Ole Papa and Goth GIrl

Ole Papa and Goth GIrl

    I love Central Park in the Fall. The city feels fresher and cleaner for some reason. As I walked past the Zoo, I heard a kid crying. I remembered what it was like to be a kid. But that was back in the days before MTV and acid rock. Being Jewish meant something back then. Now the kids don’t even go to the synagogue half the time. Man oh man I sure wish I could be a kid again. Just to taste Mom’s Passover supper would make me a happy man.
    Now I’m just a grouchy old man. But hey nobody said life got easier as you get older. I walked past the lox and bagel man and gave him the evil eye. I don’t know why I’m such a mean old son of a gun. But if I don’t feel good I don’t pretend to. What you see is what you get.
    Walking past the pond, I saw a young girl wearing black lipstick and her hair dyed orange. She’ll grow up one day. It happens to the best of us. She looked like she was all alone. I really feel sorry for these kids.
    When I was growing up we knew who we
were. I was from the fourteenth ward in Brooklyn. My name is Eddie Rhein. My papa, God rest his soul, was called Goldstein. When he came to America from Poland we became Rheins. It broke his heart to lose the family name. But he did what he had to do. That’s what we all have to do, rich or poor, smart or dumb. Me I’m not the brightest, but I’m not exactly weak in the head either. I know how to judge a person when I meet them. I can tell right away. Ms. Bloom, my 3rd grade teacher, said I had street smarts.
   But this little girl in her black dress and crazy get up is sitting on the park bench crying. I think these young people always feel sorry for themselves. They don’t know what it’s like to really suffer. I am a man who speaks his mind. So’s I walked up to her and said, “Hey, it can’t be so bad. What happened, your boyfriend break up with ya?”
    She looked down at the dead leaves, saying “Yes. I just don’t have the will to live anymore.” So I looked at her kind of puzzled like.
    I said, “You give up pretty easy. I been through five wives. You act like it’s the end of the world. Well grow up darling. Life’s got a lot more in store for you. Good and bad. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and get another boyfriend. Or maybe do without.”
    She looked up at me like a sad puppy with her dark eyelashes and whined, “But you don’t understand. With him I felt like somebody. I felt like I was unique. He initiated me into the Goth/Vampire scene. Now that he’s gone I don’t have anybody. I am nothing.”
    I sat next to her, not having anything better to do. I said, “Well jeez, when I was growing up we couldn’t afford the luxury of being unique. You ever hear of the Great Depression?” She played with a lock of her long orange hair.
    She said, “That’s how I feel now, depressed. It’s like I’m in a deep pit of despair from which I will never recover.” I began to actually feel sorry for this little girl. I hadn’t felt sorry for anyone in years, except myself.
    I said, “Hey would you like a lox and bagel. That’ll cure the blues any day.”
    She said, “Uggh” I felt a little embarrassed. I wondered if she was enjoying my company or felt like getting the heck away from this crazy old man. Anyhow, I said, “Come on. You look like you haven’t eaten for weeks. Let’s go get some food.”
    She looked at me with a pleading look and said, “Mister, I don’t have anywhere to sleep tonight. My boyfriend kicked me out and my parents live in Atlanta. I’m plumb broke. Could I crash at your place tonight?”
    I did the sign of the cross. I’m not Catholic but I learned it from my friends. We walked from Central Park to 57th and Lexington, and took the subway downtown to Fourteenth Street, and took the bus cross town to Avenue D and Houston Street.  From there we walked down East Houston Street to the projects where I lived in the Lower East Side.   Kids were playing stick ball in the playground in the courtyard between the buildings.  We took the elevator to the 7th floor.  
    I heard loud Puerto Rican music coming from the upstairs apartment. By the time we got in my apartment we were both exhausted, and she collapsed on the couch and fell asleep. I got up and made a cup of coffee, wondering what I got myself into.
    As I sat sipping my coffee she began snoring
like a locomotive.  I felt like an idiot.  What’s an old
fart like me doing taking in a spoiled little girl?  I wondered if she was even eighteen.  She looked skinny as a rail; like a pixie stick.   In my day young women were full figured.  These days they looked like choir boys. She looked like as if a big wind came it might blow her over.  She oughta be back home letting her mama feed her and fatten her up some.  
    But, I knew that lotsa kids these days didn’t have mamas like the one I had.  My mama would feed me corned beef and cabbage, pot roast, mamalicka, Gefilte fish, and matzos.  I felt sorry for this kid.  My mama would never have let me wander around some strange city like a bum.  She looked out for me.  Even when I was grown she called me once a week to see if I was eating right.  My mama knew the value of a good meal.
