THE LONGEST WALK OF MY LIFE

After observing the whole scene with Esperanza and the guy in purple, Joey is stupified. He begins to walk home unsteadily, in a state of confusion and numbness, when he comes upon Warnanco Park, just falling onto the grass, dazed and staring into space.

 Two hours later, I plod into my living room, dragging my feet heavily on the floor. Dinnertime. My mother and sisters scurrying around in the frenetic ballet that is preparation for the nightly ritual of dinner.

“Pick your feet up when you walk, will ya, for crissakes?” my father yells out from the dining room table, even though he can’t see me. The sound of feet dragging was just one of the litanies of noises that irritated my father. Living with him is like playing the game, Operation. You never know which move or noise will strike a nerve, and make him buzz.  My mother, a large serving dish of meatloaf in her hands, halts in mid-stride.

“Oh my God Joseph, what is wrong with you?”

My eyes downcast, I don’t - or rather - can’t respond.

“I got the bent fork again! Every goddamn night we go through this!”  my father bellows.

“You look like a ghost! Are you sick?” my mother continues.

She places the meatloaf down on the table, feels my forehead, first with her hand, then with her cheek.

“You don’t have a fever - but you’re so clammy ...what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

If she only knew what the problem really is! If she only knew about Esperanza. But, there’s no way I can ever tell her, or any of them, about that. I plop down at my position at the table, trying to summon up the will to pick up the serving spoon from the bowl of mash potatoes. My sisters and little brother compete in a frantic grab for the biggest piece of meatloaf, a job usually reserved for me. They sense a weakness in me tonight. Opportunity beckons. Eventually, I manage to slop some mashed potatoes onto my plate. My mother continues to peek over at me, concern revealed in the position of her eyebrows.

“Joseph, are you sure you’re alright?”

A half-assed squeak, somehow, escapes from my mouth. Kind of, like, The Tin Man, when Dorothy has to oil his jaw.

For a minute, it becomes silent, all activity ceases, as my sisters scrutinize me. Their plates are full now. Apparently, I’m the next victim of the feeding frenzy.

“Oh my God, he is so on drugs, Mom! The other day, he was like dancing around with the broom and everything, right, and now look - he can’t even keep his head up! Oh my God, that’s like the classic symptoms of a drug addict.”

“Yeah, we just saw this video in health class the other day, about these drug addicts just like that. They get hyped up on speed, and then gotta come down on, like, Quaaludes, or something,” Chimes in Karen.

“OK doctors, just mind your own business, alright.” My mother defends me.

“What kind of horse’s ass would you have to be to go down that road?” my father grumbles, shooting a glance at me.

“Alright, can we all just eat dinner now like a normal family? Thank you.” Mom pleads stressfully.

I force down a couple of gulps of mashed potatoes, but I can’t eat, and I’m in no mood to be dissected tonight, either. I ask to be excused from the table, go up to my room and crash land on my bed.

Flash! Flash! Flash! Like those giant flashbulb cameras newspaper reporters used in the 1930s. Shots (images) relentlessly invade the darkness. Even though my eyes are closed.

Purple. The purple jacket. A velvet purple jacket. Flash. Scenes from, Death Wish. When they raped Charles Bronson’s wife. Perfectly tailored purple jacket. Flash! Me and Esperanza, making it in her car that night. Flash! Violet shirt. A light shade of violet, unbuttoned down past his chest. A myriad of gold chains dangling from his neck. Medallions, and a crucifix. Flash! The rape scene with Margaux Hemingway, in Lipstick.  Flash! Purple shoes.  Suede. This guy’s walking around with his jacket open, shirt unbuttoned all the way the hell down. It’s November. It’s fucking thirty-eight degrees, man! Asshole.

More ruminating. Then the really horrifying, deep down truth of the matter assaults me. This guy is so fucking good-looking! I mean, like Omar Sharif/Warren Beatty handsome. I’m no homo - but this guy is like the male Esperanza. Regular rules don’t apply to these kinds of people. They’re like another species. That’s what’s really eating at my intestines. Plus, he’s probably Puerto Rican, too, from the look of him. Another strike against me.  Kind of tall. Pencil mustache. Perfectly coiffed curly/wavy hair, with the curl strategically dipped below one eye. His scarf it was apricot.  No, wait a minute, that’s Warren Beatty in You’re So Vain.  

How could she do this to me? I thought we were in love! She even took me to her house! I thought everything was going to be like, great, from here on in. Maybe there really is no such thing as love. Maybe it really is all just bullshit.

THE BAD SCENE

After Joey experiences the Esperanza love euphoria for a few days, he decides he MUST see her again - but when he heads up to The Tijeras de Oro to see her - he is met with a horrifying sight!!

