PUNKS Ch. 05: Nineteen Seventy Nine

"Anything else I need to know."

"I'm a wise guy too."

Joe stopped walking at 4:59 in front of The Little Apple Diner in Chelsea. She frowned when she saw it was closed. Twelve seconds later, a man flipped the sign and unlocked the door. Joe held the door open and waved her in. They sat in a corner booth.

Joe picked up a menu. "Now we must make the most important decision of this young day, pie or breakfast with my coffee?"

"Why can't we have both?"

He smiled. "You really are the girl of my dreams."

Tina smiled, then hid her blushing with her menu.

"Can you do me a favor, T?"

She peeked over her menu. "It depends on what"

"Stop punching me."

"I'll try."

She ordered blueberry pie. Joe ordered breakfast.

Joe put his menu on the rack. "Okay, T. My turn to ask questions."

"Shoot." She smiled while stirring her coffee.

"What's the deal with the Costello family?"

"Dad's a Kennedy Democrat, a city councilman in Brooklyn. Mom owns a flower shop. I have a brother in high school, he's almost 16."

"Do they have names?"

"Yes, John, Mary, and Jack."

"Pets?"

"Mom has two cats, they're okay but I prefer dogs. Our Spaniel died a few years ago."

"I assume you're a stinking Catholic."

"Yes, my family is very Catholic. Is that a problem?"

"Big problem," he said loudly. "I was raised Catholic. It's a crazy religion, lots of bad history."

"I don't worship history."

"What kind of art do you do?"

"I'm a mixed media artist."

"What's that?"

"Combining materials and methods. I'm primarily a photographer. Dad bought me my first camera for my eighth birthday. I shoot mostly black and white. The city is my subject, the people, the architecture - I love my city." She took a sip of coffee. "I'm also a painter. I take select prints, enlarge them, and transfer the image to canvas. Then I add color and texture with paint."

"That sounds interesting and unique."

"There are millions of photographers," she said. "I like having my own special spin."

"When can I see your art? I'm curious about this mixed media thing."

"When I move in I'll show you some."

"What if you're a shitty artist? I need to know that now before this gets too serious."

Her jaw dropped. "Are you insane?"

They shared their food, with Tina stealing most of his home fries. It was Joe's favorite breakfast date in a life of many breakfasts with friends.

"I forgot to ask," Tina said. "What are your sisters' names?"

"Jacqueline, Juliette, and Jeanette."

"And Joseph?" She leaned over the table. "Are you serious?"

He shrugged. "I know."

"I make fun families like that. We have a K family on my street and there was a B family in high school. Why do they do that?"

"I guess we're the J family."

At 6:30 AM, Brooklyn seemed far away, especially after Tina had been up all night. The second bedroom in the apartment was cleared and painted. Joe slid his mattress into that room for her to use.

"These mattresses Babe got us are disgusting. I picked up linen for mine... because the stain looks like a crime scene." Joe shrugged. "It's all we have."

He smiled and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

He gestured with his thumb. "I'm in that room."

"No, you can stay with me," she said. "It's not like I'm taking clothes off on a murder mattress."

They shared a twin mattress. Nothing happened except the fully clothed, tangled closeness of sleeping together and the feeling this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Joe awoke at the crack of noon because Babe was working in the bathroom. The old man gave Joe the side-eye when he emerged from the room with his tenant. Tina explained her decorating plans for when she moves in. When she was passionate about something, like art and decorating, she talked fast. It was cute like someone wound her up.

"You realize there is no food here?" Joe said.

She shrugged. "I guess we have to walk the streets again."

"I need to brush my teeth." Joe made a yucky teeth facial gesture and stepped into the bathroom.

"I do too, can I use your brush? Please?"

Joe shot her an I-don't-know-about-that look as he squeezed the toothpaste. While he brushed his teeth Joe answered her question so she couldn't understand a word he said. He brushed for a real long time, mumbling all the while, making her wait.

He spit into the sink and said. "So that's what I think about sharing toothbrushes."

