Jim Shepard - Kiss of the Wolf

“Open the goddamn door I’m not gettin’ in without a present,” Bruno said.

Elena got up from her chair and fumbled with the lock. Neither she nor Bruno said anything while she worked on it. At one point something clicked and she thought she had it. Bruno rattled the handle.

Elena opened the door and stood back.

“Mrs. DeFeo,” he said, exasperated. He was still standing outside, and she was still holding the door. “Good to see you.”

“Bruno,” Elena said. She thought Bruno was hardworking but a pig. He shit on my Nancy, she had told Nina and Joanie.

“Look at this, look at this,” Bruno said, coming in. “Howdy howdy howdy howdy howdy. Todd’s party. The party for Todd.”

“J’ou bring a gift?” Sandro said. He still had his feet up in the air while Nina cleaned, and he looked like he was on a ride. Joanie told him to put his feet down.

Nina finished. Joanie could see how upset she was: mice in the kitchen, no food, the kid’s father not even here, nothing going right. At the sink, rinsing out the sponge, Joanie said, “Ma, don’t worry,” meaning the spill.

“Did I bring a gift? ” Bruno said. “Is it out there on the step right now?”

He looked at Todd. Todd shrugged, as if to say, I don’t know.

“Did I bring a gift?” Bruno said, opening the screen door again. Elena was still standing beside him, waiting for him to settle somewhere before she sat down. “In terms of gifts, I think it’s time to visit Mr. Excess,” he said. He bent down for something right outside the door.

He brought in a square box. It was wrapped in newspaper. Joanie had a frightened flash that it was another lacrosse helmet, that everybody knew about Todd and lacrosse but her.

Bruno caught her looking at him. She thought, This guy. Why’s he so interested? Why’s he so hot for me?

She inventoried him. He was no kid. He was no Mr. GQ , though he usually dressed better than the other guys at Goewey Buick, that was for sure. He had baby skin, but the kind of show-through beard where you had to shave five times a day. No gray. Nice mouth, but his face was jowly. Nice shoes always, Italian, very thin leather. When he stood around like now, he kept raising and lowering his toes, a little gesture of impatience you could watch for.

She looked away and there was Nancy, taking in everything, as usual.

“The kid is a football fan, the kid is a Viking fan,” Bruno said while Todd unwrapped the thing. “Did I buy him a shirt? Did I buy him a pennant? ”

Todd pulled the box free of the paper. It was a football helmet, a Minnesota Vikings football helmet.

“God,” he said. “It’s great.”

“Real thing,” Bruno said. “The one they wear.”

“Where’d you get that?” Sandro said.

“Where’d I get it? I stole it from the locker room. I own the team,” Bruno said. “Where’d I get it.”

“This must be helmet night,” Elena said.

Bruno turned around and gave her a look. “They sell ’em in sporting goods stores,” he said. “You should see. It’s a sight to behold.”

“Bruno, that’s too much,” Joanie said. “That musta cost a lot.”

“You’re welcome, ” Bruno said. Joanie’s great-aunt Clorinda was peering at him. He waved at her. “Bruno, have a seat,” he said. “Bruno, have some wine.”

“Bruno, have a seat,” Sandro said. “Have some wine.”

Elena’s chair was next to Nancy’s. Bruno sat in it like he’d paid for it. “How are you, Nancy?” he said.

“Bruno, I’m fine,” Nancy said.

“That’s good,” Bruno said.

Sandro got up to get another chair. He told Elena to sit in his.

He flipped the record while he was up. Because of the awkwardness of Bruno and Nancy together, everyone listened. Lou Monte again: “Please, Mr. Columbus, Turn-a the Ship Around.”

“Lou Monte,” Bruno said when Sandro came back into the kitchen toting a chair. “Very, very classy. I myself prefer Topo Gigio.”

“Mr. Sophisticated,” Sandro said. He got Bruno a glass.

“I still need to have Wayne Newton explained to me, too,” Bruno said. He turned the glass upside down and cleaned it with his napkin. “Anybody have any ideas, please get right on it. I’m listening.”

“Oh, I like him,” Elena said, from over by the door.

Nancy sang the chorus of “Danke Schoen.”

“We got a mouse over here,” Sandro said. “You missed the big hunt.”

“A mouse,” Bruno said. “You oughta get Sewer Mouth over here.” Because Audrey slobbered on him, he called her Sewer Mouth.

“Bruno, that was too much,” Joanie said. She pointed at the helmet. Todd now had both helmets bumping and clacking together on his lap.

“It cost a bundle,” Bruno said. “You guys are forever in my debt. ”

He turned to the great-aunt. “How we doin’, Clorinda?” he said in his louder-for-the-folks-in-the-Home voice. “You gettin’ out?”

“Hah?” Clorinda said.

“Leave her alone,” Nancy said, but she seemed to be enjoying it.

“I said, You gettin’ out? Dance?” He danced a little figure across the table with his first two fingers.

“Ha,” Clorinda said.

“Nina, siddown,” Sandro said. “The antipasto’s enough.”

Everyone agreed. She brought over the remaining sausage and peppers, with some garlic bread in a smaller dish. She seemed to feel better once she had them on the table.

“How’s business, Bruno?” Sandro said. He liked to bait him, for laughs.

“Don’t talk to me about business,” Bruno said, pouring wine.

Sandro said he looked like he was doing good. Todd yawned widely. It was pretty late for him already, Joanie thought.

Hey, do I look at your bankbook?” Bruno said. “What’re you, the IRS?”

“I thought maybe you could lend me some money,” Sandro said. He winked at Joanie.

“I’ll lend you this,” Bruno said. His hand was between his legs.

“Bruno,” Nina said.

He folded his hands in prayer before him and shook them to show what he had to put up with. “Hey, I’m sorry. Today I had the three lonely guys. The last guy, he wanted to be my friend. He wanted to be with me forever. The guy wants to talk, he wants to relate, he wants to go for long walks in the moonlight, he wants to do everything but buy the fucking car. Pardon my French.”

He caught Joanie’s eyes before she could throw Nancy a sympathetic look. He always, always anticipated her. Two days after Gary left, she’d suddenly been bedridden at her parents’: couldn’t eat a thing, threw up night and day, sweated like a horse. Bruno called the house. “How’s Joanie?” he asked. “She sick yet?”

Nancy passed him the garlic bread, and he took it without looking at it. “This guy, I led him all around the lot, we come into my office to talk numbers. He sits down, he goes, ‘Field of Dreams. There’s a great movie.’ I thought, Give me one break. Not this. Not now. Field of Dreams. Dead baseball players hang out in the tall corn. Every so often, bip, there they are again. Back in the tall corn, huh? I’ll tell you what: a guy comes in and tells me he likes that kind of movie, he might as well just spread the inside of his wallet out on my desk. Just spread it all out and say, ‘Take what you want and leave me bus fare.’”

“I liked Field of Dreams, ” Sandro said. “Wasn’t that the one with Robert Redford?”

“You don’t know,” Bruno said. “Last movie you saw was Pride of the Yankees. ”

They got down to serious eating. The sausages went around the table. People split them so there’d be enough. Bruno got up to go to the bathroom, and when he squeezed by Joanie on the way back, he trailed his fingertips across her shoulder. He was looking at her when he sat down. She raised her chin, worried she looked as ragged and uncomposed as a kid who ran away from home.