Stony got up at nine like he promised. At eight fifty-five Albert was standing in the doorway like a servant with a cup of coffee.
At nine-thirty they were standing in the foyer. Stony was checking his dough. They heard Marie getting up. Stony stared at his parents' door, feeling an angry tightness in his gut. When he looked for Albert, Albert was gone.
While they were waiting for the train, Albert unselfconsciously slipped his hand into his brother's. Normally Stony would consider this a stone faggot action, but Albert was his little brother. Besides, he liked the feel of Albert's hand—it was always warm and dry. He also liked to smell Albert's head for some crazy reason. Whenever they were wrestling or fucking around he would always try to stick his nose as close to Albert's head as possible, even if it meant getting Albert's hair up his nostrils—Albert's head always smelled like baby powder. Stony guessed he loved his brother, stone faggot action or no.
The subway exit let out in the middle of a dozen sleazy movie theaters. Albert was bug-eyed with excitement. He had never been in Times Square without his parents. Stony was blown out by all the lowlife. Dudes in dresses, young dirty stud hustlers jiggling their balls in their pockets and staring down old guys in front of movies, tall skinny black guys in imitation pimp lime greens and emergency yellows, alkies, junkies, lonelies. It was ten o'clock on a Saturday morning and the place was jumping.
"Holy shit!" Stony stood there gawking. He hadn't been down here in years.
Albert laughed and clapped his hands. "Look at the movies!"
"Who needs movies? I never saw so many fuckin' creeps in my life." Stony stared in fascination at the thirteen-year-old Puerto Rican kid standing in front of an Orange Julius. He had long greasy black hair tied flat with a red bandanna. He had a dark slit-featured face and was dressed in dungarees and a dungaree jacket. Suddenly Stony realized that the dude was staring back at him. Stony made a vague "not-me" motion with his head and grabbed for Albert's hand. The kid snickered. Flustered, Stony quickly disengaged Albert's hand. "He's my fuckin' brother!" Stony grabbed Albert's hand again and beat it around the corner.
They got to the movie an hour before the box office opened. Albert wanted to stand in line but Stony pulled him away. "C'mon, I'll take you to the automat."
Inside, Stony gave Albert a fistful of silver and told him to get anything he wanted. Fifteen minutes later Albert came back carrying a tray with orange soda, a corn muffin and a hot dog resting in an oval bed of baked beans. Stony had coffee and a prune Danish. "You ever come here before?" he asked.
"Once with Mommy when I was six. I threw up." He drank the orange soda.
"What were you doing here with Mommy?"
"She was gonna be a secretary and had to see a man and she didn't have a baby sitter."
"What she do when you threw up?"
"I got punished." Albert took the hot dog off the baked beans and broke off pieces to pop in his mouth.
"She don't fuckin' let up on you, does she?"
"What?"
"Nothin'. Eat up, I wanna play some pinball."
Albert left the beans and the corn muffin untouched. They went to a pinball arcade next to the movie house and walked down the lanes of machines amid a din of exploding torpedoes, screeching tires, ringing bells, whooping sirens and monotone groans from a robot cowboy.
"I wanna play this!" Albert stopped in front of a pinball machine with the legend HOOTENANNY—all the characters from "Hee-Haw" were painted on the scoreboard. Albert didn't do so hot. He kept flipping the flippers too late and was losing all his balls.
"Hold it, hold it. I got an idea." Stony slipped another dime in the machine. "You take that flipper and I'll take this one." He manned the left side of the machine and Albert took charge of the right flipper plus springing the balls into play. They played six games, each final score higher than the last. "We're regular fuckin' pinball wizards, huh?" Stony nudged his brother on the way out.
"Yeah!" Albert laughed. "Boing boing boing boing ding! ding!" He laughed again. "Hey, Stony, look!" Albert pointed in amazement to a row of red and white buttons hanging on a rack of gorilla masks, corny T-shirts and rubber chickens in the window of a novelty shop. On the sidewalk a small mechanical rubber porpoise was swimming in a pan of water and every few seconds spouting a thin schpritz. "Look a' that button!" He pointed to the first button in the row with ALBERT on it. "An' that one!" Albert pointed to a button marked TOMMY. "We can get two a them, one for you an' one for Daddy." Before they went inside Albert saw MARIA. "We can get one for everybody."
