Mean Little People

by Dearth, Paige

  “Ya got your freedom. There ain’t nothin’ more important than that.”

  Tony scratched the top of his head. “Yeah, that’s true. I guess you’re right. Up until now I never really had freedom. I like being free.”

  Tony stood and walked to the door of Apartment 3F. “Let’s go celebrate. It’s my birthday.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  On Thanksgiving, Erikson and Tony walked through the freezing rain to a soup kitchen on Broad Street for dinner. As they entered the building, the scent of a cooked meal greeted Tony. His senses went haywire. His mouth watered, and his stomach gurgled. Tony picked up the pace as they headed toward the line of homeless people waiting for a hot meal.

  Tony placed his paper plate on the table and sat across from Erikson. He dug his plastic fork into the mashed potatoes and shoved them into his mouth. Tony’s eyes closed as the potatoes covered his tongue. It had been months since he’d had a hot meal, and his taste buds were going crazy. Tony wished the plate of food would last forever.

  “Slow down, kid. We wanna take our time eatin’. After we’re done this, we can get a piece of pumpkin pie from the table over there,” Erikson said.

  “But it’s so good I can’t help it. We ain’t eaten nothin’ this good in a while. How come ya never brought me here before?”

  “I only come here on holidays. That’s when people who gotta eat here are nicer. Every other day there are some mean assholes crawlin’ around this place, looking to steal stuff and start trouble.”

  “Well, I don’t know ’bout you, but I’m sure comin’ back here. I ain’t waitin’ for a holiday no more,” Tony said, eyes glued to his plate.

  When they were finished eating, they sat and chatted with some people Erikson knew. They were waiting, just like the others, until the last minute to leave the warm, lit building. On their walk back to 3F, Erikson took a detour on his own, in search of his drug buddies. Tony was walking by himself, and in the distance, he saw Salvatore coming toward him.

  “Tony! Where have you been?” Salvatore said, a smile lighting up his already handsome face.

  “I’ve been around. I ain’t seen ya in a while.”

  “You haven’t seen Vincent either. I’m going to meet him now. Do you want to come?”

  “Sure. I’ll go wit’ cha. So how is everything?” Tony asked as they walked.

  “Things are good. Remember that hot new girl in our school we told you about?”

  Tony nodded.

  “Well, I went to the winter dance, and she was there. I asked her to dance, and she stayed with me the whole time. Afterward, Vincent and I took her and her friend to the Penrose Diner. When we got done eating, we took the girls out into the parking lot, and this chick let me feel her up. She’s got a set of great tits on her. It was awesome. Vincent didn’t get so lucky. He got to kiss the girl he was with, but she wouldn’t give him any tongue. Vincent said she’s a fucking prude and doesn’t want anything to do with her.”

  Salvatore stopped talking and looked closely at Tony. He was noticeably thinner and he looked unkempt. His eyes glided over Tony’s dirty, wrinkled clothing.

  “How are you, Tony? You look skinny.”

  “Yeah, I lost a couple of pounds. Um, ya know, I’m running now and so when ya run, it makes ya thinner.”

  “Really?”

  Tony paused before answering Salvatore’s question.

  “Nah, not really. I just ain’t been eatin’ too much.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, the people I live wit’ ain’t got much to go around.”

  “How about if we go get something to eat after we meet up with Vincent?”

  “I ain’t got any money,” Tony said, blushing with shame.

  “Who gives a fuck about money? I have money. You know my Pop gives me money all the time.”

  “Then, yeah, sure, let’s get somethin’ to eat.”

  “You aren’t really living with another family, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Where are you living then?”

  Tony told Salvatore, who already knew the buildings well. All the kids in the neighborhood had heard about the googamongers that lived there.

  “Holy shit, Tony. You can’t live there. I mean, you can’t even take a shower.”

  “I ain’t got a choice right now.”

  “Isn’t there any place that can take you in? There has to be somewhere that kids without parents can go.”

