Lasagna

Vinny Vitale

I'm surprised when the door opens and it's not Mrs. Carver and it's not Jimmy. It's a skinny, short, balding man with circular wire rimmed glasses and a green argyle sweater. He looks like that asshole teacher that everyone hated in middle school. I recoil at the sight of him. He smiles at the sight of me.

"Ah, Vinny." He opens the door wider. I am hesitating to do anything except turn and get the fuck out of here because if there's one word to describe this man, it's skeevy.

"And you are?" I cross my hands over my chest and I try and make myself six inches taller. Not like it matters—I already tower over the man in the doorway.

He gives me his hand to shake. I don't take it, but he smiles anyway and introduces himself. "I'm Joshua Walter. I'm James's stepfather."

I don't think I hear him correctly. I laugh. "I could have sworn you said you're Jimmy's stepfather."

He nods. He isn't kidding.

Mrs. Carver has married this man. He flashes me his ring finger. A gold band sits on it. I want to barf. I want to pack up all Jimmy's things right this second.

"You're kidding."

"I don't joke, Vinny." He pauses to give another crocodile smile. I feel everything in me twisting in braided knots. "Very intimate ceremony at the local courthouse. We took James as our witness and had a nice brunch and let him skip school. He had a ball."

I try not to puke. This is why Jimmy missed school a few weeks back. This is why he didn't say a word about it.

"Is Jimmy here?" I try and peak into the apartment. I see the kitchen, but it's empty.

"Nope," he opens the door a bit wider. "But you're welcome to come in."

"Neva mind," I say, and start to turn around. My brain starts reeling with other places Jimmy could be, but a disturbingly tight grip on my shoulder stops my body in its tracks.

"Did you need something, son?" Somehow he has turned my body around to face him with just the grip of his strangely small hands. His fingertips dig underneath my collarbone so fiercely I start to see white. He lets me go after a few seconds. I stumble up a lie.

"I just need to grab a textbook," I say, taking the opportunity to wedge myself through the door and head straight for Jimmy's bedroom. I don't even hear the crazy mother fucker respond to me. I shut myself in Jimmy's room and turn to lock the door, but when I do, I realize someone has taken an absolute hammer to the sliding lock that used to be here. There's no way it functions. It's been absolutely destroyed.

I mutter out a curse, then a prayer, then I turn Jimmy's room upside down for a paper and a pen. I find something in his backpack and I write him a note. I tuck it under his mattress because I know that's where he keeps the photo of me and him. My fingers trace over his photographed face before I let the mattress slam back down to the hardwood.

Before I leave, I step into the living room where Mr. Walter is now watching Days of Lives like he's my freakin' mother.

Looking at him, I think of the lock on Jimmy's door. I think of how he just made me, ME Vinny Vitale, tremble in my god-damned combat boots. I think of the night Jimmy crawled into my bed at 3 AM because of him. Something comes over me. I can't control it.

Quietly, I step behind where he's sitting on the couch. He can't see me. I bend down so I'm whispering in his ear.

"I want you to keep something in mind," I say. I'm whispering. He doesn't move. "James is my family. He's not yours. And my family protects each other." I stop. I uncurl my fists at my sides, because I know if I don't I'm gonna do something I regret. "I have two brothers. I have a father who has about a 100 pounds on me. I have cousins. I have uncles. I have friends. I have friends of friends. I have all of fucking Brooklyn behind me." The hairs on the back of his neck begin to prickle up. I crack a wicked smile. "You touch a fucking hair on Jimmy's head—you even look at him in a way I don't like, and I will personally smash your tiny little skull into a thousand pieces. The rest of my family—the rest of Brooklyn—they'll take care of you after that. And it won't be fuckin' pretty, Joshua."

Joshua doesn't move a muscle. I slam the door on the way out.

__

I don't know where to go now. I push open the door to my apartment and everything in me turns to ice. I turn to cold, wretched fear.

I don't know where James is. I don't know what this Joshua motha fucker has done to him for the past five months. I can't stop thinking about my name written on Jimmy's notepad. I can't believe Jimmy has been working for my family for free behind my back.

I just want to hold him. I want to tell him I will take care of everything. I want him to feel safe.

I climb the stairs to my bedroom feeling 300 pounds heavier than I really am. I pause at the top of the stairs and pull out my phone to send another text to Jimmy. All I write is:

Jimmy. Please.

And then I hear a very distinct, very loud ping coming from behind my bedroom door.

It is most definitely Jimmy's ringtone.

I feel the correct weight again. I let out a growl that is inhumane and I throw open my bedroom door. He's standing in front of me, cellphone in hand, lips curved into an adorable O shape. I grab his phone.

"James motha fuckin' Carver, are you kidding me?!"

He closes his mouth, but he says nothing.

I flash his cellphone in front of his eyes. "You had this the whole fuckin' day and you couldn't answa ONE of my texts?"

He's silent.

"You had me running a freakin' half marathon around Brooklyn lookin' for you! I've been everywhere and back, TWICE, Jimmy! You've had me absolutely worried sick! You couldn't send one text! One text to say you were alright? Not one?"

He whimpers out a very measly, "I didn't think you were actually worried about me."

I explode into an, "Of course I was worried about you, James! Of course I was! You... You're my Jimmy! You disappeared!"

He rolls his lips onto one another like he does when he's trying to keep from smiling. Despite it all, I smile myself and ask, "What? What the hell is so funny?"

He shakes his head but there's an actual smirk on his lips now. "Nothing. Just didn't know I was your Jimmy."

I feel my cheeks heat up ten degrees. Then I remember Jimmy's notepad in my back pocket. "Oh yeah? Well, I didn't know..." I pause and reach into my jeans to pull it out. I throw it at his chest. "I didn't know I was your Vinny either."

He catches it looking confused. Then, after he looks at it, after he looks at my name written in his handwriting over and over and over again, he realizes what I have found. His cheeks burn like mine. Then he looks into my eyes with this innocent, doe-eyed stare. He is still majorly blushing, and I can tell he's really embarrassed.

So I tell him, "If you check the back of my APE music notebook, you'll find something very similar. Well, except it's your name, not mine."

He's smiling.

And then, in a second, he's got his legs latched around my waist. And his arms are hooked behind my neck. And he's kissing me.

HE is kissing ME.