Thursday arrives, I have a day off from The Fox Hole, and I cannot wait anymore, I miss her so much. I’m going to go surprise her at the shop. I’ll bring her up those Polaroids I took of the mural, the last night Na-Na and I were there, so she can show ‘em off to the ladies at the shop. Yeah, she’ll like that. I hop off the bus, and practically skip to the bodega at the corner of Broad Street, to buy some Peppermint Patties. Women love expensive chocolate. I head over to the Tijeras de Oro, all dreamy, romantic, and goose bumpy.

A little more than half a block away, and across the street, I spot her outside the shop. Conversing with a guy all dressed in purple, for some reason. I slow down a bit, not wanting to interrupt her, because this guy could be a customer, or something.  

As I get a little closer though, I can see the conversation is becoming more animated. More heated. She’s yelling at him, but I can’t hear or understand what she’s saying…and now he’s screaming back, gesturing wildly with his hands. Suddenly, she slaps the dude right in the face!  Holy shit! What the hell is going on?! In a split second, she’s flailing away at him, kicking, cussing – then, he grabs her arms, blocking her kicks with his legs. She’s struggling, crying, and shouting. I’m going to kill this motherfucker!!  I don’t care who he is. I charge up the street, bristling with fury - but the freaking traffic light turns red now. Damn! It’s rush hour. There’s a crazy, frenetic onslaught of buses and trucks rumbling by me, temporarily blockading my view. C’mon, light – change! I get a slight reprieve, as I briefly spy them again through the barrage of vehicles. He has her face in his hands, forcing his lips upon her! No fucking way! I dart out into the middle of the freeway-like avenue, intent on beating the shit out of him and rescuing my girl. Trucks and taxis lock their brakes, screeching to avoid smashing me into pulp! I duck and juke in and out, between them. She’s squirming madly, trying to fight off his macho advances, as he grabs her by the waist. I’m flushed with rage - a bus swerves, just missing me, as he slams down on his horn. Adrenaline speeds through me, making me feel as I can fly right over all the traffic. Beeping - beeping.  All of a sudden, she surrenders her struggle. Gives in. Embracing him, as she throws her arms around his shoulders. Caressing him desperately. They absorb each other, kissing passionately, ferociously. I stop right there. Paralyzed. A tractor-trailer rumbles in front of me, shaking the ground like a freight train. Black toxic exhaust spews from a hundred tail pipes, surrounding me with an impenetrable filthy cloud, choking me, gagging me.  

“Mericone!”

“Huevon!  Puto!”

“Pendejo!  Get the fuck out of the street, asshole!”

The curses, the screams, the screeches, and the horns are beeping in a myriad of varying tones and pitches. All coagulating into a kind of horrific, chaotic, opera of madness.

The next thing I see, is Esperanza and this purple guy retreat into his silver Cadillac, and roar off down the avenue.

TROUBLE AFTER PARADISE

For days after his carnal experience with Esperanza, Joey is still floating 10 feet off the ground.

The next couple of days go by, and I am just radiating this aura of joy and love - even in the hallways at school. It’s as if nothing can faze me.  Now, this must be what it is like to be in love. Even some of the black girls smile at me, as they pass me in the hall. Including Carol Simmons, who’s probably the most beautiful girl in 10th grade - black or white. Even when David White and the Orange Face brothers scowl at me as they bop down the hallway, calling me a “punk-ass-bitch,” it doesn’t matter. I just beam at them with compassion in my heart, and float on down the corridor. I feel saintly! Although, I am dying to tell somebody about the whole Esperanza experience. But who can I tell? Not Skinny or Ricky - they think I’ve been boffing her all along. Certainly not Na-Na. It’s just welling up inside me, ready to pop. Finally, I just have to spill it to somebody, and wind up telling Marc, my Greek stoner dishwashing partner, at The Fox Hole.

I’m surprised, because as I’m reciting to him the tale of my love fest, he keeps pressing me for every minute detail. He’s asking me very specific questions. After each verification, he says - “excellent!” Later, he presents me with a nice, thick spliff. As a congratulation gift to share with Esperanza.

The next day, when I come to school, the black kids are in an uproar. There’s some serious trouble brewing again. I find out that somebody has painted KKK in white, on Contreau’s black Camaro in the parking lot! The black kids are enraged that someone would have the nerve to pull something like that - right there in the parking lot. They are convinced that TheKlan is present somewhere among the white kids. And the black kids are out for revenge.The white kids, of course, are equally terrified of another Black uprising, and they keep their distance. Tensions are definitely high. I have a feeling I know who is responsible for this.

