But they weren’t going to be proud of him now.
Sitting up, Vic slumped with his head in his hands. Telling Ma and Pa about Shirley was going to be tough. He could picture each of them when the time came. Ma, he knew, would start crying very quietly but probably reach out and put her arms around him and say something like, “I always knew that girl would try to trap you.” Pa, on the other hand, would probably explode and holler. He would tell him how dumb he had been and ask why he wasn’t careful. He also would remind him of their talk several months earlier when he tried to explain to him about girls and what happens when boys reach his age. And he’d say, “Didn’t I tell you? Always use a rubber.” In the end they would be okay, but the thought of that confrontation made him sick to his stomach. Jumping up, he ran to the bathroom to throw up.
Ma and Pa were asleep, but Frank had come home about ten minutes before and was in the kitchen munching on a left over piece of chicken. He came into the doorway when he heard Vic return to bed.
“You okay?” he asked, watching Vic roll away so that all Frank could see was his back.
“Yeah” was the muffled answer.
“Hey, you don’t sound good. Are you sure?”
When there was no reply, Frank tried again. “C’mon Vic, what’s up?”
“Look, I’ve got a problem and I don’t think anyone can help.”
“Hey, I’m your brother, you can tell me,” Frank said softly, moving closer to the studio couch.
Turning over, Vic whispered, “What do you know about Crown Point?”
“Whadda ya mean? Crown Point, isn’t that where people go to get married in a hurry?”
“Well, yeah, but don’t they help girls that are pregnant, too?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, what’s goin’ on? You got a problem with a girl?”
Sitting halfway up and hunching over, Vic put his head in his hands and sobbed, as Frank sat and put his arm around him.
“Don’t worry, Vic,” he whispered. “I don’t know exactly who to talk to or how to find out, but I’ll ask around and then we’ll talk. Now why don’t you tell me what the trouble is?”
Getting up slowly and rubbing his eyes, Vic walked out onto the back porch. Frank followed, shutting the door.
Trying to catch his breath, Vic looked down as he leaned over the railings with his hands on the outside wall for support. “You know that girl I go with, Shirley?”
Frank’s forehead creased as he tried to visualize Shirley,
“You know, Shirley Siegal, you went to school with her older sister Doris.”
“Oh, Jesus, you mean little Shirley…shit, what happened?”
Vic explained what Shirley told him after the game. He also told him how frightened he was and didn’t know what to do.
“Do you know how far along she is?”
Vic shook his head. “Please don’t tell Ma or Pa.”
Frank put his hand on Vic’s shoulder. “Hey, somehow this will work out. I’ll find out about Crown Point. Now go in and get some rest and we’ll talk some more tomorrow.”
Chapter 8
Vic met Sam Greenstein after fourth period the next day to go to lunch at Purity’s. He hadn’t eaten breakfast and still wasn’t hungry, but thought getting away from school for a while would make him feel better. Not finding his Aztec jacket in his locker, he knew Shirley had already gotten it.
Kimball Avenue was crowded with kids walking to and from lunch on one of the warmest days since the summer. Across the street at the synagogue, near the corner of Ainslie, a group of old folks were soaking up the fresh autumn air. Two grey bearded men with black hats were sitting on the entrance steps, waving and smiling at the kids. Returning the waves, a couple of guys greeted the old men with Yiddish phrases they had learned at home. They got laughs from both sides of the street.
Walking at their usual quick pace, without paying much attention to all the shouting and talking around them, Sam turned to Vic, “What’s up, did you make up with Shirley? You know she took your jacket this morning.”
“Well, yeah, I guess so,” Vic answered without looking his way.
“Are you sure that’s all? You look upset. Something’s bothering you and it ain’t good,” said Sam, bumping his friend’s shoulder.
“Nah, it’s nothin.”
Vic quickened the pace weaving in and out between slower groups and dodged between those coming the other way. Sam, not saying anything, struggled to keep up.
The restaurant was crowded and noisy as they took seats at the counter. Both ordered their usual hot dog and fries with a coke. Sam devoured his, while Vic had a few bites and sipped at the drink. Sam attempted conversation. “Man did you see the ass on that Gladys? It’s getting bigger or her dress is getting tighter. She’s got great knockers too.”
Vic shrugged, snickering, “is that all you think about?” On a normal day, it might have been all Vic thought about too.
“So what, I bet your brother is getting’ some of that. I saw her with him here one night and she wouldn’t let him alone.”
Vic gave a little grunt. Talking about sex made him think about Shirley and right then, he wanted to think about something else. “Frankie just takes her out once in awhile. C’mon let’s go, I wanta get back.”
“What’s the big hurry?”
“Nothin’, I just wanta get back,” Vic answered, getting up and dropping a few coins on the counter.
Returning to school, they went to the Assembly Hall. Sam joined a few of the guys and Vic sat alone watching the couples dancing on the stage. He saw Shirley wearing his club Jacket and talking with a group of girls. She smiled and waved as the first bell signaled it was time for the next class. With one more look back she rushed out the door.
