Flatbush Avenue

 by: Staley Cole Smith

© 2019 by the Author

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

scsmith@tickiestories.us

THE STORY

I was just a kid back then; but we could drink at eighteen, remember?”

“Sure, I remember.” Said Asa I am a year older than you.”

“You are three years older than me; like an old bastard, you are,” said Bernie.

Chapter 1

THE SUMMER OF 2014

Who Knew

Asa Kline lived alone on Flatbush Avenue in an old, but handsome turn of the century brick house owned for generations by his family. He constantly complained about Brooklyn’s high property tax; but it was nothing new.

At street level of this building were the remnants of a candy story that went out of business, several years ago?  A sun faded decal still attached to the window reads - “The sweetest place on Flatbush”

Asa didn’t lease the store out after that. He used the space for storage and didn’t have to put up with people coming and going. At his age he didn’t need the headache of renting and he didn’t need the money.

On the first floor above the street, over the vacant candy store, Asa would roam around through his spacious apartment, like king of the borough.

On the 2nd floor was a studio apartment that Asa kept cleaned and furnished but didn’t rent it to anybody. At one time an artist lived there using the daylight from the bay window for painting on canvas. Now it was spotless clean and sitting unoccupied.

The 3rd and top floor contained an apartment as large as the one Asa lived in downstairs. It took up the entire top floor. A middle aged widow woman named Thelma Green lived there with her unmarried, rather plump daughter Gloria. The lived there for years and got along perfectly with Asa. He liked Thelma because she kept to herself and didn’t ask questions about anything personal; something Asa respected immensely.

The building had a small service elevator that one could take to avoid walking the stairs. Thelma used the elevator almost entirely for coming and going. Occasionally she would walk down the stairs, but going up was a different matter entirely; as for Gloria – “forget about it.”

Asa had one flight of stairs to maneuver; but yes – he used the elevator entirely also.

Asa tended to be grumpy and most things didn’t please him. He said what he thought, and thought what he believed. This often set the scene for embarrassing moments; but it never bothered him. His best, and most likely his only friend, was an elderly retired clothing store owner name Bernie Bernstein.

The ‘Meow Club’ was a gay neighborhood tavern, a place Asa didn’t care for, but the beer was cold and the building was nearby to his afternoon walks. So like it or not, that is where Asa would go.

It looked dingy in the afternoon with the sun struggling to shine through the isolated front window that needed a serious bath. It looked like the pane of glass hadn’t seen water since the place was built around the time of the depression in the late thirties.

 A few half dead plants sat on the floor of the widow along with dried up flies and weeks of dust. The place was not popular with the young gay crowd, from what Asa could gather; they preferred going to bars in the village. One could find most anything at the Meow Club, but Asa only wanted to sit down and find something cold to drink.

“What are you having, sweetie?” asked a lesbian bartender called Carrie, who worked afternoons. She was wiping the bar with a wet rag and dumping ash trays at the same time. Smoking was not allowed, but somehow the ash trays, never taken out of use, seem to get dirty.  The dykes would come in, and light up. Who was to say they couldn’t? - Not Carrie.

She was the feminine part of a gay marriage with a dinosaur husband call Dottie. Carrie was wearing a man’s Pendleton plaid shirt. Bib overalls and work boots. 

“Hum, ‘Pretty’ thought Asa, I wonder what Dottie wears; but for once kept his mouth shut.

“Beer, no bottle, just in a clean glass,” he mumbled resting his arm on the bar and fumbling to get some money from his pocket. “Please, a clean glass,” he repeated politely.

“You got it gramps. A cold one, for the old one” she replied trying to be amusing, yet business-like.  “This glass sparkles, how’s that for clean pop?’

“Thank you, that’s lovely – A ‘princess’ you are.”

“Don’t let that get around – ‘a princess’ good lord” she replied laughing.

Carrie started pouring his beverage not paying attention to what she was doing. The glass overflowed with beer, and she wiped the excess away. 

“That’s about how I would pour a glass of beer; I would spill it, but I’m an old timer.”

“Ahh, go on with you, I bet you were a hottie. I can tell the old silent type.” She said. “Look at that twinkle in your eye.”

“The twinkle is in the wrong place. At one time maybe, but now I’m just putting in time. I’m too old for anything else.  I once asked myself –“would I go out with me?” – “and do you know what the answer was?”  He said to her.

“I know that answer. Hell no, you won’t be getting a date anytime soon.  Try telling me something new and different; such a comedian you are,” she said walking away to serve another patron.

