this; do you know what I mean? It’s one thing to think she was coerced, or even swept off her feet. But I remember the way she used to speak of Nick and it wasn’t in a naïve way. Oh boy, did I need this knowledge? Thanks, Aunt Paula! You’re the best!” Alex hugged her with his free arm as she talked with his other hand holding Fred’s leash. They had to stop so Fred could sniff around the weeds at the edge of the sidewalk.

  “Every family has some secrets,” Alex said in an attempt to make her feel better. It did, but only marginally.

  “I’m not sure I care about the secret part,” she said. “It’s more like, who was my mother? How could she sleep with someone like Nick, who I’m sure had a dark side, and then my father, who is the sweetest man? It’s such a contradiction.” She shook her head in disgust. “Honest to God, between my cousin’s wife being murdered, the Parker’s antics, and Aunt Paula, I have had it with family.” They returned to her apartment. Alex went up the stairs with her, but stopped at the door.

  “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?” he said. They kissed good night, and Jill scratched Fred behind the ears.

  “Take good care of Freddie, Al.” She let herself into the living room and shut and locked the door behind her. She walked to the window to look down and see if she could see Alex walking to his car with their dog. It was moonless, but the stars were bright. She could see the freeway and hear the noise; between buildings, she saw the river too and the lights of a freighter, chugging toward Lake Erie.

  Jill was glad she was alone. It would force her to confront something that had bothered her all evening but that was never addressed. If Chris wasn’t Gus’ son, why didn’t Nick claim him and bring him home? Gus said that it was his mother’s decision to keep the child in an institution. What exactly was his role in keeping Chris away from home? It was all intertwined. Her mother was killed because she drove to Plymouth every day. Gus allowed it. Jill moved away from the window, but continued gazing out over the city while sitting on the edge of an overstuffed chair. Leaning back onto the comfort of it, every muscle in her body hurt. She sat up abruptly; slipping into self-pity was not an option. She would do yoga until she was tired enough to fall asleep.

  It w
ould take an hour of stretching and poses, but soon, she was relaxed and her mind was finally at ease. What was done was done. She wasn’t going to start judging people now, especially the dead. As she lay on the floor, Jill made a resolution of sorts. She would be grateful for her life, and make sure that those who she loved knew it.

  ~ ~ ~

  Fred, the bulldog got into the front seat of Alex’s car and promptly went back to sleep. They would have a short ride, but he was tired and didn’t want to miss out on one second of rest. Alex found a spot to park directly in front of his apartment.

  “Come on Fred,” he said to the dog, patting his head. “Let’s go.” Fred jumped down, though not without difficultly. Alex took a short walk past a weed-covered lot in case Fred needed to go again. It was getting late and Alex wanted to get inside and start sketching what had popped into his mind at Gus’s apartment. He had never painted a portrait in his life, and realistic painting, sort of what he was doing in his new landscape where the viewer could actually make out an image rather than having to guess what it was, was new to him. He had an idea that would not go away. He thought of it for the hours that he sat with Jill’s family that night, obsessing over each line, which color would go where. He saw the painting done. Now he simply had to execute it. That’s the easy part, right?

  His skills were getting better and better, so he wasn’t afraid to do the work. He was happy to get started tonight or he realized work would be intolerable tomorrow, concentration on anything else impossible. He and Fred went inside and Fred got up on Alex’s recliner, his spot for the night. Alex quickly changed his clothes. He had a piece of gessoed Masonite ready to go. He got his pallet and put a clean sheet of waxed paper on it. He’d place the paint pallet in his freezer when he took a break. But first he would sketch out the drawing he had fantasized about all evening. The memory of it flowed perfectly from his brain to the hand holding the pencil. In reality, the subjects had never sat together before. It was a conglomeration of photos he had seen with made up clothing and colors he thought were pleasing together.