Chapter 6
A few months later Marjorie borrowed money from her Aunt Dottie and bought a car. She learned that Rocky had sold the ’56 Chevy that they had bought together in favor of a newer model and she tracked down the person that bought the car and overpaid to get it back. She was back to work now, waitressing across the street from their apartment. Her customers remembered her and welcomed her back with $.50 tips and sometimes an entire dollar. Life was developing a new pattern and Ron began to feel settled in.
One summer night when he got home from stickball under the parking lot lights of the Davis Pharmaceutical Company, Marjorie said, “Come on, we’re going for a ride.” They put the top down on the convertible and drove down up to Newark City Stadium and then across Roseville Avenue. Ron stiffened in the seat next to her when he realized where they were heading.
“Why are we going to the Catanzaro house?” he asked.
“Don’t you miss seeing Sally and Honey and Anthony?”
“I don’t know,” said Ron. “Why haven’t they called us?”
“They are in a tough spot. Rocky is their family.”
“Yeah,” said Ron. “They used to say that about us too.”
“When they see you, that’s exactly how they will feel,” said Marjorie.
She didn’t tell him that she had been speaking to Honey Chapel and that she promised to be there when she and Ron arrived. There was a bond between Honey and Marjorie, and though she loved her Uncle Rocky with an undying loyalty and worship, it had been Marjorie who had gone to bat for her when she had gotten pregnant and her father Anthony wanted to ship her off somewhere, so that the problem could be taken care of. Then he would visit Vincent Chapel with his brothers and teach the young prick some manners.
Marjorie had stood up to Anthony in his own house. Honey’s mother wasn’t able to do anything but cry and say that her husband knew best. Marjorie had gone there night after night and reasoned and begged and had the audacity to say that it didn’t matter that Vincent was only half Italian, and that she knew that they were in love and that he would make her a good husband. Marjorie had even outflanked him by bringing Rocky’s mother into it by telling her that her grand-daughter wanted to get married, and that someone needed to talk sense into Anthony. What was done was done and there was no reason to make a mistake into a tragedy.
Rocky had quietly endured being told that he should tell his girlfriend to shut her big mouth and stop meddling in things that she didn’t understand. But Marjorie had prevailed and Honey was now married and her husband was back from the Marines and had a good job as an electrician. Honey promised that she never would forget what Marjorie had done for her. She’d just turned seventeen when it all happened and that was five years ago and something that had been rewritten in Catanzaro family history by everyone except Honey.
Sally Catanzaro’s face registered shock when she saw Marjorie and Ron at her back door. The back door was for family and no one ever rang that bell. They just knocked as they walked in. Sally forced a smile at them. She had been Ron’s favorite, and he felt the rush of good feeling when he saw her smooth face and wanted to feel her warm hands hugging him the way that they always had. He advanced towards her for his hug, but she took a step back and put out her hand to ward him off. Ron stood there with his arms open and wondered if she had a cold that she was afraid to pass along to him. It was awkward. Marjorie and Sally’s eyes met and then Sally looked over her shoulder almost fearfully and then at Ron. Confusion was spreading across his face like the stain of a drink that had been spilled on a dinner’s tablecloth. Finally, she hugged him stiffly and Ron felt the stiffness and pulled back. She did not meet his eyes either.
“Marjorie, we didn’t expect you.”
Honey came into the room and hugged Marjorie warmly. Sally retreated further back against her stove. Marjorie and Honey laughed and Marjorie said that Honey looked so good when she was pregnant.
“Vincent feels that way too,” laughed Honey.
Ron saw Sally flush with embarrassment and he understood that something was very wrong here. He wanted to leave but they hadn’t even really gotten into the house.
Anthony’s heavy footsteps plodded into the kitchen. He was still wearing his uniform shirt and pants from Mechanic’s Overall, where he was a route rider, and now had his brother-in-law Rocky for a supervisor. His eyes met Marjorie and he stopped in his tracks, unsure of what to do. He was on his way for a beer but the outsiders were standing in front of the refrigerator. Without greeting them, he said to his daughter. “Get me a Miller” and turned to go back to the TV.
