[Critique Group 1] Ann Chiappetta's critique submission for March

[Ann Chiappetta]

Approx 1500 words Part one. Warning, moderate off-color language.

Writer's group submission for March 2017

 

Body, Mind, Spirit

By Ann Chiappetta C 2017

 

The waves smacked the   bottom of the dinghy    and the stabs of pain shot
through my head. I opened my eyes and saw pale pink and grey streaks in the
sky. I wasn't sure if it meant that it was close to sunrise or sunset. We
got tossed by the waves again and I   put my head over the gunwale and
retched.  Then I slumped back, the world once more falling away.  

                "Wake her up." 

                "You bastard," 

                "Do what I say and she won't die,"  

Something warmer than the frigid hard aluminum gunwale touched my face. 

                "Amy, get up, babe, its Cole, get up and open your eyes." 

Cole? Why did he sound like that? He sounded worried and it got through the
pain in my head.   I opened my eyes again and met the barrel of a pistol.
Ray was holding it, his face contorted and bruised.  I clutched Cole's hand,
his face was hidden in shadow. but it didn't matter, the gun had all my
attention. The blueish gun metal glinted dully in the shafts of light
breaking through grey November sunset, hurting my eyes. We were heading out
of the harbor. I turned, ignoring the pain and looked ahead. We were
approaching an island just outside the basin. As we got closer I picked out
an Arial tower. I knew then where we were going, Governor's Island.  

 

                The events of the last two hours finally came back with the
vomit and I retched again. I felt the boat shift and opened my eyes.   The
old-World War II Arial tower stood out like a beacon of the past.  The old
jetty had eroded and fallen back into the sea decades ago but the half
submerged concrete slabs remained, canted and broken like a pile of derelict
reminders. The top of the old jetty could be seen, covered in icy slush and
debris.  

 

                "Take the line and tie up. If I think you're doing anything
funny, I'll shoot her." 

 Cole reluctantly did as he was told and secured the craft,  

                Get her out." Ray ordered, steadying himself with the handle
of the outboard motor, pointing the way with the gun. We splashed and slid
our way up the submerged slab of concrete. The icy water soaked our legs up
to the thigh. It was so cold, I stopped feeling like puking 

Ray watched us, trying to keep his balance on the slick concrete ramp after
climbing out of the dinghy. He was still a few feet from the dry land, his
hand on the frozen line when the water surged up the ramp and knocked the
boat into the back of his legs.  He stumbled and fell to one knee, the icy
water dragging him down. Cole sprang, yelling, 

"Amy, run!" 

I watched Cole knock the gun out of Ray's hand before I turned and headed up
the rocky shoreline.  The gun skidded down the ramp under the dinghy and was
lost. I started to run, but then I stopped, feeling dizzy and out of breath.
My world was starting to fall away again. I found something to rest on,
closing my eyes.   

 

                Strong hands pulled me up, "Amy, babe, we're almost safe,
but to be really safe we have to climb."

                "Cole?  Is that you?"  He was pushing me from behind, "I
just want to rest,"

                "We can sleep up there. Let's go."

I had to concentrate to just start up the tower's cold, rusty ladder.  Cole
helped by moving my hands and feet as we made our way up. Once we reached
the last third of the tower, the wind hit us so hard we grabbed at the iron
rungs with renewed desperation.  It was almost dark now and I started to cry
from the pain in my head and the cold and wind ripping at us.

                "You're doing great, just a little farther then you'll be
safe," said Cole kissing my head. 

The tower platform was still so far away; every step up was like being
forced to hold onto ice cubes.  Grabbing the metal sent shards of pain
through my hands and the cramps made my entire body shake. 

. Cole pressed closer, lips pressed to my ear so I could hear him above the
gusting wind.

                "I love you Amy. Don't give up. We'll find a way, but we
have to get to the top." 

I shook my aching head and buried it in his bloody coat. "No, I can't. I'm
so tired . I can't."  I felt his body jerk, and then I felt the thump-thump
below us on the ladder. Ray was coming

*              *        *  

                I met Cole in 1983 while working in a linen shop in a
seaside town called Montclair. He had just been hired as our new stock
clerk. My first impression of him was that he had long, attractive legs and
muscular thighs clad in khaki hiking shorts. My manager, Miriam, a petite
Latino, Tooke two strides for every one of his as they made their way down
the center aisle to her office. By the look on Miriam's face, she was upset
about those shorts. A few minutes later, she came back to the main counter
and took me aside. 

                "That new young man you saw, his name's Cole. I want you to
show him how to bring up stock. He can't work the floor because he came to
work in shorts and it's against our dress code. But he can work in the
basement for today." 

                "No problem," I agreed, "can I take my break first?"

