My eyes lingered on her until she's out of sight. I don't understand how one man who owns a single newspaper company could be that powerful?
It doesn't matter, Louise and I aren't friends. It's none of my concern to inquire what's going on with her father, so it's safe to avoid her period.
"Do you know where Decker is headed to? I need to check up on what's a good time to pick her up for our drive-in movie tonight."
As my springy, brown boots hit the bottom of the stairs, a broad shouldered, tall man joins me.
"I don't know, try her father's office." I proceed to walk past the young journalist, hoping to avoid any further conversation.
Unfortunately, the man doesn't catch on to me trying to leave.
"Swell accent. Where'd you get it from?" The overconfident journalist drifts behind me through the wide office.
"Italy." I mutter, trudging on. I've never been the best person to socialize with. Pa has called me an antisocial retard. That's just one of his many insults to boost my confidence.
"An immigrant?" The Journalist is taken back. "Did Mussolini grow tired of you and ship you over to our proud country?" Glancing over at the man for the first time I decided that staying silent was the best option.
Neglecting his crude laughter, I stepped out into the cold, brisk air.
Work is slow when I return. My boss yells at me for being gone for longer than my lunch break which I know would happen since I expected my trip to Decker's Post to take up past my lunch break. I find myself working on a broken subway car part. It's nothing captivating since it's what I usually do everyday.
Reaching for my sketch pad that sits comfortably in the inside of my coat pocket, I begin writing down my thoughts. I'm not sure why I'm doing this but I am.
Maybe it's because of Louise. If I'm to forget her I need to write how I feel about her out of my mind. It's clear we're not destined to see each other again.
I only write half a thought down before my mind yanks me away to sketching down the grand staircase at Decker Post. The distinct designs on the banisters caught my attention as we ascended its steps.
Putting away my sketch pad I get back to work.
Due to worry for their family's safety, a few workers stayed home today. When I rode back to work on my bike, I noted that there were far fewer civilians on the street than normal. Though only slightly more than yesterday.
Police and military soldiers patrol around, occasionally look up at the sky. I know they're on edge in fear that the Japanese are headed for us next. After all, New York is one of the most well-known cities in the United States.
I don't blame our city's protectors since I'm the same way. Our president hasn't spoken about the attack yet so the world is in complete panic. Rob, my manager was pissed at our president for not communicating our plan to the world yet. I suspect he'll be one of the first men to sign up for the drafting here.
This spiraling news was dropped on us just like the bombs in Hawaii and we've had no new information. We're all waiting for the inevitable. War.
Fortunately, around four in the afternoon President Roosevelt finally declares war on Japan. I'm with George in our bedroom listening to the radio blare. The way the president speaks sends uncomfortable chills down my spine. We're officially at war with the Japanese.
"Just wait till ma hears about it." George drives a hand through his curly hair which resembles mine.
"Joseph?" George's voice grows low with concern. "Yes, Georgie?" He swallows, adjusting himself uncomfortably in our squeaky desk chair.
"Is pa really sending you off to war?" I hadn't really thought about the idea of going off to war since pa's conversation from before. Assuming that I'm old enough to be drafted, the answer is yes.
Do I have a choice? If I don't go then what would happen? It's my country and even though it's not my first home it's still a better place for my family. Italy was never a violent place when we lived there but the opportunities were more scarce.
My late twin sister had to be the main reason we moved to America. Pa wanted to forget what he did. No where in the world could make him or anyone forget what he did to her. Or what I failed to do.
"Hey are you alright, brother?" George stands up with me. "I'm fine. I'll go inform ma about the United States joining the war. You focus on finishing your assignments. "From the crossed eye look George gives me he doesn't believe that I'm fine. Nevertheless, he goes back to completing his work assignments.
Ma is working down in the store with Michael when I walk down the creaky stairs. They're deep in conversation as I make my way to them. The store is completely empty as I suspected. It's been like this all day, or so I've been told.
"We're at war now." The words blurt out before I can stop them. Stopping their conversation they turn to me with a concerned face. "I know my tesoro. Your pa just phoned me from work. He's coming home early to teach you how to shoot a gun. Prepare yourself, Joseph." Ma lifts a hand to my cheek caressing it. Her touch is warm and soothing.
"It'll be easy as pie, Joseph. It's not as hard as it seems. I was just a little younger than George when I learned how to shoot one." Micheal informs me.
