Father, Who Art Thou?

Bosco sat across from me holding a piece of paper in his hand. On that paper was the first name and address of the man who held the key to his true parentage. He looked dazed and shocked, as the information sunk into the furthermost corner of his brain, confusing him and making his mind race with unanswered questions.

Anthony had left us shortly after he had divulged the information, sensing that we needed to be alone and also, because he knew he really wasn't wanted in our home. As I walked him to the door, I knew that this was his way of making up for the harm he had done in the past to Bosco and his mother and brother.

'I'm sorry for waiting so long to tell Maurice the truth.' He had said sadly, clutching that old cane in his hand. He looked down at the floor for a long moment as I stood beside him, not knowing what to say.

'I'm glad that you did. He should know.' I said.

When he looked up at me again, he had tears streaming down his puffy cheeks, his blue eyes shiny. I could feel how sorry he was and it made me feel bad.

'He really is a fine man, Faith. I'm glad that you love him so much. Please take care of my son. I...I...wish...that things could have been different.' He said sincerely. It put tears in my eyes to hear those words, for we both knew that Bosco was not his son, but the sentiment behind it was touching.

'Me too. Goodbye Anthony...and thanks.' I whispered, feeling a lump in my throat. I quickly swallowed it and closed the door. I watched him make his way down our steps toward the cab that awaited him. Emma's car was waiting to pull into the driveway, its blinker indicating its intent. I hoped she didn't ask who had been here. My thought's reverted back to Anthony as the cab backed out of the drive and made it's way down the street.

I wondered what he was thinking about, as he got inside and gave me a small wave, a sad wave, from the backseat. Would he go home and cry himself to sleep, sorry for what he had done? Would he wish that he had been a better father, as he went home to an empty house with no one to love? No grandchildren to hold? Would he sit at home and stare out the window and watch the families and children strolling along the street and wonder why he had messed up so many lives? Did he feel the ache in his chest that comes from losing everything important? Loneliness was the cruelest season of all, I thought sadly. Once, Anthony Boscorelli had a wife and two beautiful children and he didn't appreciate them one iota. Now, he was in the end days of his life and he was alone. I sighed as I shut the screen door on our past, echoing loudly.

He didn't have to do it, but he had felt compelled to tell the truth after all of those years. And even though there were years of bad blood between us, I felt a tiny bit grateful for his decision. Bosco had always wondered who his real father had been and even mentioned it a few times, but was really too scared to do anything about it. Now he knew his first name.

We knew that Rose had been pregnant with him when she married Anthony all those years ago. On her death bed she had revealed the secret that must have been weighing heavily on her heart and her conscience, but she had died before she could tell him his father's name, leaving poor Bosco to wonder about the truth.

What if it had been me in that same situation? What would I have felt if my mother had told me that my father wasn't my true blood kin? How would I have coped, knowing that I might never know the truth? There had been times in the past that I had asked my husband if he wanted to find out who Rose had been seeing. We had friends in the police department who would have gladly checked into it for us, but he had been too embarrassed to ask them. He was more comfortable not knowing, for knowing might have been so much worse.

Before I could discuss the matter any further, Emma came to the door with Little Faith. She was in a hurry to get to work and didn't notice my listless mood. She was wearing a pretty tan colored summer dress with a pair of matching sandals. She wore her blond hair up in a ponytail and wore no makeup. She was beautiful enough without it. Her long legs were tanned and shapely and she wore a silver ankle bracelet on her left foot.

' Who was in the cab, mom?'

' No one. Just an old...friend.' I said quickly, hoping to not have to discuss it.

She set the baby down and bend down on her haunches and smothered her tiny face with kisses and then hugged her close. ' You be a good girl at the beach today for gramma and gappa, ok?'

Little Faith squealed when she heard the word 'beach' and clapped her little hands together. She was wearing a pear of denim shortalls with a pink t-shirt underneath. Emma had put her curly dark hair into two small pigtails and she looked adorable, especially with her custom-made pink flip flops. They were really for show, and she couldn't walk easily in them, but they were cute.

'Gama, I ga fipps!' She said proudly, lifting one tiny foot to let me see her shoes. Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

'Pretty girl! Why don't you go show gapa? He's in the kitchen.' I said, smiling at her. Instantly, she took off down the hall, running as fast as her covered feet would allow.

'Gapa...gapa...I ga fipps...' She called as she ran.