                

I found Cole on the loading dock steps, smoking a cigarette. I lit one of my
own and then leaned on the railing.

                "Miriam said we should get to work in the stock room."

I didn't need to introduce myself; a red and white tag on my shirt did it
for me. It read, AMY-ASST. MANAGER.

                He nodded. I looked down at his legs again.  They were
covered in blond hair and bronzed by the sun. 

                "I guess I can't wear these to work, even if it's hot in
here; against the 'dress code'," He said, pointing to his shorts.

"Can you go home and change?" I asked.

He laughed, a smirk pulling his lips, "No, I live on my Dad's Yacht in New
City. And even if I could get there, I'm locked out until he gets home at
eight o'clock. It's too late by then."

                I crushed out my cigarette and looked at my watch, not sure
if he was telling me the truth or not. 

                "Cigarette break's over, let's get to work." 

 

+++

When I realized, Cole was sticking around, I started taking him seriously.
We talked and joked during inventory counting sessions. He came back to New
York to finish his senior year of high school after getting into trouble on
the west coast. 

"The new husband told me that I was a bad influence on my little brother.
Mom backed the idiot up. Can you believe that crap?"

The situation here didn't sound much better. He and Mr. Tabman fought over
everything, never Seeing Eye to eye, especially about Cole's privileges and
discipline. Daisy, Cole's step-mother, avoided the conflict and left the
yacht whenever Cole and Ray fought. 

                "I know what you mean. I came out here after my mom's
husband made the moves on me. My stepmom didn't want me living with her and
my Dad, so I rent a room at my uncle's house. It sucks."

I rubbed my arms just thinking of the damp lonely basement room that was
barely livable. The indignity of it still riled me up but my Dad helped me
as much as he could while also avoiding the wrath of the step monster. I
sure didn't want to make it any worse on either of us and Dad paid my rent
while I saved for a down payment on an apartment and car. 

  As bad as I thought it was for me, though, my parents never locked me out
or threatened to dump my belongings in the harbor. Cole's father, however,
did this on a regular basis. 

One Afternoon, while we were sitting on our stools folding fifty cent
napkins, The Most Boring Job in Linens, Cole said that he had broken up with
his girlfriend.

                "Why?" I asked.

Cole stopped folding and looked at me, "Well, she's still a virgin."

                "Oh," 

He nodded, "Yeah, we can only have oral sex and she won't treat me to it
even though I treat her all the time."

                I blushed when he looked at me. I wasn't a prude, but at
that time, I hadn't had sex in over a year. 

I caught his smile, and I smiled back, "Wow, I guess you're really horny,
then." 

                "Yeah, I guess I am," he agreed, leaning his knee into mine.


 

                We slept together shortly after that conversation. Cole
volunteered to walk me home after dinner with Miriam and the other employees
following our annual inventory. Our walk-through town was quiet. I listened
to him talk about his plans to start college next year. He wanted to become
an architect.  Sometime after the first mile he reached for my hand.  As we
made our way under the I-95 overpass, we were arm-in-arm.   We came out from
under the overpass and I stopped, facing him.  "Do you like me, Cole?"

He smiled down at me, "Yes, very much."

                "Then make a move."

                "You are my boss, Amy."

                "Okay, then, you have my permission."

He laughed and took my hands in his. Then he leaned forward and put his lips
to my ear, 

                "Are you horny, Amy?" he breathed.

I was surprised at the electric sensation his breath made on my skin.  He
dropped my hands, trailing his fingers up my arms to my face.

It gave me the most delicious goose bumps. Then his hands cupped my face and
we kissed.

  After ten minutes of making out on the sidewalk, Cole pulled away, 

                "If we can't be together now, tonight, I don't know if I can
kiss you again."

All I wanted was Cole, I didn't care if we had to make love under the stars,
it was better than not being able to be with him at all. His touch overcame
the loneliness I'd been feeling for a long time and I gave into the passion.
"There's the reservoir up the street, let's check it out," I said, taking
his hand and pulling him up the hill.

 

                Once the reservoir was in sight, I directed Cole to a side
entrance I knew well, having hiked here with other kids over the years. We
jumped a low fence, following a wooded trail. It ended abruptly and we were
initially disappointed. It looked so different at night. I'd only been there
during the day.  Cole told me to wait and went ahead. He was gone a few
minutes, returning with a triumphant smile on his face. He took my hand and
led me to a glade half hidden by another smaller overpass, a walkway used by
the water works employees during the day. But tonight, it was secluded,
private. 

                We cleared the rocks and twigs from the grass and laid our
jackets down, spreading them out end to end. Suddenly, I felt like it was
the first time I'd ever slept with anyone. It felt as if I'd gone back to
being 16 again.  I sat waiting for Cole, wondering why he was attracted to
me, after all, I was almost 25. 

