Korê in New York

What happens when a kid refuses to leave the past behind? What happens when the past won't go away? Read on and don't worry about the emotional damage.

1. Empathy

   I guess I must have had a sense of duty. I left the last part of my rough draft of my paper on a Connecticut Yankee unwritten and hurried back to the Official Teen Pavilion in time for the dinner break. The place felt old, and that is the best way I can describe it. Stale might be a better word though.

   There were half a dozen kids milling around on the porch. Actually there were eight but the two very big boys went to dinner with a very, pretty blonde girl whose “older sister” came to claim her. The other five kids stood in an unhappy hurd. I recognized Curly, Simone, and the blonde boy from the trip to the nature preserve this morning. Amanda and Haley came out on to the porch. “Kore has been here a few days and really knows her way around,” Amanda began. “She’s going to take you to dinner.”

   I had planned on eating Caribbean and thought of foisting the restaurant that served me conch chowder on to this hapless group, but decided that General Island Cafeteria at Level S4 in Building 5 was a better choice. I also wanted to take these kids to get resort maps with indexes. Most of these kids could read, unlike Sailor’s daughter. Maybe seeing everywhere they could go would make them forget the few places where they weren’t welcome.

   Walking bore the blonde boy. A girl with red hair asked why we weren’t eating in the Food Court.

   “I’m supposed to give you a tour,” I replied.

   “It’s just a bunch of hotels,” the jaded girl answered.

   “Yeah, but they have all kinds of stuff in them.” That was how we ended up in the basement.

   “A whole underground city,” Simone summed it up. Maybe she really was a quick study.

   We reached the cafeteria which had some American fast food and pizza. That was what two of the boys got. Curly had ice cream, french fries, and a big Diet Coke. I looked at the Caribbean counter to see if they were serving goat or conch. They had fried abelone and also oxtail stew. I went for the stew over rice.

   We did not have a lot to say at dinner. Curly had done her share of support. The blonde boy who was a fellow New Yorker wanted to go to Fashion Institute of Technology. He had also been in “THE RALLY” which turned out to be the rally at NYU in late October. I thought of my imaginary picture of middle schoolers boarding the bus on a grey Wednesday. Thankyou Despina!

   Blonde boy did not fit into that picture. “What did you think of it?” I asked him.

   “It was great. We were going to rule. No more school… The strike got really old fast. I sat through weeks of detention. Still get detained. Do support, but it’s like at the rally. You cheer and you take over a place and then worry about toilets getting stuffed up.

   “My mom made me a Black Forest cake when I got back from the Rally and Dad wouldn’t speak to her for a week. He wanted me punished. Punishment doesn’t work but so what. What do we have… We still haven’t decided. I mean I don’t mind doing it for a year or two, but after ten years.

   “I’m going to grow up. I want to do something that suits me, something fun, something important.”

   “So you have a tutor,” the cynical Simone wanted to wind up the story.

   “Heck yeah… He’s nice…hot but, well he likes girls. Fine. A lot of guys do.  One of the great things about ECBAS is they made it really easy to come out. At least I thought that, but the leadership at my school, well they’re straight and they decide who gets what jobs and your job decides your rating. I learned that here. I’m glad I’m going back to the city in five days.”

   “It’s hard to explain to grownups how much you need friends in this world,” Simone explained, “and friends in high places if you know what I mean.”

   I thought of the Fast Crowd in Houghton. I wondered if Stephenna and here buds were here. I tried not to think about that. I wasn’t going to see them. The barriers that isolated me protected me. There was great joy in walking away, though a part of me would never leave.

   We walked back slowly. Curly was whining: “Most of the activities we can do here are so gay. I’m sorry Bart. I know you really are, but you know what I mean, and when I get back all the clueless adults are going to ask if I had a good time and I’m going to have to lie about it.”

   I had nothing to say. Then I thought of something: “The trouble is not with the grownups. It’s with your leadership. They sent you here thinking you had the points or not caring. You got here and suddenly you were chopped liver. You have a right to be disappointed and maybe even betrayed.”

   “The leadership is all we’ve got,” Simone corrected me.

   “Then you need to deal with it or you need to go somewhere else.” It was time to hand out the business cards. Simone rolled her eyes and the blnode boy stared at the ground. The other kids took the cards, and it was a new experience for them.

   “How’d you get here?” Curly asked.

