CHAPTER III

COME FLY WITH ME

"What happened to your face," Mike Morton asked. He'd immediately spotted the scab on the tiny knife wound on his daughter Julia's cheek, as she and Paco came in the door of Julia's East Village apartment.

"I'm okay. We'll get around to that in a minute." Julia said turning to beam at Paco. "Mom, Dad, Renee, this is Paco Berelli." Her parents and sister scrutinized Paco quizzically as everyone shook hands. Her mom and dad now knew who Paco was, but Julia could see how curious they were about his significance to her.

Renee, of course, already suspected what was happening.

"Moses and Shadrach, " Julia continued, introducing her two cats to Paco, then transferring them from the sofa cushion to the sofa back so Paco could sit down. "How'd you get the cut over your eye…Paco." Mike wanted to know, although he was eyeing Paco's long hair. Julia had known the hair wouldn't fly with her parents and she began to feel that if she didn't handle this right, pretty soon the fur would.

Paco touched the tiny gash in his eyebrow. "It's nothing much, Sir," he said.

"What kind of name is Paco?" Mike next wanted to know. In that moment, Julia began to feel her confidence ebb. It often did when she was faced with her parents' disapproval. She willed herself not to buckle, to wrap herself in her own wonderful perception of Paco, and ignore all things her parents would perceive as negative.

"It's a nickname. My given name's Peter," Paco said. "In first or second grade, I re-christented myself."

Mike nodded and looked at Renee, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Renee shrugged. There wasn't anything wrong with having a nickname. "Paco's a nice name," she said. "Unusual."

Julia nodded at Renee. Renee's long blonde hair was in a ponytail on top of her head. Her trim and athletic body was disguised by a pair of sweats, which was what she usually wore when out of uniform. Julia saw the love and support in her sister's pretty face she always found there.

Julia's mother, Claire, eyed Julia's left hand, "Where's your engagement ring?" With an upward motion of her hand, she smoothed the back of her light chestnut French Twist. The expression in her wide green eyes had changed from mild concern to genuine worry.

"I don't think there's a better way to do this but to come right out and tell you the wedding's off," Julia said.

"Can I get anybody anything?" Renee said, breaking the long and disquieting lull in the conversation that followed Julia's announcement. "Coffee? Juice? Smelling salts?"

"You knew about this," Mike said to his eldest daughter.

"Sort of," said Renee looking uncomfortable.

"Coffee," Paco said. "I'd like some coffee, if it's not a lot of trouble."

Renee glanced at him gratefully and slipped into the kitchen.

Grand inquisitors, now, Claire and Mike silently confronted Paco.

"Mrs. Morton, Mr. Morton--" Paco began, but Julia interrupted.

"He hasn't done anything, mom. In fact, he saved my life yesterday."

Mike and Claire gazed at both Julia and Paco with surprise. When Paco took Julia's hand, Claire flinched.

"I want to know what's going on," Mike said.

"Yes, please," said Claire.

"Did you have something to do with this sudden decision?" Mike asked Paco.

"Only at first," Julia blurted before Paco could say anything more.

Paco turned to her, looked at her levelly and said, "Jules, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but they need to talk to me right now, and I want to talk to them. Sit back and let this happen. or I don't stand a chance here."

They all gazed at Paco with surprise, including Renee who was just coming out from the kitchen with the coffee.

Stirring four teaspoons of sugar into the coffee, blowing on it to cool it down, then sipping it, Paco, with Julia's help, told them everything that had happened--omitting the part about kissing in Battery Park--but up to and including walking Julia to David's building and watching her enter the lobby. Julia picked up the tale at that point and described to David's unexpected reaction to her news. During the story, her dad had moved forward in his chair and was sitting on its edge, his compact pugilist's body hunched forward, the blunt fingers of his strong hands interlaced, and fury in his blue eyes.

"Did David hurt you?" Mike asked.

"Not really, but I think he wanted to," Julia said.

"Maybe I was being over-protective," Paco said, "maybe it was just because we'd spent this intense stretch of time together and I didn't want to let go, but I got nervous about sending her in to face the whole think alone." He drained his coffee cup and set it on the table. "Halfway to the office, I told the cabby to turn around. Shortly after I got back there, debated in the lobby for a minute or two about what to do, a call came from one of the tenants on David's floor, reporting some kind of disturbance."

"David threw that big heavy glass bowl against the wall: Aunt Marge's wedding gift." said Julia.