  “Hell, no! I ain’t livin’ in no orphanage or nothin’ like that. I heard about those places in juvie. They ain’t no better than bein’ in prison. Kids get beat up on by the other kids and sometimes by the grownups that run the house. No, thank you. I don’t need any more shit in my life. Right now, I’m good where I’m at. There’s this older dude, Erikson, that shares my space wit’ me. He’s a good guy—well, he uses drugs a lot—but other than that, he’s a cool dude. He’s been helpin’ me out.”

  Salvatore hung his head. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. If you hadn’t gone to juvie because of Rex, you would still be living with your family.”

  “Ah, that don’t matter. My father is a miserable prick, so it ain’t like I was livin’ some kinda great life when I was there,” Tony said, but he still regretted not running away from the scene of the crime when Rex was killed.

  Salvatore shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small wad of money. He had three twenty-dollar bills. He pulled two off and handed forty dollars to Tony.

  “Here, take this.”

  “I can’t, Salvatore. I appreciate it and all, but I can’t take your money.”

  “Look, dude, it’s only forty dollars. My Pop will give me more money. Just take it. We don’t have to tell anybody.”

  Reluctantly, Tony took the money.

  “Thanks, man.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. You’re the one who did the time. Don’t worry, Tony. I’ll always look out for you. So will Vincent. Someday we’ll be just like my pop and Big Paulie.”

  Tony chuckled. “As long as you’re the one who gets fat like Big Paulie, ’cause it ain’t gonna be me,” he said, and punched Salvatore lightly in the arm. Tony ran, and Salvatore chased after him. They didn’t stop until they arrived on Market Street, where they were meeting up with Vincent.

  Vincent was happy to see Tony. The three teens walked to the diner, where they sat and ate pie with ice cream. They were enjoying each other’s company, and hours passed before they decided to leave. When it was time to go, none of them wanted to go their separate ways.

  “So we’ll see you soon, right?” Salvatore asked.

  “Sure, you’ll see me,” Tony said, shoving Vincent in the shoulder.

  “Good, ’cause hangin’ out wit’ this pretty boy here,” Vincent said pointing to Salvatore, “ain’t easy. I need your ugly face around so I can look better to the chicks. Salvatore ain’t gotta worry ’bout that. The broads at school are throwin’ themselves at ’im.”

  Tony’s eyes washed over Salvatore, and he smiled.

  “Maybe Salvatore can throw ya some of his leftovers,” Tony mocked.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I told him, but he doesn’t want anything to do with it. Some bullshit about how he can catch his own women,” Salvatore said.

  “That’s right,” Vincent said. “Tell ’em, Tony—real Italian men don’t need sloppy leftovers. We get our broads on our own.”

  Tony smiled wistfully at his two friends. He wished that hooking up with a girl was his sole focus, but he had bigger problems. He wanted to be back in the fold with Vincent and Salvatore, by their sides, living a normal teenage life.

  The boys stood on the sidewalk and joked for a while longer. When Tony was alone again, on his walk back to his dingy place, he wished his life was more like Salvatore’s. He had money and clothes, and now he even had girls. His own life was like a shell with no substance, and he promised himself that he’d have all the things he wanted…someday.

  Chapter Forty-Se
ven

  The city of Philadelphia was on steroids between Thanksgiving and Christmas. People scurried on the sidewalks. Friends were laughing and enjoying holiday festivities. Tony moved each day to different streets to beg for money after his two-hour shift at the bakery. People were a little more generous, and he’d even been given several one-dollar bills, instead of the usual pocket change. By Christmas Eve, between the forty dollars that Salvatore had given him, the money from the bakery, and the money he’d begged for, Tony had well over sixty dollars. He was determined to keep this a secret from Erikson, who would, without a doubt, try to talk Tony into spending it on beer.

  On Christmas Eve, as Tony made his way back to apartment 3F, he stopped at the Goodwill store on Front Street and bought Erikson a scarf and hat. The lady who rang up the purchase looked at Tony closely.

  “You doin’ OK, son?”

