Marty's Story

"I will tell our child just the minimum about the sperm donor when he or she asks. But as for the child's father, I'm sitting across the table from you."

"So you are, Marty. So you are."

"Now I guess it's time to talk to our parents," Marty said with a little bravado in his voice.

Traci's gynecologist knew that the baby was not Marty's and told the assisting nurses as well so nobody would be surprised if the child was born darker than both parents, which it was. Steven was born with what looked like a healthy tan and a mop of brown ringlets atop his head. Naomi gushed over her newborn, and one of the nurses went down to the waiting room to get Marty, who came jogging into the room just as the nurses finished drying the baby and wrapping him in a blanket. Marty could see the trepidation in the nurse holding the baby as he approached with his arms out.

"It's a boy!" Marty exclaimed as he reached out and took his son into his arms. "I've got the next PeeWee Reese, or maybe Jackie Robinson!"

"Congratulations, Dad!" the gynecologist said with genuine good cheer.

The nurse who handed the baby to Marty was smiling brightly, as were the other two nurses in the delivery room. One of the other two leaned over to her workmate as they stood a few feet away and whispered, "Either this guy has a screw loose or he's on his way to sainthood."

The second leaned in to her and whispered back, "I'm betting screw loose."

If Marty heard them, no one knew. He seemed to be totally absorbed with the baby.

"He's beautiful, isn't he Mom?" Marty said to Naomi.

Still a little groggy from the pain medication and the delivery, Naomi was watching Marty with a small smile on her lips.

"My God, look at him. You'd never know it wasn't his child," she thought to herself. "How could I have gotten so lucky?"

Overwhelmed with emotion, Naomi started to sob. Marty carried the baby over to his wife, leaned down and put the child next to her face. With his free hand, he stroked Naomi's face, wiping away the tears.

"You did just wonderful, Naomi. Just wonderful."

Naomi smiled up at Marty, and he leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips.

Despite the fact that New York was a leading cultural and population center, there was still plenty of racism to be found there. More people expressed displeasure with the biracial child when Naomi walked him in the stroller by herself than with Marty at her side, she noted. She pointed that out one evening to Marty, who gave her a crooked grin.

"Probably just my winning personality," he said to her gently. "You know, I am charming and delightful. Just ask me and I'll tell you."

Naomi gave his shoulder a gentle punch.

"Or it could be that you're built like a small mountain and you've got the scariest glare this side of King Kong, and nobody wants to get pounded into dust."

Marty feigned shock.

******

Marty was in the small office at the back of the butcher shop working on a deposit when he heard a commotion at the front of the shop. He sprinted toward the front and came across a smallish, fairly well-dressed man hitting the store's ice machine with a baseball bat.

"Whoa there, greaseball. What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Marty yelled at the intruder.

"I'm showing your boss what will happen to him if he doesn't up his payment for this machine to Mr. Profaci," the man said.

Marty quickly stepped forward and grabbed the bat out of the man's hands. Two quick punches later, the man was on the floor of the shop moaning. As he reached into his jacket pocket for what Marty assumed was a gun, Marty grabbed a cleaver from a nearby butcher block and raised it over the downed man.

"If that hand comes out of your fucking pocket, it comes off!" he yelled to the man.

The man stopped squirming, and left his hand in his pocket.

"You motherfucker! Do you know who I am and who I work for? You can be dead before breakfast tomorrow!" the man yelled.

"I work for Tony Rizetti, and he owns this shop!" Marty raged back. "He gives me the order, and your Dago ass will be part of the hamburger we're selling tomorrow!"

Almost right on cue, Tony Rizetti walked back into the store from his lunch hour, and found his manager about to dismember a member of Mafia boss Joe Profaci's crew. And as he hurried to the scene, he found it just wasn't any member of Profaci's crew, it was his enforcer, a man quickly gaining a reputation as a sick, twisted little bastard, "Crazy Joe" Gallo. Tony briefly thought of not saying anything and letting Marty lay a big hurt on Gallo, but then figured that Profaci would wind up having Marty killed... and he really liked this kid.

"Marty!" Tony yelled. "Don't do it! Please, Marty, don't do it! He's not worth going to jail over."

"Then take the gun out of his pocket for him, and I'll let him up."

Tony reached into Gallo's pocket and pulled out a snub nose .38. He handed it to another employee and jerked Crazy Joe to his feet.

