Helping Hand
Chapter 7
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Bosco opened the door to his apartment and stood aside so Charlie could go in. He was moving slowly because of how sore he was.
Bosco followed him in and closed and locked the door behind him as Charlie flopped down hard on the couch. Bosco put the bag they'd put Charlie's dirty shirt in at the hospital down by the door and hung up his coat. He walked out into the kitchen to see what he had to eat. He knew that Charlie was waiting for him to say something - anything - to him, but Bosco wanted to make him wait a little longer. Besides, he wasn't exactly sure what to say just yet.
Not seeing much in the way of food, Bosco reached into the freezer and pulled out a handful of ice. He put it into a towel and walked out to Charlie. Without looking at him, he thrust the bag of ice in Charlie's direction. "Here, better keep ice on that eye," he said, turning and walking down the hallway.
Charlie sat on the couch, wondering what he should do. He thought about leaving while Bosco wasn't looking, but knowing of the stories he'd heard from his mother about Bosco never giving up until he'd found some perp, he knew it would only be a matter of time before Bosco found him - and he'd be even more pissed than he appeared now. He looked down the hall, wondering why Bosco hadn't just deposited him back at his apartment for his mother to deal with.
Reaching over, he picked up the remote and flipped the television on as he held the bag of ice to his face. He was flipping through the channels when Bosco pulled the remote out of his hand, turned the television off, and put the remote up on a shelf in what seemed like one swift movement.
"This ain't no slumber party," Bosco said, throwing a handful of stuff at Charlie. "They'll be big, but it's all I've got," he added as Charlie looked through the pile of towels, sweats and t-shirts. "Shower's all yours. Shampoo is on the edge of the tub," he said and Charlie got up and walked down the hallway. Just before he closed the door behind him, Bosco added. "Then, we'll talk."
Bosco listened as the shower turned on and then went back out into the kitchen in an attempt to throw something together that they could eat. He was starving and his stomach was making all kinds of noises to remind him.
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After about 25 minutes, Charlie came out of the bathroom, holding his dirty clothing. The clothes Bosco had given him were big on him, but at least the sweats had elastic around the ankles so they wouldn't slip down and make him fall.
"Um, what should I do with these?" Charlie asked hesitantly.
"Just drop 'em on the bathroom floor. I'll put 'em in with my stuff later," Bosco told him, putting a plate of spaghetti and bowl of sauce on the table. "Hungry?" he asked Charlie.
"I could eat something," Charlie responded, walking out into the kitchen as Bosco put some bread and butter on the table.
"Sit down. It's all ready. Sorry, it's nothing too great," Bosco apologized, as he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a can of soda and a bottle of beer. Thinking better of it, he put the beer back and grabbed another can of soda.
"Thanks," Charlie said as he spooned some of the pasta and sauce onto the plate that Bosco had put on the table. Bosco slid a can of soda at him and sat down across from him and started putting food onto his plate as well.
They ate in silence, each stealing glances at the other when they weren't looking. Finally, they were just about finished and Bosco spoke up.
"So, what is it?" Bosco asked the boy and the forkful of food that Charlie had stopped in mid-air halfway between the plate and his mouth.
"What's what?" Charlie stalled, putting the forkful of spaghetti in his mouth and taking a swig of the soda.
"Don't play dumb, Charlie. You and I both know that you're obviously having some trouble. Your sister's scared to death for you and I gotta say that it looks like I showed up just in time in the park tonight," he said, trying to hold his anger in check. "Now, what the hell's the problem?" he asked again.
Charlie shrugged, not really knowing how to put it into words. He knew that Bosco was only trying to help him, but how did he say that he was jealous of the attention that his mother was getting. It was bad enough that he'd resented all the fuss they made over Emily after she'd gotten sick from eating whatever it was she ate and ended up in the hospital. But, to be jealous of someone who was shot, almost died, and was now in a wheelchair was just stupid. But, it was the way he felt.
"Well, how do you plan on explaining that mess on your face when you get home?" Bosco asked him.
"It's not like anyone will notice," Charlie mumbled, more to himself than Bosco, but Bosco did manage to hear.
"What's that mean?" Bosco asked.
"Just what I said. Whether I'm there or not, no one notices. Dad's working all the time and Mom's either at the hospital for therapy or sitting in bed getting waited on by everyone," he said angrily.
