From Elation to Deflation
The three o'clock school bell rings, the eleven-year old boy starts his journey home with exciting news. He walks slowly at first but when he exits the school yard he begins to run. It's only three blocks to his home and as he turns the corner he bumps into Mister McDonnell, the grocery man.
"Hey kiddo be careful."
"Sorry Mister McDonnell," he loses a step.
The older man smiles, "Slow down son you're gonna knock someone over."
He hears him faintly respond, "Ok, I will."
He turns the corner onto his street and picks up the pace. He passes by his building feeling somewhat embarrassed even though no one was there to point it out. Taking the steps two at a time he scales the three flights of stairs quickly, he digs into his pocket and takes out the key. "Finally," he unlocks the door and opens it with one motion. "Mom," he hears a noise in the kitchen, "Mom guess what?" he says excitedly as he takes out the 6 by 8 inch manila envelope. He stops short at the sight of a man.
"Who are you?" The tall dark haired man turns slowly; in his hand is a bottle of beer. He is wearing black slacks and his blue sport shirt is opened and he is bare foot. "Who are you? Where's my Mom?"
The tall man smiles at him, "She's in the bedroom getting dressed."
He can hear her voice; she's been drinking he can tell, even though she promised this morning that she wouldn't. The man points, "What's in the envelope?" nodding his head, "Oh yeah," he takes a sip of beer. "Report card time."
The sentence causes him to look up at the man, "Yeah it's my report card." He walks further into the room the aroma of liquor is profound and the foul smell causes him to turn his head. A noise is heard from the doorway and they turn their attention to the woman standing there.
"Mom," he says with elation, holding out the card.
"Why are you home so early? Why aren't you at baseball or basketball or whatever the hell you do after school?"
He slumps down in the seat at the kitchen table stuffing the card and envelope in his math book. "It's football season," he says solemnly.
"Goddamnit," she smacks him on the back of the head, "Don't mumble, answer my…." She points to the sink. "You forgot to do the dishes again this morning," she says angrily. She grabs a coffee cup from the sink, turning abruptly she throws it in his direction; it misses his head and hits the wall, "Stupid lazy bastard!"
Within seconds he is out the door and down the hall, never looking back, he can hear her cussing his name. He quickly descends the stairs and comes upon the door to the basement. He opens it and neglects to notice that the light is on, slamming the door behind him. As he walks down the steps he hears a noise. He looks up and spies a boy, younger than him. Being new to the building he does not know many of the kids that live here. The boy is standing in the middle of the room with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. The sad expression on his face is familiar, one that he has seen in his reflection in the mirror.
"Hi," says the curly dark haired boy.
"Hi yourself," he sits down on the second step from the bottom. "Are you here alone or are you playing hide and seek?"
He shakes his head, "You do your homework down here?"
"Huh?" he says, and then realizes that he still has hold of his math book. "No I forgot I had it."
"Is your report card that bad that you're afraid to go home?"
Surprised at the question from the young boy, he looks down at his book. "I've already been home; my Mom has company and well…."
"Real or imaginary?"
"What?" He shakes his head not sure if he heard him correctly, "What did you say?"
"Nothing," he shuffles to the stairs and sits on the bottom step.
He opens the book and takes out the report card staring at the line of A's going down. "Wow, my brother gets grades like that, I hate school."
"I have never gotten straight A's in my life and no one cares." He hastily stuffs the card back into the book as he stands. "She's upstairs with some guy who she probably met this morning." He removes the card again, "She called me stupid and lazy, and I'll bet she never got grades like this I worked really hard." Shaking the card. "Sometimes I hate her so much." He looks down at the young boy whose face is expressionless. He sits down next to him. "You sit there like you've heard all this before."
He shrugs his shoulders, "Hasn't everyone."
"No," he grabs his arm. "This is not normal; don't let anyone convince you that it is." He stands and stretches out his arms. "I mean look where we are. Are the other kids who live in the building down here? No." He makes a gesture to throw the book but he stops. Turning to face the young boy, "It's just you and me."
"There are a lot of cool places to hide down here?" he says staring straight ahead.
