A/N: In case you're wondering, I was not around in 1963.
PART FOUR: Steve Everett
Memorial Day weekend, 1974
It was a fairly typical Saturday morning on Long Island. Dad was at work, Mom was loading the dishwasher, and my siblings and I were watching Archie's Funhouse on TV. I was laying on the couch with Annie, our Siamese cat; Dee Dee, my five-year-old sister, was on the floor by the recliner, playing with the Baby Alive doll that Gamma and Grandfather Paul had gotten her for Christmas; and Michael, my fourteen-month-old brother, was toddling around in his walker. As he usually did, he managed to walk right in front of the TV
"Michael!" Dee Dee exclaimed. She hates it when he does that. She also hates it when she's playing with her Barbie dolls or whatever, and the next thing she knows, Michael's standing in her way. All the grown-ups have told her a million times that he just wants to play with her, but can't put it into words because he's just a baby, and then Dee Dee starts in with the whole "you love him more than me" sob story, and then—well, you get the idea, right?
I thought you would.
Anyway, Dee Dee had just about had enough with her little brother getting in the way of the TV. She got up, marched over to where Michael was, and turned his walker around. "This is where you're supposed to play," she said as she pushed him toward the corner of the couch. "Playing, here. TV, there. Any questions?"
"Like the baby really understands you," I scoffed.
"Butt out, Stevie," my sister shot back.
"Well, now you know how I felt when you used to get into the pegs while I was playing with the Lite-Brite," I retorted. I know I probably should've kept my mouth shut, but for some reason, I can't resist a good argument. Michael must feel the same way, because instead of going back to where he was, he just stood there watching us.
"I never did that!" Dee Dee protested, putting her hands on her hips. She was really mad now. That's Dee Dee for you. Every time someone disagrees with her about something, she gets all bent out of shape about it. Aunt Nancy once described Dee Dee as five going on sixteen.
"Yes, you did," I insisted. "And don't think I've forgotten about the time I chased you around and stepped on one of them. I'm surprised I didn't bleed to death all over the place!"
"You're just making that up," Dee Dee accused.
"I am not. You just don't remember."
"Says who?"
Just then, a rattle came flying and hit Dee Dee on her right foot, and she wasn't wearing any shoes or socks, either. As warm as our house is, we hardly ever do, even in the winter. It drives Mom nuts, because she's always telling us that we'll catch a cold if we don't at least wear our slippers. She's one to talk, though. Even in the coldest weather, she lets Michael run around the house in just a diaper, if anything at all.
Well, needless to say, that rattle to the foot was the last straw for Dee Dee. "MOM-MEEEE!" she wailed, her face turning bright red. "MICHAEL THREW HIS RATTLE AT MEEEE!"
I rolled my eyes. Michael couldn't have thrown that rattle very hard, because Dee Dee didn't even have a bruise on her foot. But like she always does, she acted like he could've put her in the hospital. I knew right away that she wasn't crying, either. If you ask me, I think Dee Dee wrote the book on fake-crying.
Just then, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," I said, eager to get away from Dee Dee's little fit. I went to the door and opened it to find Uncle Ken, Aunt Laura, and my twelve-year-old cousin, Gino.
"Hi, Steve,"Aunt Laura said.
"Hi!" I grinned as I jumped into her arms.]
Let me back it up here. I'm Steve Everett, and I turned eight years old on Valentine's Day. As you may have guessed, I'm the oldest of three kids. We live in a four-bedroom house outside of Southampton. My parents bought the house before I was born, and Uncle Ken co-signed the loan for them. If Mom and Dad have any more kids, we'll either have to add on or share rooms. But for now, each of us kids has our own room. Like Great-Aunt Jessica and Aunt Hope always say, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Anyway, from what Mom told me, her parents—my Granddad Bruno and Grandmother Christine—didn't exactly approve of Dad because his family wasn't rich. Now, isn't that the dumbest thing you've ever heard?
Another thing about Uncle Ken is that he was a black belt in karate. He was also an instructor during the Vietnam War, until the community center he'd taught at was bombed. Thankfully, he wasn't killed, but it cost him his hearing in his left ear, so he now has a hearing aid. But in spite of his handicap, he can still teach, and runs his own karate school in Cincinnati. I still remember the time he showed me the picture of him sparring with Elvis. How cool is that?
Okay, back to Uncle Ken, Aunt Laura, and Gino at the door. "Come on in," I said as Aunt Laura passed me to Uncle Ken.