Guns stunned every fragile bone in my body. The thought of that small object ending someone's life within a matter of seconds is terrifying.
Whenever pa would take me hunting back in Italy, I couldn't bring yourself to kill the innocent animal. I'd cry every time I held up a gun to the beast. Pa would call me a little girl.
A wuss.
After that pa just took three year old George with him. I was left home with Lisa and ma. I'd felt embarrassed that I was left home with the women but at the same time I was relieved. Turin, Italy was a beautiful place to explore, hunting on the other hand wasn't something I found joy in.
Back home me and my pack of friends would go exploring new places each day. Ma would always get anxious whenever I'd go off with them. If it wasn't for Turin's beauty I'd stay a lot closer to home.
Right before we left Italy for America, my family and I had witnessed Italian-Jews getting discriminated against.
That was nine years ago.
Gino, a close friend of mine, was an Italian-Jew. His pa is Jewish and had moved from Austria to Italy when he was a young child. Gino's pa met his wife in Milan and later moved to Turin.
One day, Gino vanished along with his family. No one ever saw or heard a single hint from them again. Rumors circulated that they had fled to Switzerland.
Back then, my friends and I were bewildered about why he and his family had left. We were just young kids back then but now I understand why they were forced to flee.
"What's the time Michael?"
"Nearly, five. Are you thinking about closing up early?" Our family friend inquires with an exhausted yawn. She nods his haggard eyes.
"Joseph, will you please flip the sign around to the closed side?" Just as I flip the sign to the opposite side, pa rushes into the store. He carries his ragged briefcase that he takes to the bank everyday.
"Ah, Josey you're home early. Eccellente!" I shift on the balls of my feet containing my anger. He calls me Josey to anger and get a rise out of me.
Pa tips his black fedora at Michael before walking past me up the stairs. That's my cue to follow him. "Good luck kid. Here's a little advice when shooting: try not to overthink when aiming. It's just a gun." And with that Michael takes his leave. It's just a gun.
After we have dinner, pa leads me down to the alleyway between our furniture store and an apartment complex to teach me how to properly shoot. He sets out three empty glass milk bottles on a crippled looking table.
George decided to watch from our bedroom. A safe distance as he put it.
"Hold it like I taught you Joseph." Aiming the small handgun shakily, I fire once at the bottle missing. The loud bang causes me to jump back a bit.
Sweat begins to gather around my palms. Nervously, I wipe them off on my pants.
"Come on it's not that hard. Just hit the damn bottle at least once," curses pa in Italian. "Come down here George and show your slow brother how it's done." George glances down at me from our bedroom window before responding. "Ma what's that? Sorry, ma wants me to help count today's income." Getting off easy George shuts the bedroom window leaving me alone in the almost dark alley with pa.
"Speaking of slow, let's get back to it." Inhaling a deep breath in pa places his hands on his hips waiting for me to fire. Focusing on the glass bottle set the creaky, old table. Think of something that fuels your anger, Joseph. My mind circulates flustering and immaculate images.
"Well, I'll be damned. There's still some hope for my son." He claps expressionless. I don't say a word. Instead I stare straight forward at the shattered glass bottle, shattered all about the ground. My hands shake and my heart races with fears. I can't move a single muscle.
"Smile at least, this is good news Josey." I feel sick to my stomach.
"Don't call me that. My name is Joseph!" Noting the anger and fear plastered on my face, pa realizes the reason I made the shot.
"Don't be angry with me Joseph. There are other people you should channel your anger into. It's what I do-"
All of a sudden I get a burst of confidence. I wish it hadn't come out tonight but I don't stop the words from falling out of my mouth.
"It's what you do when you're hitting ma, calling George the ugly duckling of the family or when you're calling me a disappointment?" A few people turn their heads from the street.
Pa stands in place speechless. Setting the gun on a window sill, I turn and run away from home.
"Get the hell back here boy!" Pa's voice echoes inside my head as loud as I hear my heart race. My feet don't dare stop until I'm in front of my good friend's apartment building. Taking a deep breath in I let it out relieving my stress and fears.
-
Chapter posted: 1/22/2021
Happy New Year everyone! I hope y'all are staying safe and healthy. I'm sorry I haven't posted in awhile I've been busy with college classes. Recently, I had major surgery so I had to take a semester off. Since I have a lot go free time I'll be able to write and post weekly. I plan to post once a week on Friday's.