She got the joke but pretended she wasn't amused. Tina stared at him with her hand out assuming he was just going to hand it over.

"Didn't you hear what I said? You must agree to my terms."

"What terms?"

"I just told you," he said. "I believe toothbrush sharing is equal to kissing on the intimacy scale. Would you share a toothbrush with someone you wouldn't kiss? You can only use my toothbrush if you kiss me. I prefer after you brush, thank-you-very-much."

"You're queer, but I agree to your terms."

"I can't believe I'm giving up my toothbrush on the first date. I'm such a dirty whore."

It was a good kiss, as was the second and the third. T was Joe's instant best friend. They walked hand in hand to The Skyline Diner in the West Village for a long lunch, their third diner in twelve hours. Then Tina went home to Brooklyn and Joe took a nap on cloud nine.

*****

Apartment 3C

In the two weeks that followed their first date, Tina bounced back and forth from her parent's home in Marine Park to her West Village apartment bringing personal items each trip. The kitchen remodel was complete. Joe picked up a cast iron skillet at a second-hand store so he could cook. When T showed up with her cookery, plates, bowls, and flatware, Joe helped carry supplies up three flights of stairs and unpacked. Tina expressed skepticism of his claim of being proficient in the kitchen.

"It doesn't matter if you don't believe me," he said. "I'll prove myself."

"What do you cook?"

"All kinds of things. My favorites are Italian dishes, seafood, and steak. I like doing a whole roasted chicken. You can eat that for days. I love breakfast for dinner."

"Me too," she said. "What Italian dishes do you make?"

"Sal's dad cooks at the warehouse we live in back home. He has a serious kitchen. There's a joke, for the best Italian food in Boston, drive to Providence. I live on Federal Hill, that's our Little Italy, but we don't call it that. Tony taught me manicotti, cioppino, veal scallopini, and my favorite - ricotta meatballs."

"What are they.?" Tina said while filling her utensil disorganizer.

"Take any good meatball recipe, add ricotta cheese to the meat, and they become light and fluffy, like cake. I hate hard meatballs."

"You're just too young," she said. "How did you have time to learn all those things."

"That's not even a third of the dishes I know. From age twelve, I had to help Mom cook dinner because she worked the second shift at the hospital. We'd prepare together while she got ready for work, and I'd finish it. I fed my sisters every weekday for years."

"That's not a normal childhood."

"Who said I was normal." He slapped her bum with a wooden spoon. "On the night you move in, I'll cook you a nice dinner, just you and me."

"That's Saturday."

"We have a Friday gig at Tommy's. I have Saturday off - perfect."

Tina spent two more nights with Joe, fully clothed on the murder mattress, repeats of their first night together. Even though Joe had put fresh sheets on, she wasn't getting naked on mystery stains. There was a lot of kissing and heavy petting. Joe made it second base, but Tina threw him out trying to steal third.

"I feel like I'm in eighth grade," Joe whispered, hitting a bullseye on T's funny bone. For some reason, she cracked up over his dumb joke.

*****

The only difficulty Joe had in his otherwise blissful life on Jones Street was dealing with Johnny. Joe had to explain to Tina how his friend and guitarist got hooked up with druggies downstairs in apartment 1B.

"He met them our first week here, and he's been playing like shit ever since. It's really pissing me off. I'm also worried about him. Johnny has a history. He did some rehab. On Friday, I'll spend my day trying to keep him occupied and away from 1B. Every day we have a gig, I'm his babysitter."

"What's he on?"

"We think it's heroin. He has no needle marks, but the punks at Tommy's say he might be smoking it. I had no idea you could smoke heroin. They laughed at me as if I'm supposed to know about heroin."

"I'll stay overnight Thursday and spend the day with you Friday," she said. "Johnny likes me. I think I can help."

Joe pulled her in for a hug. "You're amazing. You don't even know Johnny."

"I know you care about him," she said as he held her close. "and I care about you."