Marjorie stood there stunned. Ron said, “Hello Anthony, don’t you see me?”
“I see you kid. You look ok,” he said, over his shoulder.
Ron was ill at ease and very confused. He saw Cookie by her dog bed and went to her. The dog wagged her tail and licked Ron’s face. He got down on the floor and nuzzled her. They women stood there watching him.
“I guess this wasn’t such a good idea,” said Marjorie.
Sally said, “Don’t feel that way. You know how Anthony is. He doesn’t like surprises. You should call first and maybe it would be better if you came during the day when he was at work. You know, just until he gets used to the idea.”
Ron wanted to ask if Connie, their younger daughter on whom he had a crush was in her favorite spot in the basement, but maybe that wasn’t such a good idea either.
Chapter 7
Celeste, Ron and Angel rode in the squeak mobile. They were on the way to the park so Angel could feed the ducks. In the last days, the three of them had been together every night, and though she had not yet said Ron’s name, she loved to hold his hand and ride on his shoulders. Before Ron, she had been afraid of the ducks because they were almost as big as she was and their beaks and their feet and the noises that they made frightened her. But from the safety of his shoulders, with his arms wrapped around her knees, she was taller than everyone.
Her tiny fingers stroked the sides of his face and rested on top of his head and outlined the curve of his ears. She weighed almost nothing. He held her by her ankles. Euphoria swept over them both. Ducks quacked and scuttled at his feet. Celeste watched, feeling her heart carried along with them. Sometimes a pang of how hard it would be on her if this came to an abrupt end made her shiver, but there were lots of people in Angel’s life. Ron was a newcomer. She didn’t even really talk to him yet. They just did things together and Celeste knew that Angel thought of him as a big, flexible toy. At least, she did so far.
Celeste was quickly considering him something else. After that first night there had been the second night and then, right away, a third night. That was when they slept together. He was gentle with her,Her cusHHHhh
until the passion drove them both into a worked up froth. Then the gentleness returned and the ache between her legs felt warm and good and she wanted him back there again, thrusting himself in and out of her until he was poking at her cervix and the sweet hurt caused eruption after eruption inside of her.
Back in the red Ford they went for ice cream and Ron asked Angel what she wanted.
She grinned and her huge brown eyes lit up his face when she said, “Strawberry.”
“Everything is strawberry right now,” said Celeste, who had taken Angel to meet Strawberry Shortcake at a breakfast the week before she and Ron had met.
Ron smiled, “Strawberry is the best,” he said.
Back in the car, face sticky, hands wiped clean but also almost like Velcro with everything that she touched Angel said, “Ron, the water tower,” and pointed.
Ron pulled the car to the side of the road and turned to face the two of them. Angel was pointing out the window to the water tower that announced the name “Fairlawn” in faded block letters.
His face was ecstatic and his reached back and lightly stroked her chubby calf. “That’s our water tower,” he said.
Celeste saw the pure joy on his face and knew that it was because she had finally said his name. When he dropped them off at their house, Celeste unstrapped Angel from the car seat and handed her to Ron so that she could take the chair out and bring it back inside. Angel threw her arms around Ron’s neck and hugged him as tightly as she could.
“I’ll call you when I get home,” said Ron.
Celeste carried Angel into her house and Ron squeaked around the corner and disappeared. They both watched him go and then the porch light came on and Barbara was coming out the door.
Barbara was Celeste’s cousin. She had been Celeste’s dance teacher and she loved Angel with the pure devotion of a spinster who saw her role as giving all that she had to this newest member of the family. “Where were you, young lady?”
Angel smiled and tilted her head to the side in a dreamy gaze. “With Ron. We had ice cream.”
Barb took the baby from Celeste’s arms and laughing in pure delight, repeated, “With Ron? And you had ice cream?”
“We fed the ducks,” Angel giggled.
“You are a sticky girl who needs a bath is what I think.”
And she carried her back inside with Celeste trailing behind. Celeste’s mother and Barb’s mother, Vivian were at the table drinking coffee. Celeste’s father was stretched out on the floor watching a blaring TV. All three shouted “There’s the princess,” not quite in unison.
