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From the The Tenement Series of non-fiction essays by Harry Buschman
© by Harry Buschman
On the Kissing of Bella Shapiro
Me and Ernie were in the seventh grade of P.S. 9, but for reasons better known to the teachers, we never shared a class. We had to wait until gym to see each other. All the boys from sixth to eighth grades shared gym on Friday mornings. Friday morning, was the only time we had to discuss school gossip and get a better handle on school politics. We shared a locker in the boys dressing room. We kept our sneaks in it -- just our sneaks, in those days you didn't dress up for gym.
One warm spring morning we were sitting on the bench in front of our lockers getting ready for gym and "Punchy" came up and squatted in front of Ernie -- "Hey Ernie," he grinned lasciviously, "you kiss Bella Shapiro yet?"
Me and Ernie were eleven going on twelve, and I knew for a fact that Ernie had never kissed Bella Shapiro. I knew I never kissed her either, and I knew if Ernie had kissed her he would have told me for sure. But Ernie put up a bold front just like I would have done, "Sure," he answered, "lot'sa times."
Punchy lowered his voice and looked behind him, "Did she feel'ya too .... " he leered? Punchy was a pimply faced kid -- pug-nosed, and older than everybody in the seventh grade. He had been in the seventh grade as long as anybody could remember. The only joy he got out of life was to make everyone feel as immature as he was.
It was a loaded question and one that cannot be answered affirmatively or denied by a gentleman of any age. But Ernie brazened it out, "Ask her," he replied nonchalantly. A great answer! I was proud of him. It deflated Punchy like a burst balloon -- probably ruined his day. It was obvious he was trying to humiliate Ernie like he always did. One thing you could bet on, Punchy never got kissed by Bella Shapiro.
Bella had a reputation for kissing boys. When you were off guard and she thought nobody was looking she'd grab you and before you could put up a fight she had her way with you. She was tall for her age .... strong too. You had to be in good shape to get away from her. It might have been fun if Bella was better looking, but she had something wrong with her eyes, they were too close together .... big vacant eyes with lots of white around them .... like Little Orphan Annie's eyes. She had hair like cotton candy and big brown freckles across the bridge of her nose. So I knew that Ernie had never willingly kissed her, and unless he was unable to fight her off he never let her kiss him at all.
Me and Ernie talked it over, man to man, and both of us agreed that if either of us were to be kissed or felt by Bella, we would tell the other as soon as we could get away from her.
But in my impressionable
mind that Friday morning preyed on me, and from then
on I kept a close watch on Bella, hoping to catch her in the act of grabbing
somebody. I hoped I might discover the mysterious force of nature that, as yet,
I had not discovered. But she was clandestine, and like Count Dracula, she never
struck in the light of day.
Months later, on the morning of the fourth of July to be exact, I was in the cellar digging out my hidden stash of firecrackers that I'd been adding to daily for a month, and who should be standing by the dumbwaiter door but Bella Shapiro. I was transfixed, unable to move, and acutely aware of being alone in the dark cellar with her. Her Little Orphan Annie eyes were fixed on me like searchlights and she advanced toward me one step at a time. Much like an impala, paralyzed by the cold stare of a crouching lion, I was filled with dread and, I have to admit, a little anticipation as well. Without so much as a "howdy-do" she did indeed kiss me -- and grabbed me as well. I was still eleven and far short of the age where such endearments can be returned. But yet, within me I could sense the opening of trapdoors and vents .... unused valves and ductwork were sounding an alarm. Frightened, more than I'd ever been before, I dropped my firecrackers on the floor and dashed out of the cellar to the street.
Even today I can see those too-close together eyes staring hypnotically into mine. I can smell the onion breath and feel her cracked dry lips crushing mine. It would haunt me for years, and even today I will wake in the dead of night with the image of it in my mind.
I couldn't wait to tell Ernie, and when I found him he asked me where were the firecrackers. All I could say was I left them in the cellar. (How innocent and prophetic are the statements of children!) But Ernie knew there was more to it than that -- we were all set to blow the lids off garbage cans and his closest friend had left his firecrackers in the cellar. No! .... he knew something terrible had happened.
Haltingly, my story emerged .... "Bella was there .... she grabbed me .... I couldn't get away from her, Ernie .... she grabbed my willie .... she kissed me -- what am I gonna do?" It was the fourth of July -- we had such great plans, and Bella had spoiled it all.
Count your blessings if you have a friend like Ernie. He saw beyond the Fourth of July, beyond the joy of blowing the lids off garbage cans and the mayhem we had planned. Ernie cared about me! "You gonna marry her?" he asked me.
Without knowing it Ernie had put his finger on the bottom line -- in those days we didn't do things like that unless we were married, and even then maybe we didn't do them. I felt better about it after telling Ernie, and with great trepidation both of us went back to get my fireworks. Bella had taken off. Perhaps she was celebrating the Fourth of July in her own peculiar way.
Me and Ernie made
a promise to each other that day .... we'd stand guard over
each other. Each would be his brother's keeper, and if one of us were ever attacked
by Bella Shapiro, the two of us would get together and beat the shit out of
her.
©Harry Buschman 1996
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