    She was big and round and full of love.  When she hugged me, she would smash my face between her breasts.  She hugged me like that every time I came home.  When I was in the service and came home, she would grab me as soon as I walked in the door.  She always had a huge spread ready for me.  My belly was so full I’d sit on the couch and start to fall asleep.  Mama would throw a blanket over me and sit in the easy chair and fall asleep. We would sleep there for a couple of hours and then we’d play scrabble.  She always beat me.
    Mama may have looked simple but she had a good head on her shoulders. She would tell me stories about Poland, and her village. She knew that she smothered me a little, spoiled me a little.  That’s what moms are for.
    Anyhow not everybody I grew up with was as lucky as me.  I remember Henry Herschel.  He lived down the road from us.  He was a dirty little ragamuffin who walked around in ratty clothes, and uncut hair.  Mom used to have him over for dinner sometimes.  He was born out of wedlock.  His parents never married.  His father drank like a fish. Then he beat his mother.  
    I wished I could’ve done more for him.  My mother always told me that God had a plan for everyone.  Even little Henry would find his way.  She tried to make me feel better.  But I couldn’t get the little brat off my mind.  The kid looked so pathetic.  His ribs stuck out like rafters.  I wondered why I was so lucky and he wasn’t.  It didn’t seem fair.  Ever since then I’ve had a warm spot in my heart for the unlucky, the outcasts.    
    When I saw this girl with the crazy get up crying, I couldn’t ignore her, like I did most of the street urchins.  She looked a lot like Henry; Same wiry body; Same big eyebrows; Same tiny cheek bones; Same unkempt hair; Even the same mole on her cheek.  I don’t know it why, but it was like seeing a ghost.
    Still that snoring was too much.  I’d have to wear ear plugs just to get some damn sleep.  My God this was worse than my last ex-wife.  She couldn’t stand my cursing and I couldn’t stand her snoring.  That’s why we split; That and a hundred other little habits which we were disgusted with each other about.  
    Anyhow that was water under the bridge. I wasn’t one to cry over spilt milk.  She married some Mensch clerk from Brooklyn and they lived in his Brownstone.  I lived in the Lillian Wald Projects on the lower east side, with loud Puerto Rican music blasting through the walls.  No body said life was fair.  Still I enjoyed the simple pleasures; Like going for ice cream on the weekend; bullshitting with the boys at the café on Tuesdays.  It was a routine. Everybody needs a routine.  Now with this little girl, my routine was screwed.  I felt really dumb.  I was old enough to know better.  Still I had the consolation of knowing that I had helped; some consolation.  
    What in the hell could I do for the little girl anyhow?  She just needed a place to crash.  I was too old and crabby to really help her feel better.  I decided to call it a night.  I couldn’t solve everything tonight.  She was sleeping like a log anyhow.  I went to bed and couldn’t sleep.  That Puerto Rican music went on all night.  Usually it didn’t bother me.
    Tonight though that combined with her snoring was too much.  Also, I was wondering what I was going to do about her.  I had to get her out of here quick, for the sake of my sanity.  The last thing I needed was an adolescent kid hanging around getting in my hair.  I’d had enough of that with my first wife and mine’s kid.  He was a trouble maker. Smoked pot, slept around, never worked.  I always said he wouldn’t amount to nothing.  He moved to Vegas and became a black jack dealer.  He never calls or writes.  Good riddance is what I say.
    Finally I fell asleep.  I woke up at six in the morning.  My bed was a mess. I must’ve tossed and turned all night.      
    I got up and she was still sleeping on the couch snoring.  I ate a little breakfast and let her sleep.  I felt more comfortable with her snoring than having to talk to her.  I knew her type; completely self absorbed and spoiled rotten.  I’d rather get lectured by the rabbi than talk to her.  
    It got to be about eleven in the morning.  She was still sleeping.  She must not have slept for days I thought; or maybe she was just one of those young night owls who partied all night and slept all day.  This was Just what I needed, some kid to keep me up all night; coming in at six in the morning with me worrying about her the whole night.  
    But why would I worry?  After all I didn’t know her from Joe Blow.  She was a complete stranger.  I couldn’t understand why I even cared. Still, for some reason though I did.  Maybe it was because she was the spitting image of Henry Herschel.  I dunno.  I needed to get out and wash some clothes. But I knew I couldn’t leave her here all alone.  For all I knew she might be a kleptomaniac.  She might clean me out.  So I sat there at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.
    Finally around one o’clock she woke up.  She yawned real big showing her perfect set of teeth.  I once had perfect teeth.  But I wasn’t complaining.  After all, at my age I was lucky not to be in diapers.  I considered myself a lucky man.
