A Matter of Love in da Bronx (42 page)

--I don't get my pills until tomorrow. Maybe I should . . . you know? His zipper open less then half-way, she hesitated. I could get pregnant!

--So what? There's always marriage. She pulled her hand away from him. Is that a problem?

--I don't know... All I know is...Sam? I gotta have you. Sam?

--Yeah?

--I love you like crazy. I don't care about the rest of the world, about anything! Sam! If you're ready, I am. We've got to do it! Sam! Make love to me! Make love to me! Oh! Sam! Darling!

--Oh! My darling! My sweetheart! His voice raspy, hoarse as he reached inside his pants for his achingly hard swollen penis.

--Mary! Mary! Good thing I saw you go in there! Come on you two, I really hate to break it up... We're late! We have to go now... Louisa's voice shattered their mantle of bliss.

THE PELTING, FRIGID shower discoventrized Sam's nervous system.

It forced him to spastically gasp for huge gulps of air obliterating his reverie. Oh! Christ! Oh! Christ! This is freezing! I can't stand it! Yes! I must! Count up to twenty-five... No! ...Fifteen! One-two- Fuck it! No! Brave soldier! Take it! He looked down at the cause of his martyrdom. It was still erect. Throbbing. It would not be denied. Shivering, he turned the water to hot as he reached to grip himself as tightly as he could, which caused himself to strain hard into the muscle. He let it go as the warm water inspired his flesh to comfort now fighting desperately to remember what he was thinking about that made himself feel so pleasant, warm and well-spirited. What was it? It had to do with what had just occurred: They dropped off Mary, then Louisa, and Sam begged off from going to a bar with Lou because his beleaguered senses demanded some assuagement. Vaguely, he recalled making straightaway for the bathroom, vapideyed phantasing...about...Mary, of course.

He could feel the staccato-stinging bee-bees of burning hot water strike against the exposed super-sensitive head of his upstruck organ forcing his stomach muscles to tense, relax, tense, relax. Sensations! What sensations! Like mini-orgasms! The shower curtain drew closer and closer until it covered his eyes... Mary...

Rich. He wished he was rich. At least, with plenty of money. Enough to do as he should, or, at least, would like to do. Strange. He never thought about it before. Yes, perhaps in a fleeting moment to wonder what it would be like not to have a financial concern in the world. It must be very pleasant, leaving a lot of room to think about other things. Yet, money in itself, was never an objective, at least, not like it was for some people whose be-all, end-all was the accumulation of bucks with the next nearest priority perhaps concern with their own deaths. Ethics, family, reputation mere insignificancies. He missed money for Mary's sake...wait! That's not entirely true. It was at least as much for him because he would enjoy the pleasure in seeing her happy. That's normal. And, just as well, wouldn't he share the well-being, too? Course. With money, he could take Mary away. They could have each other. They need concern themselves only about making each other happy. Indulging to excess if they wished in their delights. Perhaps bad for their characters, but Ah! What a harvest of ecstasy for their souls! Every moment for the rest of their lives to nourish their love for each other... Oh! So there you are, Paradise! And all that was needed was the blind, crass desire for money. Why was this vital piece of information missing from his education? Swamped with the penny-grubbing of his home, the aim seemed to be picayune--for pennies, blinding the true goal of enormous wealth. Why didn't someone--a teacher in school, a relative, a friend, a stranger!--make the point not necessarily in a directed lecture, but, just in passing would've been enough:

--Now you listen to me, Kid. Fuck what anyone else says, the only thing worthwhile in the world is money! Don't waste your time going after anything else! Not noble motives, nor supreme objectives, nor even great love! Pursue money first, then happiness! All altruism is based on stupidity and surrender, and don't mistake it when it looks too obvious because inevitably there's a deeper motive behind it. No matter who you are, if you go after big bucks, you'll get them; however, the pursuit must be relentless. If you aspire to be a blue collar worker, you're shit! Broke all your life! Anyone who works just for a weekly salary is dead in the water! Your religion should be to make a lot of it so you can spend a lot of it on yourself! The best revenge for lifeshit. Want to make a lot of money? Top of the list: Be a politician. Not much work, not much responsibility, the job makes you look good; but you have to learn to collect the graft--and not get caught! Next, be a lawyer! Better than a license to steal! Collusion among comrades! Don't take just what the traffic can bear, burn the bastards into poverty! Next to them: be a crook! Illegal stock market trading, gun running, embezzling, become a robbing fiduciary! Never gamble. Never take chances. Never weaken. Take the money and run! The first rule of survival. Money first, money last, and fuck everything else in between!