"Thanks," Gino said. "Okay, Pop, my turn next."
Laughing, Uncle Ken passed me to Gino. I thought for sure he wouldn't be able to hold onto me, especially since he was about five years older than me. But somehow, he was strong enough for that. Well, for about five seconds.
"All right, down you go," he said as I slid out of his arms and onto the floor. "Next time, kid, wait'll you're on the ground before hugging me."
"Deal," I laughed as we headed into the living room.
Upon hearing who had come in, Dee Dee turned off the phony-baloney water-works and turned around in one second flat. "HI!" she shrieked, running up and diving into Aunt Laura's arms. Then she passed her to Uncle Ken, but this time, Gino was able to hold her.
"Say, is your mother here?" Uncle Ken asked.
"Yeah, she's in the kitchen," I answered. Nodding, Uncle Ken headed in there as Gino sat on the couch with Dee Dee clinging to him like a boa constrictor on a log. Michael apparently had the same idea, because he was reaching up for anyone who would take him out of that walker.
"There's my big boy!" Aunt Laura said sweetly as she lifted him out. Then she sat in the recliner with Michael in her lap, and I sat on the floor beside her, and she asked, "So, Steve, how's school been going?"
"Oh, the usual," I said. "Writing in cursive, adding and subtracting big numbers, trying to find a cure for cooties. You'd think the Surgeon General would've done something about it by now. Either that, or the cafeteria's crappy food."
When I said that, Aunt Laura almost had a fit from laughing. By the way, she doesn't just laugh, she cackles, and it always makes me wonder how big that egg was she just laid. (Sometimes, I'll pretend to look for it.) "Someday, you'll start liking girls," she said in that I-know-what-you've-been-up-to voice of hers.
"No way," I said, shaking my head. Leave it to Aunt Laura to say something like that.
Just then, from the kitchen, we heard Mom's voice saying, "Wow, that's great, Ken! I'm sure John and the kids would like a vacation like this."
"Like what, Mom?" I asked as they came into the living room.
"Well, Steve," Mom said as the two of them sat on the couch, "your uncle was just telling me that they're taking their annual trip to Cape Cod next month, and they've invited us to go with them."
"Not just you guys," Uncle Ken added. "We've also invited your Uncle Adam, Aunt Vicki, and their girls."
"Really? Far out!" I exclaimed. Of all my aunts and uncles, those two are my favorites. Their girls, LeeAnn and Cindy, who are the same ages as me and Dee Dee, are a lot of fun. They're almost always singing, dancing, and putting on little plays for everybody. Once in a while, they'll ask us to be in them. I guess when you've been taking dance lessons from the time you could walk, it makes sense to do this sort of thing.
As soon as Dee Dee heard those names, she immediately let go of Gino and jumped off his lap. "We're going to see Uncle Adam and Aunt Vicki, we're going to see Uncle Adam and Aunt Vicki!" she squealed, dancing around the living room. Then she stopped and asked, "What's Cape Cod?"
"It's a little beach town in Massachusetts," Uncle Ken told her as a purring Annie made herself comfortable right on his lap. "We've been going there every summer since we've been married. In fact, your granny and grandfather used to take Mommy and me there when we were kids."
"Isn't that where you and Dad met?" I asked Mom.
"That's right, son," Mom answered. "Your Gamma worked for a man who had a cabin there. The summer we were seventeen, he and his wife had to go to their son's wedding in Newark, so he gave the family a two-weeks' paid vacation there. And like the saying goes, the rest is history."
That's when Uncle Ken started laughing. "What's so funny, Ken?" Aunt Laura asked.
"I was just remembering the first time I met John," Uncle Ken grinned. "I was coming back to our spot with a couple of Cokes, and who do you think I see carrying my little sister out of the water?"
"He didn't!" Aunt Laura exclaimed as she started to laugh, too.
Upon hearing that, Dee Dee looked up at Mom with a concerned look on her face. "Mommy, was Daddy kidnapping you?"
Let me tell you, we practically killed ourselves laughing. In fact, we were so loud that Annie was off my uncle's lap and out of the room faster than you could say, "Dumb Dora is so dumb..." (Okay, all together now: "HOW DUMB IS SHE?")
"No, sweetie, Daddy wasn't kidnapping me," Mom manged to gasp out. "He was coming to my rescue."
