A/N: This is Part 1 of the (7 part) Willie Loomis World Series. It is the story of a poor kid from Brooklyn, whose life is unhampered by good luck or good judgment. Subsequent titles are Globetrotters, The Maine Event, Changes, This Old House, Interlude and Haplessly Ever After, in that order.
The time period is shifted from the original series. This first story begins in 1956.
Warnings: language, violence, underage sex
Disclaimer: Of course, I do not own Dark Shadows or any otherwise copyrighted material contained herein.
Solicitation: As always, your reviews and comments are welcome and deeply appreciated.
Chapter 1
Prologue
Brooklyn, NY
December 25, 1956
Willie Loomis was born in the late afternoon to a nineteen-year-old unemployed telephone operator. The father of her baby was a used car salesman in his thirties who did not offer to marry the girl. In fact, he denied paternity and questioned her faithfulness. Truth be told, the man already had a wife and several children.
Lydia continued to work as long as she could. She bought herself a wedding ring and wore a tight girdle, but eventually her misfortune became too obvious and her employment with the phone company was abruptly terminated.
Both of her parents were long gone, and Uncle Bill and Aunt Blanche, who raised the girl, lived in Cedar Rapids. They had warned her about moving east to the big city by herself last year, but she had always been headstrong and often lacking in good judgment. Nonetheless, the elderly couple sent what they could afford to help out until she was back on her feet.
The hospital was extremely short staffed because of the holiday, so Lydia lay neglected in the indigent ward, enduring hours of arduous contractions. Her water broke a while back and she lay in the amniotic fluid until a nurse finally checked on her. The girl was covered in sweat and fully dilated, so they gassed her up, knocked her out and delivered her infant son.
Two days later, Lydia had still not seen her baby. When she demanded to know what was wrong, the nurse replied that nothing was amiss, that was hospital policy. Later, the young mother was visited by a social worker and discovered that all assumed that she would be giving up her infant for adoption. Lydia tore up the form and yelled at the poor woman, threatening to pitch a bedpan at her head.
Late that night, the girl quietly changed into her street clothes, gathered her coat and pocketbook and tiptoed down the hall to the nursery. Scouring the name cards posted above each of the bassinets, she found the one labeled LOOMIS: MALE. 5 LBS, 6 OZ, as tears rolled down her cheeks at the sight of her beautiful baby boy.
"They think I'm going to give you to some stranger, but we both know that's not going to happen," she whispered. "No one is ever going to take you away from me."
Lydia gently lifted the sleeping newborn and tucked him into her coat, buttoning it around the two of them. Then she walked out the hospital and took the subway home.
The baby's bassinet was now a dresser drawer, pulled out and lined with a soft blanket. The young mother tucked him in and kissed his forehead. "Goodnight, Little Billy." The infant stared back at her, quiet and alert. "You haven't made a sound. I hope you're alright."
Lydia left him to sleep as she cleaned herself up in the bathroom. The doctor had given her an episiotomy during the birth; the stitches had pulled during her journey home and she was bleeding heavily.
An hour later, just as the exhausted new mother crawled into bed, Baby Bill assured her that his vocal chords were in perfect working order. She dragged herself into the kitchen and prepared to heat a bottle of formula.
Within a month, Lydia was able to return to the workforce. She found a job at Coleman's Department Store on the avenue, where she was assigned to work at the glove counter, and paid a neighbor lady to watch her child. Mrs. Benson had three daughters, two of whom were preschool.
January 1961
The Benson girls fussed over their little charge, inviting him to tea parties and to play with Barbie and Ken. But as the years passed, the youngster found himself without companionship as the daughters grew old enough to attend school. Spoiled by all the attention previously lavished on him, the youngster was quickly becoming a rambunctious four-year-old hellion.
Bill jumped on the furniture and ran over tables with Barbie's red convertible which, apparently, Ken had taken for a joy ride. He drew a mustache on Ken with a magic marker. Then he drew one on Barbie and proceeded to scribble on the Dream House furniture and tea cups.
One day when the little boy was wrestling with a sizable, stuffed teddy bear, he hurled it across the living room and knocked over a lamp, breaking it. That evening, Mrs. Benson told his mother she couldn't care for William anymore, even when the girl offered her more money.
Lydia stopped at the Discount Liquor Mart on the way home and picked up a bottle of wine to calm her nerves that night while she considered her options. She would have to call in sick the next day and try to find another babysitter—just for a little while, until Bill could start kindergarten. Hopefully, she could sneak him in a year early.
Three days later, the woman found a nursery school that accepted early admissions, but it was only for half days. However, by then it didn't matter. Another shop girl informed her manager that Lydia was not ill but off traipsing around with her illegitimate offspring and, once again, the young mother was promptly fired.
Lydia took the child to a tap room for lunch. They sat in a booth where Bill devoured a grilled wiener and Coke, and his mom drank a double vodka martini. She tried to hide her tears when the bartender delivered their order.
The proprietor looked sympathetically at the despondent duo. "We don't get many unescorted women in here," he commented. "Not ladies, anyway, and they usually don't bring their kids."
Lydia looked up with red rimmed eyes. "Do we have to leave?"
"No, I guess not. Seems like you're having a tough day." He looked at the youngster. "Well, you're a handsome little fella. What's your name?"
"I'm not little, I'm big. Big Bill!"
"How do you do, I'm Big Bob." The two shook hands.
"This is my mommy; her name is Lyddie," the child chirped brightly. "She lost her job today, and now she's gonna get drunk."
"Bill!" Lydia reprimanded her outspoken son, but he continued, speculating this grownup was friendly and might be a good father.
"Could Lyddie get a job here with you? She's a good worker, and she's very pretty."
"Billy, please stop."
"That's okay," Bob laughed as he tousled the tyke's blond hair. "You're a little hustler, aren't you?"
"You could use someone prettier than you to serve them drinks," an old man sitting at the bar called out. "Good for business."
"Charlie, you give me all the business I need!" Bob laughed and returned to Lydia. "Well, miss? Have you ever waited tables?"
"She's smart, too," the child chimed in.
Lydia was red with embarrassment. "William Loomis, that's enough. Thank you, sir—"
"Bob."
"Bob. I appreciate the offer, but I've got no one to watch my boy."
"Well, you can bring him here with you. I live upstairs with my wife, so the kid can watch TV and sleep on the sofa."
"Yeah! I know how to do that, 'cause I sleep on the sofa at home," Bill once more interjected. "And I'll be very good and not break anythin'."
"I should hope not," Lydia shot him a reproachful look. "Don't you think, Bob, that you should check with your wife first?"
"No, it's probably better if we surprise her." The bartender noticed the kid's threadbare jacket. "When you get paid, you might want to get this guy a warm coat, or else we'll be calling him Chilly Willie."
After that, everybody called the little hustler Willie, except his mom. To her he would always be Big Bill.