Chapter 3
The Capri Garden Lounge
Willie knew lots of kids, but he didn't exactly have a best friend. Their moms looked sideways at the urchin and would whisper to each other; the dads didn't look at him at all. Because he was still young, Willie accepted this kind of stuff as normal, but sometimes the neighborhood children would repeat the candid conversations they heard at the dinner table, especially the Brindisi sisters, Karen and Donna.
"Where's your dad, Willie?" they demanded, taunting him every chance they got. "What's his name?"
"William H. Loomis," he replied quickly, which was the name of his great Uncle Bill, whom the child would never meet. "He died in the war."
"What war?" Donna looked incredulous. Karen chimed in, "I thought you said he was a train engineer."
"No, he was an airplane pilot," joked David from the sidelines. "Or was it an Indian chief?"
Willie turned red. He wouldn't hit the twins because they were girls, but David was another matter. The youngster used to ask about his father, but each time Lydia would come up with another bullshit story, never consistent with the one before. Once she snapped, "Tell those jerks you were a virgin birth, just like Jesus." Willie didn't ask anymore.
Little Miss Brindisi came back for Round 2: "Well, my mom said…"
But Willie held up his hand to abort Donna's next accusation. He motioned her towards him with an air of confidentiality, causing the girls in lean in anxiously for what would undoubtedly be juicy gossip. The boy mused briefly as he looked deep into their eyes and spoke with quiet sincerity.
"Your mommy is a lyin' sack of shit, and you two need to FUCK OFF and mind your own business!"
Karen burst into tears with an explosion that spewed snot from her nose. Donna's eyes and mouth went round with a look that said, "I'm telling!" She grabbed her sister's arm and stomped away.
David fell down laughing so hard that Leah and Iris ran over to see what was so funny. Others followed, and soon all the kids were huddled in a corner of the vacant lot until it got dark, when the fireflies came out and moms would start to call their children to come in. Meanwhile, Little Willie told them all the curse words he knew and what they meant—and a few dirty jokes he had heard in the bar.
Willie sat alone in the corner booth. Although it was the middle of the day, it was hard to read in the tap room where Lydia worked as a cocktail waitress. This is where the banished boy spent most of his time now that nobody was allowed to play with him. Bob and his wife had gotten a divorce, so there was no one to watch him upstairs anymore.
The Capri Garden Lounge was cool, dimly lit and smelled like stale beer, with no garden that Willie could discern. The kid ate delicious greasy hamburgers and drank Coke, spun on the bar stool next to Charlie and watched ballgames on TV. He drank Charlie's beer when the old man left to take a leak, or sometimes right in front of him. Nobody seemed to care; in fact, the patrons all laughed at his drunkard impersonations.
Willie flirted with his girlfriends, Mandy and Vanessa, pretty ladies who wore tight dresses with lots of makeup and thought he was cute. They also thought he was a little boy, but at 10½, and knew the inside scoop on those two. Charlie had told him all about it, as he had the other facts of life, since the kid didn't have an old man to give him guidance.
Charlie was a gray-haired guy who sat at the bar all day. He had missing teeth and a droopy eye and didn't always smell so good, but Lydia told her son he mustn't judge people; maybe the fellow had a hard life. So, when Willie would think about how much his life stunk, he would look over at Charlie and go talk to him.
During these visits, the little guy was regaled with tales of the Depression (or the Great D, as Charlie called it) when he ate gravy bread for dinner, or WWII and travels to Italy and France and the South Pacific. Willie wasn't sure if the old man really went to all those places, but he told great stories that usually involved lots of shooting and drinking and whores. Charlie knew where to get the best whores.
"That's what you need to do," he advised the youngster. "Travel the world and live it up while you're young. Can't nobody take your memories away—goddam son of a bitch." He slid off his chair and stumbled towards the men's room. As he passed Lydia, he chuckled, "Hey, toots." She smiled back and patted his arm.
When the boy wasn't watching a ball game, he swept the floor and washed glasses. Any nickels or dimes he acquired from these labors went toward his accumulating collection of comic books.
Out of curiosity, one day Willie sauntered over to the public library to investigate the book called Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie. The child wasn't permitted to check it out because he didn't have a library card, so he stuffed it in his pants and left with what the librarian thought was an awkward gait. Running back to the bar, Willie jumped into the back booth and dove into chapter one: Peter Breaks Through, squinting by the light of a glass-covered tea candle that adorned his table.
Shit, this book is long. He didn't understand some of the big words and run-on sentences, but he plowed through—enough to establish that Peter was a fearless leader and Mr. Darling was a dick who said weird things like mea culpa. Willie planned to return it when finished, but in the end, he stuffed in under the sofa cushion at home.
A new line of comic books turned up at the corner store, based on historical accounts and literary classics. So, instead of Spiderman, Willie spent that evening at the Capri reading about Treasure Island and the American Revolution. You know, the boy thought, if they taught stuff in school with comic books, it'd be a lot easier to get.
Willie hugged his mom goodnight and left the bar around 10 o'clock, which was his custom, to walk home alone. There would be no pajamas that night; it was way too hot to sleep in anything but underwear. The child dutifully washed his face, albeit it without soap, and proceeded to brush his teeth, but the toothpaste tube was squeezed flat. When sucking on the nozzle failed to produce results, Willie decided to use peanut butter instead, as it tasted better and was of a similar consistency.
He then laid his sheet and pillow on the sofa, turned on the table fan and turned off all the lights but one. Willie reread his intriguing new comic books, and drifted off to sleep as he imagined going to sea with Long John Silver to hunt for pirate treasure, only he wouldn't be afraid of the peg leg. They'd be best friends—partners in crime.
