INSTALLMENT:
Very early in my career I saw a client at an outpatient clinic who made a powerful impression on me. She was a salt-of-the-earth, up-from-Kensington-to-the-Northeast gal who was feisty, smart and a little bruised from a rough road traveled. This piece is inspired by her, though it only uses a few fragments of her actual story. Since I come from a neighborhood in North Jersey rather similar to Kensington/Fishtown, the scene of her narrative felt familiar. I notice that the language in my version sounds a little like my mother's might if she were telling it. not expensive prom formal gowns below 100

Vicky

I
Vicky's mom
loved pushing her
in the stroller
window shopping
on the avenue.
also loved
chewing the fat
in lawn chairs
on the stoop
summer nights
till swarming
at dark
with neighbor
ladies
to the
tap room
neon window light
thirsty for
a cold one.

after work
at the factory
Vicky's dad
loved dancing
darling daughter
round the kitchen
while mom finished
supper dishes.
also loved tossing
back a few brews
with the guys
after dinner
down the bar.

usually
they'd
wind up
watching
their phillies
or their fliers
together
with the gang
at the corner.

their row home
sat cross
the street
catty cornered
to the fire station.
some nights
screaming
sirens roused
small Vicky
from her sleep.
trucks rippin
an roarin.
dogs howling
round the way.

they'd find her
wet and frantic
clutching
the rail of her crib
when they
stumbled in
'bout eleven

usually
it took
a while
to settle
her down
till they all
fell asleep
together.

II

one St. Paddy's
when Vicky
was bout six
they cleared
the first floor
to make
one long row
of card tables
end to end
small coolers
for beer.
plastic bowls
for chips and
pretzels.

Vicky watched
as neighbors
hauled in
nips and pints
and jug wine
for the ladies.

they sang
Irish
songs
drank
laughed
and drank
lots more.
rowdy
harmonizing
through
the night.

Vicky joined
In with
other kids
swiping sips
from cups till
dad ruined
everybody's fun
throwing punches
at Mr. Ryan
for flirting
with her mom.

in the melee
Vicky got
cut on a broken
pitcher.
eight stitches
at St. Chris'.
dad never
did come home
from the precinct.

never had
another party
at the house.

III

Vicky got
knocked up
first time
she had sex.
night of junior prom.

round her way
they giggled
bout
an expensive
wedding...
pearl handled
shot guns...

smart as a whip.
nuns said
she was
college
material

though they
didn't mention
where the money
would come from.

Timmy was
a piece of work,
a few years older,
hunky
horny
and stubborn
as a cinder block

always with
a brew
in hand
talking shit.

thin skinned
know-it-all
deserving
of a good
swift kick.
or, better yet,
Vicky's mom
would say,
a good beating.

which he never
got but did hand
Vickie
every now
and again
behind nasty
hang overs
from boozing
with the guys.

just before
the second child
was due
Tim went off
bout some
nonsense.
punched and
choked her bad.

down to her
last nerve
Vicky took out
a restraining
order. went
back to mom's.

Tim took
a deal
to avoid
jail time
enlisting
in the service
which
those days
meant
an all
expense
paid trip
to Viet Nam.

Vicky was guilty
grateful
when he
didn't
make it back.

waitressed
at the tap room
till old enough
to work the bar.
poured drinks
while grandma
babysat the boys.

cute as a button.
still with her figure.
lots of tips
and admiration
from the owner.

after Timmy,
Tony seemed
so much
more mature.
the older man
approached
politely
like how Vicky
imagined
a gentleman
would.

they were
soon at it
hot and heavy
after work
till sure
enough
she's got
another
bun
in the oven.

but on account
of the fact
that Tony was
long married
with grown kids
and a wife
on chemo
Vicky
had to go.

picked up
a shift
at the diner
till baby girl
was almost due.

Tony helped with
incidentals:
pampers
and the like.
up to when
he threw a stroke
behind the bar
and passed away.
all of a sudden.
never sick
a day in his life.

IV

heart bruised
and gun shy
Vicky
stayed
single
quite
a while
focused
on the kids
and
slinging
diner
hash.

had regular
good tippers
lining up
for breakfast
wisecracks
smiles
and that
"what can I
offer you,
hon?"
that left
some grown
men
tingling
with
ideas.

that's when
Ron caught
her fancy
not cause he
tried so hard
but cause
he didn't.

Ron wore quiet
confidence
a warm smile
and nice dress shirts
to his office
at a corner table
in the diner.
business card said
insurance agent.
in fact
he was a bookie.

stood out from
Fishtown guys
with his pinky ring
and a gentle manners.
also
the only man
she'd ever met
in her entire life
who golfed.
that seemed
an interesting
kind of odd.
exotic almost.

the flirtation
took forever.

Vicky lingered
mornings
at Ron's table
ribbing
his high
falutin ways
teasing him
for bigger tips

he played
it cool
and slow
rolling his eyes
shaking his head
at her zingers
leaving
folded bills
beneath
the plate.

finally asked
her on a dinner
date to jersey
where Vicky had
only ever been
on a few trips
down the shore.

kept
company
through
a brutal
winter.
saw him
almost
all the time.

Vicky's mom
was charmed.
the children
liked him too.

everything was
copacetic
till springtime
came and
Vicky found
herself
second fiddle
to Ron's first
and favorite
love:
the greens

played two
rounds each
both weekend
days. sometimes
wednesdays
too.

Vicky's fuse
began to
smolder.

had her fill
of being
distant
next in line.

everybody said
she was lucky
to find a guy
who'd tolerate
her situation:
saddled
with a bunch
of kids.
and here's
a guy
with
a few bucks
in his pocket.
owner of
a nice car
and a decent
disposition.

"thank your stars"
came often
as the unsolicited
suggestion.
"take the bad
with the good."
another piece
of sage advice.

which only
served
to piss her
off the more.

Vicky couldn't shake
the gnawing hurt.
and sadness.
or the melancholy.

and a generous
portion of
yearning
to be
that kind
of special
someone
she could
somehow
dimly
recall
yet never
quite
remember.

folks
were shocked
the day she
kicked Ron
to the curb
in spite
of being
pregnant
with her
fourth.

held her head high.
no regrets
she would
admit.

glad to have him
visit with his
daughter when
golf schedules
permitted.
in no need
of further heart
ache from this
or any man
who couldn't
make her
number one.

V

at thirty nine
with four kids
and hot flashes
Vicky says
she's ready
for the change
even if it's
coming early.

probably
shoulda tied
those tubes
stead of
listening
to the priest.

not that she
doesn't
love her kids
god bless em
but enough
is just enough.

not that she's
lookin much
for romance
nowadays.
enjoying
being on
her own
hanging out
on the stoop
with lady friends.
keeping up
with the kids'
school work.
visiting that
program
at the center.

lately she
stares hard
in the mirror
rehearsing
warm
accepting
looks
at the plump
but pretty
face that stares
back grateful
to be cherished
like a favorite child.

P. Bukovec