Five Boroughs 01 - Sutphin Boulevard (6 page)

I managed to mash the right number into the keypad and sat on the edge of my bed, strongly debating calling out. It wasn’t even a matter of being late; I just lacked the mental preparedness to return to teacher mode. There was a Bloody Mary at an outdoor café somewhere on Broadway with my name on it. Going to work sounded like a nightmare.

I took a deep breath, but the phone exploded with sound before I could find any kind of Zen.

Nunzio.

Somehow that surprised me, even though it made perfect sense. He’d returned from Italy in mid-August, but we hadn’t seen each other since our argument in front of the bar. Our communication had been nonexistent while he’d been away, which was more my fault than his.

I chewed on my lower lip and let the phone ring four times before picking up. “Hey.”

“Rise and shine, rock star!”

I lay back on the bed with a groan, squeezing my eyes shut. “You’re so fucking loud.”

“As always,” he said, still sounding entirely too chipper. “Want me to meet you in Midtown? I wanna get to school by 8:00 so I can check out the state of my classroom. I don’t know what those morons did over the summer, and you know damn well we won’t have much time to set up today or tomorrow.”

“I’m not even alive yet. I’ll get there at 8:39.”

“C’mon, Mikey. Don’t leave me hanging. I’ll even get the good bagels.”

Bread sounded like a good idea, but I rolled over and shoved my face into the mattress. “You think Price will be pissed if I call out?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Ugh.”

A rustling sounded and then the squeak of his shower turning on. I wondered if he’d been talking to me while having his morning piss.

“Get up, Michael. Don’t mess around and start the school year like this. You know how they got with us last year.”

Did I ever. Angela Price—our principal—had caught on to the fact that Nunzio and I were coming in late and calling out on the same days, and had thrown a shit fit about professionalism. It had only been a handful of times, and I hadn’t even chipped a dent into my cache of fifty-plus sick days, but our dynamic duo was starting to bug her in general.

“All right, all right. I’m getting up.”

“That’s my man. I expect to see your ass at the station in forty-five minutes.”

“I
S
IT
necessary for you to look that attractive on the first day back?”

Nunzio was tanned five shades darker, and somehow looked fitter than he had been before leaving.

I was lucky to have shaved and showered without cracking my head open or accidentally slitting my own throat. Considering I had spent half the summer in a slovenly daze, it was a miracle that I’d found clothing suitable enough for the mix of yuppies and hipsters that taught at McCleary High School. As usual, Nunzio looked 100 percent better than I did.

I was irritated and sweating after having walked the eight thousand miles across the Times Square station in order to transfer to the train we took together into Brooklyn. McCleary was too far for me to commute every morning now that I’d moved back to Queens, but I was willing to deal with the extra thirty minutes of traveling, since switching schools was more of a pain in the ass. And I was still holding on to a thread of hope that one day I’d return to Manhattan.

Nunzio ignored my pseudo compliment and frowned when I stopped next to him by the inside of the turnstile. A toddler was screaming nearby and a cluster of police officers was standing in front of a discount T-shirt shop as their radios crackled obnoxiously.

“Are you sick?”

I dodged the question by heading for the staircase leading to the N train, walking around a slew of shocked-looking tourists.

“Why are you all pale and skinny?” Nunzio persisted, following close behind.

“Why do you ask so many questions?”

He slapped a brown paper bag to my chest and jogged down the stairs of the platform.

“Everything bagel with butter and jelly, bitch. Now tell me what’s up.”

“How was Italy?”

Nunzio sneered. “Funny you should ask, Mikey. I called you every day I was in Europe, and I got the phone bill to prove it. Ninety-nine cents a minute just to leave your sorry ass some voice mails that you never replied to.”

“I know.”

I bumped my shoulder against his, flashing a tired smile. He scowled and shoved his aviators up on his forehead. His hair was everywhere and longer than it had been in July. I widened my smile until he made a face and grinned back.

“So what the hell have you been up to? I was worried you wallowed in misery all summer, which was pretty much confirmed by Raymond.”

