That summer weekend was like long before, parked on the dead end block and knocked on her front door. Jen warmly greeted me, what up T? As I look back to my double parked hooptie. I said, too bad we’re not rolling in a rimmed-up Escalade, we can arrive in style to the parade. Shawn came out fanning 20’s look who got paid! She explained his check finally came in. That botched up surgery from his busted knee finally chalked up for a win. Yippee to disability! Jen said, we’ll take my father’s drop top, I’ll drive. Let’s go! To which I then replied, hell no! I’m not getting pulled over by a cop! Besides, my family needs me back home today in one piece and alive. We all agreed there was hardly any room in that back seat. Y’all will need to stretch out your legs and knees and have more room for them big feet. My German sport-wagon was a more sensible decision, I can pull u-turns and hug street corners with precision, plus parallel park in any tight spot, bonus, the panoramic roof if we get hot. They pile in, a day off from their weekly sin. Shawn’s boy, Charlie, also getting in, he came by, he and I, well us two we kept them this whole time in our purview, as their ever-present bodyguards. On our way to have a good day, we went on a slow ride, coasting at lawful speeds down Woodhaven to Crossbay Boulevard, a field trip of our city, like little kids down right giddy in the back of my car, until they flip the script. I said where to? A pickup spot, off Sheepshead Bay, not far!
I blast a tune I can’t resist, it’s Jimmy on my playlist, a Merman’s serenade to get us in the mood for the infamous Mermaid Parade.
my love and me decide to take our last walk through the noise down to the sea not to die but be reborn away from life so battered & torn, forever, forever
This would be their wedding march and preemptive dirge before the seas of life would seize them in a great surge. I look upon these washed up lovers in search for angels hovering over Brighton Beach boardwalk, discovering we’re amped up now as the sunshine glistens, getting in a good listen and a proper talk. Why, we felt like scumbag royals roaming these scuzzy streets of New York. Now we sit down for a high noon snack, as Shawn comes back with two foaming crisp cold mugs in each hand, plus shots of vodka chasers, reminiscent of drunks from my native land. There is just one insight left to understand, I went this far with them because I somehow knew over this brew this was their last hurrah.
And so my darling and I make love in the sand. To salute the last moment ever on dry land.
A refurbished school bus rolls up in front of us competing over sounds from a distant street band. The perfect cross-section of this city dreamland dusted with dirty beach sand, where Russians immigrants have their local food stands and Nuyoricans seeking their daily dose of fun in the golden rays of sun with 14 karat chains, peculiar dudes and their ways strolling along odd fancy dames, busy life entertains, a city contains the love that overpowers and remains in this magic light. Whimsical sea urchins that delight strolling along local merchants, playful dogs and misbehaved kids, conservatively clad Hassids, young lads, scantily dressed eastern European party moms, loud warped sounding car alarms, rows of benches as summer heat drenches local denizens, former World War Two partisans, Dedushkas, Babushkas, surfside seafaring strangers, friends facing life perils, pitfalls, innumerable dangers.
Still mesmerized by images and that prophetic Hendrix tune, the sun was heating up as we crossed caddy corner to the bodega to get a pack of Newports down on Neptune. A perfect late June afternoon, these twenty years came by and went too soon. Enveloped by warm ionic oceanic Brooklyn breezes as my photographic mind frame freezes each little moment. Each perfect day on earth is always heaven sent.
I look out to see, as Shawn reclines back and sparks a Dutch, jotting our fading memories, he said “you know, I don’t need much”, Jen and Charlie agrees. His worldly wisdom packed a punch, his scoundrel eyes peaked out from the brim of his cap smirking, as usual full of crap, his mind was wasted but still working. He wasn’t someone that could ever win, he could live or die, lie and not bat an eye, he didn’t care so long as Jen was always with him there by his side. I wasn’t even sure if that was his honest truth or painful pride. They carried on as best they could, floating through life like two love bugs on driftwood. Slow drags, skanking it easy, whiffs and wafts of weed, their life would still proceed, for what it’s worth, they got enough of what they need. She leans in and says “baby, before our life is through, I’ll say these realist words to you. I’d rather wear these old torn up rags, live out of garbage bags, I’d rather sleep on the street or in our car’s backseat, than some sprawling mansion”. To most this derelict life is illegitimate and alarming. To her, it’s a fairytale and he was her one and only Prince Charming, tender tough guy sweet and handsome. And then I heard the pounding heart beating rhythm ripe for dancing. That music school bus was so entrancing. And for whatever heartaches they faced at least their love wasn’t a waste. Charlie and I gave them our complete blessing. Viewed as real love, their addiction felt a little less distressing. They quietly muttered their “ I love you”. They might as well have said their “forever I do” for what it’s worth, they were as one, these two. Epitome of love and care, to separate them now no one would dare.
As eyewitnesses, we’d be remiss not to insist we commemorate this momentous bliss. Never too late, I suppose to celebrate, accept fate, couldn’t berate, and so this twenty year reunion counted as their 20th anniversary date. Thumping beats from that ol’ school bus, pulled up and parked nearby as if just for us. Odd timing for a reunion with this motley crew. I suppose this was an occasion long overdue. An informal wedding, on that day we knew exactly who they were and where they were heading. A drunken mood, a perfect city setting. They lived happily forever, or so the story goes, before they encountered more than their share of marital woes. But that one day I finally heard what they had to say, they chose each other and we accepted their wayward way, summer vibes, bright smiles, something good, that could sway, steer them to find better days, a soothing mood that can temporarily mend. No longer forcing them to come clean or pretend. We accepted their life and tired trends, as people and childhood friends. All they ever needed, all they asked for was for us to understand. Their reality wasn’t one I can defend.
But real is real and love is love. Nothing prepares one for darkness when it finally descends except acceptance of tomorrow, sobering years, dose of sympathy, therapy to get them through sorrow and somehow know – it’s not the end.