***
The movie was a real slam-bang smack-fooey with more methods of dealing death than Heinz had kinds. Pajamaed Chinks jumped forty-two feet in the air to rearrange each other's faces. Blood poured, spurted and dribbled from every human hole imaginable. Albert sat through the whole thing eating popcorn, his eyes as big as half dollars. Stony dug it too, nailed to his seat, sitting on his need to piss through the whole movie.
"I dug the part where Ting Ping pulled the guy's nose off." Albert extended two curled fingers, stuck them up an invisible opponent's nostrils and yanked.
The afternoon sunlight blinded Stony. He blinked, trying to get his bearings. "You want some Chinks?" They walked uptown on Broadway until they hit the Hunan Star.
"Hey, Stony." Albert peeked around the huge red menu. "You think they know..." He made a short karate chop in the air.
"Only the ones from New Jersey."
They sat next to a four-foot-high partition in the center of the restaurant. The partition was topped by a strip of heavy-duty plastic green shrubs. The far walls were covered with blowups of the Great Wall. Stony and Albert were the only customers. Chinese waiters scattered among the tables, silverware in hand, setting up. A tall skinny guy in a red jacket splotched with food and a six-inch-high shiny black pompadour asked for their order.
"Ah, number nine with egg drop soup. Albert?"
Albert looked up at the waiter, closed one eye and stroked his chin. Stony had a horrible premonition and covered his eyes.
"Do you know kung fu?" Albert asked.
"Ah!...Bluce Lee!" The waiter smiled.
"Albert, don't." Stony hid behind the menu. Albert jumped up from the table and affected kung fu position number one. Hunched over, one hand palm up, fingers curled, pulled back to his chest, the other arm extended rigidly, hand in a fist. The waiter laughed and yelled something in Chinese. The other waiters stopped what they were doing, looked over and started laughing.
"Albert, please." Stony wouldn't uncover his eyes. His face was redder than the menu. One of the waiters near Albert, a fat guy with a six-foot smile, stepped forward and assumed Albert's stance. Then he let out what passed for a kung fu shout. Albert attacked, making up his own kung fu shouts and windmilling karate chops. The waiter tried to look serious as he fended off the featherweight blows, but finally he fell on his ass laughing. All the waiters were howling, staggering around the empty restaurant holding their guts.
"Stony! Stony!" Albert tugged on his brother's arm. "I beat him! I beat him!"
After Stony finished his shrimps in lobster sauce and Albert his hamburger, the fat waiter whom Albert defeated brought a bowl piled with ice cream, Jell-O, kumquats and pineapple to their table. A half-dozen toothpicks with parasols protruded from the pineapple. He set the dish in front of Albert. "Dis for Bluce Lee!" He tousled Albert's hair. "You one tough customer!"
***
"Hey, Mister Bones!" Stony removed his jacket and threw it on his bed. "For a guy who don't eat much you know what you had today?" He counted on his fingers. "You had a hot dog, a Coke, popcorn, a hamburger, ice cream, pineapple, another Coke..."
Albert smiled triumphantly, then all of a sudden his face turned green and he bolted for the john.
***
Saturday afternoon Chubby drove up to Banion's. The day was hot and sticky and he relished the thought of some cool drinks and lazy conversation in the air-conditioned bar.
"Hey-y, B
an-yon!" Chubby walked in, hands in pockets, and swung a leg over a barstool.
Banion poured out a Scotch.
"Chub, you missed somethin' here las' night." He wiped the counter in front of Chubby. "We had the fuckin' cops."
"You get held up?"
"Nah, you know Dave Stern?"
"Big Dave?"
"Right, the fireman."
"Yeah?"
"The cops were after him. They dragged him outta here last night."
"Big Dave?" Chubby sipped his drink. "What the hell for? He's one a the quietest guys I ever seen. He start a fire or somethin'?"
"Nah, nah. See, his kid, he got a twenny-year-old kid. He ran away from home last week. Just packed up and split. Yesterday, Dave gets this letter from him. The fuckin' kid joined a Jesus commune down in Arkansas, right?" Banion raised his eyebrows. "He writes this letter like, 'Dear Mom and Dad, I've found God blah, blah, blah.' Now get this—'I have changed my name. I am no longer Michael Stern. My name is Matthew'—O.K.? Dropped the family name, the religion. Dave's Jewish, no word where he is, when he's comin' home, if he's comin' home and the fuckin' kid has the balls to sign the letter: 'Smile, Jesus loves you. Matthew.'"
