Anthony’s Alley

Cathedral City, CA

Little Anthony hated the dark, shadowy alley that crossed behind his family’s desert home. It was actually more a pock-marked pavement path than a proper alleyway. Anthony was always overwhelmed with a private terror when his mother told him to run down it to Susan’s house to get something, a chore he often had to perform. Susan was his mom’s best friend from grade school. The two of them had dropped out of high school together, and were now actively involved in both Anthony’s and Claudia’s elementary school. Claudia was Susan’s daughter, a year older than Anthony, just about to move on to middle school. Anthony hated Claudia as well, about as much as he hated the black alleyway, and for the same reason. Claudia filled Anthony with terror too. This was because Claudia was the most beautiful girl Anthony had ever seen. Their moms were always joking with them about how he and Claudia were to marry one day. Claudia wasn’t the least bit interested, and Anthony took the moms very literally. He was too young for marriage.

So this time his mom wanted Anthony to take one of her dresses down the Alley of Horrors to Susan’s house, where the magical Sewing Machine awaited. There Susan would speedily repair said dress, and Anthony would have to wait. And Claudia would be there, dressed in her nightshirt. And the black alleyway would be waiting too, waiting to eat poor Anthony alive.

After dinner, a rushed meal of Spanish rice and fried chicken, Anthony wiped the grease off his lips with an overused napkin, and prayed to himself that his mother would forget about the dress. He even dutifully helped his older sister clear the table. He even made his little brother stop watching TV and get into his pajamas. But all in vain, for without the slightest pause in her various nighttime chores, Anthony’s mother swiped up her torn dress and nonchalantly handed it to Anthony.

“Now off you go, and remember to say thank you to Senora Garcia.”

If she only knew the horrors that awaited him, both in the alley, and in Claudia’s sensuous eyes! Anthony did not know which of the two to fear most.

“Do I hafto, ma?” pleaded poor Anthony.

This was the wrong thing to say, because it sent his mother into a rage. “Yes, of course you have to, mijo. What have I been telling you for the last two weeks? I need the dress fixed. Now, andale.” And she swatted him on the tuckus, a blow that sent Anthony reeling out into the darkness of a desert city at night.

In the cool of his back yard, Anthony stood alone feebly clutching his mother’s torn dress. The family mutt, which had no name but which Anthony called Tyson, loped up to Anthony. “Get away, stupid,” spat Anthony at old Tyson. Tyson never got respect for all the barking he did every day. Anthony didn’t care; he didn’t feel like commiserating, even though he got no respect either. He gazed up at the clear night sky, moonless and glowing with constellations. “I hope I die tonight,” he whispered to himself. But suddenly the back screen door was thrown open with a bang. Anthony’s fearsome father brayed him out of his morbid reverie: “Antonio, do as your mother says! Get going, you little fool!” This sent Anthony running like a stone out of a slingshot. He raced past the prickly pears in his backyard, through the big galvanized steel gate, and out onto the infamous alleyway.

There Anthony wasted no time. But he did not run either, for he knew that to betray his fear by running would only attract all the killers and crazy old ladies who waited in the sagebrush to pounce on Anthony. They knew his route, knew he was often sent this way by his cold-hearted parents. Once his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, all the familiar shapes amalgamated. There was Mr. Ruiz’s broken-down Ford; there was the other Garcia family’s shed; there was a rusted shopping cart that no one ever disposed of. But despite their familiarity, these shapes at night sent shivers down Anthony’s skinny back, gave him goosebumps, and he could feel his heart trying to jump out of his chest. Worse than the shadowy visions that goaded Anthony were the mysterious night sounds. There was a barking dog in the distance, the wind in the palm trees, chimes clanging in the breeze, the night birds calling out to one another, faraway cars, shouts echoing off the backs of houses, insects in his ears, his footsteps in the sand, echoing… Maybe someone was following right behind him, so close they were nearly touching his back, and walking in sync with Anthony’s short, quick stride. But Anthony knew that if he turned around he was dead for sure. So he walked on, in stoic defiance of the forces of evil that surrounded him. Finally he could stand it no longer. Anthony spun around, and the crickets assumed sudden silence. The dark emptiness of the alleyway, the vastness of the night, was almost more terrifying than if Anthony had spun around to see the grisly visage of a bogeyman. But Anthony took little time to reflect, because he straightaway broke into a full sprint. He ran all the way to Susan’s back gate.