    She sat up on the couch.  I watched her sitting hunched over on the couch as she bent her head down, curled her fingers and ran then through her long knotty bunched hair trying to smooth it down.  She said, “Mister you got any aspirin?”
     I said, “It’s in the cabinet in the bathroom.”
     She pleaded, “Could you get it for me?  I’ve got cramps in my stomach.  I don’t feel much like getting up.”
    I said, “Hey I’ve got cramps everyday of my life.”
    I got up and got the aspirin.  As I stood at the
kitchen sink, I realized she probably had menstrual cramps.  I got back to the room and handed her the
aspirin.  I said, “I’ve got to go out shopping.  Care
to join me?”
     She said, “Mister, I can hardly move.  I feel like my insides are on fire.”
     I said, “Listen kid.  I can’t leave you here alone. I know you’re probably a good person. But  I
don’t know you.”
      She stretched her neck back popping it as I stood over her.  She said, “Ok.  Listen, I’m sorry to be so much trouble.  But could you get me some tampons?  My parents will pay you back.  I promise.”
    I wondered what the check out woman would think of me checking out with tampons with a little girl by my side. We left and walked down the street around the block to the grocery store.  I got a grocery cart and put in a box of pretzels, some sardines, and some bread.  The little girl put in a box of tampons.  
    As we checked out I thought I was going to have a heart attack, when the check out lady, Gloria, whom I had known for over twenty years, picked up the box of tampons.  She looked at the little girl who was hunched over holding her
stomach.  She said, “Eddie, who is that little girl?”
     I said, “What’s your name muffin?”
     She said, “Ariana.   Please hurry I’ve got to get home.  I’m hurting really bad.”
     Gloria said, “Eddie, she needs to see a doctor.”
     I picked up my bag and said, “Gloria, what do
you want me to do?  I don’t have any money.  What do I look like?  The good Samaritan?”
     Gloria said, “I know underneath that mean exterior you’re a good person.  I’ve known you too long.  I know better.”
      I said, “What are you my analyst? If I need advice I’ll write Dear Abbey.”
   Gloria frowned and said, “Listen to me Eddie Rhein.  Get this girl to a doctor. There’s a free clinic on 2nd Avenue.  Take her there Eddie.”  Gloria handed me my other bag. We stopped by my apartment and I dropped off the groceries.  Then we walked down Houston Street to 2nd Avenue.
    Ariana followed me up the stairs in the old building.  The stairs creaked and the stairwell was
dark.   We got to the top and saw a door with a large cloudy glass window. On it said gynecologist/Pediatrician.   I opened the door and walked into the waiting room.  Behind the window was a tiny old wrinkled woman with thick horn rimmed eyeglasses.    
    She said, “Please sign in and the doctor will be with you shortly.”  
    We waited over an hour.  Nobody else was in the room and I couldn’t understand what the problem was.  I sat there giving the receptionist the evil eye.  She looked up at me, looking miffed and closed the window.  
    Finally the nurse came.  She was a big woman.  I felt like telling Ariana, “You need to eat more if you want to be big and healthy like this woman.”  I knew that was impolite and I restrained myself.  
    I sat out in the lobby and waited for what seemed like forever.  I read about half of the national geographic.  Finally Ariana came out carrying a bottle of pills.  
    She said, “Listen Mister, I’m not good at remembering to take medicine.  Could you remind me when its time?”
    I said, “Geesh!!”
    She said, “Come on Mister Rhein.  Please help
me.”
    I said, “Do you need help brushing your teeth too?  Going to the potty?  I’m the old man.  You should be helping me remember things.”
    We walked back to my apartment.  When we got back to the apartment the Puerto Rican music had stopped.  I felt a little more relaxed.  I put on one of my old records of Benny Goodman.  The girl said, “Mister that music is really grating.  Could we turn on the radio?”
    I asked, “What’s a matter?  You don’t like swing?”
    Ariana said, “Mister Rhein, I’ve never even heard of swing.  Please I’ve got a terrible headache.  Can’t we listen to the radio?”
    I walked across the room and turned off the phonograph.  She walked over to the radio and asked, “Mister, how does this thing work?”
    I turned the knob and showed her how to adjust the frequency.  I was about to go out of my mind. She turned on some noise that I wouldn’t even say resembled music.  It sounded like a cat being strangled.  I thought, “This is worse than the Chinese water torture.”
    I yelled, so my voice would carry over the racket, “I can’t take it anymore!!”  I walked over to the radio and turned it off.   She said, “What did you go and do that for, mister?”
    I said, “Kid, when are you going to call your parents?  Don’t you want to go home?”