"I can see that. You've spent a lot of time down here, haven't you?"
"Yeah I have its quiet and….how come they promise things in the morning? Then forget about it in the afternoon?"
"I don't know," he shakes his head. "Promises, I am so sick of that word. I promise that when we move into the new building everything will be different. It's not different it's the same, she…." He fidgets as he speaks, "She gets sick and then she gets angry at me for the stupidest things. Even when I do well," he chokes on his words, rubbing his eyes. Tears don't come as they use to. He looks down at the young boy and his eyes are filled with tears. He places his hand on his shoulder, "I know exactly how you feel, it's ok to cry."
He pushes his arm away, "I'm too big to cry," he says slightly sobbing.
"Who told you that?"
"My brother," he wipes his eyes then rubs his nose on his sleeve.
He digs into his pocket, "Here," he taps his arm handing him a handkerchief.
He looks down at the dark haired boy with the sad eyes. "Thanks," he wipes his eyes and blows his nose.
Patting him on the back, "Keep it," he says.
They laugh.
A door slams and it startles the boys, "Should I turn off the light?" says the younger boy whispering.
The eleven year old holds up his hand, "No I'll do it." They wait in silence staring at the basement door. After a few minutes the door doesn't open and the boys simultaneously expel a sigh of relief. They laugh as he flips on the light. He descends the stairs and sits down next to his newest acquaintance.
"So how long have you lived here?"
"About a year. How about you?"
"We moved here in August," he stretches his legs, "You said you had a brother I take it he's older than you."
"Yeah he's in the seventh grade, I'm in the fourth. What grade are you in?"
"The sixth."
Once again they hear a door slam; the eleven year old holds his finger up to his mouth, "Shhh." He makes a move to turn off the light then the door opens.
"Bobby," the voice says sharply.
The young boy exhales, "Yeah."
The figure walks down the stairs, "Come on home, Mom's asleep and Dad is…." He scratches the back of his head. "I don't know where Dad is." He stares at the boy sitting next to his brother.
"This is my brother Frank," he stands, pointing at his new buddy, "This is a…." he frowns.
The eleven-year old stands, "Mike."
"Hey Mike," Frank takes a hold of his brothers' arm and pulls, "Come on let's go."
"See ya Mike."
"Yeah Bobby, see ya."
Two Weeks Later
"Michael, what is so fascinating that keeps you at the window?"
"Someone's moving out."
She leans over and peers out the window, suddenly she turns away. He looks back at the street and sees a dark haired man followed by two boys. That's the guy who was in the kitchen that day, he adjusts his position, its Bobby and his brother. He looks over at his mother, Holy shit.
She abruptly reaches over and lowers the shade, "That's enough." He knows enough not to argue with her. "Don't you have homework to do?" He nods, "Well I suggest you do it," she says in a commanding tone. He stands eyeing her with contempt; homework is she kidding me, who cares.
January 2008
"Logan," she pats his arm.
"Yeah," he continues to stare straight ahead. "I use to live in this neighborhood."
She turns her head to look up and down the street, "It's still a nice neighborhood."
Too bad the memories aren't.
"Goren and Eames are here, are we going to go up or what?"
"Yeah come on let's go."
"Bobby," she nudges him with her elbow. "Earth to Bobby."
"Yeah," he points to the right. "I use to live in this neighborhood, that building there."
Working side by side with this man everyday for years she knows all his expressions, she lightly touches his arm, "Bobby it was a long time ago."
He clutches his leather case, "Yes," he nods his head, "it was, come on let's do this."
"Why does a Supreme Court Judge need with an apartment in Brooklyn?"
"Well Falacci," Logan says as he extends his arm for her to go first. "After we search the place we'll find out."
The four detectives meet up and exchange pleasantries.
The women lead the way while their male partners follow. The men simultaneously look at the building that they resided in those many years ago. The memories are sad but they have become not men like their fathers or have taken on the illnesses of their mothers'. Two strong boys who overcame the neglect and heartache that they endured. Two good men who any parent would be proud to call son and embrace the men that the have become.
TBC