  “Yeah, sure I am. I’m just buying this stuff for…for my father. It’s a Christmas present.”

  “Oh, I see. Well then, let me wrap it for ya.”

  Tony watched the woman cut a bag open and fold the sides in just perfectly. It made him think of his mother, and a stab of sadness pierced his heart. The woman used masking tape to secure the brown paper bag. When she finished wrapping the gift, she pushed the package toward Tony and handed him red and green markers.

  “Go on. Take the markers and write your message on the masking tape. Ya can even draw a Christmas tree on the paper if ya want to.”

  Tony used the markers to write his greeting and handed them back to the lady.

  “Oh, one more thing,” she said, rummaging through the drawer below the cash register.

  From somewhere deep inside the drawer, she pulled out a long piece of thick red yarn. She weaved it around the package and tied a bow on the top.

  “There, now it’s ready to give to your father.”

  Tony looked the woman in the eyes. “Thanks, lady. Means a whole lot to me.”

  “No problem. Ya have a Merry Christmas and a blessed New Year.”

  “Sure. Ya do the same.”

  The woman at the Goodwill store watched as Tony walked out of sight. She’d seen him over the past several months, on the streets, begging for money. He was no older than her own son, and she wondered how it was that such a young boy could be on the streets begging for money to survive instead of in school learning things that would help him survive in the adult world. It was a situation that broke her heart. She saw it every day. The lost children of the city falling victim to the cruel reality of nothingness. At these times she questioned God’s will and asked for his mercy on the lonesome souls of the streets.

  As Tony walked back to apartment 3F, it began to snow. The sun was setting and fewer people were on the streets as they rushed home for their Christmas Eve parties. By the time he reached the abandoned apartment building, the homeless squatters were in full party mode. People were in the hallways drinking and smoking. Someone had even trash-picked old Christmas garland and hung it on one of the railings. The usually somber people had been transformed into a group where joyfulness was contagious.

  Tony found Erikson in the second-floor hallway. He could tell by the way the man swayed that he was well on his way to the stoned state he preferred over the sober reality of his life.

  “Hey, Erikson.”

  “Tony! How ya doin’?”

  “Fine. I didn’t expect people to be celebratin’ like this.”

  “Of course we celebrate. Just ’cause we ain’t got ‘things,’” Erikson gestured in air quotes, “don’t mean we ain’t got each other. Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve are the best two days of the year around this joint. We’re luckier than the younger people. We got this old building, and that keeps us together, even though we get on each other’s nerves a lot.”

  Tony patted his friend on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go upstairs and eat some of the donuts I got from the bakery today. I’ll be back down when I’m finished.”

  “OK. I’m gonna stay here,” Erikson said, leaning in close to Tony’s ear, “and smoke this asshole’s weed. He’s so fucked up, he don’t even know that he’s been sharing it wit’ anybody who stands near him.” He nodded toward a thirtyish man with long, tangled hair that covered most of his face.

  Tony laughed to humor Erikson, but he didn’t think that it was funny. He wished his friend wasn’t a drug addict. Sometimes, Erikson’s addiction made Tony feel very alone. In those times, when memories of the prison rapes got jammed in Tony’s mind, he felt isolated from the entire world and anything that was remotely normal.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  It was almost eight o’clock at night on Christmas Eve when Tony left apartment 3F and walked to his family home. Tony slunk up the front porch steps to avoid all the creaky boards. He ducked below the front window and popped his head up. There, through the yellowed lace curtains, he saw his father sitting in his recliner, beer in hand, watching television. Macie was on the floor in front of him wrapping a present. And when Tony looked into the back of the house, he saw Teresa bustling around the kitchen. She was preparing the seven fishes for their traditional Christmas Eve meal. His mouth watered as he thought about the feast that his family would soon enjoy.