   “My family hosted an ECBAS kid at Christmas and her family returned the favor. My dad sometimes does consulting for Star Corps.” I had the lingo down pat.everal of the kids laughed, an uncomfortable, nervous laugh.

   The sun was nearly down and the Christmas lights were on, on the Official Teen Pavillion’s porch when we returned. DJ Jersey Dom already had the music cranked up, but Curly refused to enter the disco.

   “It’s so gay in there!” she exclaimed.

   “You said it,” Bart replied.

   ---

   Out on the beach the big boys with the hot, blonde, girl stood in an uncomfortable huddle. One of them motioned to Bart who loped over to join them followed by Curly and Simone. I tried to join the group but a boy with huge shoulders and a thick head of black hair winked and then shook his head. “Go inside and play video games,” he told me.

   I retreated. I had a paper to work on. I wasn’t up to standing in the basement disco with a few clueless middle schoolers until I could help with the social dancing lesson. By tomorrow night, this whole scene would be gone.

   I told Dylan who was minding the video games that I was going to the business lounge to finish writing. He shrugged. Just then Haley raced into the video game room. “Dylan, they’re going to storm Club Tiqi,” she began.

   “Storm Club Tiqi,” Dylan looked ready to laugh.

   “Yes,” answered Haley.

   “Can you talk to them?”

   I followed Dlyan who ran down the porch steps and on to the beach. The teens led by the big boys were loping along the sand. Curly had pushed up to the head of the crowd. She took the map and index, I had gotten for her and showed it to a big boy with brown hair to the nape of his neck. The black haired brute who had shooed me away looked as well.

   Club Tiqi was listed. It was also listed as off limit to teens without reservation, much like the casual club that shared our beach in front of Building One. The boys did not know the beach trails but Simone remembered them, so she led the horde. Dylan and I were now walking with them. They did not run. It was a hot night and everyone had to make sure they were headed in the right direction.

   Dylan pushed to the head of the crowd. I heard him say something soft to the boys. The soft conversation turned into a heated argument about how sometimes one needed to resort to violence as when the Youth Voices kids “put those professors in their place.”

   “Rotten Robby Rot in Rikers,” I half sung to myself as a protective mantra.

   We were nearly at Building Three. Club Tiqi was on a porch overlooking the beach. It was an adult club like so many others. It was larger than the Official Teen Pavillion’s basement disco, and it also served alcohol, but it still had a DJ spinning MP3’s and a lot of older teens and adults milling around and not dancing for fear of embarassemnt. I could see that through the big glass windows of the porch. I saw the colored lights and the fog machine both of which impressed me. I imagned myself talking to the lighting tech. Maybe he would be an interesting paid employee instead of an ECBAS zealot.

   We entered Building Three and took the elevator up to the mezanine. The entrance to Club Tiqi was built inside the hotel which allowed for security. The place had two big doors one of which was only part way open and a phalanx of bouncers and hostesses guarding the promised land.

   “See,” Dylan told his charges. “You can’t get in.”

   “We’re gonig to take ”em,” black haired Big Boy told the counselor who was after all, only a paid employe. “Just like Cole-um-be-a!”

   “Rot in Rikers Rotten Robbie!” I called out.

   Big Boy turned to me. “Go back and play on the computers,” he sneered.

   The other Big Boy cut a giant Bronx cheer. Yes, this was the height of maturity, but several of the kids laughed.

   “Here’s the plan,” black haired Big Boy shouted. “We’re going to get chairs from the lobby and rush like battering rams. Got that.”

   “Rot in Rikers Rotten Robbie!” I called out again.

   “Yeah sure…”

   “I was there when he was arrested.”

   “Really…”

   “RoAnn Testa is my stepmother!”

   “Fuck,” sighed black haired Big Boy.

   “Well go on  home to mommy,” sighed his brother. “You don’t belong here.”

   “Neither to you,” Dylan tried in vain to stop this.

   “Are you aware what is going to happen to your reports and scores?” Dylan continued. “You’re going to destroy any standing you have.”

   “Fuck that….Everyone back home knows who I am,” explained black haired Big Boy. “They just fucked it up here, and they’re going to pay.”

   With that the boys and their followers trooped off to the lobby. Bart, the blonde boy, and Simone stayed behnid. They glanced nervously at Dylan. Dylan glanced past them. I knew about Dylan’s divided loyalties. I had no such problem.