 

He came back from relieving himself and knelt down in front of me.

                "This place is perfect." I said

He pulled me down next to him and kissed me

"Amy, I've wanted this to happen for so long." He said, "Let me show you
what you've been missing

 

We dozed off near dawn and woke when the birds started chirping. It was then
that I saw the scars.  The pre-dawn light revealed them. Two long red marks
spread from shoulder to shoulder, crossing slightly in the middle. The welts
looked well healed. One wrapped under his armpit and ended halfway across
his chest. I shivered.  

                "What happened?" I asked. 

He shrugged and put on his shirt. 

                "Rope burns," He said. 

I tried to give him a hug but he stood and finished getting dressed. We
didn't speak until we separated near the bus stop. We kissed goodbye and I
walked the two blocks to my cement room.

                When I walked into the linen shop at nine that morning, Cole
was already there sweeping the floor. 

                "Hi Amy," he smiled. We just stood there staring at each
other, goofy grins on our faces. He broke the silence.

                "Did you get enough sleep?"  His hazel eyes danced with
mischief.            

I touched his arm, 

"Not enough, how about you?"  

                "It was rough, but I managed some on the bus ride this
morning. Ray was fuming when I came in. He threatened to kick me out. But it
was worth it." 

He squeezed my hand "Miriam's downstairs," he added, and went back to
sweeping the floor.

                I went down to the basement and put my purse and jacket in
my locker. Miriam was at her desk crunching yesterday's numbers, manicured
nails tapping on the calculator keys. She glanced up, her eyes narrowing as
she watched me get a cup of coffee and sit down on a chair.

                "What kept you up last night, you look tired," she said.

                "I got laid."

"Finally," she said, throwing the word out like a declaration.

"excuse me, Miriam, front's done, do we have any deliveries today?" asked
Cole, standing in the doorway to the office. 

Miriam was quiet, her shrewd gaze taking in how we must have been looking at
one another.

                "Thank you, Cole, the sheet's upstairs behind the register."

He nodded and turned to leave, both of us watching him go.

 

She waited until Cole was out of ear shot then playfully shook her finger at
me, 

"Just remember to be on time when it happens again."

                "I wasn't late today."

She looked up at me, then glanced at the doorway where Cole had just been, a
knowing smile on her Madonna red lips, 

                "Trust me, you will be." 

 

                It turned out Cole was on a strict curfew for our late night
of love-making. He was so furious about it that he didn't admit it until
after quitting time. We stood outside the store, arm-in-arm. I rested my
head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, wishing we could be together
again tonight. I felt his body heat through the polo shirt and thought about
those scars. They looked like whip marks. The welts were long and straight,
similar to the photos of the marks on slaves shown in history books.
Somehow, I had to find out about them. We walked to the bus stop and took
seats under the small shelter. 

"Cole, how did you get those scars?" I asked.

                "Scuba accident." He answered.

                "They don't look like rope burns."

He shrugged and got up to look for the bus.

                "Oh, so now you're an expert." 

                "No, I didn't say that,"

He stood with his back to me for a long time.

                "They're just there to remind me to be careful." He said.

                "To be careful? About what?"

                "Here's my bus. Don't worry, okay?" he turned to me and
smiled, pulling me in for a hug and kiss before jumping on the bus. 

 

 

I turned things over in my mind as I walked home. I was sure those scars on
Cole's chest and back were not accidental and I had a good idea who
inflicted them. Why else wouldn't he say what happened? 

By the time, I made it home that night, I decided on two things: I had to
move out and when I found a place, I'd ask Cole to move in with me.  

 

            +                           *             

 

                On the evening of Cole's 18th birthday, we hopped on his new
motorcycle and followed my directions, stopping in front of a small
brownstone poised on top of one of the hills overlooking the harbor. 

                "I have something to show you." I said, taking off my
helmet. He got off the bike and followed me inside the building and up to
the second floor. I took out the key, entering the one-bedroom apartment I'd
just rented. He looked around, finding the bedroom. As soon as I stepped
over the threshold, he snatched me up and deposited me onto the bed. 

                "I love you, Amy." He said, covering me with kisses. 

 

                Later that evening we met up with some friends at a local
bar to celebrate Cole's birthday and our moving in together.  The drinking
age had just changed to 21 but no one questioned us. We knew the bartender
and made sure there was a soda on the table, just in case we needed an
alibi.

We played a few games of pool and were buzzed when we left, haling a cab
back to the new apartment. 

                As we made our way to the front door of the brownstone, Ray
stepped out from beside the stoop. He looked at Cole, and then at me, his
lip curled in an arrogant sneer. 

                "Out celebrating?" he asked, tripping a bit as he came
closer.