“We’re very sticky,” said Barb and we’ll be right back after we have a bath. No one really said hello to Celeste but she didn’t mind. They were such a help to her. They had saved her life and she knew what the priorities were.
Celeste put down the ever present baby bag that she had learned to carry with here everywhere. “Do you want to undress her while I run the water?” she asked Barb.
After her bath, after they had passed her naked body around the table and took turns kissing her baby soft bottom, after Barb had gotten her dressed for bed and she had gone to lie on her Papa’s stomach and watch TV, Celeste’s mother said, “I suppose it’s time we met this Ron, before this little girl gets her heart broken.” Her mother was neither smiling nor happy.
Before Celeste answered, the phone rang and she felt herself jumping at it. “Hi,” she cooed into the receiver. “Give me as second to get downstairs.”
Vivian and her sister shook their heads as she disappeared into the basement and then called up, “Please hang up the phone.”
Barb went to the wall phone and clicked it off.
Chapter 8
Walking back towards the school after lunch, Ron felt the thick hard blade of the butcher knife that against his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was gonna need it, but he was sure that if it came down to anything, he wanted to have the biggest knife. His nervousness caused sweat to trickle down his back with an unamusing tickle. His friend were waiting in a loose circle at the corner.
“You got anything?” said Kenny Bonet.
“Yeah,” said Ron.
He slid the blade out from under his jacket and showed it to the other guys. There were the Zarro brothers, Jimmy Lucas, Kenny Bonet and him. They stared hard down Grafton Avenue, and waited for the kids from Broadway Junior High who had been there before lunch making dirty comments to some of the girls that Ron and his friends went to school with. There had been words and a stare down, but when they saw Mr. Boyden coming into the playground, the Broadway guys said, “After lunch, jerkoffs. We’ll see you then and make you eat shit.” They’d see about who was gonna be eating shit now. The Zarro’s each had a pocket knife. Kenny Bonet had an actual switch blade that he could snap open in one quick motion. Ron felt important.
Broadway showed just like they said. They were black. They walked with a hop in their steps. They fanned out as they approached. Ron stood in the center next to Kenny. “You mother-fuckers got some sweet little pussy in this school. Too good for your little dicks. They told us they want to see what it’s like when they meet somebody who can make them want to get on their backs and spread their legs.”
“Yeah nigger,” said Kenny. “Show us what you got and we’ll cut it right off, and then you’ll learn that you should be leaving white girls alone. Stay with you own frizzy headed, dirty pigs.”
Fists clenched, eyes darkened Ron opened his jacket and pulled out the butcher knife. The eyes of the boy glaring a few yards away from him got saucer big. Ron held it down low, blade pointed out. He prepared to rush in swinging it and slashing at anybody that came close to him. But in a moment one of the Black kids pointed over Ron’s shoulder, and the rest of the Broadway group froze and then turned and ran. Ron was too focused and he surely wasn’t gonna fall for the ‘look who’s in back of you’ trick. Then he heard Kenny say, “Cops.”
The boys scattered and ran through the playground as the two cars raced down the street and pulled up in front of the gate. Ron ran through the playground and out the other side. There was a chain link fence that was lined with high bushes just on the other side of it. He stopped, stooped down and slid the knife through an opening in the fence until he couldn’t see it anymore. The kids had scattered. He couldn’t see any of his friends now. He was panting and sweating. He heard the bell ring. He could go right in through this side door. No one had seen him. He was safe.
The afternoon in Mrs. Kennedy’s 6A class got off to a slow start. Ron looked around. Jimmy Lucas was in his seat but he had his head down and didn’t turn around to look at Ron, who only glanced at the back of Jimmy’s head and then looked away. The Zarro brothers were in another class but he didn’t see Kenny anywhere. His empty seat glared like an accusation. Ron was worried but he knew that Kenny was a tough kid who played hooky a lot. It wouldn’t be unusual if Kenny just took off and didn’t come back to school that day. It was probably the smart thing to do. It was what Ron should have done. He looked over at Valerie Scaretti and she smiled at him. Ron smiled back. Valerie knew what was going on. She had been one of the insulted girls. She was one of the girls that Ron was defending. The least she could do was smile for him.
