All The Young Punks Pt. 23

Joe arrived in The Village early in the evening on a school night. When he knocked on the door, Lana answered. As she was about to speak, he touched his finger to his lips.

"Ssh, I want to surprise her."

"You'll definitely do that. She's in the shower."

The night before, he told a weepy Tina he wouldn't make it back to New York for at least another week. She was not happy.

"C'mon in," Lana stepped aside. "She's gonna go crazy. It's been a rough week."

"I hear it on the phone. That's why I'm here."

She closed the door behind them and hugged Joe. They heard the shower turn off.

"Thank you for doing this for my girl. I know she's missed you, and Simon's injuries have her down too."

"I'll be visiting him tomorrow. She says Si is having a hard time."

Lana called out. "Tina! There's someone here for you."

Tina called back. "In a minute."

Joe was unnerved by how the mere sound of her sweet voice made him feel squishy inside, with goosebumps, and a warm feeling in his chest. The emotions scared him.

Tina emerged from the bathroom with her head in a towel, drying her hair, and eyes down. When she looked up, she screamed, threw the towel in the air, and raced across the room. Her arms went around his neck and her legs wrapped his waist. She nearly knocked him over.

"What are you doing here?" She kissed him. "I'm so happy to see you." She kissed him again.

"Yeah, I see that. I'm here to make you feel better."

"So far, so good," laughed Lana.

She kissed him again. "I missed you so much. I need this. Thank you."

"You can thank Amtrak. They make it easy."

"I love Amtrak. I'll send a thank you note."

"I think they'd prefer donuts."

After the molestation, she got dressed while Lana and Joe talked. When T returned, she cozied up to him on the couch, giddy with happiness. Lana laughed at her.

"Look at you, in love again. You do this all the time."

"What are you talking about?" asked T.

Lane looked at Joe. "She always goes head over heels."

Tina protested. "That's not true!"

Joe winked at Lana. "Are you saying Tina is crazy like this with all her boyfriends?"

Tina elbowed him. "No, I am not!"

"I wasn't asking you. Lana, is that true?"

Lana smiled. "Yeah, sorry. I tried to tell you last time you were here."

Tina huffed. "You know she's making that shit up, right?"

"Don't feel so special, Joe. She's had lots of boyfriends."

"That hurts," he faked a bruised ego. "I thought I was the one."

"That's enough," T put her foot down. "Don't you see what she's doing?"

She stared at Joe. He maintained a straight face. T couldn't tell if he was taking Lana seriously.

"I can handle the truth. If I'm just the flavor of the month..." Joe cracked a smile.

Tina pushed him. "Okay, that's enough. You're both picking on me."

Lana laughed. "She's really quite gullible for a smart girl."

"Yeah, I learned that early on," he poked Tina's rubs. "Miss Gullible."

"You're not funny. I'm not gullible. How long are you here?"

"I don't know. Maybe a week, but that's not a promise."

They ordered Chinese delivery and hung out for the evening. With chow mein dangling and dribbling from her lips, T leaped from the kitchen table. "Oh, I have something for you." She grabbed a newspaper from the side table by the door. "I almost forgot."

She plopped a recent edition of The Village Voice on the table. You're gonna like what he wrote. Joe flipped through the pages. There it was, perfectly headlined - Punk Rock Vaudeville in Hell's Kitchen. He read it quietly while eating kung pao beef. Joe sipped water, put the paper down, and went back to his spicy supper served in a cardboard take-out container.

"Well, what do you think? That's a good review." She smiled.

"Yup. I was there. I knew he'd be good to us."

"The headline is good," said Lana. "I'll have to check out his carnival sideshow."

Joe nodded. "I gave him that line. There's one problem."

"What's that?" asked T.

"Are we even a band anymore?"

"Really?" Tina's face got serious. "I had a feeling you were holding back on the phone. What's going on with Johnny?"

Joe filled them in on Sal not keeping his word and Johnny trying to beat his addiction with an outpatient clinic... and how he was not happy about the loophole treatment.

"Is it a methadone clinic?" asked Lana.

"I don't know. I suppose I should've asked that."

"How long will that take?" asked Tina.

"I have no idea and I'm not gonna worry about it now. No band talk, I'm here for you."

Tina smiled as she went back to her chow mein. Joe watched her eat with that cute, content smile on her face. She looked at Joe while chewing, smiling with her eyes. He felt so good making her happy.

"Hey," he nudged Tina. "how's the new job going?"

