Then Again, Maybe I Won't

  That night I told my mother that I was never going to learn to play the piano and there was nothing she could do about it and that if she made me take any more lessons my pains were going to get worse! And why didn’t she ask Dr. Holland if it was good for me to have to take piano lessons when I didn’t want to at all!

  The next day Pop said, “Tony … your mother and I have decided that if you don’t want to take piano lessons you don’t have to.”

  “Really?” I asked. “You really mean it?” I looked at my mother. She didn’t answer me but she nodded her head a little.

  Pop said, “We’re not going to force you to do something you hate. I just wish you’d remember that we only want you to have every opportunity we couldn’t give your brothers.”

  I wanted to say to let me alone and stop trying to shove everything that Ralph and Vinnie didn’t have down my throat! But I couldn’t say it because that would have hurt their feelings and they weren’t trying to be mean. But sometimes they’re so full of bull they make me sick.

  Then Again,

  Maybe I Won’t

  My parents joined the Newcomers Club at church. They went to a couple of parties and said they met a lot of nice people. But they still haven’t been invited to the Hoobers’ house and I think my mother would rather go there than all the other places put together.

  Father Pissaro the Second visits Grandma every week. I go to confession once a month, same as in Jersey City. I’ve thought a lot about what to confess. For a while I thought I should tell him about Lisa. But I decided that watching her at night isn’t really a sin. As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone what’s so wrong about it?

  There are a couple of things I’d like to talk over with somebody. Not with Joel though and not with Marty Endo or Scott Gold either. Whenever we have a discussion it always turns into a big joke. Maybe if we still lived in Jersey City I’d ask Ralph. But I’m not sure about that either. He acts so old lately. My father said to ask him if I have questions but I know he’s hoping I never have any. I’m thinking about going to Ted Gibbons … to ask him if he ever had dreams like me and then to find out what he did about them.

  Ted is really proud of our Youth Group. And especially our basketball team. We’ve only lost one game so far and even though he tells us he doesn’t care who wins, because it’s how you play the game that counts, I can tell he’s pleased.

  This coming Friday night we’re playing the First Methodist Youth Group. They’re the only other team in the league that’s lost just one game. Ted said he’s going to bring a date to this game—some girl he really likes a lot.

  I’m getting used to Corky. She doesn’t bother me the way she used to. She still spends a lot of time giggling but she’s turned into a pretty good cheerleader. She doesn’t look anything like Lisa but she sure can yell loud! For a while she tried to sit next to me in church every Sunday but now I make sure I’m between my mother and my father so she leaves me alone.

  On Friday night my father and Ralph came to see the big game. My team got to start. I was really in good form. I scored six points in foul shots alone. At the end of the first half we were leading by two points. The Methodist guys were pretty good.

  In the second half Marty Endo’s team took over and we dropped two points behind. Three minutes before the end of the game Marty tripped on his shoelace and fell flat on his face. Time out was called and we all ran onto the court. Marty was out cold. His mother and father were at the game and they came flying down from the bleachers. His mother got really upset when she saw him stretched out on the floor and she started to cry, “Oh my God … oh my God!” It’s a good thing Marty didn’t hear her—he’d have been furious!

  When Marty came to he didn’t know what had happened. But when he tried to stand up he said he felt dizzy and nauseous and he had a big bump on his head. Ted said it could be a concussion so Mr. and Mrs. Endo decided to take Marty straight to the hospital.

  With only three minutes left to play and our team down two points Ted called me. “Go on in, Tony. Do your stuff.”

  Corky squealed when she saw me running in and started cheering like crazy. I didn’t even have a chance to get nervous. Because I wasn’t on the court for twenty seconds when this big guy from First Methodist gave me an elbow in the stomach. The referee blew his whistle and called a personal foul.

  It was very quiet. Everybody was watching me. I thought about Ted and about Marty and about how much we’d all like to win this game. Then I aimed and threw the ball, nice and easy, the way Ted said to do it when you’re under pressure. Right in the basket! The crowd started yelling and some of the guys patted me on the backside. We were only one point behind.