There was a knock at Mrs. Kennedy’s door. She turned, looked down the aisle, nodded her head and made eye contact with Ron as she nodded her head. Ron felt his body go tighter. He had an urge to clasp his hand, against the edge of his desk like he was taught to do when he was being punished. He fought the urge. Nothing had happened. He hadn’t done anything. He tried to look innocent. Then he saw Mrs. Kennedy point to him and crook her index finger. Motioning him to come to the front of the room. He got up slowly.
“Ronald, you’re wanted in the main office,” said Mrs. Kennedy. There was a worried look on her face. She was Ron’s favorite teacher since 3rd grade. She wanted to skip him a half year because of his reading ability and his vocabulary. She had helped to get the “Y” on his library card that allowed him to borrow books from the adult library, as long as certain books were off limits. She told him that she couldn’t skip him because his asthma caused him to miss too many days. She didn’t know that some of the asthma days were times when his mother kept him home to help her go downtown and look for better jobs than waitressing.
Ron walked down the two flights of stairs to the main office. He would just play dumb. He didn’t know anything about anything. He had gone home for lunch and the come back to school like always. He was pretty sure that he could get away with it.
“Ronald,” said the principal’s secretary, “there’s a call for you from home. It’s a little unusual but I’m going to let you take it but I have to listen in on this line.”
“Sure,” said Ron. He picked up the phone.
Marjorie Tuck said, “Ronald, did you take a knife from the kitchen drawer at lunchtime?”
Ron closed his eyes. Busted by his own mother. How could she possibly have figured that out so fast? “Yes, Mom, I did.”
Marjorie’s voice was choked. “Why?” she managed to say.
“For protection,” said Ron, almost defiantly.
Then the door to the principal’s office opened and Ron saw the two policemen sitting there. They were listening too. Kenny Bonet was in the corner of the principal’s office. He looked like he was crying. The secretary took the phone away from Ron’s ear. Ralph Lattimere’s deep voice said “Come in here, Ronald.”
Ron felt himself moving towards the door at the same time that he wanted to turn and run. He could get passed the secretary. He could be unstoppable. The cops were smiling.
“Where’s the knife now Ron?” said principal Lattimere.
“I hid it,” said Ron.
One of the detectives stood up. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “Show me where it is.”
Kenny was looking at the wall. Ron thought that he looked like a little boy who wasn’t so tough after all.
Ron took the cop to the spot in the chain link fence and pointed. “In there,” he said.
“Get it for me,” said the cop.
Ron crouched down and worked it out from between the links of the fence, thinking that they never would have found it. They never would have known to look there. Why did his mother have to call?
He handed the knife over and the detective whistled as he saw it. “You know that you’re in big trouble, right?”
“I didn’t do anything,” protested Ron.
“Let me show you something kid. “The law says that anything with a blade more than four fingers long is illegal to carry.” He laid four fingers at the base of the blade. It extended out at least six more fingers beyond the detectives hand. Ron stared at it. “Still think that you didn’t do anything wrong?”
Ron shook his head.
“Do you know where Jamesburg is, kid?”
Ron shook his head again.
“Who else was with you?”
Ron didn’t answer.
“Did anyone have brass knuckles?”
Ron thought that he knew what brass knuckles were but he wasn’t sure. He shook his head.
“You really think that your mother needs this aggravation from you?” said the detective in a gruff, harsh whisper.
It was then that Ron began to cry.
Back at their apartment, Marjorie said little to Ron. She was terrified. The cops had been non-committal about whether or not there was a way that he could avoid charges. One thing was for certain; something had to be done. He couldn’t just walk away from this. Denny Galveston was a cop that Marjorie knew. He was a good guy. When he got free coffee, he left her a tip. “Some of your son’s friends are on a bad path, Margi. We’re gonna slam them before this gets any worse. Your boy hasn’t been in trouble before, but Jesus, he had a butcher knife.”