Carrie looked back at Asa, while talking to Dennis, another customer who was ordering a drink. Asa recognized Dennis from the Gay Community center, but didn’t speak to him. He was always making speeches and talking like the fool, he was. He thought that Dennis was a screw-up, and putting him in charge of anything was meshuggeneh.  Once he gave the winner of a cash drawing prize to the wrong person; and they accepted it – yikes.

Asa suspected that Carrie and Dennis were talking about him, by the way they mumbled together, with annoying grins on their faces.   

“Bitches, Asa mumbled under his breath so no one could hear. What the hell would they know about anything, especially that asshole Dennis?  What a schmuck, who knows nothing”

Asa tucked his money clip back into his pocket and looked around for a place to sit away from the bar. His legs and back were aching, so he needed to sit and be by himself.  He seemed a bit wobbly, but struggled to walk straight caring a glass of beer as not to spill it, heading to a small round table against the wall.

He was determined to walk straight as a soldier. Asa was proud, as he was stubborn, something he learned from his Jewish mother, growing up in Brooklyn.

“Be positive, know what you want, find what you need and profit from mistakes, that you shouldn’t be making in the first place – Don’t throw away the old bucket until you know whether the new one holds water,” his mother Sadie, would often quote from an old Yiddish proverb.    

A young gay man, (not so hot looking and a bit nerdy) had been watching Asa since he came in. He recognized Asa from someplace around Flatbush.

He was a twenty-two year old Jewish boy from Brooklyn. His name was Adam Wexler with an unappealing portrait as anyone walking around could have; but he had charisma and was clean cut looking; just not gorgeous.

He wore white shorts, like a tennis player, and had nice long legs with a tinge of sexy black hair. His body looked rather good and he was young. That was his best feature – he was young and nice; skinny, tall, pushy, but nice. This is where “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” kicked in.

There was definitely something quite nice about Adam; or maybe it was Asa’s poor eyesight, or the way he filled out those white shorts. That was very nice.

Asa’s eyesight was fine. He recognized him from the streets.  He would see him sometimes at night from his apartment window, across from Clancy Park on Flatbush Ave.

He spent late hours meandering through the bushes and leaning against the trees. Adam had a hot body and no doubt did well at night in the bushes. In the bar, competing with pretty boys in the mirror was another story.

Flatbush had been Asa’s neighborhood for years and he knew it well. He didn’t miss much when he looked out his window. He liked watching people walking, talking, and moving about as they filled the street with living bodies.

There was weird Etta who carried a shopping bag with nothing in it but tissue paper and a magazine, looking for something, like her cell phone, or a wallet that she claimed she dropped being so forgetful. People who didn’t know her would help her look around for something that she pretended to loose, feeling sorry for her. It was such fun for Etta – how sad.

There were other faces that Asa recognized as regulars who spent time during the day sitting, reading and finding solitude in the park. At night the queers and hustlers took over, but nobody ever got hurt.

Adam Wexler was one of those walking, talking bodies, who used the park for his playground and shopping mart. Asa knew this because he would see Adam disappear behind the bushes then move on to another spot.  It was all part of a necessary game of lust and Asa understood the game very well.

“Ahh, those were the day,” Asa would say out loud, remembering when he did similar things. He kept an old pair of pants with worn out knees as a reminder of his wicked ways, being a star.

Adam left his place at the bar and walked over to where Asa was sitting.

“Pop, do mind if I sit here for a minute?” he said, with his hand on the back of the chair, ready to pull it away from the table. He had gotten up the nerve to speak to Asa, and asked permission to sit down and join him.

“Don’t hustle me kid, I’m past all that.” Asa replied barely looking at him.

“I’m not hustling a thing, just being friendly; my name is Adam Wexler”

“So be friendly, why; I’ve yet to find out; but sit. I will call you Wexler” 

Adam rattled the table a bit, almost spoiling Asa’s drink; but managed nicely without disruption.  He sat opposite Asa, and began to speak.

“I’m a bit clumsy, aren’t I? - Sorry, but I am nervous around strangers.

“Why are you nervous?”

“I don’t have a lot of friends; actually I have no friends, but I like being around adult people.”

“You mean you like old men.”

“Something like that.” Replied Adam

“And you are not hustling a thing, but just being friendly. Oy vey, this morning, do you think I was born?”

“I can’t do anything about how you think, so that is that.” Adam looked rather sad and sounded depressed as he spoke to Asa.

Being suspicious of practically everybody Asa didn’t trust him. He knew that Adam would be flying off to someone else at any moment.

“What do you want to talk about?” said Asa

“There is a big difference in our age, so tell me what it was like when you were twenty two.  Will you do that?” 