"I asked the doorman to announce me, " Paco said. "David answered the phone and invited me up."

Mike, Clair and Renee listened as Paco and Julia told the rest of the story.

When Paco came out of the elevator on David's floor, the door to David's apartment was open. Julia was struggling to get away from him. Then David saw Paco. "My rival, I presume." His eyes swept Paco's long hair, jeans and cowboy boots. "It figures," he laughed. "Why would I want anything to do with a woman who's attracted to a guy like you."

"Then this'll be easy," Paco said putting himself between David and Julia. He glanced at her. "Ready?"

She nodded, Paco took her hand. She felt the same relief she'd felt the afternoon before when he'd extricated her from the jam with the homeless man. They headed for the elevator.

"I'm suing you both!" David yelled, suddenly rushing after them "You," he said to Julia, "For breach of promise! And, you," he said to Paco, "For alienation of affection."

They arrived at the elevator and Paco pushed the button. They were relieved when the door immediately opened.

"Maybe I'll just have you knee-capped," they heard David threaten Paco as the elevator door slid closed.

"There must've been a sign or two along the way, Julia," Julia's father said when Paco and Julia finished.

"Maybe," Julia said. She was troubled. "I was just so impressed with his success, with his confidence, so blown away that he seemed so impressed with me. The signs were probably there all along and I missed them."

"I never cared for him," Renee said. "It always seemed to me he was bullying you into things you didn't want to do."

"Is that what it was really like?" Julia said.

Renee nodded. "You didn't want to live in that God awful dentist office apartment of his after the wedding. You hated the wedding gown he insisted upon." Mimicking David, she said, "It's a Vera Wang, you know. And, he wanted you to get rid of the cats. They've been your best friends since your last year of high school."

"I wasn't going to give up the cats."

"What were you going to do?"

"Hope that he'd see how much I love them and relent." Julia reached for Moses, a black and white brawler, and Humphry Bogart's opposite number in the feline world.

"You're dreaming," said Renee.

***

"I told you they'd be like this," Julia said to Paco a few moments later in the bathroom, as he sat on the side of the bathtub with Shadrach in his lap and she swabbed the cut above his eye with hydrogen peroxide. They'd just overheard her parents talking in the kitchen.

"Think he's even got a job?" Claire had said.

"Not with that hair," said Mike. "Why does he use his hands so much when he talks? They never did tell us how he got that gash on his head."

"I don't even want to think about what they got up to last night," said Claire.

When Julia heard all that, her ebbing confidence completely deserted her. Despite what they overheard, Paco said to Julia, "I want to stay."

She shook her head and put the cap back on the bottle. "I don't think you'd better."

"Meet me some place tonight."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said and didn't like it that she sounded like her mother.

Paco put Shadrach on the floor and stood up. He tried putting his arms around her but she stepped out of his reach.

Paco, they're right outside."

He studied her for a moment, then said, "I know this situation's messy and I know that's scaring you, and it's scaring your family. But emotions are messy, Jules, and when you're trying to follow your heart, there are always complications."

"I just wasn't thinking when I brought you here this morning."

"No, you were hoping, hoping they'd like me as much as you do." He shrugged. "I'll grow on them."

"I'll give you a call after they go," she said.

"What about yesterday, what about last night? Something happened between us. How do I just walk away?"

"Can't we talk about this another time?"

"Jules, you think too much."

Paco left a few moments later. It was the last thing Julia wanted.

She spent the rest of the day calling all the wedding guests she'd invited, letting them know the wedding was off. When they asked for an explanation, she ommitted the part about Paco, then boiled down what happened with David to creative differences. Between calls, Julia's mother sympathetically patted Julia's shoulder, and Julia's dad offered her the occasional encouraging wink, but no one really wanted to discuss it further, except Renee, which they'd do at length by telephone after Renee went home to Detroit with their parents.

"Sorry about the expense of the airfare and the wasted time," Julia said to her parents at Kennedy Airport two days later.

"It'll be all right," said her mother.

"Couldn't be helped," her father said.

"They're not upset about the wedding, itself," Renee said, hugging Julia goodbye just before Renee followed their parents through the Jetway to board the plane home. "They just thought your future was settled, so they could now concentrate on wringing their hands about me." That made Julia laugh. Renee continued, "Mostly, they're concerned that you'll jump into a relationship with Paco without even knowing him."

"I'm having a lot of second thoughts about all that."