Marjorie winced and then she cried. “Isn’t there something that we can do? I need him Denny. He’s all that I have.”
“Maybe it would be better to straighten him out now. Six months in Jamesburg, and he would think twice about ever doing something like this again.”
Marjorie looked into his eyes with her own large hazel eyes. “Six months in there and he might never be the same. He’s a good boy. Can’t we do something?”
“No promises but I’ll see what I can do. I’ll stop by the diner tomorrow or the next day, as soon as I know something.”
Marjorie made two phone calls. The first was to Ron’s father. The second was to Mechanics Overall. She was convinced that what Ron needed was a man to talk to him. It was about time that she brought her ex-husband into this, and Rocky was someone that she always went to when she didn’t know what to do.
“I can stop over after work,” said Rocky, “but do you really think that Ron will listen to anything that I say?”
“I’ll try anything, “said Marjorie. “Rocky, they are talking about sending him away. I can’t bear the thought of him being in a place like that. It will kill me.”
She had difficulty contacting Harry. He was on the road and his boss said that he would get a message to him to call as soon as he called in. Marjorie explained that it was about Ron and that it wasn’t good news.
Ron was sitting at the kitchenette table in the living room looking down at the pattern on the table top when Rocky arrived. He didn’t look up.
“Ron, it looks like you gotten yourself in a bit of a scrape.” Ron didn’t answer. Rocky and Marjorie exchanged a look.
“You know enough to answer when someone is talking to you Ronald,” said Marjorie. “Rocky is here to try to help you.”
“I thought he promised never to see us again,” said Ron, looking only at his mother.
“Ron, sometimes adults say things because they have to say them. It doesn’t mean that they believe them,” said Rocky.
“So basically you’re just a liar, right?” said Ron.
There was a silence and then Marjorie said, “I’m going across the street to talk with John Pappas, maybe he can do something.” John Pappas was her boss and he liked Ron. He sometimes paid him a dollar to kill flies in the back section of the diner. Ron watched her leave and then he watched Rocky move over to the table and sit down. He sat in the chair that he usually sat in when they all had dinner together and Ron felt the hatred rise in him and blot of his fear.
“What were you thinking?” said Rocky.
Silence.
“Do you know what you were thinking?”
“Yeah, I was thinking that the Negro kid looked a little Italian and that if I couldn’t stab you, maybe I could stab him.” He watched Rocky’s face turn red with anger. He noted with satisfaction that it took Rocky a minute to compose himself.
“So you’re just going to make smart assed comments to me and make yourself feel better that way. Is that your plan? What about your mother?”
Ron felt the tears immediate rise to his eyes and threaten to fall. He bit off his words hard. “You got no right to talk to me about hurting her. You didn’t care what happened to her or what happened to me. Don’t be here now trying to make up for it, because I hate you. You want to know what my plan is? My plan is to hate you until you die. My plan is to hate your daughter, to hate your sisters, and to hate your whole lying family.” Ron stared at him. The tears were running out of his eyes now and he wiped them with his sleeve.
“I can’t talk to you,” said Rocky.
“That’s right, you can’t,” spit Ron.
Quietly, Rocky left and Ron looked up to the windows that were at ground level and watched him walk across the street.
Ron’s dad wanted to speak with him alone. Harry was careful not to show any sense of pride about what Ron had done, but the fact that he was standing up to the niggers was pleasing to him. He loaded Ron into his car and they went for a ride. It was where they had their best talks because Harry had an excuse for not making eye contact. Ron never seemed to notice, and the passing scenery seemed to allow Harry to open up more easily.
“Ronald, it was stupid of you to get caught. If you are gonna get caught doing these things, you’re better off not to do them, and since you seem to get caught as often as you get away with anything, maybe you are better off not doing them.”
“Dad, I didn’t get caught. I stashed the knife. They never would have found it. Mom came home and saw that it was missing from the kitchen drawer and called the school.”
Harry shook his head back and forth. “And you believe that’s what happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you believe that you mother came home and for some strange reason immediately checked the kitchen drawer and saw that the knife was missing?”