  First Methodist had the ball. They were stalling, passing it back and forth, when Gregg Kusiv jumped up and intercepted. Now it was our ball. When we got within shooting distance of our basket Gregg passed the ball to me. I dribbled around but I couldn’t shoot—I was being guarded by the biggest guy on their team. I wanted to make a basket so bad! I wanted to be the big hero! But I had no chance—so I passed it to Jim Quinn and he put it in just as the whistle blew to end the game.

  WE WON! WE WON! Our whole Youth Group ran onto the court and we all jumped around and hugged each other. When Ted stepped out Corky led us in a cheer just for him. Then I saw this blonde girl come rushing at Ted. She threw her arms around him and gave him a big kiss and we all stopped cheering to watch Ted and his girlfriend and that’s when it hit me. The girl was Lisa! My Lisa, standing there kissing Ted … right in public … for everyone to see. Ted and his moustache! It wasn’t fair. She should have been kissing me! I’m the one who won the game. Well, I did … didn’t I? Who knows what would have happened if Marty hadn’t tripped over his shoelace and knocked himself out. Who knows?

  While I was thinking about that Corky asked me to go out for ice cream with her and some other kids from our Youth Group. But all of a sudden I didn’t feel like celebrating anything. So I told her, “Some other time maybe.”

  And she said, “Oh Tony!” and I knew she was really disappointed but I didn’t care much.

  I went home with my father and Ralph and even though they kept saying how great I played I didn’t want to hear it.

  I called up Mrs. Endo to see how Marty was and she said he was very groggy but that the doctor promised he’d be okay in two days. I said I was glad to hear that. Then I told my family how tired I was from the big game and I went up to my room and fell asleep.

  I tried not to think about Lisa. I didn’t feel like having any dreams. I just wanted to sleep and forget about everything. But I dreamed about her and Ted and the things they probably do when they’re alone and I knew I’d never ask Ted any of the questions I was thinking about asking him.

  Toward the end of February Frankie Bollino called. I couldn’t believe it at first.

  “Hey Frankie! Is it really you?” I asked.

  “None other,” Frankie said.

  I asked him about my old paper route, which he reported was doing fine—about the old basketball game, which they were still playing—about junior high, which he said wasn’t so bad—and about the weather, which was dumb because it was the same as in Rosemont, except we get more snow than Jersey City.

  After that I didn’t have anything else to say but Frankie did. “Why don’t you come back to see us some time?”

  I said, “Why don’t you come see me?”

  Then we both laughed until Frankie said, “Okay. When?”

  “When what?” I asked.

  “When should I come see you?”

  I said, “Are you serious?”

  He said, “Sure.”

  I said, “Hey, that’s great! Why don’t you come on Saturday and stay overnight?”

  He said, “Swell.”

  “Wait a second while I tell my parents,” I said. I put down the phone and ran into the other room.

  “Guess who’s on the phone?” I asked my mother and father. “It’s Frankie Bollino! I invited him to sta
y overnight this Saturday.”

  My father said, “I’ll pick him up in New York … at the tubes. That’ll save him a train ride out here.”

  “Thanks, Pop,” I called, already on my way back to the phone. I picked up the receiver and said, “Hey Frankie … it’s all arranged. My father’ll pick you up at the tubes in New York, Saturday.”

  “What time?” Frankie asked.

  “Oh … whatever time you say.”

  “How about eight?”

  “In the morning?”

  “Too early?” Frankie asked.

  “Yeah … better make it around ten.”

  “Okay Tony. See you then.”

  “Right,” I said and hung up.

  I really felt good. I wondered why I haven’t thought about calling Frankie. I’m sure glad he called me. I went into the living room. “How about that?” I said. “Good old Frankie Bollino.”

  “You’ve got plenty of friends in Rosemont,” my mother said. “I don’t see why you have to start up with him.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “I’ve got nothing against Frankie,” she said. “It’s just that Jersey City is a long way off and you can’t see each other very often so you might as well concentrate on your new friends.”