   “Simone and Bart,” I suggested. “Let’s go back the way we came. You don’t want to mess with this violent shit.”

   Bart and Simone did indeed follow me. I did not realize until we were on the beach trail that I was both shivering and covered in sweat. I also realized that like Lot escaping the fires of Sodom, I had walked away from Club Tiqi and never looked back.

   I stayed at the Official Teen Disco until 2am. Bart showed me some social dancing moves. I did not find Bart handsome. My tastes ran toward less fashionable and more boyish boys. I did find him good company. Bart even taught Simone some dance steps. “I still believe in that stuff about being beautiful on the inside,” she told me.

   “Do you think I’m beautiful?” I asked her.

   “Sometimes. Sometimes I think you must be very angry.”

   “You’re right,” I answered.”I think it’s very hard not to get angry if you’re a decent person.”

   “I try not to get angry. I know I’m going to art school when I’m eighteen.”

   “You’re gonig to walk away from all this bullshit.”

   “Yeah…How about you.”

   “I did my walking away when I was fourteen but it follows me.”

   “That doesn’t sound good.”

   “It’s not, but it’s life.”

   When I left the Teen Pavillion it was after 2am. I did not care about coming back to the villa late. I was not going to sleep anyway. I washed my laundry and dried it so I would not return with dirties. This was how Dad came home. I left a note and went to General Cafeteria #1 at 4:30am to get a Dr. Pepper for an early breakfast.

   At 6am my host family in my villa arose. We checked out and took the ferry to Provodenciales. It was a beautiful ride, as all crossings in daylight are. It was especially beautiful in the early morning. I tried not to think about my “goodbyes” to Haley and Jersey Dom. I did not see Dylan, Amanda, or Craig. I left them notes. I would miss them. I had Simone’s email addiress. She was disappointed I did not have a Facebook profile. Let’s just say I am very cynical about the adult world with good reason.

   Our private jet left Provodenciales around 9am. I hoped I would sleep through the flight to Miami. Instead, I listened to Hannah, Margolin, and Davida relay the story of the failed invasion of Club Tiqi by a band of “gay losers.”

   “They thought they could knock down the door with chairs. There were a couple of stupid jocks, football players or maybe stupid heavy weight wrestlers….steroid junkies,” Davida began.

   “They swung their chairs,” Hannah continued. “You cold hear the slamming and thumping, but the bouncers closed the doors and they’re strong. Some of the kids were scaird the boys would break the windows.”

   “That stupid counselor tried to stop them,” Kayla added an adult perspective. “He called security, but it took a long time for them to get there.”

   “Meanwhile, they had their own party in the lounge,” Margolin giggled. “That must have been real gay. They destroyed all the furniture. One of the boys even peed on the rug.”

   “Those boys are gonig to get theirs when they get back home,” Davida ended the tale.

   I stared at the clouds which made frigid castles in the early morning sky with nothing but slate, blue ocean below. I shivered. I still had a third of a paper to write. I had math problems to practice. I needed to email Ms. Marmelstein and stay in toch with Simone and Mitchell. I knew I’d never see the counselors again. They’re jobs were at risk of they communicated with me. I’d spent a week incommunicado exept for when I recruited Mitchell. I would miss the counselors. All of them, including, Dylan were among the bravest people I knew and among the most compassionate. I am glad I could tell their story as part of my own.

   It was not quite 11am when we landed at Miami. I had to get through customs and then I told the Sidlows, I wanted to return to the regular part of the airport right away. They delayed but sent me back across the endless blacktop with a minion. I did not thank them. I don’t feel bad about it now.

   I had no time to get lunch since there is a fairly long procedure to check in for a commercial flight. I was glad to get through security and into the lounge. I bought a Coke and drank it while I watched the planes lumber across the tarmac and paid employees serve them like minions of great beasts. I felt light headed and empty.

   I finally dozed on the plane to New York. I was one of the last to deplane at Newark. I was unsteady on my feet. My head throbbed. The paid employee who minded the desk asked me if I was “all right.” “I had a nightmare on the plane,” I told her. She said she was sorry, but let me alone. I stopped in the bathroom and washed my face, drying it on paper towels. I swallowed two naproxen and made me way to the arrivals lounge. I hoped I would not talk for a while and the words would leave me gracefully instead of tumbling out as a cry of pain.