“You spoke to Raymond?”

“Yes. He picks up his fucking phone.”

I felt like a jerk. We began to walk down the platform, navigating the throngs of waiting straphangers to get to the end.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was avoiding reality.”

“Uh-huh.” Nunzio’s brow creased. “Did you just get drunk for the past month? Because that’s what it looks like.”

“Pretty much. I had a steady diet of booze and benzos.”

“Dude….”

“Don’t start lecturing me,” I said. “If you had to deal with my ridiculous family, you would want to put yourself into a coma too.”

“I understand that, but—” Something in my expression must have warded him off, because Nunzio didn’t finish the sentence.

The train rumbled into the tunnel and screeched to a halt as we strode a bit faster to get to the last car. It was too packed to move deeper inside, so I stood with my back to the door and Nunzio facing me.

The motion of the train made my nausea rise, and I fought my intensifying dizziness. I held on to his shoulder to support myself and realized he was analyzing every inch of my face, searching for hints about what I’d done while he was away, and why I’d avoided his calls.

“How’s your pops?”

I shrugged and looked at the people around us. Everyone was on their phone or wearing headphones, completely disconnected from the reality of the morning commute.

“A mess.”

“Like father, like son.”

“Ha-ha. Cute.”

Nunzio smiled and cuffed my shoulder. “Really, though. You haven’t told me anything. Is he still being a pain in the ass?”

“Yes, but it turns out he wasn’t bullshitting about his liver being shot. He’s barely functioning, but that doesn’t stop him from being a dickhead most of the time. He also keeps drinking like a fish. If Raymond doesn’t kill him, the next six-pack will. He doesn’t even go to the doctor like he’s supposed to. We argued about it, but it got so heated I had to give up. I can’t force him to care about himself.”

“I don’t get him. At all.”

“You and me both.” The train stopped at the next station, and I winced, wishing I’d popped a few aspirin. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this. I can’t focus as it is.”

The crush of people in the car intensified, and Nunzio moved closer until we were squished against the door. He didn’t hesitate to align our bodies until we were chest to chest, his mouth brushing my ear. I let him lean into me and didn’t pull away like I normally did when he showed these public displays of affection.

Nunzio was oblivious to the curious stares his touchy-feely nature garnered, but homophobes were generally reluctant to mess with two guys over six feet, no matter how much he cuddled me. And I couldn’t deny that I’d missed it.

“I wish I’d been here with you. I shouldn’t have gone.”

“I wouldn’t have let you stay.”

“Like you could have stopped me?” Nunzio snorted. “I know how you get when you’re all stressed out and depressed, Mikey. I could have at least distracted you so you didn’t feel the need to knock yourself out every night.”

“You distracted me plenty before you left.”

When Nunzio tilted his head back in confusion, I wiggled my eyebrows and smiled at his startled expression.

“I thought you’d forgotten about that.”

“Yeah, right. The one time we fuc—had fun.”

“You never mentioned it again, and then ignored my fucking calls. What did you expect me to think?” Someone bumped Nunzio, and his coffee slopped over the edge of the tiny opening of the cup. “Besides, you could have forgotten about it while you were partying it up. How often did you get laid?”

I’d gotten laid quite a bit if I counted fucking my hand, but interaction with other human beings had been limited to a couple of perverted Grindr chats. Not that he needed that information.

“Enough.”

“Clive come crawling back yet?”

“I saw him out once, but we haven’t spoken. I heard he goes to some swinger club now.”

Nunzio’s brows flew up. “That’s… random.”

I shrugged, uncaring. “I haven’t thought about him much, to be honest. I had enough going on.”

“Yeah, I bet. Did Raymond and your dad ever stop….” Nunzio trailed off when I shook my head. “Damn, still? Why?”

“Because they’re both hardheaded and hot-tempered, and neither wants to back down. Typical tough-guy bullshit.”

“Isn’t Joseph a little old for that?”