Ron stared straight out the window. He felt stupid because what his father had just said sounded stupid, and he felt more stupid because he didn’t know what the real answer was.
“Your friend Kenny ratted you out,” said Harry. “He gave your name to the police and they called your mother and she pretended to call the school.” Harry glanced at Ron and saw that his son was sitting there with his mouth hanging open. Harry knew that this whole thing was a tough lesson, and that it might even get tougher still but he believed that his son would learn. “Any time that you trust somebody, Ron, you leave yourself open. You need to learn to leave yourself open less often.”
“How do I do that, dad?”
“You keep your mouth shut and keep things to yourself. You don’t ever brag about anything. Bragging leaves you open. You let the other guy brag and you listen and size up where he is weak from his bragging.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“I know that you don’t,” said Harry. “That’s why I’m telling you that you aren’t cut out to do the kind of things that you’re doing. Even now, you don’t know what to do, do you?”
“No,” said Ron quietly.
Harry debated telling his son that the next thing to do was to kick the shit out of Kenny and decided that it wasn’t a good idea. “When we get back to your apartment, tell your mother that I told you that you were too smart to be wasting your time with knives and gangs and that you have a better future than that.”
“Ok,” said Ron.
“Don’t tell her about the rest of what we talked about. It will only upset her.”
“Ok.”
“Ron, it isn’t a lie. You are too smart to be doing these things.”
“I don’t feel very smart at all, dad.”
When they got back home, Marjorie was smiling. “They’re not pressing any charges,” she said. “Ronald, you are going to Catholic school.”
Chapter 9
Angel sat waiting by the bay window to the side of the front door. Her mother was in the bathroom combing her hair and her grandmother was on the telephone in the kitchen. When she smelled her mom’s perfume, she decided that Ron must be on his way over, and she listened and watched for his car. It had been two weeks since they had met. Angel didn’t know that it was that long, but she did know that he liked to play with her and she liked to make him smile. In her play room, she had her tea party set all assembled. She heard his car come around the corner just as her mom went down into the basement to change her clothes.
She took Ron by the hand and used it to steady her walking as she brought him into the playroom. She was very quiet and Ron hadn’t said anything. She had been worried about how she would open the door but when he saw her on the other side of the screen door, standing there, smiling, he had opened it for her. When they got back into the playroom, she used her weight and both hands to shut the door. Now she had him all to herself.
Ron sat cross-legged on the floor and drank imaginary tea from a plastic cup. Then she served imaginary cakes. Her dark eyes were very serious, and Ron watched with a glowing warmth that spread through him like he was high. Angel was just over three feet tall and would be two years old next week.
“Would you like more tea?” she said in a perfectly enunciated sentence.
“Yes, please,” said Ron. He hadn’t really been around that many children in his life. He didn’t realize how extraordinary it was that she had gone from saying single words to speaking in complete sentences before her second birthday, but when she looked into his eyes with her huge brown windows, he felt himself absorbed.
After about fifteen minutes, the door opened. Angel frowned and Celeste came into the room smiling. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I was kidnapped,” said Ron shrugging his shoulders.
Angel got to her feet turned to her mother and pressed both hands on her thighs and tried to push her back out of the room. “No,” she said.
At dinner, Celeste’s mother Anna, a stout woman with short mixed red and grey hair, said, “Angel has become very attached to you in a very short period of time.” She sat hunched over her plate when she said it and raised her eyes up and turned her head only slightly to make eye contact with Ron.
“She’s just wonderful,” said Ron.
“I know that she is,” said Anna. “Do you really think that it is a good idea that you spend so much time together?”
Ron looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure that it’s good for Angel to become so attached to you,” said Anna.
“Can we talk about this later?” said Celeste.
Celeste’s father Mario said nothing as he ate. He had always opened his home for his daughters’ friends and tried to make them feel comfortable, but he could see that his wife was on a mission and decided to stay out of it.
Ron’s eyes moved from Celeste to Angel and then back to Anna. He was no stranger to dinner time confrontations, but he believed that if he could hold his own with Marjorie, he could hold his own with anyone.
“I think that we should talk about it now before Trudy and Angela come over.”