   The big boys with their hostile words and big muscles would haunt me for weeks. Simone, Bart, Mitchell, Jared, and Jean were also with me. Sailor and his daughter lived at the bottoms of my nightmares.

   ---

   Dad held up a sign on yellow paper that said. “Welcome Back Kore.” He held it high over his head, not caring how dorky he looked. Dad had long ago embraced his inner dork. I wanted to run toward him, but I was too tired.

   He hugged me and I thought I would cry. To his credit, he did not ask me if I was OK. “There was a fight the last night I was at the resort,” I stammered as we walked across the parking lot. “Other than that it was very interesting. It was even fun…I learned a lot.” I swallowed. The lump in my throat was hard and huge. February air was colder than I remembered it and a harsh wind blew off the sea and over the wastelands of northern New Jersey.

   “Don’t cry until I have the heat on,” Dad advised me.

   “Tell me all about the fight,” Dad said as he started the truck.

   “I didn’t see it,” I explained. “The Sidlows told me of it. I did follow the kids over who did it…” Then I realized that I had to explain to Dad about the Teen Pavillion and restricted activities. Dr. Angelus would have to hear it too. It was useful information even if it was no secret. I told the story three times through three different angles. The first time I was sobbing and choking so it was hard to get it out. Dad gave me an old t-shirt to wipe my face on.

   The second time I told the story, my teeth chattered. The third time, I got it out or as much of it as made a good beginning. When I got done telling the story, I realized we were off the New Jersey Turnpike and on a side road.

   “Thanks for driving me around,” I told Dad.

   “I’m taking you out for lunch,” Dad told me. “I don’t think you’ve eaten since early.”

   I told him I’d had nothing solid to eat. “I thought so,” he said. “Women cry more when they’re hungry and tired.”

   “It hurt to see what I saw,” I told Dad. “It hurt because it reminded me of things in my own life.” He nodded.

   We stopped at a mall that had a German restaurant. Dad ordered herring and got us family style bowls of sweet and sour red cabbage and roast potatoes. I had pig’s knuckles which are succulent.

   “You haven’t asked about RoAnn, and Ivanna,” said Dad after I swallowed a few mouthfuls of food.

   “I think that may have been bullshit,” I answered. “I’m sorry I woke up RoAnn in the middle of the night. The counselors made me talk. They are paid employees. Someone in StarCorps put them up to it.”

   “Kore,” Dad said. “Ivanna did try to run away from home. That’s why I’ve had to stay here all week.”

   “She didn’t?” I was not ready to even feel the shock.

   “She did. She slipped out on Tuesday afternoon. I was at work and RoAnn working in the study. Minerva told her that Ivanna had left. She ran downstairs in time to see a town car leaving. She asked the doorperson and he said he’d seen Ivanna get into the vehicle.

   “RoAnn called the police, but they don’t do anything until a child is gone for forty-eight hours, and RoAnn knew that would be too late. She was able to get in touch with me and I got in touch with Republic and Teeterboro.” Teeterboro and Republic are the two general aviation aiports that serve New York City. “I also got in touch wtih Westchester airport just north of White Plains.”

   “I found a plane leaving for Ashville from Republic and RoAnn and I drove out to Republic and intercepted Ivanna. We brought her home. By eight o’clock on Tuesday it was all over.”

   It wasn’t all over of course. I saw that when we got back to the Ardsley. The apartment door now had a combination lock on the inside that Ivanna could not open. RoAnn had grounded Ivanna, but this was a grounding on steroids.

   Ivanna greeted me as she did her dance exercises in the living room. After stretching came aerobics. In the study/office, Nervy Worm worked on a coloring book. I gave her some Provodenciales money as a souvenir. She looked excited then she told me. “Ivanna tried to run away.”

   “Ivanna is grounded,” I answered.

   “Ivanna can’t be trusted,” RoAnn explained. “She has to earn her trust back.”

   “Are you going to court with Anthony?” I asked. Anthony, RoAnn’s exhusband and Ivanna’s father,  had been the one to arrange Ivanna’s “kindnapping.”

   “Maybe,” RoAnn answered. “Right now we’ve got to make it through the next month.”

   “What next month?” I asked.

   “I’m leaving tomorrow,” Dad told us. “I’ve overstayed so I’m going to be gone a while. I think about three weeks.”

   I wanted to scream “No!” but instead I just let the horrible news sink in: Ivanna and RoAnn at war and me caught in the middle, no not just me, Nervy Worm too.

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