His mind drifted to all the times he and Shirley danced on the stage during lunch hours. He remembered the day last October when they started going steady and he gave her his jacket and smiled when it came way below her waist and cupped her luscious behind. The bright maroon and gold color looked perfect with her dark grey slacks and scuffed saddle shoes.
“C’mon she had coaxed him, reaching for his hand. I wanta show off, let’s go dance on the stage.”
“Nah, I dunno, I never did that.”
“C’mon,” she pleaded, “You’re a good dancer,” she went on grabbing both his hands, “I wanta show everybody my good looking boyfriend.”
Reluctantly he let her pull him toward the stage. “Five Minutes More,” was playing. They picked up the beat at the top of the stairs and he swung her around. Grinning, he thought how cute she looked and added a new step, bouncing her off his hip. The three other couples on the stage, quickly made room for them.
“There don’t you feel better,” she giggled, winking and holding tight as he twirled her around.
A small smile crossed his face thinking about all the fun they had, but it faded as the reality of the last few days sunk in.
After school, the park team played on the South Side and won by one point. The game was sloppy. Vic’s ankle was still a little sore, but that wasn’t the problem. He just couldn’t keep his mind on the game. One of the guys got hot with him for missing a few passes and easy shots. Sam called a time out a minute later and bawled him out. He didn’t say anything because he himself was upset. He knew they should win easily by at least ten points. Fouling out with three minutes to play after scoring only six points, he stormed off the floor, cursing the referee.
On the way home from the game, Vic stopped at Glick’s Drug Store to call Shirley. Shuffling to the phone booth in the back of the store, he barely nodded to Charley the porter, who grinned and greeted him with a big hello. She answered with a peppy hello, on the second ring. He winced, closing his eyes and grunted, “hi.” In a more somber voice, she whispered, “oh, hi,” when she found out it was him o
n the line. He told her about how lousy he played, but that they had won anyway, and then asked if anything was new. He didn’t like her irritated answer, “Whadda’ ya’ mean?” As if she didn’t know.
And then she cut him off because her folks were home and she didn’t want to talk.
Sagging in the booth for a few minutes, he kicked the glass and then shook his head thinking maybe it was good she was going to visit her sister downstate this week-end, except that he wouldn’t know what was going on with her until Monday.
After work on Saturday, Vic stopped at the pool room. Entering, his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit store. The only lights being bright spots over the smooth, green felt tabletops, surrounded by young men and boys lining up shots and waiting their turn. The owner Lou, with his ever present green eyeshade and short apron of green felt, nodded a greeting in his direction as he moved to the crowd around the lone billiard table. Squinting through the cigarette smoke, he saw Al Gordon. He was on a high stool, near the wall on the other side of the table, watching the game between two neighborhood hustlers. Quietly, the balls clicked on a perfectly executed five cushion shot; accompanied by a soft whistle and a few comments from bystanders, as Vic moved around the table, to say hello to Al.
They shook hands, Al saying, “what’s up Vic, how bout a game of eight ball?”
“Sure, why not,” Vic answered sullenly, starting toward a back table.
They played three games, Al easily winning all of them. Vic lost thirty cents and paid for the time.
“You look like hell Vic,” smiled Al, pocketing the money. “And, I don’t remember the last time I beat you three straight at pool.”
With a shrug Vic slid his cue into the rack and signaled to Lou they were done. “Just an off night, I guess. It’s been a shit week and I have a few things on my mind.”
“Why, what’s wrong? You’re okay, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m okay just some crap goin’ on and I’m a little tired. Between school, basketball and work, it sorta caught up with me. In fact, I’ve had it for today; I think I’ll go home.”
“Okay, take care, I’ll see ya.” Al said as Vic started for the door. Once outside, a nearly empty streetcar clanged by followed by a car trying to pass it on the right. Vic watched the young driver gun the motor getting by quickly. Turning in the opposite direction, he trudged slowly toward the Wayne’s apartment on Monticello.
The street lights had come on only a few moments before and were almost fully bright as the Sun disappeared in the west.
Passing the corner of Lawndale, Vic heard a loud crash behind him. He turned and saw three men running up the sidewalk toward a car with an open door. One of the runners, a short burly guy, screamed, “Get the fuck out of my way Sheeny,” as he plowed into Vic, knocking him onto his hands and knees over the curb into the street. Struggling to right himself, he saw the three jump in the car. Tires screeching, they roared past him, the car’s bumper almost brushing his shoulder as they sped away. Falling onto his back, he saw black smoke pouring out of the HIAS office. Jumping up he ran toward the smoke as people, frightened by the loud noise charged out of surrounding stores. Shouts erupted to call the fire department and within a few seconds, he heard a siren in the distance.
Vic ran to the open door next to the smashed window and, ducking low, he covered his face with his shirt and made his way inside to see if anyone was there. It was late, but the center stayed open till nine pm everyday for folks who worked during the day.
A black smoke bomb was smoldering on the floor. He yelled, listening for a response, and hearing nothing, quickly exited, choking as he retreated.