  But my father said, “There’s no friend like an old friend! Right, Tony?”

  To be honest I have to admit that I hardly ever think about Frankie and the other guys any more. I don’t really miss them. Still, I’m looking forward to Frankie’s visit.

  I rode into the city with my father on Saturday morning. Frankie was already there, waiting at the tubes. He was carrying an airline bag. He recognized our car right away and ran straight over. “Hey, old pal!” he hollered.

  “Hey Frankie!”

  We sat in the back on the way home to Rosemont and when my father pulled into our driveway, Frankie let out a low whistle and said, “Wow! You sure have come a long way!”

  “Never mind the house,” I said, embarrassed. “Come on in.”

  My mother was waiting for us. “Hello Frank.”

  Frankie dropped his airline bag on the floor and said, “Hiya Mrs. Miglione.” He kept looking around at the house saying “Wow!” and shaking his head.

  “Well, it’s nice to see you, Frank,” my mother said. I knew what she was thinking. That he didn’t shake hands like certain other persons we know.

  “My mother says to tell you she sends regards and when are you coming back to Jersey City for a visit,” Frankie said.

  “Oh, well … I’ve been busy,” my mother said. “You know Ralph and Angie had a baby … and I’ve been helping out.”

  “This is some place!” Frankie said.

  “Come on … cut it out, will you!” I said, giving Frankie an elbow in the ribs. “It’s just a house.”

  Later I asked him how Mrs. Gorsky was and he told me she says I was the best paper boy she ever had. And that she misses me a lot.

  “That’s crazy!” I told Frankie. “She hated me.”

  “Well, now she hates me,” Frankie said. “Say … where’s your grandmother? Doesn’t she live with you anymore?”

  “Oh sure,” I said. “But she stays in her room most of the time. She … she doesn’t feel too well.” I don’t think I’ll ever tell anyone the truth about Grandma. I’m too ashamed.

  Maxine made my favorite chicken for supper. Did she give me a special look when she served it? I’m not sure. I try to stay out of her way these days. I always bend my head when she comes into the dining room so she can’t look me in the eye. I can’t tell if she knows about me or not. My sheets don’t get changed every time I have a dream but it seems to me Maxine smiles a lot more than she used to—and always when I’m around.

  “Wow!” Frankie said. “This is just great food, Mrs. Miglione.”

  “Thank you, Frank. We’ll have to tell Maxine how much you enjoyed it. She does all the cooking.”

  “You know,” Frankie said for about the millionth time, “this is really some place you have here.” He drank half a glass of milk. “My mother said I should be sure to notice all the little things so I can tell her all about it.”

  After supper Joel called and invited me and Frankie over. My father announced that he and my mother were going to a movie and that we could come along if we wanted to.

  “What are you going to see?” I asked.

  “The Last Stranger,” my mother said.

  “What’s it about?” I asked.

  “Love.”

  I looked at Frankie. “No thanks,” I said. “We’ll go to Joel’s.”

  I think Frankie was even more impressed with Joel’s house than mine. It’s bigger and of course there are spotlights to show off the pool in the backyard.

  Frankie couldn’t believe the Hoobers’ bedroom. He said, “Wait till I tell my mother about this!”

  I thought maybe I’d be able to see Lisa, but she was already out on a date. She goes out just about every Saturday night and sometimes on Fridays too. I know because I waited up for her once or twice but she’s been coming in later and later. And she doesn’t go out only with Ted. I can tell by the different cars that pick her up. Now I only get to see her four or five times a week.

  We went into Joel’s room where he showed Frankie his paperback collection. Frankie said it’s even better than Big Joe’s.

  After that Joel asked, “You guys want some beer?”

  “What … are you kidding!” I said.

  “No, I mean it. Didn’t you ever drink beer?” Joel said.

  “You know I didn’t,” I told him.

