A Way to Get By (5 page)

CHAPTER 8

You Oughta Know by Now

BRENDA

Monday, November 10

1969

“I
mean it, Virginia! We’re really through this time!”

   Ginny was trying to keep herself from smiling as she said, “Yeah, I’m sure
this time
, your breakup will really take.”

   My best friend stared me down across the cafeteria table as if I were a petulant child, which was really starting to irritate me. Sure, Eddie and I had experienced a chaotic start to our relationship, but I was positive all that turmoil was in the past. How come she couldn’t see how serious this was? “He was
late
for our anniversary dinner!”

   Ginny jabbed her fork into her baked ziti before pointing it at me. The gooey noodle levitated on its harpoon between us as she fired back, “It was your
one month
anniversary, and you can hardly blame him for being late. His car got a flat tire and he had to run the last mile to your house!”

   “He wasn’t running because he was concerned about being late for dinner. He only ran because he was trying to get laid quicker.”

   “And that is insulting to you because…”

   “Because we’ve only been together one month!”

   Somehow, Eddie had gotten it into his head that I’d planned the fancy dinner to make our evening special. Not because I wanted to celebrate our anniversary, but because I’d changed my mind about sleeping with him. The thing was, I just wasn’t ready. Maybe taking someone’s virginity was no big deal to him—Lord knows he’d done it enough times to countless other girls—but
giving
it was a big deal to
me
.

   I thought he understood that.

   “He’s gone to bed with plenty of other girls in a lot less time than that,” she huffed.

   “Well, I’m not one of them.”

   “Obviously.”

   Her answer was delivered a little too matter-of-factly for my tastes. My defenses were up as I asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

   Ginny rolled her eyes and explained, “You
did
tell him your parents weren’t going to be home until very late.”

   “So?”

   “And you did tell him you wanted to ‘celebrate.’”

   I got where she was going, but my righteous indignation was still firmly in place as I snipped, “With a nice dinner! Which, I’ll remind you, was cold by the time he got there.”

   She lowered her fork and raised an eyebrow. “The dinner may have gone cold, but from what I heard, Eddie was all fired up.”

   I finally understood what my best friend was trying to tell me. “So… what? It’s my fault for leading him on? Just because we had a rare night with the house to ourselves, he assumes that means we’re going to sleep together?” Ten seconds after Eddie had made his way inside the house, he was pawing at my body and trying to lead me upstairs. I resisted, and a big, hairy fight had broken out between us. I thought he was moving too fast. He thought I was leading him on.

   “Look, Brenda,” she said through a sigh. “You can’t really blame him; it’s just who he is. I’m not saying it’s right, but how many girls have you ever known to pass up the opportunity to sleep with him?”

   “That’s part of the problem,” I grumbled.

   My friend offered me a sympathetic smile. She knew I was scared enough about losing my virginity. But losing it to Wilson Joel
Edwards was positively terrifying. The boy had done it with everyone from Staten Island to Cape May. Aside from Ginny, I was practically the only female left on the eastern seaboard he hadn’t slept with. And trust me, Eddie was well aware of that actuality. He was already starting to get frustrated with me. It felt like Terry Wilmington all over again. I was sure Eddie was only minutes from dumping me for a faster girl.

   “It’s only a problem if you make it one. I happen to think you’re amazing for not falling into bed with him like every other girl in this school.” She said that last part a bit too loud, and the table of cheerleaders to my left all lifted their heads to aim dirty looks at her. She gave a huff and fired back, “Yeah, you heard me. Every
one
of you!”

  
I almost choked on my deviled ham sandwich.
“Ginny!”
I whisper-shouted. “We do
not
need to get jumped by the entire female population of this school. I’m already on their bad side as it is.”

   That was the truth. I’d never received more scathing glares or more snide comments in my life than I had in the past four weeks. And why wouldn’t I? I was the evil witch who pulled their favorite piece of meat off the market.

   The thought had me smiling.
I
did that. Me. Brenda Rinetti.

   Eddie may have been with countless girls, but I was the only one he ever asked to be his
girlfriend
.  Maybe I was doing something right after all.

   As if to confirm my thoughts, Eddie swooped into the cafeteria at that exact moment. Every female head turned—they always did—as he strutted down the side aisle, his eyes darting around for mine. When he spotted me, the most broken look played out across his gorgeous face as he weaved through the tables toward me, eventually dropping to his knees at my feet. “Baby. I’m sorry.”

   I was feeling self-conscious about the many eyes surreptitiously turning in our direction.

   Everyone was watching. And they were listening.

   “Eddie, please. Let’s not do this here.”

   “Do what?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist, causing me to drop my banana. “I can’t go on like this. You’ve been avoiding me all morning. When we talked yesterday, I
knew
you were still mad at me, and now today, you’re proving it. Baby, please tell me we’re not over.”

   At those words, it was as if the entire cafeteria leaned in closer to hear my reaction. Every girl was hoping I’d confirm the breakup while every guy was panicked at the thought.

   I looked down at Eddie, on his knees, his head buried in my pleated skirt.
Always so dramatic, this boy.
Although, I guess I had a flair for theatrics myself. I twirled my fingers in his unruly hair and added a bit of quaver to my voice as I said, “You really hurt me, Eddie.”

   He looked up at me, those blue-green eyes broken and pleading. “I know. It’ll never happen again. I’ll never just assume you’re ready; I’ll wait for you to
tell
me. I can wait, I swear. I’ll wait forever if I have to. I love you, Bren.”

   My throat constricted at his admission. We’d been crazy about each other for three years, officially going steady for four weeks, but we’d never said that before. “You… You do?” I asked, perfectly stunned and dumbfounded. “And you tell me for the first time
here?
” I added, more than a little dispirited.

