Full Book

 

Once Upon a Time in The Bronx

 

My granddad used to tell me that pretty girls are good for lots of problems, but only one solution. Being 12 at the time, I didn’t understand what he meant. I’d always thought it was some nonsense the jaded old man brought with him from the old country.

Then I saw her.

Granddad had sent me to collect his medication, and while I waited for the woman behind the counter at the corner drugstore to find what I needed, the front door opened. A breeze of chill air turned my head, and I was frozen by the sight of the girl who entered. She walked with her head raised like a queen, ice blue eyes casting about as if looking for someone to direct, and the dark black ringlets of her hair contrasted with her alabaster skin. Even her clothes were opposites. She wore shiny black boots and a black overcoat that hung open to frame the clean white apron dress underneath. The weather was not fit for dresses, but that snowy queen noticed not at all.

The girl disappeared into an aisle, and I fought my neck to turn away. That was when I caught sight of myself in a mirror behind the counter. My freckled face was still yellow in places from my last fight. The baggy black coat everyone thought I would grow into hung off me, and my hands barely reached the ends of the sleeves. The style of my coppery hair suddenly struck me as immature, so I ruffled and combed it until the pharmacist handed me my granddad’s medication.

I wish I could tell you what I was thinking. I stuffed the pill bottle in my jacket, and my feet put me on the girl’s trail. I found her browsing in the candy aisle. She looked older than me, and taller, but I walked up to her all the same.

“Hello, lass.”

The beauty blinked at me like I was a garden gnome that suddenly addressed her. “What?” she said.

“Oh, uh, just saying hello.”

“Is that a real accent?”

“Sure is. Moved here from the old country just last year. Do you like it?”

The lass smirked, but then she just shrugged and went back to perusing the bags of assorted candies. “I guess,” she said, “but your voice is kind of high.”

“Only a matter of time before that’s sorted out,” I said to her, following as she sidled down the aisle. Meanwhile, my mouth just kept going. “So, looking for candy? Having a party?”

“No. Sometimes I just want candy, so I get some.”

“Cool, cool. So, my name’s Cormac. What’s yours?”

The lass rounded on me. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Just making conversation with a pretty girl. My granddad says it’s most of the battle.”

“Your granddad this forward?”

“Maybe. ‘The old codger will hit on anything that moves.’ That’s what his card buddies say.”

“Uh-huh.” The lass paced down the aisle. “Well, talking to a girl may be most of the battle, but for most girls, you’ll need a little more.”

“Like what?”

“A present goes a long way.”

“A present?” I asked, checking all my pockets. My hand finally rested on the gander charm around my neck, but I didn’t mention it. “Well, maybe you would like some freshly picked flowers?”

The lass gave me a knowing smile. “No. I would want something nice,” she said. The lass strode to the end of the aisle and peered through the pharmacy’s big shop windows. Outside, the city bustled by, and old shops huddled together on the other side of the street like books on a shelf. “You know,” she said, “if you really want to impress me, there’s a jewelry store across the street. They have lots of nice things.”

“I don’t think I have enough cash to get you anything from there—at least, not on me.”

The statuesque lass stepped close to me, and my skin grew hot. She smelled of lilac.

“Oh, a tough guy like you wouldn’t let a little thing like money get in his way, would he?” she asked, touching a finger to my chest. Her ice-blue eyes penetrated mine with all the gentle grace of a woman slipping on a lace glove.

I smiled and said, “Are you suggesting I do something a little more… creative to get what you want?”

“I’m not suggesting anything,” the lass said. She let her hand fall and turned from me. “When you came up to me so boldly before, I thought maybe you would be man enough to get a woman whatever she wants. Maybe I was wrong.”

“Hey, I’m plenty man enough,” I said. I glanced at the jewelers. “I can do it.”

“You can?”

“Sure. Trust me. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’m the man for the job.”

“Ooh, ‘the man.’ I like that,” the lass said. “Okay. I think I can wait in here for a few minutes. Bring me back something nice.”

I gave her a grin. “No problem.”

I’ll admit to being a little nervous as I crossed the street, but I made long and confident strides. The first trick to taking what isn’t yours is acting natural.

The jewelry salesman, a near-sighted man in a sweater and a trendy haircut, eyed me from the moment I opened the door. I kept my head down and pretended to ignore him while I peered into the very first case, but I glanced out the corners of my eyes and put together a picture of the scene. The salesman was showing an old woman some earrings while an old man nearby stared into nothing with such dedication that he could only be the woman’s long-time husband. The old woman wore loud clothing, already wore many sets of rings, earrings, and bracelets, and spoke with a frankly unnecessary volume and enthusiasm about her prospective purchase. The old man wore drab clothing from his heyday, like a newsboy cap and what I think was called an executive coat. The place was so empty that I could hear the ticking of the old standing clock the owner purchased to give the store a greater air of class. Jewelry attached to numbers that nearly knocked the wind out of me filled the wall-to-wall display cases. I don’t think the money they wanted for a single piece had ever passed through my hands in my entire life.

The salesman offered to give the woman some time and excused himself from his conversation just to walk over to me. “Can I help you?” he asked.

I made my voice just a little higher and more innocent as I spoke. I switched to my best American accent. “I’m looking for a bracelet. Are there any less expensive ones?”

The salesman’s lips grew a slight curl. “Yeah, I can bring you something to look at. What kind of budget do you have?”

I cringed and said, “Not much.”

“Right,” the salesman said. “I’ll see if I can find something.”

I waited while the ancient clock ticked away and the old lady yammered on about trinkets her husband couldn’t possibly care less about. The salesman returned with a tiered velvet rack hung with many plain bracelets. I say plain, but they were still beyond my hope of actually affording as they were made out of gold, or something near-enough to gold for the jeweler to rob someone with in broad daylight.