THE AFTERMATH

    It’s the next day afterJoey loses his virginity to Esperanza and he is deliriously happy

     The next day, Sunday, arises. As I wake up to a sunny late morning, it’s like I’m entranced in a soothingly sweet lucid dream.

Oh my God! Did it really happen last night? Had I truly become one in a magnificent, passionate embrace with - Esperanza?  I am possessed by happy demons. Infused with giddiness. As the day wears on, I am spontaneously bursting into insane song and dance routines like –

   “Wherever we go, whatever we do, we’re gonna do it together!” 

 I’m snapping my fingers. Doing pratfalls down the stairs into the living room, for God’s sake! Just out of control. That evening, as my sisters are helping my mother get dinner ready in the kitchen…for no apparent reason, I whimsically grab the broom from Maryanne, and go into this bizarre rendition of –

  “Do-re-mi” from Mary Poppins, and using this exaggeratedly theatrical voice. I’m doing pirouettes all over the kitchen, with the broom.

“Doe, a deer, a female deer, ray, a drop of golden sun; me, a name, I call myself, far, far, far to run…”

My mother is looking at me, half smiling, and half very alarmed.

“Ewww, get out of here - freak! Snaps Maryanne.

“What are you - mental?” chimes in Karen.

They are not smiling.  

But, nothing - nothing, can deter my cheerfulness. Today, I’m in a giving mood. I actually come to their aid, pushing past them, and carrying the baked ziti and sausages to the table!

“Pardon me, pardon me! Allow me, madam.”

“What is wrong with him tonight?!” They both look at me disgustedly.   

I begin to serve out portions to them, like a butler, like Mr. French, from Family Affair. Yeah, I’m Mr. French now, that’s who I am! The thought of it cracks me up, as I start speaking in that English butler kind of accent.  I’m quite amused with myself. My father, is now eyeing me suspiciously.

“He’s on something, ma! I bet he got a hold of some speed, or uppers, from his black drug dealer friends at school!”  acuses Maryanne.  

“I wouldn’t talk, not with all those drug addict skanks you hang out with! Joe Baretti! Heh, heh,” I retort in a sing-song voice.

“Joe Baretti?! He’s the sweetest guy in the world! He doesn’t even drink beer or – “

“Drug addict! Drug addict!” I chant.

“Don’t let me find out your smoking any of that funny stuff, or whatever,” my father warns me.

“God! Can’t somebody just be happy?” I complain.

“Not that happy, my friend. It’s not normal.”

“He’s not normal.”  Maryanne condemns.

I cluck my tongue and sigh.

“I’m not on anything, Wallace (that’s what I called him, for some reason). Jeez…I’m just in a good mood.”

“I’m just saying, I find out you’re doing any of that stuff, I’ll have your ass in a military school so damn fast” …his voice trails off, as he proceeds to cut his meat into precise two inch cubes.

“Damn! Can’t anybody just be happy around here?”

This whole scene reminds me of this Star Trek episode that really annoyed me. The Enterprise beams down McCoy, Spock, and a few of the crew to this planet, where an expedition team from like a hundred years ago, supposedly got stranded on. Figuring everybody would be long dead by now, they’re instead shocked to not only find them all alive, but they haven’t aged at all, either! And they’re ridiculously healthy, too - and happy! There’s these flowers on the planet that shoot these spores, and it keeps everybody happy, healthy, and young. They work just enough to sustain themselves, and the rest of the time they just have sex and fun. So the flowers shoot the Enterprise crew with the spores also, and pretty soon everybody just wants to have a good time. When Kirk finally beams down, he, for some reason, is annoyed that everybody is happy. Even Spock.  In fact, Spock is hanging upside down from a tree branch, laughing - and he has a girlfriend! Spock! He only mates like once every seven years, usually. Whoa. So Kirk beams back up to the Enterprise in a huff, and devises a way for the starship to emit this ultrasonic sound wave, that destroys all the flowers. And everybody’s miserable again. Except Kirk, who’s feeling good about it! I mean, why did Kirk have to ruin everything? Why couldn’t he just leave it be?  

Even later, when they all get back on board, Spock laments –

“For the first time in my life, I was happy.”  What a bummer.

Anyway, Kirk is like my father, I think, just trying to spoil my fun. It doesn’t matter, though. All I have to do is think back to last night with Esperanza, the way it was so tight in her MG Midget, and how my leg would involuntarily jerk, once accidentally kicking the radio button on to Van Morrison’s, Crazy Love! I mean, how perfect is that? How the windows were so fogged up from the contrast of the bitter cold outside, and the steamy heat inside. How Esperanza would make these noises that murmured from deep inside her breast…sounds I’ve never even heard from another human being before. That’s all I need to smile and create a warm, tingly feeling inside me! And nobody or nothing, can ever take that away!