  Tony squatted in that spot for the better part of an hour. He longed to be with his mother and sister. He thought about Christmas when he was a young boy. He and Macie had never received anything great from Santa, but there was a false sense of peace every Christmas Eve. His belief that a magical man existed had given him hope that someday Santa would use that magic to make his father love them all and transform them into a happy family. But Santa had let him down when he was kid, year after year. Now, as Tony reflected on the past, he remembered when he’d figured out that the magical Santa he’d believed in had never existed. It was his mother, stripped of all power, who had put the meager presents under the tree each year.

  Tony’s stomach clamped down hard as he realized that as bad as he thought his life had been before going to juvenile detention, nothing could be worse than his current pitiful existence. He was just a boy, not yet a man, and he wanted his teenage years back. He longed for his dignity, which he believed could only be returned when his rapists were held accountable for their crimes against him. But Tony knew that no one in law enforcement would believe him even if he came forward and told the truth. So now the truth was smothered in silence, and his existence was a balance of embarrassment and rage.

  Tony bowed his head and asked God to keep his mother and sister safe. He quietly whispered, “Merry Christmas, Ma. Merry Christmas, Macie.”

  He wanted to knock on the front door and sit at the kitchen table with his mother and sister. He knew, however, that was only a fantasy and the very sight of him would send his father into a violent rant. With tears sliding down his cheeks, he sneaked back down the porch steps as quietly as he had crawled up them.

  ***

  When Tony woke up on Christmas morning, he sat up and looked around the dreary room. He spotted a present sitting next to the tree that Erikson had made with empty beer cans by placing them into the shape of a triangle. He could hear the soft snore from Erikson and crept over to put the gift he had bought him next to the tree.

  Tony got back into his sleep spot. He lay on his back, hands locked behind his head. How did you let this happen to me, God? Tony thought. What have I done that was so horrible to deserve all this bullshit in my life? You’ve been punishing me since I was born, and I want to know why.

  Erikson stirred under his wool blanket, disrupting Tony’s morbid thoughts, and Tony looked over with a smile covering his face. The older man’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Merry Christmas, old man!”

  “Who the fuck ya callin’ old?” he said, cracking a smile. “Merry Christmas, kid.”

  Erikson sat up slowly. “I bought ya a present.”

  Tony sprang up, excited that they had presents to exchange. It was a reminder it was still Christmas day. Tony brought the t
wo presents over and sat on the floor next to Erikson.

  “Open yours first,” Erikson said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

  Tony opened the used paper bag with grease stains from the slice of pizza that was once inside. Reaching his hand in, he pulled out a yellow-and-orange Koosh ball—a rubber ball with long rubber fringe on the surface. He held it in his hand and looked it over. The rubber fringe felt good against his fingers.

  Erikson got up and walked to the other side of the empty apartment.

  “Throw it to me.”

  Tony stood and threw the ball. A koosh sound filled the empty room, and Erikson grabbed the ball in midair.

  “See, it’s easy to catch and throw. It’s real fun to use, addicting too.”

  Erikson threw the ball back to Tony, and he caught it by the stringy rubber fibers.

  “Wow. I really like this. Thanks, Erikson.”

  “I bought it new too. Had to beg for two days straight to buy that thing.”

  “I appreciate it,” Tony said, squeezing the ball in his hand. Tony lowered his gaze to the floor, feeling guilty that he’d bought Erikson a secondhand gift.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nuttin’. Here’s your gift,” Tony said, handing him the wrapped present.

  Erikson turned the package over in his hands. “Been a long time since I got a Christmas present.” He read the messages Tony had written on the masking tape. Merry Christmas. Thanks for being my friend. Get a job.

  “Ya lost me at ‘get a job.’” Erikson chuckled.

  “Well, open it.”

  Erikson slowly untied the bow of thick red yarn and unfolded the paper. He admired the black hat and scarf before lifting them off of the paper and trying them on.

  “This is a real good gift, kid.”

  “I couldn’t afford to buy new ones,” Tony said.

  “What are ya talkin’ about? These are as good as new.”

  Truth was that Tony could’ve wrapped up dried turds and Erikson would have been grateful. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d received a gift and was touched that the kid liked him enough to buy him a present.