He did this every time; every night it was the same thing. Anthony ended up sprinting to the Garcia house, and there, behind the old gate, he would catch his breath and wait for his sweat to dry up. He had done this so many times that their dog didn’t even bother to bark at him, and he had become familiar with every knot on the trunk of the ancient eucalyptus tree that hung its boughs over his pounding head.

When all was back in order Anthony opened the gate and trudged down the gravel path to Susan’s back door. The worse was yet to come. Susan was waiting there, as always. “Antonio!” she howled with vague frustration, “Hurry, it’s cold out there!” Anthony picked up his pace, and realized at this point that his mother’s dress was all damp, because he had used it to wipe the sweat off his face. Not a good thing. Anthony mounted the steps and entered the Garcia home. Their house was much more uptight and well-organized than Anthony’s family’s. This was because Susan was addicted to control. She was very kind to visitors, but Anthony did not envy Susan’s children; he liked the more relaxed atmosphere of his mother and father’s disheveled but charming home. Not to say that Susan’s house was without charm. It was very neat and tidy, and the furniture was more stylish. The carpet was always vacuumed, and the sofa cushions were always neatly in place. Anthony felt instantly immersed in the aura of Susan’s cleanliness, of her dominion. He handed Susan the dress and collapsed onto a kitchen chair. Claudia appeared immediately with a glass of water, which her mother had ordered her to have ready for Anthony. She was glowing in the golden light from the kitchen lamp. Anthony’s gut reaction was to run away. But he did not. He took the glass and drained its contents, until some of it tumbled onto his already damp shirt; even a few ice cubes slid across the linoleum floor. Claudia giggled. Susan was not pleased, however, and she scolded Anthony. “Mijo,” she screeched, “you know how to drink water better than that! Claudia, pick up that ice before someone slips and breaks their neck!” Anthony felt like an oaf. But he said nothing. He just stared sheepishly down at the floor, avoiding Claudia’s admonishing glances as she tossed Anthony’s spilled ice cubes into the empty sink.

Meanwhile, Susan was fumbling with the torn dress. She was turning it over and over in her forceful hands, searching for the tear. “This thing’s all wet,” she said, “and I can’t see no tear…Let’s see…Are you sure you brought the right dress?”

“I don’ know. My ma jus’ told me to bring it,” said Anthony, wishing he had not been born with a mouth to speak or ears to hear. Claudia remained, drinking her own glass of ice water.

“How’s school, Anthony?” she asked in the most angelic of voices, angelic because it was sweet without trying to be so. Anthony was stunned into dumbness. By her beauty. Oh how he hated her!

“It’s all right, I guess,” he mumbled at last, to no one in particular.

“Ah,” said Susan after what seemed like hours, “Here it is. Well, it’s just a little rip, but I’ll sew it up real quick. I’ll reinforce it too. Claudia, get the boy more water! Be right back.” She strutted off into the dining room, where the sewing machine was set up on their department store oak table.

The silence in the kitchen lasted only until Claudia turned on the noisy tap, whose old pipes screeched and howled. Anthony said “thank you” when she handed him the cold, moist plastic cup of water, and he sat still, drinking the water that tasted like dirt as a diversion from Claudia’s radiant loveliness.

She was in her nightshirt, and he could see her tan knees poking out from beneath its hem. This drove Anthony utterly mad, until he had to say something: “Claudia, you looking forward to middle school next year?”

Claudia seemed bored by his question, but she answered him politely nonetheless. “Yeah,” she said, “but I’ll miss our school too.”