"Leave us alone," Said Cole, leading me up the steps to the door.  "Let's
go."

                "Don't bother coming back to the yacht for any more of your
things, they're with Davey Jones," Mr. Tabman called after us, laughing.

 

                The three weeks in between Halloween and Thanksgiving were
stormy and cold; our part of the Eastern seaboard had record precipitation
and single digit temperatures beginning in October. The stormy weather
seemed to affect our relationship. Ever since Ray's appearance in front of
our apartment building, Cole's nightmares became more frequent and he often
slept not more than four hours a night, his insomnia causing the skin around
his eyes to bruise. The lively, crooked smirk I grew to love was gone, too.
He made love to me as often as possible, however, an almost desperate need
to touch me, to prove to me that he was worth keeping seemed to be the
theme. 

                Even so, there were times he was distant.  At first I
thought it was because he had changed jobs, finally working as a carpenter's
apprentice and joining the local union.   It was an adjustment from the soft
work he was used to at the linen shop. 

Then one evening in early December, he came in late. I looked up from the
book I was reading and couldn't believe what I saw. 

                "Cole, what happened?" I jumped up from the couch. His mouth
and nose were bloodied and one of his cheeks was already swelling. 

                "Got in a fight," He said through swollen lips.  I sat him
down and helped him off with his coat; He winced when the coat dragged over
the knuckles of his right hand.  He held it up, 

                "Not broken," he grunted, flexing his already bruising
fingers. 

                "What happened?" I repeated, going into the kitchen to get
ice. 

                "Ray,", He said. "Jesus, he was slapping Daisy around and I
lost it."

My heart sank, 

                "What were you doing at your dad's?"

After that night in front of our apartment building, Cole had avoided Ray
and Daisy as much as he could.

  I handed him the ice pack and he put it on his cheek. 

                "Daisy asked me to help her move out today. She said that
Ray was going to be late tonight so I said yes, as long as she was sure I
wouldn't run into him."

He popped the two aspirin I gave him into his mouth and washed it down with
a beer. 

"My boss let me out a little early and I got to the yacht while the bastard
was beating her up, throwing her clothes into the water, "He chugged his
beer, finished it, and asked for another before continuing. 

"I ran in and pulled them apart. He swung at me but I ducked and gut-punched
him. I left him on the floor and helped Daisy out to her car. We both left
at the same time."

 

I wet a paper towel and cleaned some of the dried blood from his face.

                "No cops," he said, "I know your Dad would help me but I
don't want you involved, okay?"

                "But ."

He cut me off by pulling me onto his lap, 

                "Promise me, Amy, promise me you won't tell your Dad. I know
Ray. If we ignore him, he'll stop."

I looked into his eyes and thought I saw a flicker of doubt but didn't have
anything but suspicions. I sighed and put my head on his shoulder,

                "Okay, I won't tell Dad,"

 

                That night, Cole fell asleep quickly but I didn't. There
were too many unanswered questions running through my head. Why was Daisy
suddenly asking him for help? Didn't she hate him?  How did she know where
he was working if he hadn't been in touch with them since the night of his
birthday? I fell into a troubled sleep around 3 a.m.                

In the morning   I woke up to an empty bed. Cole had gotten up before dawn
and left. He sometimes did that whenever he was commuting to Jersey or
Manhattan for a job. the questions were still rolling around in my head as I
drove to work.

Once I got to the linen shop, our annual inventory soon distracted me. It
wasn't until Miriam and I had locked the front door at seven that evening
that I remembered those questions. Miriam, astute as ever, picked up on my
mood.

                "Amy, you're looking worried, what's the matter?"  

I shook my head, "Where do I start? I figured once I moved out and Cole
moved in things would get better. But lately, things seem to be getting
worse." 

                "You mean with Cole?" she asked, adding sugar to her tea.
We were alone in the store, the quiet safety allowing me to tell someone
about the past year about Cole's scars, about Ray Tabman's violence, and
finally about Cole rescuing Daisy from being beaten that night on the yacht.
Miriam listened, sympathetic, 

                "I guess what I'm most afraid of is that one day I'm going
to get a call that one of them is in the hospital or worse."

I looked down into my cup, unable to lose the feeling that something bad was
going to happen. When I looked up at Miriam, she was frowning.
"Just be careful, I don't want it to be you." 

 

 

 

 

Ann M. Chiappetta M.S.

 

Author of the poetry book, Upwelling

Availible from e book and print book sellers

 <http://www.dvorkin.com/annchiappetta/> www.dvorkin.com/annchiappetta/

Read my blog:  <http://www.thought-wheel.com/> www.thought-wheel.com/

Follow me on Face book: Annie Chiappetta

Twitter: AnnieDungarees

 

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