I turned back to Emma. ' So, Em, you'll be by about five-thirty or so?' I asked.

'Around then...I'll see...I wanted to go to Filene's after work for a minute to get Rob a new shirt for that meeting next week..but I'll call you on your cell.' She said as she stood up and adjusted her dress.

'Ok then.' I said, forcing fake cheerfulness.

' See you later mom.' Emma called over her shoulder as she raced out the door.

A second later Bosco came out of the kitchen holding Little Faith in his arms. She was squealing and laughing as he planted kisses on her rosy cheek. I knew he was trying his best to hold himself together, but I also knew that nothing was more important to him than taking his granddaughter to the beach as we had originally planned. To him, a promise was not something to break, and if he promised something, he delivered. Anthony had broken so many promises to he and Mikey when they were young, they learned to expect disappointments. When we started having kids, he always made good on his word and if he promised to do something with them, he did it. No if's and's or but's.

As he came toward me, I could see the pain and torment in those blue orbs. A kind of paralyzing numbness that made him appear as if he were in another world and not with us. He reached me and kissed me on the cheek before handing Little Faith to me.

' Bosco..shouldn't we talk...' I started, as I shifted the baby around onto my other hip, so I could face him. She grabbed onto my sunglasses that were on top of my head and tried to put them on.

' Nope. We're going to the beach just like we said we would.' He said as he grabbed his keys off of the side table dish and stashed them in the pocket of his blue shorts.

'Bos...I think you should talk about this first...aren't you upset?' I asked lightly. I didn't want our granddaughter to sense that anything was wrong, so I kept my voice as usual as I could.

He walked around me and opened the screen door and held it open for me to pass through. He pursed his lips together for a second before replying. ' No. I don't want to talk about it. It doesn't change anything. Let's just forget that Anthony came over here.' He said, avoiding my gaze.

' Okay then...if that's what you want to do...but...' I stared at him, worriedly. I knew my husband and I knew that he was in no shape to go traipsing around the beach. But like the stubborn man he always was, he was going to avoid the issue until he blew up like a volcano. There was only so much pressure he could take before he reached his limit. I knew he was avoiding this topic because he didn't have enough time to think about it. And didn't want to.

' No but's about it.' He said quickly, closing the door on that particular topic and ushering us out the door and down the steps. ' We're going to the beach to build sand castles and have a picnic.' He said in the baby voice he always used with Little Faith, as we walked down the flagstone walk toward our Mustang.

When I wasn't walking to the car quickly enough, he stopped and turned and looked at me, his hands on his hips. 'Well? Are you coming or not?' He asked, in a slightly irritated voice, his face donning a fake smile for the baby's sake.

He shouldn't be going to the beach, I thought to myself. He should be going to see his real father and getting some answers.

After I had strapped the baby in and given her some cherrios for the drive, I took my place beside him in the front seat. I snapped my seat belt into place and adjusted the mirror to put on some lip gloss. I glanced sideways and looked at my husband who was fiddling with the radio dial.

'Are you okay?'

He sighed and looked over at me, giving me a 'don't go there' look. 'I told you I'm fine. I don't want to talk about it.' He said shortly, as he started the car and put it into gear.

He carefully guided us down the long circular driveway and out onto the street, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white...but he didn't want to talk about it. The leather seat was sticking to my skin and burning my rear end.

'Can you put the air conditioning on Bos? This seat is hot.' I said.

'Uh, huh.' He said, not even looking at me. 'We need some music.' He grumbled to himself.

Not finding the music he liked on the radio, he switched the stereo into cd mode and inserted his favorite cd, a single album written by Jim Cuddy from the band 'Blue Rodeo'. Blue Rodeo had been his favorite band for years and he took their music where ever he went. They were my favorite as well and I couldn't help but always be amazed by their music and how they had a song for every mood I'd ever felt and every emotion I'd ever had. They were very talented and had a magic between them that was awesome. He pressed the buttons until he came to a song that made me want to cry.

Too Many Hands

Too many hands

carving up the sky

and leaving their mark in the sand.

Our destiny moves

no matter where we stand.

Too many hands.

There's dust in my eyes

poison in my brain

an ocean that runs through my veins.

But here in my chest

there's a feeling I don't understand.

Too many hands

Here on the highest ground

you can see how far we've gone.

One voice cries echoes on and on.

Far away gone

I'll be hiding from the plans

of too many hands.

Traces of history

appear across the sky.

Lay down now and let your spirit fly.