Personally, Jules," Renee said, "I think you should get to know him. He's a breath of fresh air. Worth knowing. A real challenge to our cautious, reserved, Middle Western, middle class values."

September 7

From:
Salvatore Berelli
University of Greenland
Nuuk, Greenland

Hey Kiddo,

Libby and I miss you like crazy. Can't wait to see you at the holidays, and Uncle Nicky, too. Come February, we're off to study the Inuits on Baffin Island and we'll probably be there for nine or ten months without a break, since it's so remote. Needless to say, we're both looking forward to a couple of months in "civilization."

I'm absolutely thrilled you've met Jules. Sorry it hasn't gone smoothly. Don't be embarrassed about those primitive protective feelings you wrote to me about. Of course you want to be her hero! I happen to think that when a guy falls in love, feelings like that are natural. Also, you stepped up to the plate for her twice in that first twenty-four hours, without hesitation. Accidentally splitting your melon open when getting in the cab to whisk her away from the villain did nothing, I'm sure, to diminish your hero status in her eyes. (I can't tell you how relieved I am your kneecaps are still intact. What a jerk. A thug's a thug, I guess, whether he's a Wall Street mouthpiece or a punk from the old neighborhood.)

It's too bad Jules' family didn't immediately get the point of you, although it's good if you really think you've got the sister on your side. Take heart, however, because in the beginning, Libby's family positively loathed me. They hated it that I wasn't their "sort," could've thrown themselves about the difference in our ages, and they were furious because from that point on she'd be with me in God-Knows-Where in the frozen North. I think your plan for wooing them is a good one. If nothing else it'll assure them you're serious about Jules. In the mean time, if Jules is still balking about seeing you again, but still taking your calls, then keep on talking to her, partner, and talk fast. With everything that happened it was naive of you to think there wouldn't be some kind of reaction; even if her fiancé was a schmuck, even if he really was having an affair.

It's hard to gauge the whys and hows of women. I've done a lot better with them since I gave up trying. Allow her this period of penance if she needs it, even if you don't think penance is necessary. Men always think women want to be understood. I think they'd rather be accepted. You said that during your first long encounter with Jules you saw, tasted and touched a new world. You said that's the world you want to live in, and you want to live there with her. Well, darling boy, my advice is if you're very lucky, and the two of you land there, the only way I know to keep the dream alive is to just love the hell out of her.

Mad about you,

Pops

During the last week of September, Julia ended her "period of penance"--as Sal had so aptly described it in his letter--and finally agreed to see Paco. She didn't agree to see him because she'd stopped torturing herself about her part in the debacle with David, but because she was beginning to suspect if she didn't accept one of Paco's invitations soon, he'd give up on her and she'd never hear from him again. The next time he asked to see her, and suggested dinner at the Waverly Inn not far from where she lived, she accepted.

"Still there?" she said through the phone during his long surprised silence.

"I'm here," he laughed. "Maybe we could catch a movie, too."

They never made the movie. As for dinner, Paco whipped up omelets at Three about A.M. from supplies Julia had on hand--eggs, old cheese, withering mushrooms-- she never would have guessed could amount to anything so savory.

From that evening forward, Paco and Julia were almost never apart. He cooked many savory dishes for her, but it was Paco, himself, she found most savory. She adored every square inch of him. Unfortunately, even dangerously, she held her feelings back; not so much because of David, or how their breakup left her with her faith in her power of character judgement shaken (although those elements were present), but mostly because that was the way the Morton family operated.

It was now a rainy Sunday toward the end of November. Julia and Paco were reading the Times, stretched out on the worn dark red carpet of the front room of the co-op Paco and his family had for many years called home. The place was enormous, occupying the top floor of a converted, turn-of-the-century mansion on the Promenade in Brooklyn Heights. The hallway at the center seemed as long as a bowling lane, there was a view of the river and the Brooklyn Bridge from the windows of all four bedrooms, the kitchen had been completely renovated, and the tubs in the bathrooms were claw-footed.

Julia glanced over at Paco and was surprised to find him studying her. "You look so clean and pretty," he said. She was wearing an old pair of Paco's sweat pants, a faded red T-shirt of his, too, with the Coca-Cola logo emblazoned across the front. She hadn't combed her hair yet and she wasn't wearing a lick of make-up. "We need to talk," he continued, "about us…"

Julia felt her heart lurch. Up to this point, things had been going so well without talking; at least she'd been under the impression they were. Before Paco could elaborate Uncle Nick arrived home. They heard the door slam and heard him curse as he stumbled over the umbrella stand in the foyer, then the selection of rubber boots and overshoes, which no one had worn in years, lined up near the door.