“What do you think about these?” the salesman asked.

I pulled the cheapest looking bracelet off the end and slipped it on. It hung off my wrist like a wet napkin.

“Are you trying to buy a gift for someone?” the salesman asked.

“Yes,” I said, and glanced across the room at the old woman, “my mom.”

“Oh, nice.”

“Are they all this size?” I asked.

“They come in many sizes. We can even have it adjusted if you know your mother’s size.”

“Not really,” I said. I deliberately looked at the old woman again, said, “Excuse me,” and picked up the bracelet rack. I carried the rack to the old couple while the salesman hurried to follow. “Excuse me. Could you help me?” I asked. The old couple turned to me and I held the rack up for them. “I need a model to help me look for a bracelet for my mom. Could you help me?”

The old woman smiled. “Of course, sweetie! Oh, aren’t you precious, buying a present for your mother!”

I gave the woman my most endearing grin, set the rack on the display counter in front of her, and took the cheap bracelet off my wrist. “Could you try on this one?”

“Of course.” The woman snapped the bracelet on with practiced speed. It looked plain next to her others, which were all pure gold. Many also had small diamonds.

“My mother usually only wears one bracelet,” I said. “Can you show me how it looks with just the one?”

“Sure, sweetie.”

The old lady removed the three other bracelets and set them on the counter, near enough to the velvet rack. I made a show of scrutinizing the bracelet, then scrunching up my face.

“I don’t think so,” I said, and grabbed another bracelet. “Could you try on this one instead?”

The woman removed the old bracelet and placed it on the counter. I had her try on a few more, and soon had a nice collection of bracelets sitting unkempt in the open.

I sighed. “I don’t know. They all look so plain. I don’t think I can afford a really nice one for my mom.”

“Oh, sweetie,” the old lady said, “I’m sure your mother will love the bracelet, as long as it’s from you.”

“You really think so?” I asked, making eyes at her.

“Of course.”

“Okay.”

I turned to the salesman and started to speak, but I knocked over the bracelet rack, and the whole thing clattered to the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” I said. I knelt down and frantically picked them all up. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie,” the old woman said.

“It’s alright. Just get it all back on the rack,” the salesman said.

When I stood, I put the rack back where it was, and I said to the salesman, “I think I better just get the simple one, mister. Can you tell me what this one’s called so I can find it when I come back?”

I didn’t bother to remember what the salesman told me. I just said my thanks and made a quick exit back to the cold city. My heart swelled as I bounded between cars waiting at the light, and I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. To my delight, the beauty for which I went on my quest stood in plain sight on the sidewalk. She watched me and somehow dismissed me at the same time.

“Back already?” she asked.

“Yeah, hurry. We have to go.”

I grabbed the lass’ hand and pulled her along. She asked me why we were running, but I didn’t stop until we were at least a block away, at the opening of an alley.

“What? What are you pulling me for?” she asked, but her face went slack when I held up the diamond-studded bracelet. She snatched it from my hand and held it up to examine. “You really got something!”

I beamed. “Sure did.” I could finally use my real voice.

The lass said, “I thought for sure you would chicken out—or get chased out. How did you get away? How did you even get close enough to this without someone seeing you take it?”

“Hey, I don’t chicken out of anything,” I said. “I told you I would get you something. Do you like it?”

The lass looked like she was gazing upon the Holy Grail, yet her eyes looked frostier than ever. She said, “It’s definitely nice. This must be worth a thousand dollars.” The lass licked her lips. “Well, I’m definitely impressed. I’ll uh… I’ll see you around, kid.”

The lass stuffed her hands in her pockets and actually started walking away!

“Come on, now. Go way outta that! You leaving?” I asked.

“Yes. I should be getting home,” the lass said. She walked with the stride of a giraffe. I jogged to keep up.

“Just like that?” I asked. “What about the bracelet? You just going to leave after I went through all the trouble?”

“Maybe I’ll hit you up, later. Go home, kid.”

“But.—Hey! What’s this ‘kid’ business! You just taking that? I don’t even know your name!”

Suddenly the lass stopped in her tracks and screamed right into my face, like I was chasing her with a machete. She sounded like a banshee. When I didn’t run, she did it again, and I backed away. People up and down the sidewalk paused to see what the commotion was. All eyes were on me and I felt like I was on trial—no, more like I had already been sentenced. What could I do? I ran. I turned into the alley and muddled my way home.

I grumbled and tightened my fists all the way home. I went to all the trouble, and she took it away, just like that. I felt… used.

When I got home, I found my granddad standing on a ladder in the yard, stretched out to scrape leaves out of the gutter on our little suburban home. He knew when I stepped on his lawn without having to look.

“Took you long enough, boyo. I told you to get my pills, not run around town, acting the maggot,” he said.

“Sorry, Granddad.”

“You run into trouble?” Granddad asked.

“Uh, a little.” I said.

“Well, you made it back in one piece; couldn’t have been too bad. Just leave my pills in the kitchen. I’ll tend to them later. It’s time for yardwork. Grab the rake and collect up all these leaves.”

“Yes, granddad.”

“Good boy.”

“Hey, granddad?”

“Yes, boy?”

“Can you tell me something about girls?” I asked.

My granddad actually stopped floundering at the leaves and turned to me. He smiled just a bit. “Oh, that kind of trouble was it? Just a tick. I’ll finish this up and come down to help you with the yard. We can have a chat.”

I nodded and stepped toward the house. The wind carried the sound of a distant siren, and I paused, gazing toward the horizon for a moment, but then went inside

Just another day in the Bronx.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 14.09.2020

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