"Demanding," she said. "Margaret is a tough boss, but I knew that going in. I figure if I can hack it for one year it'll look good on my resume. Everyone knows how difficult she is. That place has a revolving door."

"She loses people?"

"Yeah. She's gone through a bunch of girls."

"That sucks," Joe said. "You don't seem the type to stand up for yourself. Don't let her abuse you."

"I stand up for myself."

Lana guffawed so hard, that noodles flew out of her mouth. "Stand up? You're a fucking pushover."

"I am not."

Lana sighed and rolled her eyes as she glanced at Joe, "And she's in denial."

Joe enjoyed staying with Tina and Lana. Apartment 3C was a fun place to be. They were busy at school and in jobs five days a week, so Joe had daytime freedom in Manhattan. He picked up bagels or muffins each morning and spent a couple of hours with Simon.

After a morning with Si, Joe would grab lunch at a diner or deli. He might visit Tommy's in the afternoon to hang with the hard punks and he popped into his record shops. Depending on class schedules, he might pick up groceries on the way home to prepare dinner. The girls loved that, and teased him, their cute manservant.

Simon was kept in the hospital longer than expected to have another facial procedure done, but also because he lived alone with no one to care for him. His Mum had flown in and out of the country in less than sixty hours. No punks met her. Simon didn't care to discuss it. Tommy and the crew made arrangements to help him at home. He was discharged in the middle of Joe's stay. Joe then spent his mornings with Simon in his humble flat in Murray Hill, only blocks away from the hospital. When other punks popped in, he'd hang a bit longer, chat, and go on with his day.

Tina had described how bad his scars were, but her words fell short. It had been twenty-three days since the assault. His head was now lightly bandaged, his injuries more exposed. Simon could change the dressing himself. During one of Joe's visits, Simon removed the bandage.

Joe examined his scalp. It was terrible, but Joe didn't react. On his left side, just above the ear, he had V-shaped stitches where they had peeled his scalp to treat his cranium. "When your hair grows back this will be covered up." Joe tried to downplay what would surely be a horrible scar.

"If my hair grows back," Si replied.

"Your nose and cheek look better than I expected."

"That's what two surgeries will do."

"Ya know, it's a good thing you were homely to begin with," Joe smirked. "People will hardly notice."

That cruel crack made Si smile. If you can break a friend's balls during bad times and get a smile, it's a good sign. Simon's bones were broken, but his spirit wasn't.

"If T were here," he said, "she'd rightfully smack you for your rudeness."

"I know. She abuses me."

Simon scoffed. "Ha, you're punching above your weight class with that one."

"That's how I see it too."

"I'm just messing with you. To me, you're the royal couple."

Joe laughed. "She's definitely a queen."

Simon's brow furrowed. "Tina's not that type. Is she? She doesn't seem dramatic."

"Her drama is low-key. She was weepy on the phone last week, She can be needy, and she's passionate."

"Passion is good."

"Damn right, it is. After surprising her with this visit," Joe smiled wide. "Unbelievable."

"Piss off."

"And Lana is hilarious. She's always poking at T, getting her blood pressure up. She and I get along great and that gets under T's skin."

"Is she jealous?"

"It seems so. She caught me singing to Lana one day," Joe made a face. "Not good. And she knows about Jada."

"Oh bollocks," his eyes got big. "She will fucking hate Jada."

"I know," Joe said. "I need to keep 'em separated."

---- THE VON SOMETHING GERMAN GALLERY ----

Tina had previously served a six-month internship at a Tribeca art gallery during her freshman year. It was light work. She was the cute hostess in dresses and heels, greeting guests, getting coffee for visiting artists and clients, and seeing the art business from the bottom... the very bottom. That internship put her in contact with people in the Manhattan art scene, including Margaret Von Something German. Her surname was so long and convoluted, with too many consonants, that Joe didn't even attempt to pronounce it. It was Von Something German.

Shortly after Joe met Tina, Margaret offered her a part-time job at her Midtown gallery. She started the week Joe returned to Providence after his summer in the city. During this stay in town, Joe decided to visit Tina at her new gig.

He walked into the swanky glass and metal contemporary gallery on 5th Avenue near 55th Street to find Tina standing like a palace guard at a hostess station. Her smile made the stinky subway ride worthwhile.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd pop in."

"What were you doing up here?"

"Okay, I lied," he shrugged. "I just wanted to see my Uptown Girl."

"This is not Uptown." She pointed east. "Uptown is north of Central Park."

Joe pointed north. "North is that way."

"Whatever." She looked above, to the boss lady's lair.