Too many hands fade away with time.

They're losing themselves in the plan.

I offer my voice

hear me if you can.

Too many hands.

Too many hands.

I felt a terrible lump form in my throat as I listened to those beautifully sung words. It seemed that destiny would prove to be the biggest part of our lives that didn't stand still. No matter what we did or where we went, it was still there, reminding us of all that it could do. I wondered why Anthony had chosen this particular day to come to our house. Would he have come back again if he hadn't found us home? Or would that destiny have changed forever.

Not for the first time, I wondered exactly who this man was that had made Rose pregnant and had left her. What did he look like? Who was he? Did he know about his long-lost son and would he want to meet him? Was he tall or short or did he have Bosco's eyes or nose? Would we take one look at him and find that Bosco was an exact duplicate? Here I was, imagining all of those things when I didn't know if he would ever look the man up.

Was he afraid... and was that the reason he wanted to pretend that Anthony's visit had never happened? Was it fear and hurt that had decided to close that door even though it was barely open? My husband had learned at a very early age, not to depend on anyone or anything, that trusting someone was a foolish thing to do. He had learned that from Anthony and it had stuck. The only people he had trusted were myself and Sasha and Ty. He had never let anyone else in to his private world, the world where those of us who understood and loved him best, were given the privilege of knowing the real Maurice Boscorelli. The man who was sensitive and kind and who would do anything for a friend and never ask anything in return. The man who cried like a baby when we had to bury our pet cat, Kitza, after having her for years. Who looked after his granddaughter and played barbie's and tea party as many times as she wanted to. Yes, there were many facets to the man I loved and I knew that even if no one else in this world understood the man he was, it didn't matter, for I was the luckiest woman in the world because I had him.

Little Faith fell asleep in her car seat, her head tilted downward and resting on her chin, her thumb in her mouth. She looked so cute, I took my camera out of my beach bag and twisted around to snap a picture.

'Adjust her head, Faith. She's gonna have a sore neck.' Bosco said, looking at her in the rearview mirror, with a small frown.

Without replying, I gently tilted her head back and stuffed a towel in between the side of the seat and her face so she would have a little more support. Turning back around, I opened the glove box and took out a sucker and ripped off the wrapper. Bosco glanced over at me, eyeing the lolly.

'You want one?'

'Sure.' He said, opening his mouth wide while he watched the road, so I could stick it in. I grabbed another and pulled the wrapper off it and shoved the garbage in the beach bag.

We rode in silence for a while, taking in the scenery and listen to the music. It was a beautiful day. Puffy white clouds, as fat and creamy looking as a cotton ball, floated gently through the turquoise sky as we rolled along in our blue Mustang. The closer we got to the beach I could smell the fresh saltiness of the water and the delicious smell of the hot sand that surely had a thousand bare feet walking through it. Children would be running in multi-colored bathing suits, splashing and screaming their delight at being at one of the best places on earth. It was no secret; I loved the beach and I would have lived there if I could have. I mentioned to Bosco different times about moving to Florida, but he never would leave the city he loved. I could understand. New York was like no place else on earth. I closed my eyes and let the sensation take over, filling me with a peaceful feeling that I always got when I took this ride.

'Faith?' He said tentatively, his voice barely audible. I opened my eyes and looked at him.

He glanced over at me to be sure I was listening.

'Yah?'

'Do you think I should go see this guy? I mean...do you think we should go and meet him?' He asked, his voice thick and gritty.

That was just like him...to tell me that in no certain terms would he discuss the situation and get irritated and upset at me for asking...but I always knew that it was only a matter of a few minutes or hours before he changed his mind and asked for my advice. How wonderful to know him so well. How comforting it had become to me to know my husband like I knew myself. Of course I thought we should go see the man who had given him life, but it really wasn't my decision. It had to be one of the hardest decisions a person could make, I thought to myself. And although Bosco had to be afraid he also must have had a burning desire to meet and see this mystery man.

'I think that it should be your decision...but I think that if you don't go and see this man you will always regret it. I'll go with you if you want.'

As we approached the parking area he shifted down and looked for a spot to park. When he found one he pulled in and shut off the ignition. He turned around in his seat and cast me a lost stare, as if he didn't know where to start or what to say.

'But..what happens after we meet? He hasn't been around for fifty-seven years..and maybe he doesn't even know about me. What if I show up on the door step and he has other kids that have no idea that I even existed? What then?' He said, his eyes taking on a sad look.