"What do I owe your boss now?" Tony asked.

Not only did the Mafia own several of the major packing houses in New York City, they also owned the city's ice machines, a butcher shop staple even with the refrigerated cases. Poultry wouldn't keep in the cases without a bed of ice underneath, and the only way to get a machine was through a Mafia contact. That meant they controlled the pricing. Nobody balked much at paying.

"He wants another $50 a month, starting this month," Crazy Joe said to Tony, all the while keeping his eyes on Marty.

"Come on back and I'll get your money," Tony said.

As Tony headed back toward the office, Crazy Joe straightened his jacket with both hands and looked at Marty malevolently.

"I owe you one, motherfucker. Stay the fuck out of my way from now on, or I'll shoot your ass dead the next time you get in my way," he spat.

"Any time, greaseball, any time."

After Crazy Joe left with his money, Marty's boss walked up to him with real concern.

"Fuck, Marty!" Tony said. "You could have gotten your brains scattered all over the Goddamned store! Do you know who that 'greaseball' is? He's Crazy Joe Gallo, Profaci's new favorite enforcer, and everybody says he's got more than a few screws loose. They say even Profaci isn't so sure of him."

"Wasn't sure if that was him or not, but I really didn't care! Does he know who I am?"

"Damn, Marty, you've got a quick temper," Tony stated. "Would you really have killed the little fucker?"

"Hell yes. Threaten me or my family, you'd better make your peace with God, because you won't make it with me."

******

Marty came in tired after a long Friday and found Naomi walking with a cranky baby in her arms, looking bedraggled.

"What's wrong, Na-Na? Stevie sick?" Marty asked, using his nickname for his wife.

Naomi nodded affirmatively.

"He's been running 101, 102 for much of the day and been very fussy. He hasn't eaten much either.

"Supper's in the oven. I'll put Stevie down for a bit and we'll eat."

"Hand him to me while you get the food ready. I'll do some heavy lifting for a while."

Naomi handed the nine-month-old child to her husband, and noted the look of concern on Marty's face. She again thought to herself how lucky she was to have a man like Marty as her husband.

Marty took the child and went to his favorite spot to sit with Stevie, an old rocking chair that used to belong to Naomi's grandmother that had been passed down. He cradled Stevie in his left arm and started rocking, slowly at first but gathering speed as the baby responded to the movement. Marty talked to Stevie as he rocked, telling the child how his day went. Ten minutes later when Naomi told Marty dinner was on the table, the child was asleep and looking angelic, although with a slight flush, making his darker skin stand out more against Marty's pale skin.

"I don't know how you do that. He always sleeps so well when you rock him," Naomi said.

"I'm warm, I'm secure and I'm calm. He can feel tension. All babies can. It upsets their natural karma. And I'm guessing that whatever is bothering him is tiring him out," Marty said.

"Probably, and the fact that he didn't go down for his nap is probably making him even crankier."

Stevie woke after a nap of about an hour, and fussed until Traci tried to put him down for the night at about eight. He slept and cried off and on. His parents went to bed at about 10, with Marty having to get up at five to head into Brooklyn to set up and open the store at eight. Saturday was usually a 12-hour slog, but it went fast as it was the busiest day of the week for most butcher shops.

Naomi got up with the five AM. Alarm, but didn't find Marty in bed with her. She would look for him in a minute, but first she went to check on the baby, who for some reason didn't wake her up for his two AM feeding. Stevie wasn't in his crib, so Naomi headed for the living room, where she found Marty asleep in the rocking chair with the baby again tucked into the crook of his left arm, sleeping peacefully. She shook her head as she saw the baby-bottle on the table next to the chair.

"Marty, wake up, Sweetheart," Naomi said as she took the baby from his arm. "How long have you been out here? You should have awakened me. I don't have to go to work today, you do. This is my job, remember?"

"I know, Na-Na" Marty whispered. "He was fussy, and you looked exhausted. It was really no trouble at all."

Naomi just shook her head in amazement. Her love for this man was growing stronger every day. First, he marries her and raises her child as his own, then he treats them not like a burden, but a blessing. One minute she was a knocked up slut with an illegitimate child, the next she was the cherished wife with a golden baby belonging to a storybook knight in shining armor. She smiled to herself as she shooed Marty to the shower and took the baby to the changing table.