"Okay," Joe explained. "If I'm in The Village, or Lower Manhattan, and I want to come here, I'm going uptown, right?"

She shook her head, "No, that's not how it works."

"Sure it is."

"It doesn't matter."

"Sure it does, north is up, south is down. If I'm traveling north I'm going uptown."

Tina looked up again then walked around her station and hugged him. "Thank you for surprising me. It's sweet of you."

"Speaking of sweet," He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Butterfinger candy bar.

"For me?"

"It's your favorite, right?"

She accepted the gift and kissed him. "It's one of my favorites."

Joe looked up, "Don't look now, but we're under Gestapo surveillance."

Tina turned to see Margaret glaring down at her and Joe, having just witnessed her kiss him. She walked back to her side of the podium and looked back up.

"This is Joe, my boyfriend. He just popped in to say hello."

Joe waved. Margaret did not. She turned and walked back into her office.

"Ooooo," Joe faked a chill. "I can feel her icy soul from here."

"Yeah, she's not warm, that's for sure."

"She would have made a good Nazi." Joe clicked his heels and stood erect.

"That's not funny."

"Sure it is. Mags is an art Nazi. You said she was difficult." He leaned over her hostess podium. "She's still watching."

"Don't call her Mags. She's very proper and professional."

"You mean a humorless tight-ass?"

"You better go. I don't need her climbing up my tight ass."

"I'll leave after you kiss me goodbye."

"Is she still watching?"

"Yup."

"Nope. No kiss."

"Awww, C'mon."

"I'll give you something later that's way better than a kiss." Tina pushed her tongue against her cheek.

"A blowjob for a Butterfinger?" Joe smirked. "I told ya, you Catholic girls are so easy."

"Get out of here before I change my mind."

"I love you," he winked.

"I love you too."

Joe looked up and waved. "Nice to meet you, Mags."

Tina's eyes bulged, "Don't you..." She pointed. "Get out of here."

That evening, Joe cooked Lana and Tina a simple seafood casserole. Shrimp, scallops, butter, and garlic, topped with crushed Ritz crackers and served with a salad. While Lana did dishes, Tina took him by the hand into her purple and pink sanctuary. She sat on the chair at her makeup mirror where she rewarded Joe for the Butterfinger.

She looked up, smiling. "Better than a kiss?"

---- PLAN B IS ON HOLD ---

During a lazy day, with Tina in class, Joe stopped by Cohen Studio in Chelsea. When he walked in, the receptionist explained that Marty was busy but offered to escort Joe into the studio where he could listen and observe... as long as he remained quiet.

In the smaller of the two sound rooms, an older female opera singer was belting out some Italian lyrics. Marty was in the booth. He saw Joe through the door window and waved. Joe took a seat and listened to a solo opera performance. It was more than Joe had bargained for. He almost left a message and went home. When her work was done, the lady chatted with Marty and departed.

"Hey, Joe." Marty put his hand out. "How are you?"

"To be honest," he shook Marty's hand. "Not great. Simon was involved in an... incident."

"Oh," Marty's expression changed. "The kid who got assaulted was Simon?"

"You heard about it?"

"Yeah. I know Tommy well enough. He told me one of the regulars was severely beaten and hospitalized. I'm very sorry to hear it was Simon. How's he doing?"

"He's been better, but he's healing. It's gonna be a long road to recovery."

"So, is the band back in town? You should have brought the guys with you."

"Do you have a minute?" Joe asked. "I have some other news."

Marty led Joe to his office where the men sat across the desk from each other. Marty offered Joe a soda pop. Joe declined.

He exhaled and got to the point. "My band has a drug problem. Johnny, our lead guitarist got hooked on heroin over the summer and we're trying to get him into rehab. We're out of business until we work this out."

"I'm sorry to hear that too," Marty shook his head. "Heroin is a plague in this city. I know a few young people who..." he paused. "I don't have to tell you. You're seeing it firsthand."

"So, when I brought Simon here, that was part of my reaction to Johnny being all fucked up. I honestly believed he was going to wreck our band and I saw Simon as a possible plan B."

"And now plan B is on hold."

"Exactly. I have no idea what's going to happen with Johnny or how long Simon's rehab will be. I just wanted to let you know my band is in limbo, but..." he raised a finger. "When we're whole again, I'll be in touch. I promise."

"I appreciate that."

The men spoke for several more minutes before Joe excused himself to do grocery shopping. He had two lady roommates to cook for.