"He didn't want to wait for the lifeguard, did he?" Gino guessed.
"Weren't any," Mom answered. Then, turning to Uncle Ken, she added, "And I'm still grateful you didn't knock him clear to Boston."
"Well, after he saved you, I just couldn't," Uncle Ken smiled, giving her a kiss.
This was going to be the best summer ever.
June, 1974
"Oh, Can-dy an' Ron-nie have-ya-seen them yet? Oh, but they're so spaced out. B-B-B-Ben-nie an' the Jets-s-s! Oh, they're weird an'-a won-der-ful; ohh, Ben-nie, she's-a real-ly keen. She got e-lec-tric boots, a mo-hair suit, ya-know-I-read-it-in-a-maga-az-ine, oh-h-h, B-B-B-Ben-nie an' the Jets-s-s!"
That's what we were singing along with as we drove the zillion miles to Cape Cod: Mom and Dad, Uncle Ken, Aunt Laura, Gino, Dee Dee, Michael, and me. Well, most of us were singing. Michael was babbling along with the music because he couldn't talk much yet, and Dee Dee was fast asleep. And you know what? As loud as we were, I still can't believe we didn't wake her. I know there's no way I'd be able to sleep with all that racket.
Since there were so many of us, we took Mom and Dad's green station wagon, which they'd gotten when Mom found out she was expecting Michael. Dad drove; Mom sat in the passenger seat; Uncle Ken, Aunt Laura, and Michael sat behind them; and Dee Dee, Gino, and I sat in the back. That seat was positioned so we were facing the traffic behind us, and Dee Dee's head was on Gino's shoulder. I guess all those games of Slug-Bug, I Spy, and License Plate—you know, the one where you have to see how many license plates from different states you can spot—really tired her out, not to mention pumping our arms every time a semi passed us, getting them to honk. Oh, in case you're wondering, our suitcases were in one of those luggage racks you attach to the roof of your car.
The plan was that Uncle Adam and his family would meet us at the cabin, and when we all got there and unpacked, we'd all go down to the beach together, then have dinner at the seafood place that evening. I'd never tried seafood before, except for the fish sticks in the school cafeteria. But that doesn't really count, does it?
"Well, here we are," Dad announced as we arrived at the cabin. I remembered the pictures that Dad had showed me from his last trip there when he was seventeen, but seeing it for real was a whole 'nother story. As soon as he stopped the car, I opened the back hatch and jumped out.
"Awesome," I murmured, looking up at the cabin. "Boy, Dad, Gamma must have had the nicest boss in the world."
"She sure did, Steve," Dad agreed. Then, turning back to the house, he said, "Boy, talk about deja vu!"
That's when the front door opened, and LeeAnn and Cindy came out. "DEE DEE! DEE DEE!" they shouted.
"LeeANN! CINDY!" Dee Dee shrieked as the three of them threw their arms around each other and started bouncing up and down in a circle. Naturally, Michael started squirming in Mom's arms, trying to get in on all the excitement.
"Hey, big bro!" Uncle Adam grinned as he came out to meet us.
"Hi!" I grinned as I ran up to hug him. Just as Uncle Ken and Aunt Laura had done, Uncle Adam scooped me up in his arms. I wonder if all uncles are required by law to do that?
"How's it going?" Dad asked as he and Uncle Adam hugged and shook hands.
"Pretty good," Uncle Adam answered as he set me down. "We got in just last night. Vicki's in the kitchen doing the dishes. How was your trip up here?"
"Long," Dad answered.
"Just like old times, huh?"
"I'll say," Dad agreed. "Say, whatever happened to that girl you met at the din-er?"
"Oh, she's probably married, has a life, and has forgotten all about me. Who knows?"
I was passing by them with one of the suitcases when I heard this. "You met a girl?" I asked. This sounded like a pretty interesting conversation they were having.
"I didn't," Dad answered. "Your uncle did."
"What was her name?"
"Holly," Uncle Adam answered. "Nice girl, too. I never did find out her last name, though."
"How old were you?"
"Thirteen."
"You didn't kiss her, did you?" I asked. I could just picture my uncle as a kid, giving some girl a kiss. Blecch!
I started to ask another question when Dad turned me around so I was facing the cabin, and said, "Inside, and help your mom unpack."
"Good idea," I agreed. Anything to get my mind off what must have happened when they were kids.