"What's the problem, Uncle Nicky?" Paco said as Nick came into the front room. Quivering with outrage, he threw himself down in the nearest chair. "I came outta OTB on 86th Street and she was gone! My almost new Caddy!" Uncle Nick's expensive glen green mohair car-coat and green tweed alpine hat with its jaunty little red feather tucked in the green leather band, were soaked.

Paco fell back against the sofa arm laughing. Nick glared at him. "What's so damn funny?"

"I guess the irony of this is lost on you," Paco laughed.

"Irony?" Nicky looked back at him stonily.

"Do you want to eat?" Julia said to Nick. Nick looked at her. His expression softened. She'd won Nicky over during a brunch at Aqueduct in early October. She'd expressed interest in every aspect of "the system" he he'd based his long betting career on. For a gambler, he was surprisingly prosperous. "Come on," she said, "take off your hat and coat."

In the kitchen a few moments later, Paco heated up the remains of brunch, Julia popped Italian bread in the oven for the old man and brought him a cup of coffee. The steam from the coffee fogged his glasses and made him look more owlish than ever. Julia grabbed his old green cardigan from the hook near the back door and dropped it over his thin shoulders.

"You call the cops?" Paco said, stirring the fettucine, with its bit of scrambled egg, lots of pancetta, parmesan, sun-dried tomatoes, fresh basil and loads of garlic.

Nicky raked back the few strands of hair remaining on his balding and shiny head. "That's enough outta you, kiddo!" he said.

Paco chuckled. "It was too good a deal when Lou the Goo Angelini sold it to you. It was stolen, and you had to know."

"I don't want to hear this!" said Nick.

"Who's Lou The Goo?" Julia said.

"A bent-nose of the old school, connected to Sally Red Nicoletti and the rest of the Buccieri family."

"Why do they call him The Goo?" Julia wondered.

"Because whatever he uses to keep his hair in place, he uses so much that it runs down the sides of his face and the back of his neck. Soaks the collars of those crappy polyester Hawaiian shirts he wears all the time."

"That's not true," said Nick. "Some of those shirts are pure silk."

"What do you want to bet, The Goo's got a racket going with that Caddy," said Paco. "Everytime he needs some scratch, he steals it back from the last person he sold it to, then turns around and puts it back on the block."

"The Goo wouldn't do a thing like that to me," said Nick. "We go back!"

Paco dished the hot fettucine into a bowl, grabbed a fork and spoon and set it all on the table before Uncle Nick. "Then call the cops and report that your banana boat's missing."

Uncle Nick glared up at him. "Why are you breaking my balls, here?"

"Maybe next time something seems too good to be true, you'll realize it's too good to be true. There was something fishy with the Caddy from the get-go. Maybe next time you'll listen to me."

The three of them spent the next two hours in Paco's treasured--although highly unreliable--silver Alfa Romeo coupe, cruising the alleys in the Bayridge section of Brooklyn where the Goo theoretically lived, without seeing a sign of The Goo or of the stolen canary yellow Caddy. They spent another futile hour seeking The Goo, himself; in dive bars mostly, then a craps game in the back of an Italian cheese shop, then the Knights of Columbus Hall.

"I'm gonna go up and take a nap," said Nicky as they arrived home and Paco pulled to the curb. His depression was deepening.

As Paco and Julia followed the old man up the walk, Paco grabbed Julia's elbow and whispered, "Wanna see how the other half lives?"

Twenty minutes later, Paco double parked the Alfa out front of a tiny bar on Mulberry Street in Little Italy. "Sure you want to come in?" Paco said to Julia with his hand on the door handle.

"Wouldn't miss it," giggled Julia.

The bar was dimly lit and crowded with old wooden tables and chairs with padded but cracked red leather seats. The walls were lined with red leather booths and the air was thick with cigar smoke. Frank Sinatra's Come Fly With Me was playing over and over again on the jukebox. Paco stopped at the bar, ordered and paid for a round of drinks for a group of men sitting in the booth at the back. Central to the group was a very old man, shaped like humpty dumpty, wearing dark sunglasses.

"Is that him," Julia whispered. Come Fly With Me started up again.

"That's him," said Paco. He and Julia headed for the group.

"Sally." Paco said diffidently as they arrived at Sally's booth.