   That made a wide smile crack his gorgeous features. “Yes, here. I want everyone to know.”

   Before I knew what was happening,
his body brushed by my seated form as he stepped up onto the table. His booming voice carried across the expansive room as he broadcasted, “You hear that, everyone? I just told Brenda I loved her! Let me make sure all of you in the back got that. I. LOVE. BRENDA. RINETTI!”

   As the entire cafeteria exploded in laughter and applause, I clamped a hand over my mouth. I was thrilled by his pronouncement but that didn’t mean I wasn’t mortified. “God, Eddie! Get down!” I laughed, tugging at the cuff of his pants.

   He shot me a wink and continued bowing to his fans. But instead of getting down, he grabbed my hand and hauled me onto the table with him. Before I could object to such craziness, he pulled my face to his and branded his mouth to mine. The clapping got even louder once it was joined with some hooting and hollering, and even still, I was able to tune it out to get lost in Eddie’s kiss.

  
He slipped his hand around to the back of my neck, holding my gaze fixed to his. For all his showiness, the next words were spoken low enough for only me to hear.
“I love you like crazy, Bren. Stay with me forever.”

   I saw the sincerity in his eyes, felt the emotion pouring out of his soul. All that time, I thought he wasn’t willing to wait for me to give myself over to him. Turned out, he didn’t want to wait to give
himself
over to
me
. “Yes, Eddie, I love you too. You and me. Forever.”

   Those ten words earned me another heart-shredding kiss. I thought we’d never stop, but Mr. Sasso had beelined over to our table to handle the situation with his typical
Lawng Island
charm. “Okay theah, love birds, this isn’t Woodstock. Brender… Edwids…” he said in his native New York accent. “That was very impressive. But I gotta ask ya to get down awff the table now, please.”

   I tore my mouth from Eddie’s, completely mortified. It was bad enough that we were making out in front of the entire student body, but it was completely humiliating to do it in front of the teachers. How embarrassing!

   The applause had petered out anyway, so Eddie hopped off the table before clamping his hands on my waist to help me down. Thank God he did. That was one heck of a kiss and I was feeling pretty dizzy.

   We escaped down the hallway
Fugitive
-style
,
trying to find a private moment away from prying eyes. Our admission in the cafeteria was a pretty monumental deal, and we wanted to bask in our words a little while longer.

   Stolen kisses under the stairwell turned into Eddie’s hands groping under my Oxford. Not only did I let him do it, I let him do a whole lot more in the backseat of his car later that night.

   People didn’t call him Fast Eddie for nothing.

CHAPTER 9

The Night is Still Young

EDDIE

Monday, September 22

1980

“T
he pot roast is fantastic, Gin,” I offered, trying to keep the conversation light. The four of us were having a pleasant enough evening, which was surprising, given the nature of this particular dinner.

   But I figured the longer we dragged out the small talk, the longer Bren and I could avoid answering any questions about our separation. I just wasn’t ready for the Spanish Inquisition that was surely coming.

   “Thank you. It’s Anthony’s mother’s recipe.”

   “You should serve it at the restaurant,” Brenda piped in.

   Tony wiped his mouth with a napkin, threw the thing on top of his plate, and leaned back in his chair. “Nah. It’s not really an Italian dish. I start adding in stuff like this, my whole menu will be skewed.”

   “Well,” Brenda amended pleasantly enough, “then I’m going to insist you give me a copy of the recipe. I never know what to make when it’s my night to coo—”

   Instantaneously, Bren’s smile turned downward along with her eyes once she realized what she’d said. But who could blame her for the blunder? Our separation was too new to break out of old habits. And with the four of us seated around the table like any other ordinary Monday, it was easy to see why she slipped. The problem was that we’d been together too long. All four of us; not just Bren and me. It was going to de difficult as all hell to get used to being apart.

   Ginny attempted to fill in the awkward silence. “I made carrot cake for dessert. Brenda? Will you help me clear the table? You boys can wait for us in the living room.”

  
Smooth, Gin.
Why not flash a neon sign that says WE’RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT YOU WHILE WE’RE IN THE KITCHEN.

   In any case, I took Tony up on his offer of a cigar, so he grabbed the Remy Martin and we headed out onto the front porch. I took a seat on one of the powder-coated metal chairs and tipped my head up to the sky. There was only the slightest chill out, and it was a clear, cloudless night.

   Tony cut a Macanudo for me and handed it over along with a snifter of cognac. I dipped an end of the cigar in the amber liquid and lit the other with Tony’s Zippo. Flipping the lid closed, I inspected the silver lighter in my hand, taking special note of the engraving:

Brenda and Eddie

July 26, 1975

   I held it up, practically accusing him with my eyes. “I haven’t seen this thing since I gave it to you at our wedding rehearsal. Did you break it out tonight on purpose?”

   Tony smiled and raised his eyebrows as he snatched it out of my hand. “I swear I didn’t. At least not consciously.” He lit his cigar before leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretched out toward the railing, crossed at the ankles. “But now that you mention it…”

   My question had inadvertently set him up with an opening to pry into the subject of my failed marriage. I wasn’t much looking forward to discussing it. “Jesus Christ.”

   “Nope. Just your old pal Anthony.”

   “Are you really going to make me talk about this?”

   With the cigar clamped between his teeth, Tony clasped his fingers behind his head. “Isn’t that what we’re
supposed
to do?”

   “I was kind of hoping the night would just sort of stay on the course we’ve been following.”

   “I know you did.” He gave a shrug and added, “I think all four of us are trying to avoid talking about it. Maybe it’s like a psychological thing, trying to hold onto the last moments of our foursome.”

   “Before it all gets blown apart?”

   “Something like that.”

   I took an inhale off my cigar and ran my hands through my hair. My next words came out amidst a cloud of smoke. “Kaboom, dickhead.”