A crowd was excitedly milling about as the fire trucks began arriving. Firemen carrying extinguishers rushed in spraying the bomb, flushing it out into the street. Two fire trucks, their motors rumbling, quickly blocked Lawrence Avenue and police rushed to set up barriers to keep people away. In the background, onlookers were mumbling but he couldn’t make out the conversations because of fire truck engines and sirens as additional police and firemen arrived.
Spotting, Mrs. Grossman, the HIAS manager, Vic started toward her. A short stout woman, with soggy papers in her hands, she appeared to be crying as she talked to a Fire Lieutenant. Her usually neat hair was straggling and her sweater and slacks were covered with soot.
“This is the third Jewish place they’ve hit in the last month,” the Fire Lieutenant was saying to Mrs. Grossman as Vic ran up, shouting, “what happened, Mrs. Grossman? Are you alright?”
“Oy, Victor, look what those momsers did,” she sobbed, pointing at the storefront and the large black swastika smeared on the window at the other side of the door.
A group of men surrounded Vic. He recognized one as a man he taught English on Sunday mornings.
“Nazis, even here Nazis,” the man said.
Mrs. Grossman turned to the fireman. “When can we go inside? I’d like to see how bad it is and start to clean up.”
“We’ll be done here in a little while, and then I’ll inspect the premises. You should be able to start cleaning up as soon as we’re through.”
He walked away and returned twenty minutes later. “Okay folks. Luckily, it’s not bad, only a little damage, but it’s safe to go in. Good luck.”
Vic turned to the men gathered for the classes. “Hey guys, how ‘bout sticking around, so we can clean up?”
“What you mean, with a stick,” said the man.
Vic laughed. “Stay and help clean?”
Mrs. Grossman was already standing at her desk, sorting through soaked papers and files. She had the phone to her ear, trying to reach her insurance agent.
Vic glanced at her and she nodded to him as he directed the men to start pulling all the trash out to the street and put the furniture and file cabinets back in place. Three other men from the neighborhood who had been watching in the street joined in.
Taking some alcohol and a razor blade he found in the janitor’s closet, Vic started to wipe and scrape the swastika off the window. He paused from time to time to keep everyone’s spirits up, by insisting that they speak English to each other so they could learn as they worked. He and Mrs. Grossman even got a few laughs as they corrected the way the men pronounced the words.
It took four hours to get everything ready for the Sunday opening. The odor of smoke was still in the air and all the workers were damp and covered with black smudges, but the group that was horrified a few hours before, now was all smiles.
Vic was the last to leave. He waited until Mrs. Grossman checked to make sure everything was secure.
“Thank you, Victor,” she said. “It was wonderful how you took over and we got everything under control. I’m happy to see young people like you get involved in our work.”
Reaching up, she pulled him down to kiss his cheek.
“It was nothing, Mrs. G,” he said shrugging a shoulder. “I like doing things to help. It makes me feel good.”
After lunch Monday, Vic sat with Shirley in the back of the Assembly Hall where it wasn’t crowded.
“I heard about what happened at the HIAS office Saturday night. Weren’t you scared?” she asked softly.
“It wasn’t so bad, it looked a lot worse than it was, but I felt sorry for the poor refugees and Mrs. Grossman; they were really frightened. When they saw that swastika on the window; it was like the Nazis were after them all over again.”
“You know, everyone is talking about how you got the place cleaned up and calmed down the people. In fact, my mother even heard about it.”
“Well, it wasn’t much, but how could I have just left them there? Tell me, though, anything new with you?”
“No, but I feel better since we’re back together. I love you and I just know everything is gonna be fine.”
“Have you told anyone about us?”
; “No,” she said, looking up from where her head sank to her chest. “What about you?”
He hesitated, not answering her question, wondering how she appeared so lively when with her friends, but serious and somber when he talked to her.
When he didn’t say anything, she looked up, “Don’t be such a stick in the mud! Cheer up a little, everything will be alright.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Well, right now, I’m trying to be positive and I want you to try too.”
“Alright, I’ll try,” he said with a sigh.
“Oh Victor, I wish we weren’t in school right now, ‘cause I wanta kiss you and make you feel better.”
A small smile crossed his face, “Well just save the kiss, I think I need it.”
“Deal,” she laughed. “Now I gotta run,;don’t wanta be late for class.”
On Friday at lunchtime, they made a date go see “Rhapsody In Blue”, at the Terminal that night. Shirley, wearing Vic’s Aztec jacket with the sleeves pushed up, was being very quiet as they sat together outside the school entrance. She looked away whenever he talked to her.
Head down, she sighed and sniffled softly. “I hope you know I love you,” she said.
Vic had his hands tucked into his pockets, trying to think of something to say that would comfort her. But he was feeling resentful and just pursed his lips tightly while his stomach growled. He was sure she had to be scared out of her wits, but he had to assume the responsibility of being a man for her. In the meantime, he really felt like hiding somewhere and crying. Haunted by “why me,” he felt her shudder when he put a hand on her shoulder. I’ll tell her tonight, he decided.
“C’mon, Shirl, it’s time to go. I got Frank’s car tonight, so I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Vic didn’t say much at home before leaving and Ma asked why he was so quiet. She also inquired about the game the previous week and was surprised he hadn’t mentioned it, especially when they won.
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