Since the cabin was big enough for all of us, here were the sleeping arrangements: Gino and I in the far left bedroom, Uncle Ken and Aunt Laura were in the one next to us; Uncle Adam and Aunt Vicki were in the one on the far right; and the girls were in the one in between . My parents were in the downstairs bedroom, and Michael's playpen was right outside their door. With that many people in one house, we were lucky there was plenty of room.
As soon as we'd unpacked and changed into our bathing suits, we headed down to the beach. I could only imagine what other people must have thought as they saw the twelve of us making our way toward our spot. I also wondered if LeeAnn or Cindy would start singing "Do Re Mi". They didn't, of course, but I'll bet my Hot Wheels collection that they wanted to.
When we got to our spot on the beach and started setting up, Dee Dee looked up at Mom and said, "Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom."
Let me tell you, as a parent, those are the last words you want to hear from your kid after walking all that way "Why didn't you go before we left?" Mom asked. I could tell that she was getting really annoyed.
"I did, but I have to go again," Dee Dee whimpered.
"Me, too," Cindy spoke up.
Sighing, Mom turned to Aunt Laura and said, "We'll be right back."
"Sure, no problem," Aunt Laura said. Then, turning to the rest of us, she asked, "Anyone else need to go?"
We shook our heads, and Mom and Aunt Vicki took Dee Dee and Cindy to the concession stand's bathroom.
Now that I think about it, and with what happened next, it's a good thing they had to go.
Gino, Dad, Uncle Adam, and I had just started setting up when out of nowhere, we heard some people wolf-whistling and whooping it up, and someone yelling, "Oh, my God, what the hell is he doing?!"
"No, Susie, don't look at him!" another voice shouted.
I looked up, and running across the beach was a guy who looked old enough to be in college. I didn't know why people were getting so freaked out, mostly because the sun was in my eyes. But when he ran past us, I saw that he was butt-naked. I mean, completely. He had on shades and a Red Sox cap—the one team we all hate, by the way—but that was pretty much it.
I couldn't believe what I'd just seen. I'd heard stories about people streaking in the most unusual places, especially that one time at the Oscars. But I'd never actually seen anyone do it until now. Well, unless you count my brother, but he's just a baby. My sister, cousins, and I used to when we were younger. But this was totally different. We were just kids, and we did it at home. This was a grown man in public.
Anyway, Dad and Aunt Laura very quickly covered LeeAnn's and my eyes, and there was no way they were going to take them away until they were sure that guy was gone. I wondered if we'd have to spend the whole vacation blindfolded.
After they uncovered our eyes, Dad knelt down to my level and said through clenched teeth, "If any of you kids ever think about doing something like that, I will kill you."
I won't lie to you, I was surprised, even more than when I saw that streaker. Dad never talks to anyone that way. But then again, I knew he was thinking about our safety, because there are some real creeps out there.
"Sure, Dad, no problem," I said softly.
"Okay. Now, let's finish setting up here."
I nodded, and helped Gino with the umbrellas. And there was no way I was telling Mom and Aunt Vicki when they came back. After that little fracas, you'd think the rest of the trip would be smooth sailing, right?
Wrong.
I was helping Dee Dee and Cindy build a sand castle. Gino was in the water with LeeAnn, and Michael, under Aunt Vicki's watchful eye, was digging a hole with that little red sand shovel of his. If I know my baby brother, the one thing he loves is getting dirty. Whether it's sand, mud, or just plain dirt, if you let Michael at it, he'll love you till the day you die.
"Let's try putting a tower over here," Dee Dee suggested. Nodding, I got up to go over to where she was. But just as I got up, I felt someone crash into me from my left. It was so hard that I fell right into the castle. And not only did this jerk not stop to see if I was okay, but he also got up and ran off, stepping on the back of my shoulder as he went.
"HEY!" Cindy shouted. Boy, was she mad.
"I'm okay," I reassured her as got up. And that's when I saw who ran me over. He looked about a head taller than me, maybe a year or two younger than Gino. And here he was, just catching a Frisbee, and not even caring that he'd almost killed me or wrecked our sandcastle.
Rubbing my shoulder and spitting out sand, I stormed over and blocked his path. "Ehi, figlio di puttana!" I barked. Even though my parents have told us kids to never talk that way—even though they do it themselves—I was too fired uup to think about that. I didn't care that this kid looked big enough to break me in half.
"What do you want?" he sneered.