    She looked at me with those sad puppy eyes.  She said, “Mister, my parents don’t even know I’m here.  They think I’m off at college in Boulder.  I can’t call them and ask for plane fare.  My father would kill me.”
    I said, “Come on, I did stupid things when I was a kid.  My parents never did more than ground me, or take away my allowance.”
    Ariana said, “You don’t know my father.  He would cut me off in a minute for this.  I wouldn’t even be able to go back to college in Boulder.  He’d think I was too wild to be on my own and send me to the University of Georgia.  I can’t stand Georgia.  Please Mister, let me get together some money and I’ll go back.  I promise.”
   I stood facing her by the radio.  She looked down at the floor with the most pitiful look I had
ever seen.  I asked her, “How are you gonna come
up with money?  Rob a bank?”
    Ariana went into the bathroom.  I heard her sniffling and crying.  I knocked on the door.  She said, “What do you want?”
    I said, “Ariana, I’m sorry.  I’m just a crabby old man.  I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.  Listen, I know you don’t want to put up with me for long. Why don’t you call your papa and talk to him?”
    She began crying louder then.  I said, “Ok, ok. You can stay.  Just follow through with your promise.  Go out and look for a job.  It’s better than you hanging around here and us getting in each other’s hair.”
      She sobbed, “OK.”
     She went out that night and didn’t come back till morning.  I stayed up till midnight waiting for her. I finally decided, I wasn’t going to let her screw up my sleep schedule, like she had the rest of my routine, and I fell asleep.  I woke up at ten in the morning and she was snoring on the couch.  I made coffee and sat reading the newspaper.  I looked at the classified and saw a waitress job at a restaurant just around the corner.  Around twelve thirty she woke up.  I offered her some coffee and toast.  She sat across from me nibbling on the toast.  As little as she ate I wondered that she could even stay alive, much less work.  I asked her, “Where’d you go last night?”
    She said, “Oh, I went to a rave. It was really cool.”
    I asked her, “What’s a rave?”
    She said, “It’s Just a kind of wild party; lots of dancing, drinking, techno music.”
    I raised my eyebrows.  I asked, “Any drugs?”
    Ariana smiled and continued eating.  I said, “Listen young lady, little girl, whatever, I will not tolerate drugs in this house.”
    Ariana said, “Mister Rhein all I did is smoke a little grass. What’s wrong with that?”
    I put down my newspaper and looked her straight in the eyes.  I was thinking, Lord, when will the nightmare end?  I said, “Now listen to me and listen closely.  If I catch you or hear of you taking any illegal substances, I’ll put you on the street.  Do you hear me?”
    Ariana frowned and nodded, putting down the toast she was nibbling on.  She said, “Mister I’m not really hungry.  I’ve got to get out and get a
job.”
    I picked up the newspaper and held it up pointing to the waitress job.  I said, “Why don’t you try here?  This looks like it might be right up your alley.”
    She looked at and curled her lips. She said, “Mister Rhein...”  I interrupted her and said, “Please quit with the Mister Rhein.  Call me Eddie.”
   She said, “Yes, as I was saying Eddie, I don’t think I’d make a good waitress.  I have a bad memory and wouldn’t remember the orders.”
   I yelled, “Well what do you propose to do then; you think you could work at an office; you with your orange hair and sleeping all day?
   Ariana said, “Listen Eddie, I have experience.  I worked for a summer at a body piercing place.  My father didn’t know and I don’t want you to tell him.”
    I said, “Hey do what you have to do.  That’s what everyone does, rich or poor, smart or dumb.” But I was thinking, my God, this little monster is a new shock every minute.  It’s a wonder she hasn’t
given me a coronary already.
   She went out that afternoon and once again
stayed out all night.  This time I went to bed at ten. I had a hot toddy and that did the trick.  When I woke up though, she still hadn’t come home.  I was really worried.  I stayed at home waiting.  I expected to hear about her on the news, found in some alleyway.  Finally at about six that evening she came in.   I nearly keeled over when I saw the young boy with her.   She said, “Eddie, this is my friend Alex.  Is it ok if he and I watch some TV together tonight?”
   I felt my heart skip a beat.  I said, “This is not a
cheap motel.  I will not have you turning this place into a cat house.”
   She looked over at her boyfriend and said, “Alex, you wait right here.  I need to talk to Eddie alone.”
    Ariana took my hand and led me into the bedroom.  We sat on the bed together and I let out a big sigh.  Ariana patted me on the back.  She said, “Mr. Eddie.  Alex is really a nice boy.  He goes to NYU.  I promise we won’t sleep together.  He won’t even stay the whole night.  I just want to watch some TV with him.  I swear, he’ll be gone by morning.  I just need someone to talk to.  Please
Mr. Eddie.”
