The Sea Beach Line Read Online Free Page B

spread the files he brought home from the office out on the table in the evening. My mother warned Becca and me against entering the room when Bernie had his files out, for fear that we would disturb one of his carefully sorted piles. She would shout at us if we even made too much noise in another room of the house while he was working, but he himself never complained. He just smiled half a smile, without looking up from the screen of his laptop or the sheets of numbers in front of him.
    When Becca and I came into the dining room that day, though, nothing was on the table except my mother’s mug of tea, and a paper towel to protect the finish of the wood from the tea’s heat. The mug was still full to the brim, and the paper towel was shredded into littlepieces. Becca and I sat down facing our parents. Were we in trouble? We must have been, because my mother was silent. But I hadn’t done anything.
    â€œYour mother,” started Bernie—we looked at her, but her grinding fury was terrifying, and we looked back at Bernie—“and I have been in touch with your father. I should say, he’s gotten in touch with us. He’s back in New York now, in Brooklyn, and he would like to see you kids.”
    â€œYou don’t have to see him,” my mother interjected. “Don’t feel bad if you don’t want to. There’s nothing he’s done for you that you need to feel obligated.”
    â€œNo,” said Bernie, “you don’t need to feel obligated. You needn’t feel obligated one way or the other. This is a decision you have to make for yourselves. He’s invited you to spend next weekend with him. If you need some time to think about it—”
    â€œI don’t want to go,” said Becca, who was fifteen and getting pretty good at saying things with indifferent confidence. “I’d rather spend the weekend with my friends. It’s Sarah’s party, and you said I could—”
    â€œThat’s fine,” said Bernie.
    â€œI think you made the right decision,” said my mom. “There’s no reason, considering how well you guys have adjusted, that you need to—”
    â€œI’d like to go,” I said. I didn’t know if this was true or not. I missed Alojzy, and going alone without Becca seemed scary. But they were dangling something in front of me—something they didn’t really want me to have—and I had to snatch at it. “I’d like to see him.” Becca glared at me, like I’d said it just to spite her. My mother frowned, but nodded in acceptance. Bernie smiled his usual distant smile behind his round glasses and neatly clipped beard.
    Bernie was going to drive me to Brooklyn the following weekend, but he got called in to work. Alojzy didn’t have a car at the time. My mom made different excuses for why she couldn’t take me. In the end, Bernie and Alojzy worked it out that I would take the Long Island Rail Road into Brooklyn.
    No one was waiting for me when I got off the train at Atlantic Terminal. I leaned against a pole and listened to a hip-hop radio stationon my headphones, trying my best to look cool and tough so no one would bother me.
    Nearly an hour passed, and I became afraid, then sure, that Alojzy wouldn’t come. Maybe if Becca were with me, because he couldn’t leave his królewna alone at night. But he wouldn’t come just for me. He had better things to do. Business that came up, that he had to take care of. Maybe he’d never meant to come. Maybe he wasn’t even in the city. Maybe Bernie had misunderstood. Maybe I had misunderstood.
    Just as I was beginning to despair, and considered calling my mother, a body flew at me from the shadow. I stuck out my arms in defense, but failed to block the hard jab to my side.
    â€œGetting big, eh there, fella?” My father jabbed me again in the side with his right, faked a third right, then landed a light