Joe already loved Tina, he was certain, but on Friday he got a deeper look into how special she was. They took Johnny out for breakfast and then to Washington Square Park where they sat under a tree and talked. When Johnny tried to get away, Tina wouldn't allow it.

"No, stay with us," she said as she grabbed Johnny's hand. "Joe wants to go to a record shop we've never been to. Then we'll check out Bryant Park."

Johnny was helpless against her charm. She dragged him like a toddler to the subway station. All that hand-holding made Joe a tiny bit jealous. He knew Johnny was into Tina, and he didn't want him getting any ideas.

At Rock and Soul Records on 37th Street, Joe pulled Tina aside. "We have to stay close to him. He's gotten crafty giving us the slip. He's done it a bunch of times. You turn your back, and poof, he's gone."

"Okay," she said. "You look for your records and I'll check out posters with him. Do you think he's going to buy one?"

"Nah, Johnny's a window shopper."

Joe scored some excellent U.K. punk records, including a band from Northern Ireland - Stiff Little Fingers, that made his day. After the record shop, Tina thwarted another attempted escape. She coaxed Johnny to Bryant Park and then the Parkside Grille for lunch. Central Park was their final stop.

By the time they got back to Jones Street, it was after four o'clock. Sal and Nate were waiting for them so the band could grab a bite together before going to Tommy's.

Sal pulled Joe into the hallway outside Tina's apartment. "When you weren't here, we thought he was with the druggies. Where were you?

"All over the city. T kept Johnny in line all day. He tried to slip off, but she wrangled him every time. She watched him like he was her child. I love that chick. She's an angel."

"She seems cool."

"No, Sal, she's un-fucking-believably cool."

"Have you fucked yet?

"No."

"Let's talk after that," Sal said. "She seems a little... I don't know, prissy?"

That night, The Young Punks had their best gig in weeks. Johnny was not feeling well, but he played well. Because NYU kids were coming back into town, Tina invited a bunch of her artsy friends to Tommy Guns. They loved the sideshow antics and singalongs. After the show, walking to a diner for late-night eats with a large group of punks, Tina was a happy girl.

"I wanted to show off my new boyfriend," she smiled. "I knew they'd love you."

"What about the band?"

"They loved the band too," she leaned hard against him.

"Why didn't they come out for pie and coffee?"

Tina looked back to see who was near. She whispered. "Because some of these guys look pretty fucking scary. I told them the punks are sweet, but the girls can't get past the Mohawks and face piercings."

"What the fuck are they, Republicans?"

"No, just girls from the suburbs."

"They need to grow the fuck up," Joe said. "These guys are all good dudes. If anything, they should be afraid of the punk chicks."

"You're telling me?" Tina giggled. "Hey, my dad will be dropping off my furniture tomorrow. Can you help carry it upstairs?"

"Of course I can."

"Are you still cooking me dinner tomorrow night?"

"Of course I am."

Joe looked back. "Hey Simon, get up here."

The blonde Brit punk stepped up from the pack behind T and Joe. "What's up?"

"Why are you laying back? Joe asked as Simon came alongside Tina.

"Just giving you lovebirds your privacy."

"Were good, tell me again why you're not in a band? Because it makes no sense to me."

"I hate unreliable people," said Si, "and musicians are notorious wankers. It just never works out."

"No, I mean why you don't keep trying."

"I'm just sick of investing the time for no payoff."

"You keep playing until it pays, Si. That's how it works. For a smart guy, that's pretty dumb."

Tina and Joe loved Simon. He was smart and charming in his prep school British way. Simon was a broad-shouldered big dude, about 6'1", played rugby, He and Joe talked non-stop about punk rock, and they argued too. Joe enjoyed Si's verbal sparring.

As they approached The Parkside Grill, for their second meal there in thirteen hours, Joe had a realization. This summer in New York, a chance to play gigs and see if they can make it here, may have changed his life. He had a girl he was crazy about and a whole pack of new punk friends. Joe couldn't believe his luck. Life was good.