“Why, so you can correct me? You kids think you know everything. “I’m right, aren’t I?  Hahaha.  I was once your age, so I know – I know. You can’t fool Asa”

“Calm down, I just asked a question; what is there I would fool you about. I’m just curious”

“A question you asked; so an answer I will give you. Ha curious – what’s curious?” Asa replied, sipping his glass of beer and twisting in his chair trying to get comfortable.

“Okay, you wanted to know what gay life was like around here when I was your age. Let’s see now – you are how old?”

“Twenty-two”

“Nice – that’s a good number, twenty-two.”

“Correct” chimed in Adam, perking up and looking more comfortable. He pulled his chair closer to Asa, almost touching his knee.  I bet you don’t even remember back that far” he blurted out being a little pushy.

“Back that far – we’re not talking Crusades. I remember just fine. There was a time when I was a handsome young man and the flame of Flatbush Avenue. But, that was then, and this is now. This is ridiculous, this talk; how about getting lost.”

Asa became annoyed quickly with people and their questions. Still, there was something he liked about Wexler. He was a young Jewish man who was friendly and looking for nothing but conversation; at least not yet.

“Sorry gramps, to have bothered you, just forget about it.”

He stood up and replaced the chair neatly at the table, then walked back to the bar.” He didn’t seem huffy or upset with Asa; he didn’t care about anything.”

“And, I’m not your ‘gramps’ yelled Asa, so all six people in the bar could hear him.” It was the middle of the afternoon and not many customers. Asa had no sooner yelled, when he felt embarrassed for being so loud. However, nobody realized what he was saying and they didn’t care to find out.

Sitting at the far end of the tavern almost in darkness, was Bernie. For decades he was known as “Beebe” the high queen of Flatbush – retired.

Bernie and Asa were ‘old friends.’  Every so often they would get together and exchange opinions, which sometimes became arguments. It was so ridiculous, correcting one another; nobody ever won, they just filled time being loud, and it gave them something to do.

“Asa, Asa, Asa, after all these years, you’re still a smuck. Imagine telling that sweet young thing to ‘get lost’.  I’ll be his gramps, call him back,” said Bernie sounding serious, and a little unreasonable.

“Later - Sit, sit – have a beer with me and we can talk about the good old days in Brooklyn.”

“Where the hell did that come from? What good old days?  I was just a kid - okay, a teen ager, but we could drink at eighteen then, remember those good old days?” he mumbled.

“Sure, I remember.” replied Asa, I am a year older than you.”

“You are three years older than me; like an old bastard, you are,” Said Bernie. “Hey, what’s that kid’s name?”

“Adam Wexler, is what he told me”

“The Wexler’s from Flatbush”

“How the hell should I know – he said ‘Wexler,’ good enough.”

“Call him back over”

“You think I’m fuckin nuts; I told him to get lost and now I say – don’t get lost – what a putz you are.” 

There was something striking about Adam Yet, he was not the type you would notice, passing on the street; unless you were looking down. Bernie would be the exception; he would notice any man with or without pants.

Just the same, Asa motioned to Adam, and he came back over to where they were sitting.

“Do you want to holler at me some more?” asked Adam

“No, my personality isn’t so good these days; sorry,” admitted Asa.

Join us for a drink. I’m Bernie” and extended his hand receiving a manly handshake. Bernie held on to Adam’s hand slightly longer than necessary.

“Could I have my hand back now, or do you collect body parts”

“Oh certainly,” I was caught up in the moment. Your hand was so nice and warm.”

“I know who you are. Everybody knows ‘Beebe’ from Flatbush.” said Adam, sitting down next to Bernie.

“So who’s everybody?”

“Everybody – I don’t know everybody.” Said Adam

“Some people are meant to be one thing, some another. Today I’m Norma Desmond, tomorrow, who knows.” Bernie said

“Well, aren’t you wild? Who’s Norma Desmond?” Inquired Adam being quite serious

“She’s a sandwich maker at Jake’s delicatessen,” screamed Asa on this mindless conversation.

“Asa, you don’t feel the close up with the camera; but I do,” said Bernie doing his best Gloria Swanson imitation.

“Oh, cut the shit; or I’ll scratch the makeup off your shopping list; and you’ll look ninety”

“I’m perfect, just the way I am, for Cecil B DeMille,” Said Bernie

“Who’s DeMille? Asked Adam

“His cat; Adam – his cat, Shouted Asa

“I think I better leave,”

“Don’t go; we are talking about the old days. You want to hear about them, don’t you?”

“Not really, I was just curious, maybe some other time.”