"You think your mother likes what's going on?" Bosco asked him, seeing now that Charlie was feeling neglected. "I think your old enough to understand that your mother's going through a hell of an ordeal - you all are for that matter. Your Dad's trying to keep the bills paid, which means that everyone else has to help out until your Mom is up and around again. And she WILL be up and around again, Chuckie. You do know that right?" Bosco asked, as he watched the tears brim in Charlie's eyes.
"She almost died, Uncle B," Charlie said, the tears finally falling. Bosco got up and moved around the table to Charlie's side, putting an arm around his shoulder.
"I know, Charlie. I know. But, the doctors say if she works hard she should be able to walk again," he said, letting Charlie cry, but letting him know that he was there for him also.
"What's with the drinking?" Bosco asked gently.
Charlie swiped a hand over his eyes, wiping away tears as he tried to get himself under control.
"I'm so scared all the time, Bosco. I just wanted to not feel scared any mor.e," Charlie tried to explain.
"Scared of what?" Bosco asked him, getting up and sitting on the kitchen chair alongside him now.
"I'm not sure, but ever since Mom got hurt, I've just felt - I don't know - scared. Do you ever get scared?" he asked Bosco.
"Yeah, Charlie. I do," Bosco said, not telling him the feeling of terror that went through him when he'd found out that Faith was paralyzed. It was unbelievable that he could have been more scared than when he saw her hit the floor in Noble's apartment, blood all over the front of her uniform, but he was. He was brought from his thoughts as Charlie asked him another question.
"Dad says that Mom got hurt because of you? Is that true, Uncle B?" Charlie asked him. Bosco held the boys gaze for a few moments before responding.
"Yes, Charlie. I take full responsibility for your Mom getting hurt. She was only trying to help me and I live with the fact every day that your Mom almost died because of me," Bosco said, his eyes tearing up as well.
"Emily says that Mom knew what she was doing when she decided to help you. That no one forced her to do it," Charlie told him. Bosco smiled slightly at Emily's defense of him.
"Well, that's true to some extent, but I did some stupid things to put myself in a position to need your Mom's help. And, as usual, she was there for me when it counted. Like I somehow always knew she would be - when it came right down to it," Bosco admitted.
"So, this drinking you say is because you're feeling scared all the time?" Bosco said, bringing the conversation back to the problem at hand. Charlie just nodded and then quietly said.
"At first, I didn't need it all the time. Then, I started to rely on it. I've pretty much been walking around with a 'buzz' on for the last few weeks," Charlie admitted, looking down at the floor.
"Well, it stops now, Charlie. Understand?" Bosco said, pulling his chin up to look at him. "From now on, you need some help coping, you call me. Or Emily or your Dad. Or your Mom," he added. "You know you have to tell her what's been going on, right?" Bosco said.
"Yeah, I guess so. She's gonna be pissed," Charlie said, surprising Bosco with his last word.
Recovering from the surprise, Bosco said, "Not as pissed as she's gonna be that Emily and I tried to take care of it without her finding out." They were interrupted by Bosco's phone ringing.
Bosco walked over to the phone and picked it up. "Boscorelli," he said then his features softened. "Hey, Em. Yeah, we're here. He's okay. We just got done eating and having a talk," Bosco told her as he looked over to see Charlie giving a yawn. "I'd say he's wiped out for tonight. I'm gonna get him settled and then I'll drop him by tomorrow. What? No, don't worry. I won't come up," he assured her, still hurt by the fact that he wasn't supposed to be having any contact with these kids that he'd just about watched grow up before his eyes. "I know," he said as Emily apologized for the fact that he couldn't be seen around their apartment. "Yup. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Don't worry, Em. I think everything's gonna be okay. G'night," he said, hanging up the phone.
"Okay. Let's get you settled. You can take my bed tonight and I'll take the couch," he told Charlie.
"You sure? I don't want to make you sleep on the couch," Charlie argued.
"Believe me, Chuckie. You'll be sore enough tomorrow. You don't need the added soreness of sleeping on this thing," Bosco said, patting the couch. "Besides, many's the time that I've crashed on this thing."
"Thanks, Uncle B," Charlie said, heading down the hallway.
"Don't thank me yet. You have to face the music tomorrow. And I want you to make sure that you come clean with your Mom, Charlie. You have to tell her everything. About the drinking. About the fight. Everything," he said.
"I know. I will. I promise," Charlie said.
Bosco watched him disappear into the darkened bedroom and then, grabbing the remote off the shelf, he sat down, let out a big sigh, and turned on the television. He didn't even remember falling asleep.