"Oh Christ."
"The kid dropped outta New York University. Not a word, nothin'." Banion poured himself a drink. "You know that goddamn kid was only a junior and got accepted to dental school awready? Can you believe that? He's so goddamn smart he got accepted a year early. All he had to do was finish up his junior year an' he was in. Full scholarship, Chubby, full scholarship. You have any idea how he broke his parents' hearts? Dave's wife had a nervous breakdown. Dave's older kid, Ronnie, drove off to Arkansas to find his brother and drag his ass back home. Dave was in here last night. Drinkin' like a fish. The poor guy's whole life fell apart. He runs outta here, an hour later comes runnin' back in, his shirt's all ripped, pantin' like a bull, ten minutes later three cops come in, they take him outta here at gunpoint, poor guy's cryin' like a baby. One a the cops tells me what happened. You ever see those Harry Krishner creeps that dance around in fronna the shoppin' center on Central Avenue? Seems like Dave was drivin' around, saw them and went nuts, you know Harry Krishner, Jesus Freaks, what's the difference? Dave jumps outta his car, grabs a crowbar. Three a them wound up in the hospital. The cops chased him all the way back here. A couple a the guys went down to the station, explained to the judge what's been goin' on, the judge set bail at fifty bucks. They chipped in an' took him home."
"I tell you, Banion, these days, I thank God I don't got kids. Poor Dave. How's his wife?"
Banion shrugged. "Hard to say, I think she'll be O.K." He poured Chubby and himself another. "It's a knife in their hearts, Chubby, a knife in their hearts."
"Big Dave," Chubby muttered. "Don't you feel the same way?"
"What?"
"About havin' kids. Don't you feel glad you don't got any?"
Banion looked grimly at Chubby. "I got a kid. Chubby."
"You do? How come you never say nothin'?"
"Nothin' to say ... kicked him out three years ago." Banion busied himself washing clean glasses.
"How come?"
"Paul's a fag," Banion said offhandedly. "He's a fuckin' fag."
Chubby felt a rush of dizziness like he'd felt with Sylvia that night. His hands and feet tingled and his eyes wouldn't focus. "What ... uh ... how you know?" His voice sounded weak.
Banion glared at him. "Don't fuckin' ask me how I know. I know, I know, is all." Chubby walked to the john. When he came out Banion was sitting behind the bar, his back to Chubby, his hands resting in his lap. He wheeled the chair around. "You're right, though, Chub. These days ... these days people without kids should thank God."
They sat in silence through three more drinks until Chubby eased himself off his stool and headed for the door.
"Chubby?" Chubby turned around. "Don't say nothin', O.K.?"
7
STONY GOT UP early Monday morning. He and Butler had promised Chili Mac they'd help him move into his own place near D'Artagnan's. When Stony got out of bed Albert was already watching cartoons. His old man had split for work and his mother was still sleeping. When he passed her bedroom she was tossing and turning, making weird moaning noises in her sleep. Stony shrugged and left the house.
***
Marie dreamed that she was sitting naked in her mother's house on the brocade piano stool. Her parents were standing in back of her laughing hysterically. She was glad they were happy and started laughing along with them. Her mother said between guffaws, "Don't worry, Marie, Doctor Marcus will be here any minute." Marie got scared. She hated Doctor Marcus. "Why is he coming?" she asked.
"Because look!" they both cried, pointing to her back. Then they doubled over with renewed laughter. Marie reached behind her back; her fingers touched something soft and sticky. She ran to the mirror and screamed. Her spine had split open from the base of her skull to a point above her buttocks, revealing a huge white pulpy larva.
Marie fell out of bed and vomited on the floor. She was trembling so badly she couldn't stand up so she just rested on all fours on the puke-spattered rug. She moaned. Her stomach heaved and convulsed in shuddering waves. She tried to wipe her chin, but when she lifted her hand she fell forward on her elbow.
"M—Mommy!" Albert stood in the bedroom doorway pop-eyed in horror.
She snarled at him, "Help me!" Albert backed away from her. "Help me, you little bastard!" Sobbing, Albert ran to his room. She heard him slam his door. Marie steadied herself, then leaned her arms and head against the side of the bed as if she were saying her prayers. She rested like this for a minute before struggling to stand up. She tried to take a deep breath but the back of her throat was raw from vomiting. She wiped her face on her sweat-soaked nightgown before staggering to the bathroom.