"You just wrecked our sandcastle and almost broke my shoulder! What's it look like?" I yelled at the top of my lungs. I could feel my blood boiling, and my skin getting hotter by the second. Who did this kid think he was?
"So what?"
"So, watch where you're going!"
"Oh, and I suppose you'll make me, huh?" he laughed. "I'd like to see you try!"
That did it. Drawing back my fist, I punched him right in the stomach as hard as I could. I thought for sure he'd hunch over in pain, but he just looked at me and grinned. I can hit pretty hard, especially since I play football, and Uncle Ken had even taught me a few moves. But this time, nothing happened.
"Thanks, I had a fly on me," he said. "And now, I think there's one on you." And with that, he put his hand over my face and shoved me backward into the sand and started to leave. It was bad enough that a bigger kid had gotten the best of me, but in front of all these people?
That's when I really saw red.
I jumped up, ran over, and tackled him from behind. We hit the ground and started rolling around like a couple of wrestlers. "How do you like it, huh?!" I screamed as I started wailing on him. "How do you like it!"
The next thing I knew, a strong pair of arms had wrapped themselves around my chest, yanked me off the kid, and spun me around. I found myself face-to-face with Uncle Adam. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "That kid is more than twice your size!"
"But he started it!" I protested. "You saw what he did to our sandcastle!"
"I don't care," my uncle shot back. "You know what your folks have always told you about fighting. Now come back to our spot, and you sit there until you calm down. And don't let us catch you doing anything like this again, or you'll be sorry."
Sulking, I followed Uncle Adam back to our spot and sat down on my towel. I knew Mom and Dad had seen what happened, and they couldn't wait for their turn to bawl me out. Didn't any of them know that I was just standing up for my cousins and sister? And besides, that's what big brothers are supposed to do.
Then I felt a hand on my back and heard Dad's voice saying, "We need to talk."
"Let me save you the trouble: you're right, I'm wrong; you're smart, I'm stupid, and I don't care," I muttered. I just wanted to be left alone.
"I wish I could let it go, but you know me," Dad said. "Steve, do you know what a Napoleon complex is?"
Still looking down, I shook my head.
"You've heard the story of Napoleon Bonaparte, haven't you?"
"I think so. He was the Waterloo guy, wasn't he?"
"That's right," Dad answered. "He was also known for being a pretty small guy. But like you just now, he always went after the guys who were bigger and stronger than he was. Come to think of it, I was just like that when I was a kid. In fact, I still remember when I got in a fight with Joey Ricks and his dad."
I looked up at him in surprise. "You got in a fight with both of them?" I asked.
"No, just Joey. I was a freshman in high school, and it was the first time The Wizard of Oz was on TV. Anyway, his dog was making too much noise, and when I went over there to tell him to shut his dog up, his dad butted in and called one of my friends a dirty name. I was just about to hit him when Joey tackled me, and we went at it. If your grandfather and one of the neighbors hadn't broken it up, we would've kept going."
"Wow," I said. I was really impressed. Dad always told us stories about when he was growing up, but this was the first time I'd ever heard that one. "Boy, if I'd been there, I would've helped you out."
I guess that was the wrong thing to say, because Dad just shook his head. "You're missing the point here, son," he told me. I could tell he was trying really hard not to blow his stack. "The point is, I could've just walked away, but I didn't. I felt like I had to prove I could be a real man, even if it meant getting seriously hurt. And that's what could've happened to you just now."
I thought about it for a minute, and then I realized Dad was right. Not only that, but I thought of that kid shoving me down right in front of everybody, and how humiliating it was. He made me feel less than human. In fact, I felt like the scrawniest, ugliest worm on the face of the earth.
That was all it took for me to start crying. I mean really. I hadn't cried this much since Granddad Bruno's funeral last March.
"Come here, son," Dad said gently as he held out his arms. I crawled into his lap and sobbed into his shoulder as he put his arms around me. I felt like I was three years old again.
"I was trying to do the right thing," I finally whispered as I dried my tears.
"I know you were, and I'm proud of you for standing up for Dee Dee and your cousins," Dad said, patting my back. "But like I've always told you, it takes a bigger man to just walk away. And I hope you'll do that next time, okay?"
"Okay," I whispered as I pulled myself together.
"Okay. Now, let's get in the water, huh?"
"Sure," I grinned as we stood up. "Race you."
The second I was on my feet, I was running toward the ocean like a runaway bull. And in spite of what just happened, I had a pretty good feeling about the rest of our vacation.