Sally Red Nicoletti gazed up at Paco. "Hey kid, that you?"

Paco grinned.

"How's your old man? How's your Uncle Nick? Ain't seen either of them in ages."

"Pops is great. Coming home from some place way the hell north of here for Christmas."

"Why don't you tell him to drop by?"

"I will," said Paco. The bartender came over with the tray of drinks for the table."

"Thanks," said Sally as he sipped his Chivas.

"I've come about Uncle Nick," Paco said. "He's got a little problem."

"Who's the girl," Sally Red said eyeing Julia.

"Julia, meet Sally Red," Paco said. Sally and Julia shook hands.

"Quality," Sally said, his eyes lingering on her. He looked back at Paco. "So what's Nick's deal this time?"

Paco explained what had happened to Nick's Caddy, then theorized about Lou The Goo's probable position in the situation.

"Wouldn't surprise me a bit," said Sally. "I'll look into it."

"Don't hurt him," Paco said. "We just want the Caddy back."

Sally Red nodded, then raised his squat tumbler in toast to both Paco and Julia. "Gonna marry this one?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Paco turning to Julia. "Am I?"

Julia flushed and didn't answer.

"I didn't know you could do that," Julia said with wonder as she and Paco drove away from the Mulberry Street bar. "I didn't know you could just walk in and talk to them like that."

"Ordinarily, it's not the wisest course, but Sally Red is Pop's godfather."

"Godfather?"

"Not that kind," Paco said. "I mean that he stood for Pops when Pops was christened."

Julia nodded. "I really enjoyed that," she said. "It's certainly not something you see every day. I mean, I wouldn't on my own, anyway."

The rain had turned to drizzle. They had traveled about two blocks when the Alfa quit. The electrical system failed again. Julia steered as Paco pushed the car to the curb. Since they were only about three blocks from where Paco usually had it repaired, they left it where it was and walked home hand in hand, taking the long way.

They headed down Wall Street and cut through the cemetery surrounding Trinity Church. It was late in the day and no one else was around as they paused by a few of the worn headstones, some of them dating back to the early Seventeenth Century. The drizzle suddenly turned to hard driving rain and they raced for the shelter of Trinity's broad portico. Julia stood with her back against Paco's front. He had his arms around her. "Jules," he whispered, "I've been wracking my brain to find ways to let you know how strong my feelings for you are. I've done just about everything except take out those ads you see on cross-town buses. You listening to me?"

"I'm listening."

"I love you. I have since moment one. For almost three months I've been waiting for that girl I met on the subway and then spent the night roaming Manhattan with to come back. You know the one; the one who immediately had strong feelings for me and no trouble telling me about them. Where'd she go?"

"She's here."

"Yeah? Well, I don't see her. I just want to love you, Jules, and I want you to love me back. I just want to marry you. Are we in the same ballpark, or am I in trouble here?"

Julia turned in his arms and looked at him.

September 4, 1960

I came out of Dewey's place at daybreak this morning and gazed down to the very prow of this ocean liner-shaped mesa, to ancient Walpi (oldest of the three villages up here and something of a shrine). Many people still live out there in rock houses (pyramid and tower shaped), many of which are as old as the town itself (300 years).

There was a young woman, a potter, stoking her earth oven to fire several pots. Smoke from the sheep dung fuel spiraled and curled around her. In the manner of unmarried maidens, she was wearing her long, heavy hair parted in the middle and divided into butterfly formations (buns?) over her ears. Her thin cotton dress was approximately the same color as Dewey's vermilion front door. I saw her make the ritual blessing with ground corn (so her pots wouldn't shatter during firing) which reminded me that here on the mesas, spirituality and daily routine are inseparable. The proper mindset along with proper actions maintain life's balance.

The young woman is smooth and brown and beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen (this side of Brooklyn). Sensing that I was staring at her--gawping like some yahoo, actually--she looked in my direction. I felt as though my middle had suddenly gone missing.

A moment later, I saw the brown puppy (the one from the plaza, I think: looked like him, anyway) plod out from a rock kiska (passageway) between two of the dwellings near where she worked. The puppy was limping. The potter lifted his right foreleg and plucked a pebble or a thorn or something from a toe pad. She fed him a morsel from her pocket. Content, the brown puppy settled down in the shade of a rock ledge. I wanted to approach, chat with the potter, but if I had, I would've disturbed the scene and I didn't want to do that. I just wanted to look.

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