After a scalding shower she felt a little better. She brushed her teeth twice and gargled with Listerine. Her legs were still rubbery as she walked out of the bathroom in Tommy's raspberry terry robe. Passing Albert's bedroom she remembered in a flush of rage his running away. She clenched her teeth and swung open the door so hard that the noise of the doorknob smashing against the wall sounded like a gunshot. Albert squealed and jumped to his feet. A furious cartoon battle was raging on television, with animals sailing across the screen and crashing somewhere out of sight.
"I—I I'm's—sorry," he sputtered, spraying spit, "M—Mommy." The sight of Marie standing in the doorway, chest heaving like a steaming Medusa, made him wet his pants. He stared with horror at the spreading stain, then at his mother with a mute, pleading look.
"AN-NI-MAAAL!" Marie shrieked, bounding across the bedroom to grab Albert's hair, pulling his head up so that he almost stood on tiptoe. Albert screamed and in a spasm of terror started pumping his legs up and down, running in place, Marie's fingers entwined like snakes in his hair.
Wildly, Albert looked around the room but dared not move for fear of Marie's tearing his hair out. His eyes became wet and he didn't know what to do with his arms. "M—Mommy, puh—please." Albert tried to stroke her cheek above his head but she snapped her head out of his reach and yanked his hair even harder. "I'm's—s—sorry, s—s—sorry," he gasped. Marie's face was quivering, her eyes nearly closed, her top lip disappeared into a thin white line of tension. She could feel his emaciation. The sight of his ribs sticking out even beneath his polo shirt chilled her with disgust. She wrenched him away from her, hurling him onto his bed, but he was up like a shot, flattening himself against a wall like a hunted animal. The cartoon on television exploded in star patterns, which cleared away to reveal a gunpowder-blackened coyote.
"Turn that goddamn thing off!" she screamed. With a wail Albert dove for the set, clicked it off and raced back to his spot. "Why do you hate me, all of us so much? I say, 'Albert, eat, Albert, eat, Albert, eat, please, Albert, eat, you're so skinny.' The doctor, no! No, you break everybody's heart, everybody who loves you, you break their heart. They look at you, and they wanna puke
! Yeah! Yeah! Do you know last week your Aunt Phyllis was in tears! In tears! She said God forgive me, Marie, every time I see him so skinny like that I wanna vomit."
"No!" Albert screamed. The vision of his favorite aunt in tears over his selfish skinniness made him bray in anguish. He sank to the floor, rocking back and forth.
Marie's voice dropped to a whisper. "Why do you do this to us, Albert? What pleasure do you get out of torturing us? I beg you to eat. I cook for you anything. I walk and buy and I cook and pray to God please God let him like it, let him eat." Marie knelt on the floor, raising her clasped hands to the ceiling, threw her head back and bellowed, "God! God! What did I do, God? Why am I punished?"
"Mommy!" Albert ran in place again. His face was red and twisted with grief, his cheeks spattered with tears. "Mommy, I'll eat! I'll eat! Oh, Mommy, I swear to God I'll eat, I'll eat." He ran to the kitchen and ran back with a box of rice. "Look! Look!" He jammed a fistful of uncooked rice in his mouth. Marie ignored him, her eyes closed in prayer. Albert gagged and spit up rice and bile over the floor. Marie straightened in disgust. Albert grabbed for her legs.
"Don't touch me!" she screamed. She bared her teeth and pulled her hair. "I'm leaving! Forever! I can't stand you!" She left the room, slamming the door in his face.
"Mommy!" he screamed, opening the door, chasing his mother through the apartment and clutching the rice box. Marie ran into the foyer, grabbed a full-length fake fur coat and tan suitcase from the hall closet. "Mommy, look, I'm eating! I'm eating! Look! Look!" He blubbered and gagged, stuffing rice in his mouth, spitting out as much as he was swallowing. Albert grabbed her robe as she tried to pull on the coat. She shoved him onto the floor.
"I can't stand you!" she screamed at him. "I can't stand to look at you! You make me sick!" She put on the coat, grabbed the empty suitcase and before Albert could struggle to his feet was out of the apartment.
Bloodbrothers Page 7