Marty worked a lot of hours at the butcher shop, but when he was home the baby was often in his arms. When the baby wasn't in his arms, Naomi was, as Marty made sure to show his wife plenty of affection. While they were merely good friends when the relationship started, Marty seemed to go out of his way to woo Naomi, she thought. In her most quiet moments, she had to admit her husband was a confusing man, but she was fortunate to have him.

"Why Marty?" Naomi asked him one Sunday afternoon when he came up behind her and wrapped his strong arms around her while she was preparing dinner. "I understand you didn't want to let me and the baby struggle to make it, but you don't have to pretend that you love me. I am grateful to you for everything you've done and always will be, but this..."

Naomi started to sob. Marty released her from his grip, turned her around to face him and lifted her chin with a gentle hand until she was looking into his eyes.

"Who says we can't have it all, Naomi?" he questioned back. "Would it be so bad if we fell in love?"

Naomi dove deep into his arms and planted the most passionate kiss of her life on Marty's soft, thick lips. Marty returned the kiss just as passionately.

"I could get used to this," he assured her with a big smile on his handsome face.

Sol and Esther Gabor were pretty sure the sun rose and set at the whim of their newest son-in-law, and whenever they knew the family was coming to dinner at their apartment, Esther went out of her way to fix a favorite dish of Marty's. It got to be such a thing, in fact, that the other three Gabor children and their spouses would kid Esther about it when they were at the parents' home with Marty, Naomi and Stevie.

"Ooh, what did Marty have Mama make today?" Millie would ask out loud to no one in particular, drawing laughter from the rest of the room's occupants.

"I remember when I used to be the favorite child," kiddingly whined the Gabors' only son, George, the oldest of the four children.

"If you don't watch yourselves, I'll send you home without dessert," Esther would kid back.

******

Looking through the peephole of the door, Naomi was shocked to see Alice Robinson -- Ellis Robinson's mother -- standing on the other side. At the least, Naomi found it odd, because neither Ellis nor anyone from his family had tried to contact Naomi after the birth of the baby. Naomi was aware that Marty had threatened Ellis to stay away, but she was surprised that Ellis' parents never tried to see what in reality was their first grandchild. Stevie was now two years old, with light caramel-colored skin and a full mop of loose dark brown curls on his head.

Not wanting to be rude, Naomi opened the door and invited Alice Robinson into the apartment. As she did so, she remembered that Alice was little more than rude to her when she dated Ellis. She repeatedly expressed the opinion that white girls were trying to steal the best of the young black men away from girls of their own color.

"I suppose you know why I'm here," Alice Robinson said matter-of-factly in her soft Jamaican accent as she took a seat on the sofa in the living room. "I have a grandson, and even though my son is not involved in his life, his grandparents—my son's parents—would like to be."

Naomi and Marty had talked over many things about how their situation was going to be handled before they got married and had the baby. Marty insisted, and Naomi had agreed, that since he was to be listed as the father on the birth certificate and there was no way to prove paternity, that his parents would be the baby's second set of grandparents, along with hers, and there wouldn't be a place at the table for Ellis' parents.

"I... I... I'm sorry, Mrs. Robinson," Naomi stammered, feeling completely ill at ease. "But my husband and I have discussed this, and since Ellis didn't feel that he needed to take care of his son, he was throwing away your whole family's right to be involved with Stevie. Stevie has two parents and four grandparents. He doesn't need any more."

Alice's eyes opened wide before they narrowed into a sneer of anger.

"Look, missy, everyone knows that child belongs to Ellis, and certainly not your white bread husband," Alice said. "We can get a lawyer involved, if that's what you want... or maybe get others involved..."

This time it was Naomi's eyes that got wide.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Robinson, but you need to leave, and never come back here. I'll be telling my husband about this visit..."

"I'm sorry if I upset you, dear," Alice interrupted. "I'll just take my leave."

Naomi accompanied Alice to the door and made sure to lock it behind her when she left. She knew Marty would not be happy when she told him about the visit and the threat.

Marty was more than not happy with the visit by Alice Robinson. Naomi saw Marty's face starting to redden as she told him of the visit, and he got a dark, piercing look in his eyes that she'd never seen before. He didn't raise his voice above a whisper as he and Naomi sat the kitchen table and discussed the event.

