We settled in Mike's oversized stuffed sofa and thought, in unison: Mike is making a big deal over nothing… Mike is making a big deal over nothing. And then we saw it. Christ, Mike was right. The Godfather was great. It’s one of my favorite movies of all time now. Most people have seen it, but nobody has studied it like Kyle and I did that day. Everything about it was great—the dialogue, the acting, everything. What astonished me and Kyle the most, though, were the characters. Since there were five main Mafia guys in the movie, Kyle and I named our little high school clique after those guys.
Here's the rundown: I was Vito Coreleone, the Godfather himself, the composed, revered, dapper don that gently petted his cat as he plotted to brutally murder his enemies. Kyle was Tom Hagen, the Godfather's collected and thoughtful aide-de-camp or, as it's called in Italian, consigliere, which translated means "most trusted advisor." Paul was Fredo. Fredo’s basically a loser in the movie, and his timidity results in the Godfather getting shot in cold blood on a curbside in Little Italy. Rick was Tessio, which was perfect, because in the movie Tessio is a quiet caporegime, or lieutenant. And Mike was Clemenza, the other caporegime, Tessio's portly counterpart. He wasn't Mike's identical twin, but the comparison annoyed Mike. If Mike hadn't been so annoyed, he wouldn't have been such a perfect Clemenza.
Toward the end of the flick, after the Godfather’s son, the new Godfather, annihilates all of his enemies, Clemenza, Fredo, and Tom Hagen are his only loyal partners left in the world. Throughout the movie they referred to themselves as The Family. Consequently, everyone started calling our quintet The Family, too. Not that my friends and I were anything close to a murderous gang or anything; hell, we thought farting in public was bold. But we always called ourselves The Family and referred to ourselves by our Mafia names. Me and Kyle did, at least.
Chapter 5
Zenith
Not one week after the dance, Maria called me. What a spectacular conversation! I was so fucking cool it was unbelievable. I can't even remember most of the shit I said. But I remember the feeling like it happened five minutes ago. Had it gone awry, believe me, I would have etched every painful detail into my brain. But that's not the case; I don't remember or give a shit about any of the particulars. That's how awesome the phone call went. I only recollect being cloaked by a refreshing sensation, a feeling of invincibility, an awareness that until that moment had eluded me for my entire life.
We must have spoken for two or three hours. We went on talking like that almost every night for another week or so. From that point on, I’d miss my favorite TV shows to talk to Maria; I’d cancel study sessions; I’d drop a Playboy just to hear her voice. Occasionally, I’d call her right back after we’d already spoken for hours, just to ask her what she was thinking about, just to here her recite my name. I never stopped smiling when I spoke to her, and I could feel her smile back at me over the phone. I swear, I smiled so much my face hurt. We had so much in common, much more than she'd like to admit these days.
We continued our phone dating for two or three months. Meanwhile, Lynn and I kept dating for real—sort of. I called her less and less often, and went out with her so infrequently that I could hardly believe she still seemed to like me. We were still an item, so to speak—that was our public image. But privately I was planning a break-up. I had to take it slowly, of course. After all, Lynn and Maria were great friends, and I didn’t want to get Maria in trouble by forcing her to steal Lynn’s boyfriend. At the same time, I didn't want them to be fucking friends anymore at all. Breaking my relationship off with Lynn and simultaneously enticing Maria would be difficult. Patiently, I waited. As The Godfather had taught me, timeliness was the key to victory.
Occasionally, at school dances and parties, Maria and I would see one another other. Talk about awkward! We never, of course, gave the public the impression that we liked each other. But that was easier said than done. Standing next to her at a party, I'd beam a "Please fuck me" look," while she'd emit a "Please hug me" gaze. Actually, I wanted to embrace her as badly as I wanted to screw her—that’s how I knew I was in love. Given the choice between only hugging Maria for eternity, or only fucking Maria for eternity, I would’ve chosen the former.
We exchanged all sorts of looks and exchanges that would've made Jeff and Lynn shit their pants. Especially Lynn. Jeff and his sister and their new crowd were obviously suspicious.
This was the status quo until one night when Maria called me up and asked me out. I couldn’t believe it! We’d been talking since January, and now it was April, just after Easter. I'd waited too long. She'd beaten me to the punch. Thing is, I still hadn’t broken it off with Lynn yet. Maria didn't care. Truthfully, neither did I. By then, there was no escaping the fact that we were in love.
She was smart, though. She didn't exactly ask me out on a date, but she’s the one who got us to hang out, even though I was still technically dating Lynn. I had been telling her for weeks about how beautiful Central Park was. I told her all about Strawberry Fields and the ponds and Cleopatra’s Needle. So her invitation was a "Let's have a picnic in Central Park" sort of thing. Hey, she'd tell Lynn, it's the 'nineties. A girl can hang out with her best friend’s boyfriend—as long as it’s platonic.
You can’t blame Maria. I'd built up to her asking me out. But the fact is that it was her idea to have a picnic there, to actually do something that I'd only dreamed of. We made plans for the following Saturday afternoon. We lived somewhat far apart, she in Ridgewood, me in Fresh Meadows, considering I didn’t have a car. So, instead of getting our parents involved, we each took the bus and met at the Queens Center Mall at eleven in the morning, roughly halfway between our neighborhoods.
Eager to begin the picnic as soon as possible, Maria and I ignored the stream of shoppers entering the mall and descended into the subway. Despite all the people aboveground, the Woodhaven Boulevard-Slattery Plaza train station was always so eerily quiet. And filthy. The moment we descended the stairs, the stench of urine overpowered us. I handed the clerk $5.00 for four tokens and led Maria down yet another staircase and on to the platform. It was warm and humid down there, and black rats scurried along the tracks searching for scraps of food. The tiles lining the walls were covered with grime. A long, long time ago, it seemed, those tiles were white. Now they were the color of shit.
These weren’t exactly romantic surroundings, I admit. But when I was with Maria the environment never mattered. Whether in a subway platform or a mall, it always felt like we were surrounded by a palace. While waiting for the R train, I grew lost in thought. In my crazy, mixed-up mind, I developed a plan. I’m still dating Lynn, so I have to take it easy with Maria. But I have to show her a spectacular time, or else she’ll never see me again after I dump Lynn.
The silver subway rumbled into the station, we boarded, and it rumbled away. In a flash, the G train pulled into the 59th Street Station. Maria and I crossed Fifth Avenue and entered the park at the corner of Central Park South. We strolled around Central Park for a while talking and laughing. I had a warm feeling inside. The best word to describe our dispositions that day is relaxed. Completely at ease, we talked about every topic known to a pair of adolescents, like movies and sports, but also delved into politics, literature, and art.