 

So? Why didn't he do it? He understood that now. Would it make him change his life? No. We are who and what we are. We do only those things we're capable of doing, directed by head and heart. It would take a lot of pressure to convert to such lust. People are just naturally drawn to what they are most inclined to do. There are no rest areas in one's behavior toward life off of the main track. A person who is a prick is always a prick; and a good person is mostly always a good person. Why couldn't he change? Because he couldn't change just a part of himself. There was no question in Sam's mind if he changed his goal he would no longer be able to love Mary as completely as he did. Forsake her? What madness...

There was a madness, too, stirring in the souls of his feet. Was it possible? Yes. The sensation was that of an impending orgasm which suddenly made him present. He focused on the hole in the end of his pipe-hard penis. He concentrated completely on seeing the spurting semen. He reached out to grip the shower valves to keep himself from crashing headfirst to the wall as the prickling sensation crept up his ankles, to his calves, to his thighs. Aquatic blowoff! He closed his eyes, grimacing, as he felt his testicles pull up tight to his body. Boom! He looked to see the gout of milkwhite fluid arc from deep inside him. Totally without control, he reached down to beat hard his erection blasting more shots into the air as he knees strained hard in a bend, his buttock muscles knotting tighter and tighter with each ejaculation, thrusting his sex further upwards as his head pulled rearwards almost tight to his back, the water from the shower coming down nearly as hard as the tears from his eyes.

 

SATISFACTION FILLED Mary's face with the thoughts of the next day's doings. By tomorrow night she would be in possession of the kingpost of women's freedom: the pill. She alone would decide if she was to become pregnant. Though this wasn't a deterent to the hotflush desire for teen-age sex, it did give older--and cooler--minds cause for thought. Like what it did to them tonight. They almost did. And if they did, there would've been that little something that took away from their experience. Not anymore. Sam and she making love. Holy Mary! Let it be! Then, even though she wouldn't see Sam tomorrow, they promised to write to each other, and wasn't that exciting! Then, they would see each other Wednesday night, and go through some excruciating moments again, although there would be good reason to withstand each other's demands for one other with their plans for a rendezvous at a motel Friday, maybe Saturday night!

Ah! Sleep! Where are you? Bring me faster to the morrow!

Monday night

My dearest love, Sam:

 

MARVELOUS, STRANGE and mystical how the atmosphere of your love conveys a strength to me, body, mind and soul. Perceived, too, by all who would come about me, those who know me and those who don't. Louisa, especially: --You're different! Said with some touch of envy, friendly envy. One person really knew the glow, and I never expected her to see it. In the clinic. Hardworking doings to deal with such a deep emotional matter: to have or not to have babies. A tempered, metamorphicized face she wore; a heart long inured to human default she bore; non-judgmental; inspirational; serving store. Perceptive, too. At first, she treated me like a teacher cleaning lamblegs from her wards' redling noses; being too meticulous, too elementary concerning the pills and how to take them, that sort of stuff. She noticed something about my attitude, perhaps the way I coveted the package she gave me. She caught at her words to me, opened wide her eyes, and that's when I saw in them what had to have been there, underneath the years, when she was perhaps sixteen and dreaming of her healing art. The words slipped through a steal of a smile: --Why...! You're in love! Really and truly. Yes, really and truly. So? Isn't it nice to get confirmation? Even when you don't need it or ask for it. Has anyone said anything to you? Just curious. How beautiful must be a love that causes one to glimmer...

Strange air, too, here at home. I walked in somewhat later than I usually do on Tuesday nights. Not a word about it from either parent. The moments seem to be a rehearsal for a different play than that which will be performed! Know what I mean? There's an issue that's not being faced--if I knew which of a half-dozen it might be, I'd bring it up. Yet, I wonder if I would. I'm going along, playing the role, too. Mother's been cooking all my favorites; alas, I have appetite for none of it. She directs me away from cleaning in the kitchen. Dad is starchly cautious. Small things. Sits up taller in the wheelchair. Tries to bring up interesting small talk. Doesn't repeat jokes. Brings us up to date on the doings on Dallas. Stays out of my way, mostly. Know how you can smell coffee before it starts brewing? I know something's going on, and for sure it concerns Vito.