  Frankie said, “Me neither. But I’ll try it … if Tony does too.”

  So we followed Joel down to the recreation room where there’s a really fancy bar with barstools and everything. We started with one can. Joel had some first, then passed it to me. I choked and passed it to Frankie. We had another can when we polished off that one and then Joel asked us did we want to taste something even better.

  Frankie said anything would be better than that. So Joel got out four bottles and lined them up on top of the bar. Scotch, rye, vodka and brandy. He said we’d have to drink from the bottles because if we messed up any glasses his father would know we’d been fooling around.

  We started with the scotch, which burned my throat. Then the vodka, which Joel said has no taste at all and should be gulped because it would make us feel good really fast. Then the rye, which burned my throat some more. After that Joel passed around the brandy because he said that was for after dinner.

  That’s when Frankie fell off the barstool and started to laugh. Wow! I never heard such a crazy laugh. I mean, he just stretched out on the floor and laughed like a nut!

  “Who’s your friend?” Joel asked me.

  “I dunno. I never saw him,” I said. It was hard to get the words out.

  “Me neither. Mussbe some drunk!”

  “Yeah. Mussbe.” I got off my barstool and sat down on the floor next to Frankie. “Hey Misser … you some drunk or what?”

  Frankie just laughed, so I started laughing too. But when I lay down on the floor the whole room started spinning—around and around and around. I couldn’t make it stop for anything.

  “Hey Joel … the room’s going round. Commere and see.”

  So Joel stretched out next to us and he said, “Yeah … sure is. All aroun … all aroun and aroun and aroun … like a merry-go-roun.”

  “I tole you,” I said. “Din I tell you? Whole room’s goin roun!”

  “Yeah,” Joel said. “You tole me. Know what?”

  “What?” I said.

  “I don feel so good.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Les go outside … get some air.”

  Since Frankie was still laughing me and Joel had to lift him up and drag him over to the back door. We went outside with no coats or anything.

  “Oh nice,” Joel said. “Thas so nice.”

  “Real nice,” I said. “Good clean ai
r.”

  “Know what?” Frankie said. “Is cold out here.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Nice cold clean air.”

  “Know what?” Joel said. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  “No kiddin?” I said. “Me too.”

  “Les be sick together,” Joel said.

  “Sure, les be sick in the bushes,” I said.

  Joel said, “Yeah. The bushes is a good place to be sick. Is good for the bushes … like fertilizer.”

  All three of us were sick together. When we finished I grabbed Frankie and pulled him home by the sleeve. Was it cold out!

  When we got to the front of my house Frankie said, “Wait one more minute, Tony.”

  I was freezing and feeling pretty bad besides. “What now?” I groaned.

  Frankie laughed and said, “I’m gonna fertilize your bushes too.”

  Well, we made it into bed and we weren’t sick again but the next morning I told Frankie he looked green and he told me that if I thought he looked green I should just see me. So we staggered to the mirror together and discovered we were both kind of green. Only it didn’t feel as funny as it sounded. Besides my color, my head felt like six hammers were trying to split it open at once.

  Since it was Maxine’s day off nobody bothered us about getting up and having breakfast. We finally managed to get dressed around noon. Then we had to sneak next door for our jackets.

  Frankie left late in the afternoon after telling me and my parents what a great time he’d had. Privately he told me what a terrific town Rosemont was and he sure wished his father could strike it rich too.

  At the front door my mother took a good look at us and said, “You sure you’re all right, Frank?”

  Frankie said, “Sure thing, Mrs. Miglione.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “You both look like you’re coming down with something.”

  The following Saturday I had to put on my best sports jacket and tie because me and my father were going to lunch with J. W. Fullerbach. I hate ties. They choke me. I have trouble swallowing my food when I’m wearing one.

  Why do I have to waste a sunny Saturday anyway? Why can’t I stay home and loaf around—or play ball—or even go to a movie? Because J. W. Fullerbach wants to meet me, Pop says. Why should he want to meet me? I can’t figure it out.