JANUARY
‘Where are we?’ I said, Bernie’s big hands shielded my eyes. We were somewhere
on East Houston. I knew that much. He’d covered my eyes when we hit the street corner and we hadn’t made any turns since. We’d stopped walking, clearly at our destination, but I’d no idea how far along the street we were or which building we were stood next to.
‘No peeking,’ Bernie’s voice was firm at first but it soon lapsed into a chuckle.
‘I’m not peeking.’ I said, wondering whether I could get away with it if I did. He
rattled some keys in a lock with one hand, blocked my vision with the other.
‘Alright. Take three strides forward.’ Intrigued, I for once did as I was told. The
chemical scent of fresh paint hit me as I stepped over the threshold. The flick of a light switch sounded out and my heels clicked on the hard floor of wherever Bernie had stolen me off to. He took his hand away. Somewhere behind me, a door closed. Footsteps. Shuffling.
‘Can I open my eyes yet?’
‘Inna minute,’ came a mock-agitated response, followed by the crackle of a
record about to begin; a familiar violin riff and the unmistakable croon of Nat King Cole.
‘Bernie…?’ I frowned. Eyes still shut. Nat King Cole’s voice meandered on to the
melody of Unforgettable.
‘Alright.’ Bernie said. ‘Now.’
I blinked. My eyes widened; my mouth hung open. We were in the smartest looking
restaurant I’d ever seen. It was brand new. Gleaming. To my right, stretched a long, silver counter, a shimmering pathway to a set of white swing doors, which I assumed led to the kitchen. To my left, stood neat rows of red leather booths that matched the polished red and white kitchen tiles, and the walls. Adverts for sodas and ice-cream floats were dotted all about and in the corner, next to where Bernie stood in his red sweater and a pair of navy chinos, was a Wurlitzer juke box, its orange lights illuminating the scene.
‘Bernie, what is this place?’
‘This is my place.’ Bernie smiled.
‘Your place? Since when?’
‘Since late December. Hoped to have her done for Christmas but, there was too
much work. Been fixing her up. Wanted to surprise you.’ He started walking back toward me but stopped a few paces away.
‘Well, you sure did that.’ I shook my head, my eyes still darting all around, taking in
the mustard stools lined up at the counter and the milkshake glasses upturned and sparkling on the shelf above the coffee machine. An empty refrigerator hummed, but, just by looking at it, a mirage formed inside of cheesecakes and pies stacked high. A till sat at the end of the counter and a menu was propped next to it. Stepping over in my jade court shoes, I picked it up and read: The Starlight Diner. Where the fifties are always in full swing.
Skimming down the listings for hotdogs, hamburgers, pancakes, waffles, omelettes
and grilled sandwiches, I smirked at a sentence printed at the bottom of the page.
‘We serve the tastiest milkshakes in the five boroughs?’ I read aloud. ‘Says who?’
‘Hey, if you can’t prove something you can’t disprove it neither.’ Bernie argued.
‘And I take it there’ll be no shrunken lettuce and soft tomatoes like in the sandwiches
they serve on 14th Street?’
‘Nope.’ He grinned.
‘But Bernie, where’d you get the money for a place like this?’
‘Been savin. Finally scraped enough together for the bank to take me seriously and
loan me the rest.’
‘I can’t believe it.’ I turned back to face him. ‘You really did it. I thought it was all
just talk to impress me.’
‘I know you did. Maybe it was in the beginning.’ Bernie nodded. ‘But I’ve had long-
term plans for us, for a while now.’
‘What do you mean, long-term?’ I looked at him side-on.
‘First you gotta tell me, do you like this place?’ He took a step closer. His expression
solemn, even more serious than when the Dodgers had out-batted the Yankees in the World Series that year.
‘Sure, what’s not to like? It’s everything you said it’d be. More.’
Bernie looked at his loafers and then those golden eyes of his began a slow saunter
across the lino to my shoes, up my stockinged legs, following the lines of my black satin skirt and my green, cashmere sweater until they, at last, found my face.
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ he said.
‘What do you…’ but I didn’t finish my sentence. Instead, my pupils dilated even
wider than before, as Bernie knelt on one knee.
I held my breath.
Pursed my lips.
Looking up at me, he pulled a small, black box out of his trouser pocket and opened
it, revealing a silver ring with a square cut sapphire set dead in the centre.
‘Bernie…’
‘Rita, I know you say you don’t wanna get married but I’ve thought about it a lot and
I’m asking you anyway. Because we know each other, don’t we? We don’t have to pretend. I’d never make you pretend like those other guys. You can be happy or sad, and I’ll still love you.’ There was the crinkle, just above his nose. I started to think about kissing him. Right there. In the place on his face where his heart showed. ‘You must know I love you, have done since I set eyes on you in Mr Kozik’s class. You tell me you think you’re crazy. Maybe you are, I ain’t a doctor. But from where I’m standing, the whole damn world’s crazy. The whole world, and that ain’t going to change tomorrow. Or next week. But by my reckoning, if we stick together, we can make it. Hey, are you crying?’
‘Yes,’ I smiled through my tears, remembering in an instant what it felt like to weep
and wondering why I’d ever missed it.
Bernie got back on his feet. Stared down at me.
‘So, the thought of marrying me finally sets you off. Neat. I shoulda proposed a long
time ago. Saved your Papi all that money he spent on Goldwyn.’
‘Idiota, they’re happy tears.’ I half-laughed and put a hand to his right cheek. Traced
my fingertips along his jawline.
‘They are?’
‘Yes. Wouldn’t you be happy if someone wanted to marry you even though you were
cuckoo, and they knew it?’
‘Depends who was doing the askin’’ Bernie ventured a smirk.
I laughed through more tears. Grabbing several napkins from a nearby stack, I did
what I could to clean up my face.
‘Wait, does this mean you’re actually gonna marry me?’ Bernie asked.
Gazing up at him, his brow heavy once more with a frown, I reached up and wrapped
my arms around his neck. ‘You have to understand, I don’t know if I’ll ever be fixed.’
‘I know that.’ His frown deepened. ‘You’re a risky proposition, I get it.’
‘And you still want me for a wife?’
‘No, the ring’s just a joke. I pumped gas for three years and finally here’s the
punchline.’ I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile. Of everyone in Little Spain, nobody
knew me like Bernie. Not even Mami and Papi. I’d never lied to him. Not once since he’d first, at his mami’s insistence, carried my books to school in the 9th Grade. I’d never had to fake anything with him, and I loved him for that. He knew who I was, as far as anyone could, and still wanted me. What more could I ask of anyone?
I took a deep breath.
‘Well, that’s a shame you were only kidding. If you’d have been on the level, I was
going to say yes.’
‘Yes? Yes?’ Bernie’s voice got louder. He grabbed my shoulders.
‘Yes,’ I laughed.
Bernie pressed his hands in on either side of my waist, lifted
, and swung me round.
My black skirt swirled as he did so. Holding me above his head for a moment, he lowered my body just enough to start kissing me. Slowly, I slipped until my feet were back on the ground. I pushed my lips hard against his, so he knew I really meant it. So there was no room for doubt.
And for eight seconds out of the next ten, I forgot myself.
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