   I said, “Yea, I guess, I’m not much good company for you.  I’m just a crabby old man who does nothing but bitch and complain.  I guess, I can let the kid stay.  After all, it’ll get you outta my hair.”
    Ariana kissed me on the check and said, “Thanks Eddie. You’re the best.  And you’re not bad company.  You really care.  You’re a really kind man.  I’m going to miss you when I go back home.”
    I smiled and said, “Awww, get outta here. You’re going to make me soft carrying on like that. I’ve got to be a tough old bastard to live in this city.”
    I lay in bed propped up against the wall on my
pillow.  I could hear them through the wall giggling together. I tried to make out what they were saying but couldn’t.  I thought if I hear anything funny out there he would be outta here in a New York minute.  Then again, I thought, what if I caught them in the middle of hanky panky?  I’d feel really silly standing out there breaking something like that up.  I’d probably turn red, might pass out.  Things
like this are better left undercover, pardon the pun.  
I put my ear plugs in and went to sleep.
    When I woke up and walked out into the living room, Alex was gone, and Ariana was sitting at the kitchen table.  She was writing a letter.  I sat down at the table and asked her what she was writing.  She put down her pen and looked up at me.  “I’m
writing a letter to my parents.  I can’t go on lying.”
    I looked at her and said, “Well, what made you come around?”
     She said, “Eddie, I look at someone like you, and it makes me feel like being a better person.  You went out of your way and took me in, even though I was a stranger.  For all you knew I might of been a psycho. You trusted me.”
     I said, “Well, I think I’m getting a little senile.
That probably explains it.”
     She looked at me and said, “No, Eddie, your mind is as good, or better than mine.  I couldn’t even remember when to take my medicine without you reminding me.   You have a good heart.  You may be a little blunt, but you’re sincere.”
     I said, “Well I guess it’s about time I accepted a compliment without being sarcastic.”
     Ariana said, “Eddie, I want you to know that
you’ve helped me to grow up. I never met someone as real as you.  You don’t put on airs.  You don’t pretend to be nice to make people feel good.  You’re very genuine.  If I could be half as true to myself as you have I’d be doing well.”
     I felt my skin tingle.  Ariana said, “Eddie you’re
blushing.  You don’t have to be embarrassed.  I meant every word I said.  It comes from my heart.”
    I wiped my brow and said, “Whew.  It’s really hot in here.  Why don’t we go for a walk in the park?”
    Ariana smiled and said, “I’m going to take a greyhound home.  By the time I get home this letter should reach them.  Mr. Eddie I could use some help with this letter.”
    I told her to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  I advised her to remind them that they were young once and made mistakes.  I told her to promise them never to lie again.  Tell them that she had grown up a lot.  After we finished the letter, I told her not to give up her dreams.  If her parents wouldn’t send her to Boulder, she could make it on her own.   She could get student loans, work, or get grants.  After I was finished with my sermon, she said, “I’ll do the best I can. I’ll do what I have to.”
    I told her, “We all do what we have to, rich or poor, smart or dumb.”
    I went with her to the bus station.  I gave her some bologna sandwiches to eat on the trip.  She said, “I didn't know you ate pork Eddie.  Aren’t you Jewish?”
    I said, “I got it for you.  You’re not Jewish are you?”
    Ariana smiled and asked, “No. But why was that package of bologna I saw in the refrigerator open and half empty?  I never touched it.”  In a fake Brooklyn accent she said, “Dat stuff isn’t kosher Eddie Rhein.”
    I said, “Yea well, you can’t always do what you’re supposed to do.”
     Ariana smiled and got on the bus.  As the bus pulled away she waved through the window.
    I smiled at her and made a peace sign.  The bus disappeared around a corner.  I took the subway back to my apartment.  There I sat watching through my window as the kids played stick ball in the courtyard park below.  As the golden sunlight streaming through the window faded and shadows fell across the courtyard park, I watched the kids scatter to their apartments. As I sat watching the lights come on in the apartments across the courtyard, it dawned on me that Ariana had made my life more bearable.  In the short time that I had spent with her she had shown me that the secret to aging gracefully is to be open to the new and different.  Change is the only certainty in life.    
    Sometimes old habits have to be broken, tradition has to be adapted to the new age.  I had seen enough change in my life to know that.  Ariana was just beginning to learn.  I chuckled to myself thinking about how each generation relearns the same lessons.   Nothing worth having in life comes free, my mama used to tell me.  Maybe it all boiled down to that.