“Ha. Tell him that.” The train jolted and rocked so hard that half the people in the car staggered to the side. My head thumped the door and I hissed. “And now I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. If school is good for anything, it’s a distraction from my horrible home life.”

“You said that same shit when
we
were in high school.”

“I’m sure I did. And after all that effort, I ended up right back where I started.” Nunzio opened his mouth to reply, but I waved him off. “No—forget it. Change the subject. Tell me about Italy.”

“You sure, man? If you need to vent….”

“I’m positive. Take my mind off that bullshit for a while.”

He smiled. “I’ll try.”

M
C
C
LEARY
H
IGH
School was what happened when a principal got a brand-new school with a brand-new building and had the opportunity to handpick staff from the ground up. Most of the teachers were in their midtwenties or even younger, and transplants from an out-of-state school—sometimes an Ivy. Everyone thought they were saving the world, or the poor inner-city kids, and being around them made me want to throw myself from the rooftop.

This feeling hit me as we entered the building for the first time since June. I was immediately summoned to Price’s office. Apparently I was the only one with a one-on-one meeting on the first day back, because the main office was a ghost town, with the exception of a neat stack of agendas by the sign-in log.

I sipped Nunzio’s coffee while reading the planned activities. It was a lineup of the exact same fun-filled shit we’d done on the first day last year, which meant the day would turn into me reviewing old lesson plans and following pundits on Twitter.

“Michael, you can come in.”

Wishing I’d worn something less casual now that I was being graced with Her Majesty Principal’s presence, I gripped the coffee cup and went inside. It looked the same as it always did, and I was briefly struck by how much it felt like no time had passed at all. A lot had changed since June, but there was no sense that I’d been out of the building for longer than a week.

“How was your summer?”

I sat across from her. “It was okay. You?”

Price made a so-so gesture, and I got a load of the diamond-covered bracelet on her wrist. She looked different. Shorter hair, deeper tan, and she wasn’t wearing her usual tweed ensembles, which made her look a lot younger.

“I went on vacation with my kids, so they had a great time.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “What did you want to see me about?”

Price leaned back in her chair. “There are two things we need to discuss, only one of which you will be glad about.”

“Okay….”

“I’m replacing you as team leader for the tenth grade.”

I nodded slowly, face frozen in a mask of neutrality. Being grade team leader amounted to nothing more than organizing meetings and delivering information to the rest of the tenth grade teachers, but it had sucked up an additional couple of hours a week that I’d been reluctant to spare. Not having the extra responsibility would be a load off my mind, but I didn’t really see her making the executive decision to remove me as being a positive.

“Any reason why?”

“I heard you weren’t happy.”

Fucking rats
. I tried to remember to whom I’d complained who would have repeated my words, but months of drinking had cleansed my memory of anything related to work.

“I see.”

“Are you displeased with my decision?”

“Not as long as it didn’t come from you deciding I’m suddenly not up to par.”

She flipped a ballpoint pen between her fingers. “There were some comments made about you from the leadership team.”

Oh brother. Here comes the bochinche….

“It was stated that you weren’t being as much of a team player last year as in previous years, and that you were being contrary about several decisions being made on the third floor.” Price didn’t seem to be expecting a response from me, because she flicked her fingers dismissively and moved on. “In any case, you won’t have to worry about that this year.”

“That’s fine.” And it was, but now the possibility of people whispering behind my back during summer school would nag at me. “Who’s replacing me? Nunzio? He’s been teaching the longest besides me.”

“No. That’s the other change I needed to discuss with you.”

“Regarding Nunzio?”

“Yes. I’m moving him from the tenth grade team.”

The statement sent a shard of outrage through me in a way that my own demotion had not. I didn’t try to maintain the facade of apathetic professionalism. “Why? We’ve all been together for the past four years. Our team is solid.”

“Your team was solid until last year when there were issues with professionalism.”

“Ms. Price, we called out simultaneously two times in four years.”

“Two times in the same year on a Monday, as well as showing up late at the same time three times, and there were accusations of cliquish behavior on your floor. Apparently some people felt there was an unwelcoming vibe created by your inner circle.”