I reached over and took his hand into mine and gently gave it a squeeze. 'Babe, those are questions that neither one of us can answer, but if you don't go and see him than you'll never know. Are you willing to risk that?'

He sighed, troubled by the thoughts in his head, the decisions he faced. 'I don't know...we never met before and yet, I have wondered for years about who he was and what he looked like...and I wondered if he loved my mother at all, or if he was just a one night stand...all those things are questions that were irrelevant until now...I never had the chance to seriously think about what I'd say if I ever met him. But I have his first name and where he lives..which is a helluva lot more than I've ever had.'

'I think that you should do what ever your heart tells you to.' I said, caressing his cheek with my free hand. 'I'll back you up a hundred and ten percent no matter what you decide.'

Tears sprang into his beautiful eyes but he refused to let them fall. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. 'I love you, Faith.'

"I love you too.'

With that, we got Little Faith out of her seat and I held her while Bosco took our beach belongings and slung them over his shapely shoulders.

'We have enough stuff to stay here for a month.' He grumbled, while trying to hold on to everything at once.

We set up our blanket and rubbed sun-screen on our darling girl and then Bosco and I took her walking along the sand, looking for seashells or other things we could use to build a castle.

By the end of the afternoon we were tired and burnt. We had eaten all of our sandwiches and drank two jugs of pepsi, along with all of the other snacks we'd taken. Little Faith had a wonderful time playing in the sand and getting her toes wet in the water.

We packed up our things and headed back toward the car. Bosco hadn't been his usual self but I couldn't blame him. He had so much on his mind, but I was glad he had spent the day with his granddaughter. When we were safely buckled in our belts, we headed back toward the highway, feeling ready for a nap.

'I think I'm gonna call him tonight when we get home.' Bosco said absently, as he looked at the scenery passing us by. I was driving and he was playing co-pilot. He reached up to twiddle the charm on his chain. Over and over, he twisted and turned that thing, as he did when he was deep in thought.

'Are you sure...I mean so soon? Do you think that you're ready for that?' I asked, looking over at him for a quick second.

He looked over at me, then shook his head slowly. 'No...I'm not sure...I don't think I'll ever be sure...but I'm gonna at least see if he'll meet me. It might be interesting. And if we don't hit it off it won't be like I'm missing someone I never met before.' He said without conviction, as if he really didn't expect any good to come of it.

Later that night, as he had told me he would, Bosco sat down at our kitchen table with the cordless phone in one hand and the piece of paper that Anthony had given him in the other. He stared at them both for a good five minutes before looking up at me for reassurance.

We were both nervous as we sat there, so worried that this would prove to be a disaster and make things worse for everyone involved. Bosco's leg drummed up and down underneath the table, making him appear jumpy and hyper volatile as he tried to gather up the strength to make the dreaded phone call.

It was only eight-thirty but we had both showered and put on our pajamas. I wore a thin black cotton nightie that only reached inches below my rear and although it was fairly hot in our house I still shivered. From nervousness more than anything else. Bosco had a pair of blue and white checkered pajama pants with a drawstring waist that matched the wonderful color of his eyes. He wore no shirt and his sculpted chest looked very appealing to me.

Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed the number. His hands were shaking as he brought the phone up to his ear. His eyes were filled with fear and anxiety as he tapped his fingertips against the polished wood of our table. He listened for a few seconds and then his face went white as the person on the other end answered.

'Hello? Could I speak to Arthur please?' He said in a high pitched voice. He cleared his throat listened.

'Yes...thanks...this is Maurice Boscorelli calling.' He said quickly.

And then:

'Hello? Is this Arthur...uh, Arthur?' He finished, feeling stupid because he didn't even know this man's last name. 'My name is Maurice Boscorelli...'

Silence.

'My mothers name was...'

'Yes. Rose...that's right...Rose Renzetti...yes...' He nodded his head as he spoke. I was sitting beside him with my legs curled up underneath me, holding my breath.

'Yes. I would like that...when?' He looked to me and I nodded. " Tomorrow? That's fine...yes, I have the address...okay then...I'll see you tomorrow.'

With that, he hung up and set the phone on the table and leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair.

'Well? What did he say? Does he want to meet you tomorrow? What did he say?' I asked, terribly anxious to hear what he had said.

He gathered his wits about him and looked at me with a look of confusion. 'He said he had been waiting for this day for fifty-seven years.'