I did some wash, vegetated in the tub and did some serious smoking, and now I'm in my bedroom listening to Vivaldi and writing to you.

Never! In my whole life have I ever seen anything as disheartening as the look on your face last night when we walked over to get into the car with Louisa and Lou! I think the better word is exasperation...perhaps bitter disappointment describes it just as well...for both of us. But, I don't think of it in the negative sense. Louisa said she didn't realize how cozy we'd become, and would've driven around the block a couple times if that's what we wanted. No. It's just as well. Feather ball scripts...I can go on dreaming about that moment. Gets better every time, too! You're more philosophical about it than I am, I must tell myself to be patient! Isn't it usually the other way around? You have no idea of just how patient ...and! Just how
good
I'm being... I'm sure you...understand? I hope things this way are real rotten for you...only teasing! Oooops!

You did notice that Louisa and Lou did see each other last night...! Who are they trying to kid? Louisa says there's nothing to it, he just wears very well--longer than most guys--and he's fun. Talk about requisites for a lasting partnership!

Reality. My new definition: When I realize there isn't enough time to re-read all of your letters all the way through.

The universe. My new definition: You.

Getting back to the start of this letter, I've noticed some things about myself. Are you aware of how much more self-confidence I have? Seems like something one should acquire at camp, right? Camp Wanna-Nookie-You instills confidence! All in capital letters... underlined. But I am! Could it be I always felt lacking because I never really knew if I could love or be loved? How sad. Yet, I think it's only a void in one's life, one of many, in one that has many filled places. It's not any different than when I mentioned Vivaldi to an acquaintance, and she asked where he worked in our factory. How can it be? I wonder, that there are those of us who have no understanding of the life that surrounds us, limited to a miniscule, boring, dark-to-black world governed by ignorance, misfortune and sloth.

Which brings me to our conversation of last night? First, the subject when we were riding in the subway...on the world we own...

How is it you have such a grasp on the understandings of the workings of the world? There is no subject requiring some philosophical interpretation to which you are unable to pose some degree of sensible explanation or viewpoint. I remember, perhaps I was feeling sorry for myself, and said how really very sad a place I found the world until I met you. I will never forget your words until I close my eyes forever. You said you were going to do something for yourself, to change the world you own. I am going to, also! I refuse to ever again labor my life away as I have since leaving high school. No. I won't do it! I know what you mean. I have always wanted to be a designer. As of this moment, I'm directing all my energy and effort to accomplishing this goal. If I own my world, then this is the career I shall pursue. Do you see how readily you influence me? You have awakened so many aspects of my world! Exciting! Everything has become so exciting since I met you! Even these moments alone in this bedroom which I used to hate I now seek because I know it provides a haven where I may reflect on your words, write to you, and dream of our love.

Something else? I have printed on the outside of my wallet what you said. I'm going to embroider it on a handkerchief so I can see it done prettily. And one day, I'm going to have it tattooed on me...the palm of my hand, I think--Be as smart as you can be; be as happy as you can be; be as courageous as you can be. I'm going to think of this every day. I also think I'm going to start with the last one first.

Do you know what is verymost difficult for me to comprehend? This aloneness you speak of. How can that be? I work very hard to perceive it. I feel like a mute trying to pronounce a word. How can we be apart, yet together? How can we be separate, and one? I see exactly your reasoning, but I refuse to accept it. The plane you speak deals with a requisite separate in us each of body, mind, soul which is the foundation of the tenet that we must own something before we can give it away. If we don't have control over our own body, soul, mind how then can we offer it to another being? You say because each of us is alone unto ourselves, we are the center of a world that is uniquely our own: everything that happens in this world happens to us. When we die this world comes to an end. Right? Do I have it right? Phooey! You're lost in details! I love you completely. I would die for you. Where is my aloneness? How will you separate us when that blessed moment comes when that drop of your blood's blood extends from the end of you to the in of me, that thin, thread-like connection more powerful than a sun's disintegration; unseverable; reverberating as resolutely as the rhythm of the spheres throughout the harmony of this universe; and, thus, immortalizing Sam and Mary, these lovers, as surely as space. Such consecration is inevitable. That is the source of beatitude, and thereby I lay me.