Floodgates. His fiancé spent almost 3 straight weeks up in Cleveland finalizing what was going to be the next step in her budding career. One thing about her Bill would remember long after they were divorced was that she was not one to be held back in what she wanted, not one to offer to be the first to give up something — no matter what it was — when compromise was in order. No, if she could take, could get, she would. But, in all fairness, Bill would always remember, she was sometimes willing to compromise and was a good sport about some things.
As to himself, he was ever too insecure to hold out for what he wanted and would give up the store to not be rejected. How he felt about that, now that was something else, and when he came to realize how he was on a conscious level, well, that was after the divorce.
So Brooklyn was flavor of the month. Anywhere and everywhere he could hit it, he did. And it didn’t go unnoticed.
He and Mary were breading fish and onion rings one afternoon when Mary passed a comment about how outrageous his behavior had become. Bill’s response was typical Bill. Right there in the kitchen he wiped his shmooshy hands and took hold of Mary. He kissed her long and hard, grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him out of the kitchen and on down the stairs.
“Goddamn, boy.”
“Goddamn nothing. Wanna see outrageous?”
He locked the staff ladies room behind them and told Mary he didn’t want to hear anything. Then he told her in no uncertain terms that as messed up as it was, he loved her plain and simple. And that was that. He put her up on the counter like they’d done many times before and did with her what they’d done many times before, only for both of them it was so much more intense. Mary cried afterward and Bill kissed up all her tears.
“Been inside Brooklyn, ain’t you?” Mary asked.
“Inside, outside and all around.”
“And?”
“And nothing. Couple more weeks this all be over and I’ll be out of here. Then I can go up there and get a whole new start.”
“Leopard don’t change his spots.”
“What’s good to you is good for you.”
“Well you sure saying that pretty weakly,” Mary said. “You be lucky you don’t get snagged and your marriage don’t end ’fore it really starts.”
“She’s a good girl,” Bill said.
“Sometimes I think you want to get caught.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I do.”
“Don’t be stupid, white boy.” Mary was straightening herself, fixing her undergarments and kitchen dress. “I love you,” she said, “much as I loved Yulie and my husband too when we first fell in love. But your life is with her. This here ain’t but a roadside stop for you. Your road is moving on in different directions. For me and Henry Lee and Freda, this is our road.”
She was set now and ready to go back upstairs. She took Bill’s face in both her hands and kissed him. “Ride your road boy and don’t you mess it up.”
They walked upstairs together, side-by-side but not hand-in-hand. For pretenses, Mary had him carry up some things from the storeroom, but no one upstairs was fooled, least of all Tommy who was waiting for them over by where they were breading.
“Ain’t you got no shame?” Tommy said critically and openly scornfully.
Bill looked down to his feet but not for long. He held his tongue and kept to himself.
Pick up a copy of all my works here: By Peter Weiss
