I stared at the tablecloth, studying the stitching of one of the flowers. A moment later, I noticed Peter approaching from the living room, and, looking up, I saw him dressed in nothing but a pair of white cotton briefs. He didn’t even have any socks on. Immediately I looked away.
Even with my head down, I could see Peter’s father rise and remove his belt, while Peter pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and bent over it, the two of them moving and arranging themselves in what appeared a practiced, almost ritualized manner. “Take off your underwear,” I heard Peter’s father say, and I turned even further away so that I could see nothing of them. For half a minute or so, which felt like an eternity, I could hear only the appalling reports of the belt, and, from Peter, the occasional low grunt or moan. He didn’t plead, he didn’t cry out. From what I could tell, he didn’t even cry, which, given everything else I heard, seemed to me almost superhuman.
I sat in my chair paralyzed with fear and incomprehension. I was terrified I might be next. The situation was so senseless, anything seemed possible. I kept my head down and stared at a patch of sunlight by the balcony door where a caterpillar crept with slow undulations over the linoleum. Even after the noises stopped, I remained with my back turned, trying to decide what to do if Peter’s father came after me. It seemed to me that I had every right to resist. I was sure my parents would support me. I tried to imagine how they would react if they learned I’d been beaten by our neighbour.
Hearing Peter’s father say, “You, you can go home now,” I felt so relieved I burst into tears. When I rose to my feet, Peter was gone from the kitchen and his father had his belt back on. As I headed toward the shed, I heard him mutter, “No, this way,” and, turning, I followed him through the living room to the front staircase. Not trusting my legs, I held tightly to the bannister as I made my way down.
All I could think about now was my uncle. I imagined he would have gotten the news. But our place was empty. I searched all the rooms and he wasn’t there. I wondered if he was out looking for me. Given the hour, it was possible he may have already left for work. When I was sure I was alone, I went and lay on my bed and thought about all that had happened, and what was yet to come.
When I got up twenty minutes later, I went to the phone and called Tony. To my relief, one of his sisters answered and she put him on.
“I can’t believe what you did,” I said.
“What I did? It was your idea.”
“You’re the one who finked.”
“I had no choice.”
“What do you mean, you had no choice? No one would have known anything if you hadn’t squealed.”
“I didn’t squeal. She knew already.”
“What do you mean she knew already? How could she know?”
“She knew. She could tell.”
“She could tell what? How could she tell? She couldn’t tell anything until you told. Cause you’re a fucken baby. I never expected this from you. Do you know what you’ve done?” I kept flashing back to Peter and felt an overpowering urge to tell Tony what had happened. But I knew I would never tell anyone about it, ever. “I bet you told your mother that it was all me, right? That it was all my idea and you had nothing to do with it. Or that I forced you into it. Right?”
“I’m not allowed to leave the house for a week!” Tony screamed. “I’m fucked! You know the beating I’m gonna get when my father comes home? And I can’t leave the house for a fucken week! A whole week!”
“That doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean you didn’t put it all on me. Your mother just didn’t believe you. And I don’t believe you. We can’t be friends anymore. I can’t be friends with a traitor. And I want all my stuff back.”
“What stuff?”
“Everything. Everything I lent you. My comic books, my marbles, the microscope, the Spirograph, everything. I want everything back now. And the penny. The American penny you took from me today. I want that back.”
“You gave it to me.”
“It’s mine. I want it back. I want all my things back now!” I shouted.
“Then come over and get them.”
“No, you’re bringing them here.”
“I just told you,” he shouted back. “I can’t leave the house. What did I just tell you?”
I remained silent, my fingers tight around the phone. I slammed it down. Five seconds later, I picked it up again and redialled Tony’s number fast as I could.
“OK,” I said. “Next week. As soon as you can leave the house, you have to bring me my stuff.”
“Fine,” he said leadenly.
“You bring it here first thing in the morning.”
“Fine.”
That evening, the phone rang two minutes after my father got home and I knew immediately who it was. Jimmy’s mother must have been at her window or balcony watching for him to arrive from the factory. My mother was in the kitchen and she had to interrupt her cooking so she and my father could go over to Jimmy’s place.
I sat sightless before the TV, waiting for their return. They were there over half an hour.
We sat at the dining room table and my mother did all the talking. My father barely looked at me. He kept his eye on my mother or stared down at the table with a sombre but oddly inscrutable expression. There were moments I thought he was about to smile, but immediately his demeanour would darken again. My mother was grim-faced and clearly distraught. She didn’t go into details about what the Gatakises had said or shown them, and I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know.
“What were you thinking?” she said. “What did you think was going to happen? Do you have any conception of the terror you caused that poor woman, threatening to kidnap her child?”
I wanted to tell her that that wasn’t what the note said, but I figured there was no point. On the other hand, it seemed worthwhile to mention that the pictures had come from Tony; but then I remembered that my mother hadn’t said anything about the playing cards and it occurred to me that, to spare both herself and my parents embarrassment, Jimmy’s mother may have kept quiet about these and that I should therefore not bring up something they didn’t already know about, especially something so degenerate. For me, the cards were probably the most scandalous and shameful part of the whole episode.
“And do you know the turmoil you caused the Jews?” my mother continued as I stared at my lap and watched the tears staining my shorts. “They had to call all around to find out if anyone knew anything about this letter. Do you know that what you did has spread throughout the neighbourhood? Everyone knows about it. How does this make us look? What will people say of us? This is a dishonour not just on you but on your father and me as well. Can you see what you’ve done? What this means? For all of us?”
I kept staring at my lap and weeping.
“I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you.” These words cut deep. “I never imagined you were capable of such thoughtlessness and cruelty.”
“And it’s not over,” said my father.
At this, I looked up. My mother also looked at him.
“The police want to talk to you,” he said and, for an instant, my mother seemed to frown at him with what looked like an inquisitive expression.
“Tomorrow a detective will be coming by to speak with you,” said my father.
“Where?” I said, my heart pounding.
“Here. At the house.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. They want to talk to you.’
“What about Tony?”
“I suppose they’ll speak to him at his house. The detective wants to talk to the two of you separately. But I don’t know when he’s coming, so you have to make sure you’re here when he arrives.”
Seeing the panic on my face, my mother threw my father a look and took my hand and said, “They just want you to explain what happened. That’s all. You just have to tell them the truth. OK? And your uncle will be here if you need anything.”
By now I was sobbing uncontrollably, and my mother pulled me up and hugged me.
“Everything will be fine, don’t worry.”
That night I couldn’t get to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about the detective and about what he might ask and what would happen to me. In the morning I could hear my father getting ready for work, but I remained in bed pretending to be asleep until both my parents had left. When I got up, I stayed in the house, as instructed. Feeling sick, I ate almost nothing all day and tried to watch TV and to read, but every few minutes I had to go to the front window to look for that detective or the police. I could see my friends playing outside, though I never caught sight of Tony. I imagined they all knew not to ring either of our doorbells.
Of course no police or detective ever showed up.
