Free What’s Happening? by John Nicholas Iannuzzi

with her family.
    â€œSo how’s your apartment?” Mother shot at her in an offhand manner, smiling to instill confidence.
    â€œFine, … fine.” Rita looked up perfunctorily so that no one could start a discussion about her not raising her head and speaking with respect.
    â€œAnd your roommates?”
    â€œFine, … they’re fine …”
    â€œOooszp … oooszp.” Father tilted his plate to pull in the last few dregs of his soup. He was completely unconcerned with the other people around the table.
    â€œWhy don’t you bring one around so I can take her out,” Randy suggested giddily, a childish sneer on his mouth. His eyes darted to Mother. She indicated a slight smile, then looked quickly at Father from the side of her eyes.
    Father glanced at Randy sternly, annoyed, then down to his soup again. Father did not approve of talk about the interrelationship of boys and girls in the presence of his family. Consideration of these subjects was reserved for the bodies of Father and his girl friend, and the ribald, evil humor of his friends as they regaled themselves, ostensibly in secret, with crude stories.
    â€œI don’t think they’d be interested,” Rita replied with restraint.
    â€œWhy not? If they like you, they can’t be too hot.”
    Rita winced. This was a parent-approved way for Randy to speak because he was only a boy, a little child, … a child that did not know better, who could learn about life by chance as he got older, and besides, Rita … well, Rita lived in the Village.
    Rita drew in an extra breath to squelch her rising anger. Her mouth chomped on the inside of her cheek as she stared at Randy. She looked down and tried to concentrate on her soup.
    â€œWhat else do we have?” asked Father.
    â€œLiver … mashed potatoes.” Mother stood to bring out the rest of the food.
    â€œMmmmm … a meal fit for a king.” Father rubbed his hands together with delight. “What else are you doing?” Father asked Rita as he waited.
    â€œWorking, you mean?”
    â€œAnything. What are you doing at all?” He continued the general inquisition.
    â€œNothing much, … still a waitress, … still going to class three times a week.”
    Disgust flickered on Father’s mouth. His head began to nod with the weighty problems of the patriarch. He enjoyed even this grief of leadership.
    â€œWell, I can’t explain you anything, can I?” he asked. “You’re gonna do what you want no matter …”
    â€œPop, let’s not start another argument. I came home to see how everybody was, not to discuss what I’m doing. Can’t we leave it at that?”
    â€œWait a minute! You don’t mind if I tell you something?” He aimed a finger at her face, his eyes narrowing. “If you’re so worried about us, you would be home more … so don’t hand me that crap. I don’t know yet what you want, but you’re not gettin’ nothin’. You live in that, “Green-witch” Village and then you come home and expect whatever you expect from your poor mother and me,” he snorted. “I let you get away with too much. I should give you a good slap in the mouth and make you come home, that’s what I should do. I’m too good to you. Other fathers would let their daughters go and live in the Village by themselves, … hhmph. They’d cut their kids’ legs off first.”
    Rita absorbed this tirade silently. Father was quiet for many minutes, contemplating.
    â€œâ€¦ but I want you to find out for yourself, and do what you think is best,” he began again mildly, solicitously. “Do you think daddy yells at you because I like it? I know what you’re going through, and I want to help you. I was young once. But if you don’t listen to me …” Anger flared for an instant. “I’m doing these things for your own