Ron met Celeste’s eyes and there was an imperceptible nod between them. He said, “I want Angel to become attached to me because I want to marry your daughter.”
Both Mario and Anna stopped eating. They turned to look at their elder daughter in unison. Celeste felt like she was going to swallow her tongue.
Anna’s voice was low and menacing. “And just when did the two of you decide that?”
“We’ve known it since the first night that we were together,” said Ron happily.
Anna felt like she was going to vomit. Mario looked at his wife. Images of the last two weddings and the last two divorces flooded his brain. Of course his daughter was still young, but she was a mother and he wanted his grand-daughter with him. He didn’t want upheaval. He didn’t like this guy with his light brown hair and green eyes and his squeaky wreck of a car. What kind of life was this going to be for Angel? She was happy here. Things were settled. There was no reason for this. He glared at Ron but Ron seemed oblivious. He was smiling at Anna, but Anna wasn’t smiling back.
Anna turned to her daughter. “And this is how you are going to take responsibility for your life and the life of your child now? You plan to rip her away from the only home that she has ever known. A home where she is happy and well cared for and run off with this.” At that she raised her fork from which hung a stray strand of dangling spaghetti, and pointed it at Ron.
Ron found himself staring at the saucy fork. “I think it’s going to be great for everyone, especially Angel,” he said.
He waited but no one answered him. Finally, Celeste said, “We’re going over to the park to feed the ducks. We’ll be back later.”
She dreaded what later was going to be, but she was going to have to address it eventually.
Chapter 10
“Mom, I met a girl and I think that I’m going to marry her.”
Marjorie Bombasco looked up from her coffee with a dazed expression. “Ronald, I just woke up.”
Ron continued, “I’m in love with her and I love her daughter too.”
“Her daughter? She has a daughter?”
“Yes, she was married before.”
“Why do you want a girl who was married before? You were never married before?” Marjorie could feel her stomach beginning to churn. She could tell that this wasn’t going to make her happy and the way that he was just springing it on her meant that there must be more.
“Technically, no, I wasn’t,” said Ron. Then he continued with his reasoning, “But I lived with Robin, I lived with Zoe.”
“Are you telling me that you would have wanted to marry the mouse?”
“I really wish that you’d stop calling her that. She wasn’t a mouse.”
“She squinted like a mouse.”
“OK, mom, there’s not need to argue about Zoe. That isn’t the question.”
“And how long have you been seeing this new love of your life and why is this the first time that you are telling me about it?”
“I’ve seen her almost every day for the last two weeks.”
“Two entire weeks,” said Marjorie. “Well then I’m sure that you know what you are doing.”
“You’re right mom, I do know exactly what I’m doing. And I’d like you to meet her.”
“Before you marry her? That’s very thoughtful of you, Ronald.”
“Is this how you’re going to be, sarcastic and unsupportive?”
“Just what is it that you would like me to support Ronald? You’ve met a girl. That’s wonderful. Of course it’s not a girl that I introduced you to or a girl that I even know, but that would be asking too much wouldn’t it?”
Ron said nothing. He stared into her eyes with resolve. She knew the look. He got it from his father. It meant that his mind was made up and Marjorie felt the room begin to spin. She put her hands flat on the table. “And just where did you meet this girl?”
“She used to be Quimpy’s girlfriend,” said Ron.
“So, you couldn’t even find a girl of your own. You had to steal your friend’s girlfriend that he didn’t want anymore. After she had gone off and gotten married and had a child. How old is this girl?”
“We’re the same age,” said Ron. He felt himself bristling from the Quimpy remark.
“And how old is her kid?”
“Angel is going to be two next week.”
Marjorie’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of a name is Angel?”
“They’re Italian,” said Ron. His eyes met his mother’s eyes. Their gazes held each other for a long time.
Marjorie felt her chin begin to quiver. “I thought you said that you didn’t want anything to do with an Italian girl? You’ve never even really dated an Italian girl.”
“I know, it’s funny isn’t it.”
A tear ran out of her left eye. “No Ronald, I would not say that it’s funny.”