“Why?” asked Anthony in disbelief of such an absurd idea. Missing their school! How stupid!

“Well,” returned Claudia with complete confidence and control, just like her mother, “I’ll miss Mrs. Franco, and some of the younger kids…”

“Younger kids, huh? Like me?” Anthony was now livid.

But Claudia just giggled again, while maintaining her angelic beauty of course. “Yeah, like you,” she said, “but I know I’ll still see you all the time.”

“Hmpff!” was Anthony’s sole reply. He downed the rest of his water from the cup and got up to set it by the sink, just to kill some time and break off their conversation. But Claudia stopped him on his way. She placed her hand over his hand, the hand that held the empty cup, and with her other hand she removed the cup. Anthony froze. He stared up into her eyes, up because she had a couple inches over him in height, and he gazed into those tiger eyes, those dark, shimmering stones set in a perfect face, and Anthony’s knees weakened to the point of collapse. Claudia had only to giggle in order to finish him off, and this she did.

“Oh Anthony!” she said, still laughing wondrously, “you’re so cute!” And she gave him a little peck on his half-open lips. On his lips! Anthony released her hand and took two steps back, nearly stumbling over his chair, his face turning completely pink. It was first love for sure. First love, as if a floodgate had been opened in Anthony’s heart and mind…

But Susan was quick on the scene. She barged into the quiet kitchen bearing the newly-repaired dress of her best friend from grade school. “Claudia?” she asked accusingly, “Did you get Anthony his water?”

“Yes ma,” was Claudia’s perfect reply.

“Good,” said Susan. “Now Anthony, I want you to tell your mother that I fixed her dress, that it was no problem, and that I reinforced it for her. But Anthony, are you listening? Listen. You’ve got to take care of this dress, boy! It was so sweaty when you gave it to me I had to iron it! So be careful, and don’t drop it, whatever you do. Here you go. Now you should be getting home now. Who knows what kind of people are out in that alley this time of night?” And she gently handed Anthony the dress. Anthony, still struck dumb, stared down at the dress as if he did not understand what it was.

“Anthony?” asked Susan, “Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Garcia. Goodbye.” And he raised his eyes to Claudia’s. “Goodbye!” he cried out to his first love, and he turned and raced out the back door. But halfway down their gravel path Anthony froze in his tracks. He spun around, ran back up the pathway to the back door, and he stormed into the Garcia house. “Mrs. Garcia!” he called.

“What, Antonio, what do you want?”

Anthony gazed past Susan to her beautiful daughter, and then he looked back up. “Thank you, Mrs. Garcia,” he said, grinning wildly.

“Oh,” said Susan, chortling to herself, “Well, you are welcome, Antonio. And say ‘hi’ to your mama for me, ‘kay?”

“Yup. G’bye.” And once again he turned on his heels and went back out the door. But this time he walked down the gravel pathway, through the gate, beneath the eucalyptus tree, and out into the dark alleyway. He walked past the rusty old shopping cart that nobody wanted, past the dark shed and Mr. Ruiz’s old Ford, through the sounds of cars echoing off the palms above, the bats flapping in the air, the distant barking of lonely dogs… And Anthony gazed lovingly up at the stars. Their vast canopy seemed small and cozy, a possible home for he and his love. There he imagined Claudia Garcia and himself forever happy. His heart was pounding warmly within his small frame, and his dark eyes reflected the night sky. The alleyway was nothing more than a path for him now, a path to her house.

At last he came to his family’s home. He greeted Tyson kindly, with loving pets that were returned by warm licks, and he walked up the steps to his back door, into the soothing chaos of his mother’s house. From that night on Anthony’s mother could not get her son to stop hounding her to let him walk down the desert alleyway to Susan’s house. Luckily for him, his mother never ran out of reasons for him to go there. She always had something binding herself to Susan, her best friend from grade school, and little Anthony was going to make sure things stayed that way.