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TBC...
Chapter 7
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bosco opened the door to his apartment and stood aside so Charlie could go in. He was moving slowly because of how sore he was.
Bosco followed him in and closed and locked the door behind him as Charlie flopped down hard on the couch. Bosco put the bag they'd put Charlie's dirty shirt in at the hospital down by the door and hung up his coat. He walked out into the kitchen to see what he had to eat. He knew that Charlie was waiting for him to say something - anything - to him, but Bosco wanted to make him wait a little longer. Besides, he wasn't exactly sure what to say just yet.
Not seeing much in the way of food, Bosco reached into the freezer and pulled out a handful of ice. He put it into a towel and walked out to Charlie. Without looking at him, he thrust the bag of ice in Charlie's direction. "Here, better keep ice on that eye," he said, turning and walking down the hallway.
Charlie sat on the couch, wondering what he should do. He thought about leaving while Bosco wasn't looking, but knowing of the stories he'd heard from his mother about Bosco never giving up until he'd found some perp, he knew it would only be a matter of time before Bosco found him - and he'd be even more pissed than he appeared now. He looked down the hall, wondering why Bosco hadn't just deposited him back at his apartment for his mother to deal with.
Reaching over, he picked up the remote and flipped the television on as he held the bag of ice to his face. He was flipping through the channels when Bosco pulled the remote out of his hand, turned the television off, and put the remote up on a shelf in what seemed like one swift movement.
"This ain't no slumber party," Bosco said, throwing a handful of stuff at Charlie. "They'll be big, but it's all I've got," he added as Charlie looked through the pile of towels, sweats and t-shirts. "Shower's all yours. Shampoo is on the edge of the tub," he said and Charlie got up and walked down the hallway. Just before he closed the door behind him, Bosco added. "Then, we'll talk."
Bosco listened as the shower turned on and then went back out into the kitchen in an attempt to throw something together that they could eat. He was starving and his stomach was making all kinds of noises to remind him.
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After about 25 minutes, Charlie came out of the bathroom, holding his dirty clothing. The clothes Bosco had given him were big on him, but at least the sweats had elastic around the ankles so they wouldn't slip down and make him fall.
"Um, what should I do with these?" Charlie asked hesitantly.
"Just drop 'em on the bathroom floor. I'll put 'em in with my stuff later," Bosco told him, putting a plate of spaghetti and bowl of sauce on the table. "Hungry?" he asked Charlie.
"I could eat something," Charlie responded, walking out into the kitchen as Bosco put some bread and butter on the table.
"Sit down. It's all ready. Sorry, it's nothing too great," Bosco apologized, as he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a can of soda and a bottle of beer. Thinking better of it, he put the beer back and grabbed another can of soda.
"Thanks," Charlie said as he spooned some of the pasta and sauce onto the plate that Bosco had put on the table. Bosco slid a can of soda at him and sat down across from him and started putting food onto his plate as well.
They ate in silence, each stealing glances at the other when they weren't looking. Finally, they were just about finished and Bosco spoke up.
"So, what is it?" Bosco asked the boy and the forkful of food that Charlie had stopped in mid-air halfway between the plate and his mouth.
"What's what?" Charlie stalled, putting the forkful of spaghetti in his mouth and taking a swig of the soda.
"Don't play dumb, Charlie. You and I both know that you're obviously having some trouble. Your sister's scared to death for you and I gotta say that it looks like I showed up just in time in the park tonight," he said, trying to hold his anger in check. "Now, what the hell's the problem?" he asked again.
Charlie shrugged, not really knowing how to put it into words. He knew that Bosco was only trying to help him, but how did he say that he was jealous of the attention that his mother was getting. It was bad enough that he'd resented all the fuss they made over Emily after she'd gotten sick from eating whatever it was she ate and ended up in the hospital. But, to be jealous of someone who was shot, almost died, and was now in a wheelchair was just stupid. But, it was the way he felt.
"Well, how do you plan on explaining that mess on your face when you get home?" Bosco asked him.
"It's not like anyone will notice," Charlie mumbled, more to himself than Bosco, but Bosco did manage to hear.
"What's that mean?" Bosco asked.
"Just what I said. Whether I'm there or not, no one notices. Dad's working all the time and Mom's either at the hospital for therapy or sitting in bed getting waited on by everyone," he said angrily.