Carrie came over to the table. “Can I get anybody a refill; I go off the bar at 4:00 pm.”

“Yes, drinks for everyone,” said Bernie and gave Carrie a couple of large bills.  “You keep the change sweetie,” he said to her, patting her hand.

“Such a spender, you are” said Asa “watch that ‘sweetie’ stuff, or you could be charged with harassment.”

“Ha - no one would ever believe it. She is more man, than I am; even tho I look fabulous.

“You are generous with the tip, that I will give you.”

“Paper bubala. It’s only paper; she’s okay for a dyke. I mean she’s not a dinosaur.”

“A dinosaur?”

“You didn’t know that butch lesbians are dinosaurs with a scientific name; ‘Lick a lot of puss.’  “Carrie – she’s not so butch, even tho she dresses like a construction worker”

“You should be keeping quiet,” said Asa; don’t comment on people or how they dress - look at you.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“You want; I should give you a list?”

Carrie returned with their drinks. And the bickering stopped. The three of them sat quiet like little angels.

“It’s delightful to see the old lady and the chicken boy having a good time” she commented, picking up the empty glasses before walking away.

“Pay no attention to them,” said Adam – trolls amuse easily, and the old ones – only God knows how easy.

“I never do. They’re all the same to me.” She said

“Oy vey, look who’s calling us old trolls; there’s a bush in the park with Adam’s name on it”

“It’s all in fun Asa. Lighten up.” Said Adam

“Let me tell you - when I was your age, things were different Adam; how different you wouldn’t believe. Not like today –no, not easy like today,”

“You want I should talk,” asked Bernie.

“Later, talk later, but jump in any time, because you will anyway. So jump, who cares?”

“Shut up already; I’ll get there maybe yes and maybe not. Anyway it was not always a happy time Adam.”

“You learned to keep your mouth shut because people wouldn’t help you and you avoided the embarrassment of being labeled a ‘homo.’ That word is not used any more, at least around here.”

 “I know that feeling, mumbled Adam

We thought we were special. No-no, we believed it. We had our own bars, where we could let down our hair and be ourselves. We could touch, hold and dance with men and not be called queer. We were gay boys who liked gay boys, with an occasional straight man thrown in for hungry sex; reinforcing gay dedication to a male body.

Straight men were available; you just had to know the right way to ask them. A man could get a blowjob at a urinal and that was the end of it. No dating, no conversation; just ‘blow and go’. Women licked around like an ice cream cone and men sucked deep and tight – big difference when a guy wants to get off. It’s like anything else; you have to know what you’re doing.

We had cruising spots, but often chased away and steam baths. Plus the streets – Oh, the sex we found on the streets and parks was trampy.

We were sheep; we went where the grazing was best. Except for some piss elegant queens, who liked to pick and choose ending up with not much but cocktails holding out their little pinky for elegance. That was shanda (embarrassing)

“The sight of a sweaty man in a ripped tee shirt still warms my cockles, that’s my thought of the day,” jumped in Bernie, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.  Let me tell you about ‘On the Waterfront”

“Your cockles and Marlon Brando, I am not talking about, good grief”

“If you’re comfortable – be comfortable; enjoy – what can I say, there is nothing different about men like Brando.  Here we are, two old bastards, annoying and useless. No one cares about what we say, and we don’t either,” added Bernie.

“I have to leave gentlemen; I will talk with you again Asa.”

“Sure, but why?  Are you writing a book or enchanted with my sexy body?

Asa was trying to keep from laughing, at the ridiculous thought of an old coot being with a twenty-two year old. Nothing is that gay.

“I’m enchanted”

“I was joking”

“I wasn’t,” said Adam looking over his shoulder as he went back to the bar.

 “He’s enchanted with your old body; can you believe that?” giggled Bernie

“No”

“Well, I like him; he has terrible taste in men, but I still like him.”

“Why not, he’s upright and breathing. Just don’t take your clothes off, if you want a second date.

“Who’s talking about a date? You are the one he’s enchanted with. I’m only saying that the past controls the present.  I am the past and he is the present; that could be a date going no place.”

”Nonsense, is what it could be,” 

“It is nonsense that keeps me going, but it won’t change the facts.”

“What facts?”

“I could use a cheap trashy slut in heat. You know, one of those, dumb as a rock specimen, who is not too smart and not too fussy. ”

“Good grief, where is all this coming from. Tell me again on the 4th of July and I’ll send up a rocket, for nothing more than to drown out the noise you’re making.”