Naomi looked frightened, and Marty could see in her eyes that he was the cause of that fear. He willed himself to calm down and put a smile on his face before walking over to the cradle where Stevie was sleeping. He picked up the child and put him in his left hand and down his muscular forearm, holding Stevie like a running back would hold a football. He sat down in a rocking chair and started to rock the child, quietly singing a song. Within a few minutes, Naomi could see the tension leave Marty's face. For the first time since Alice Robinson showed up at the door, Naomi breathed a sigh of relief.

******

Ellis Robinson watched Marty Tanner leave the butcher shop on a Friday night from behind a parked car across the street. He stayed across the street as he watched Marty get into his car and drive off. He noted the time at 9:15.

Ellis was there again the next Friday night, but this time he didn't stay behind the car from which he was stalking Marty. This time he silently moved in behind Marty, and with one quick move jabbed a knife into Marty's back just underneath his ribs. Marty gave a small shriek of pain, but instead of falling forward as Ellis anticipated, he quickly pivoted and landed his balled up right hand right on the bridge of Ellis' nose, which made a loud thunk, noise and caused Ellis to give out his own shriek of pain. Ellis staggered back, spit a quid of blood out of his mouth and took off running down the street. Marty, meanwhile, staggered to his car, crawled in and drove off, leaving behind a two-foot puddle of blood and a line of blood drips.

Thirty minutes later, a very pale Marty was knocking on the door of Marvin "Mouse" Jones's apartment. Marvin was shocked to see his friend and co-worker hunched over at his door, then noticed a trail of blood behind Marty.

"Oh, shit, Marty, get on in here!" Mouse exclaimed as he pulled his friend into the apartment.

"Mom, gonna need some help here! Marty's in a world of hurt!" he called out into the apartment.

Thelma Jones came quickly to help. She and Marvin got Marty over to the sofa in the apartment's living room.

"Get me some towels and all the bandages we got, Marvin!"

Marty was barely conscious as Thelma and Marvin did their best to stanch the bleeding. After 15 minutes of Marty continuing to lose blood, Marvin suggested going next door to use the neighbor's phone to call for an ambulance.

"Please, no," Marty groaned.

"Marty, baby, I can't stop this. You need some stitches," Thelma said gently.

"Then you do it, please Thelma," Marty said, staring directly into the older woman's eyes.

"I'm no doctor, Marty," she replied.

"But you sew like a pro," Marty whispered. "Please."

"Marvin, get me my whole sewing kit. Quickly, Baby."

Marvin left and came back into the room with Thelma's sewing kit. For the next half-hour, Thelma slowly closed the wound, the way she would repair one of her dresses or a pair of Marvin's pants.

"Thank you, Thelma. I don't know what I would have done without you," Marty whispered weakly when she was done.

"You're welcome, Marty, but you really should get to a doctor."

"Mouse, can you go next door and call my wife; tell her to go to her parents' place for a few days. Tell her I'm okay but that I got hurt and won't be home for a few days.

"Can I stay here for a few days, Mouse? Please?"

"You know you can stay as long as you need to, Marty," Thelma said.

Marty nodded. In a few minutes, he was sleeping like a baby. Marvin and Thelma looked at each other with puzzled looks before starting to clean up.

Marty knew that Mouse and his mother would do almost anything for him. Marty met Marvin about two years ago when the latter was a skinny 15-year-old, catching him looking through the butcher shop's garbage for scraps one afternoon. Marty felt sorry for the young black man, and hired him part-time to clean up at the shop, paying the teenager out of his own pocket. He then persuaded his boss, Tony, to hire the youngster to learn to be a butcher, with Marty as his teacher. Marty insisted, though, that Mouse had to stay in school or he wouldn't teach him the trade.

Although skinny, Mouse stood 6-3, but he got the nickname Mouse due to the fact that everyone said he was quiet as a mouse. That was due to his being punched in the throat as a 12-year-old, and after that Marvin struggled to generate a lot of decibels. Marty developed a soft spot for the soft-spoken youth, and occasionally would even drive Mouse home. That's where he met Marvin's mother, Thelma, who took an immediate liking to Marty as sort of a protector to her son. In Thelma's mind, Marty practically walked on water.

Marty went home four days later, and didn't seem to notice the person watching him from across the street as he entered his apartment building. He was too busy thinking about his wife and son, who were spending time with her parents for safety's sake.