"You think your mother likes what's going on?" Bosco asked him, seeing now that Charlie was feeling neglected. "I think your old enough to understand that your mother's going through a hell of an ordeal - you all are for that matter. Your Dad's trying to keep the bills paid, which means that everyone else has to help out until your Mom is up and around again. And she WILL be up and around again, Chuckie. You do know that right?" Bosco asked, as he watched the tears brim in Charlie's eyes.
"She almost died, Uncle B," Charlie said, the tears finally falling. Bosco got up and moved around the table to Charlie's side, putting an arm around his shoulder.
"I know, Charlie. I know. But, the doctors say if she works hard she should be able to walk again," he said, letting Charlie cry, but letting him know that he was there for him also.
"What's with the drinking?" Bosco asked gently.
Charlie swiped a hand over his eyes, wiping away tears as he tried to get himself under control.
"I'm so scared all the time, Bosco. I just wanted to not feel scared any mor.e," Charlie tried to explain.
"Scared of what?" Bosco asked him, getting up and sitting on the kitchen chair alongside him now.
"I'm not sure, but ever since Mom got hurt, I've just felt - I don't know - scared. Do you ever get scared?" he asked Bosco.
"Yeah, Charlie. I do," Bosco said, not telling him the feeling of terror that went through him when he'd found out that Faith was paralyzed. It was unbelievable that he could have been more scared than when he saw her hit the floor in Noble's apartment, blood all over the front of her uniform, but he was. He was brought from his thoughts as Charlie asked him another question.
"Dad says that Mom got hurt because of you? Is that true, Uncle B?" Charlie asked him. Bosco held the boys gaze for a few moments before responding.
"Yes, Charlie. I take full responsibility for your Mom getting hurt. She was only trying to help me and I live with the fact every day that your Mom almost died because of me," Bosco said, his eyes tearing up as well.
"Emily says that Mom knew what she was doing when she decided to help you. That no one forced her to do it," Charlie told him. Bosco smiled slightly at Emily's defense of him.
"Well, that's true to some extent, but I did some stupid things to put myself in a position to need your Mom's help. And, as usual, she was there for me when it counted. Like I somehow always knew she would be - when it came right down to it," Bosco admitted.
"So, this drinking you say is because you're feeling scared all the time?" Bosco said, bringing the conversation back to the problem at hand. Charlie just nodded and then quietly said.
"At first, I didn't need it all the time. Then, I started to rely on it. I've pretty much been walking around with a 'buzz' on for the last few weeks," Charlie admitted, looking down at the floor.
"Well, it stops now, Charlie. Understand?" Bosco said, pulling his chin up to look at him. "From now on, you need some help coping, you call me. Or Emily or your Dad. Or your Mom," he added. "You know you have to tell her what's been going on, right?" Bosco said.
"Yeah, I guess so. She's gonna be pissed," Charlie said, surprising Bosco with his last word.
Recovering from the surprise, Bosco said, "Not as pissed as she's gonna be that Emily and I tried to take care of it without her finding out." They were interrupted by Bosco's phone ringing.
Bosco walked over to the phone and picked it up. "Boscorelli," he said then his features softened. "Hey, Em. Yeah, we're here. He's okay. We just got done eating and having a talk," Bosco told her as he looked over to see Charlie giving a yawn. "I'd say he's wiped out for tonight. I'm gonna get him settled and then I'll drop him by tomorrow. What? No, don't worry. I won't come up," he assured her, still hurt by the fact that he wasn't supposed to be having any contact with these kids that he'd just about watched grow up before his eyes. "I know," he said as Emily apologized for the fact that he couldn't be seen around their apartment. "Yup. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Don't worry, Em. I think everything's gonna be okay. G'night," he said, hanging up the phone.
"Okay. Let's get you settled. You can take my bed tonight and I'll take the couch," he told Charlie.
"You sure? I don't want to make you sleep on the couch," Charlie argued.
"Believe me, Chuckie. You'll be sore enough tomorrow. You don't need the added soreness of sleeping on this thing," Bosco said, patting the couch. "Besides, many's the time that I've crashed on this thing."
"Thanks, Uncle B," Charlie said, heading down the hallway.
"Don't thank me yet. You have to face the music tomorrow. And I want you to make sure that you come clean with your Mom, Charlie. You have to tell her everything. About the drinking. About the fight. Everything," he said.
"I know. I will. I promise," Charlie said.
Bosco watched him disappear into the darkened bedroom and then, grabbing the remote off the shelf, he sat down, let out a big sigh, and turned on the television. He didn't even remember falling asleep.
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TBC...