“You have to do what you think is best”

“For you, Geritol is best, believe me.” Said Asa

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“You need the energy, and Geritol will help”

“It gives me heartburn and I poop green,” replied Bernie

“Gone, is your get up and go, and you think you can handle a trashy slut; oy what has happened to you Bernie?”

“I’m old, the mind is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

“What?”

“I said, “I’m fuckin old.”

“I know, everything you have is weak.”

“Oh, shut up, - I’m willing to do anything that doesn’t require naked. It’s not the dirt around the plant that matters; it’s the rose”

“You need the dirt to get a rose, such a putz you are becoming”

“The “Rose” – I am the fuckin rose, stammered Bernie “I could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch; you remember the way it used to be. 

“I do remember like the Greek goddess of labyrinth, you were. Today you are like the old man and the sea without the water”

“That is your idea of funny?” asked Bernie

“You choose,” replied Asa, adjusting his underwear that was creeping up  and sticking to his butt.

Adam came back over to where they were sitting caring two glasses of beer and some potato chips. He was smiling and looked like a little boy at a birthday party. He had a body that was mysterious looking. Visions went through Asa’s head and they were all about sugar plums.

“Here Pop, have a drink on me.” And set everything down on the table.

“My limit is two, but since your money, you are not saving, we accept.

“Sit with us Adam, for just a moment” said Bernie

“Okay, but only a minute, I am meeting somebody,” said Adam. He was watching intently the front door, every time it opened.

“Oh, you have a date?”

“No, it’s just a hook up.” Adam replied “I haven’t met this person before”

“Where the hell, did you find somebody you haven’t met. That makes no sense.”

“The internet, so if he doesn’t run away and we like each other; then I will ‘hook up’ with him”

“What’s with this ‘hook up’ business?  Hook up – hook up, we never did ‘hook ups,’ we had tricks. When we met somebody, he was a trick” said Bernie. “What happens, if you don’t like him?

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about not liking him.”

“Better have a plan ready. Suppose he smells bad – then what? It could happen you know.”

“Then I will run away; stop being a ‘mother hen’ – I know what I’m doing.”

“Of course – I also knew what I was doing at twenty two,” said Bernie.

“I’m not you,”  Adam mumbled, and returned to the bar.

“Don’t relive the past because you can’t change it, this Wexler kid is still learning about today. With him it’s all about the future.” Asa reminded him.

“Bah, yesterday / today, it’s all the same. I’ve turned this stuff into an art form. It brings out contentment in me that I thought was lost, and all my friends love me”

“What friends” they’re all dead, the only one left, is me,” said Asa.

“Dead right, but you’re still around and such a kibitzer, you are”

“I see a lot when I don’t close my eyes”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re so busy finding fault with everybody else, that you forget we’re the problem”

“A problem, no we’re not. I mind my own business and okay I think dirty, but that is the business I am talking about.”

Somewhere in that comment was a spark of realism, and it took chutzpah to see awesome, when it came to these two.

“It’s never too much, when you’re young, but when you’re over the hill, then you’re over the hill, so don’t talk nonsense, just think about it,” Bernie reminded him.

“Ha – it’s never too much, for me, just not enough” Asa barked back at him, wishing he was the one fooling around with Adam and not some internet stranger. But of course, that would never happen.

They swallowed the last bit of beer and struggled getting to their feet. The two small bags of potato chips, from Adam, still sat on the table untouched.

“Here, said Asa. Take these home with you, the salt, I don’t need,” and tucked them into Bernie’s pocket.

“So where are you going?” asked Bernie

“I have a massage waiting for me. I need all the touching I can get”

I’m going home and wash my balls” said Bernie

“Why”

“They itch”

“Good enough – use warm water – cold you shrink.”

“I know”

“Okay, good enough”

They walked out the door together and started over Flatbush Ave.

“All this crap is Meshugameh (crazy–nuts)” said Asa

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I think so” Asa replied

“That because we’re old.  Hot seems to work for everybody but us.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I think so” replied Bernie. Sometimes you just need to be quiet. It’s no more complicated than that.

“Huh, quiet coming from you – this I gotta see.”

The light turned green and slowly they crossed the street still talking.

“You know, that Adam wasn’t so bad; not Brando, but a good body on that kid. I would go out with him,” said Bernie

“Do me a favor”, asked Asa

“What’s that?

“Shut up”

“I’m only saying”

“I know what you are saying, just shut up” mumbled Asa   

 To be continued...

Author's Note: Thank you for reading part 1 of Flatbush Avenue. There are 11 more parts to this story, with tender moments and sexual encounters that some have labeled yummy while other have said - “now really.”

Just the same, there are different degrees of storytelling and gay is gay.

Posted: 07/19/19