---- THEN SAY NOTHING ----

Lying in bed, late on a Friday night, Joe was reading The Sirens Of Titan while Tina did the New York Times crossword puzzle.

"President to serve two non-consec..."

"Cleveland."

"You didn't let me finish the question."

"It's Grover Cleveland."

Tina pointed at squares with her #2 pencil. She smiled at Joe. "It fits."

"Yeah, no shit." He went back to reading.

"The Capital of Lithuania."

"Vilnius."

"Are you making that up?"

"No," He put his book down and turned to Tina. "That's the answer. I'm not doing the puzzle for you. I'm reading." Joe put his book up higher, blocking her.

"Okay. One more question."

He rolled his eyes behind the Sirens.

"Who is Janie?"

Joe lowered Kurt Vonnegut and stared at Tina for a moment. "Why?"

"You said the name Janie twice last night. I don't want to say you screamed, but you were having a bad dream for sure and you woke me up."

"I'm sorry. That happens sometimes."

Tina looked at Joe waiting for the explanation he was not interested in giving. He stared back.

"I have dreams. I'm sorry." He put Kurt back up knowing Vonnegut was not a strong defense against what was coming.

"We've been together a while. This was the first time."

"That's good. It's been a while," he said from behind the pages. "Sometimes they come in batches."

"So who's Janie?"

Joe was in a moment of truth. He wasn't ready to tell her the story. This happened from time to time. People wanted to talk about Janie after she died, but not Joe, and not his family. He kept the book up, "I'm reading."

Tina stared at him. Joe could feel her eyes from behind his pages. He was trying to wait her out, thinking that maybe T would let this go. 'Yeah, right.'

Over the years he learned how to handle these moments. There were multiple decisions. Should he tell her anything at all? If so, how much? What level of detail about the accident should he share? Does he tell her everything, from that horrific day through years of therapy?

"Are you ignoring me?" she asked.

"I'm trying to," he said, keeping his face behind his science fiction.

Joe had several versions of the story. There's a sad telling with emotional details only. He had various middle versions where he explained how she died. The most shocking script has all the painful details of that day, the violence and trauma. He hadn't told that story in years. In this moment with Tina, he went through his mental checklist over several seconds pondering while T continued to gaze at him on his right.

Joe sighed and made a decision. He chose the bad dream version because it was fresh in his memory. Joe set his book down, breathed in deep, and exhaled slowly, his deep cleansing breath.

"I have nightmares of the worst day of my life. The day my sister died. Janie was my sister... I mean, she is my sister." He paused. "I guess I don't know how to say it."

Tina didn't know what to say, "You lost a sister?"

"Yeah, I just told you that. It's hard to talk about. Please don't make me repeat myself."

"Sorry. We don't have to talk about it."

Joe looked straight ahead, avoiding her eyes, knowing she would not let this go. She would soon ask another question right after saying he didn't have to talk about it. This happened often.

"How did she die?

And that's the question most ask. Joe took another deep breath, but less demonstrable.

He looked away, and then down at his lap, his hands on the book. "I wish I could say it was cancer. People might ask what kind, and I could say leukemia and they'd make a sad face and that would be the end of it. Cancer is clean." Joe looked up to see Tina staring at him.

"My dreams are like a badly cut disaster film, chaotic. My sister was struck by a car in front of our house when I was eleven years old. I was standing eleven feet away. I know this because the police investigator told his cop buddy, right in front of me, 'her eleven-year-old brother was standing eleven feet away. What's today? The eleventh."

Joe broke eye contact, looking down. "I watched my sister die. I tried to warn her, but I was too late. She was twirling like a ballerina, looking me in the eye when the car hit her."

That was Joe's shocking but not graphic version.

"I don't know what to say, Joe."

"Then say nothing. That's a good rule to live by. When you don't know what to say, say nothing. Just give me a hug." Tina scooted closer and put her arms around him. He pulled her in.

"I did almost seven years of therapy. There was a time when I would not have told you one word of this. I would lie, or stonewall you. I can talk about it now, but not always. I knew this day would come and I'd have to tell you. Maybe someday I'll tell you more, but not tonight."

"How old was Janie?"

"She was a month shy of her ninth birthday."

"You had four sisters?"

Joe paused for a moment to gather himself. Tina was so much like his Mom and sisters in how she interrogated him. It started on their first date. She had just said they didn't have to talk about it and then kept asking questions. Because his sisters did this often, Joe knew to let it pass. He can stop talking at any moment because he controls fifty percent of every interaction. Dr. Nichols' simplest words were often her best.