Ma Familia

The very next day both Bosco and myself were up early to get showered and dressed for the meeting that was fifty-seven years in the making. How nervous we were, how much like young children, yearning and hoping that everything would turn out fine and that we would not regret the decision to meet 'Arthur'. We didn't even know his last name or who he was, beyond that small piece of paper that Bosco tucked into the pocket of his jeans.

I wore a colorful summer skirt that reached just below my knees with a white t-shirt and a pair of flip-flops. I wore my hair down around my shoulders and I had brushed it until it shone, making it silky smooth. Bosco wore a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans and sneakers. He wasn't going to dress up for this moment and being in comfortable clothes would keep him in his element.

We ate a light breakfast consisting of fruit cups with granola and orange juice and coffee. I read the morning paper while he kept staring at that piece of paper as if it held all of the secrets he'd ever hope to know. It was Saturday and that meant that Little Faith would be staying at home with Emma and Rob and I was glad that I didn't have to come up with an excuse as to why we couldn't look after her. Bosco and I had talked about it at length and decided that we wouldn't tell any of our children about Arthur until we had met him and decided if he was going to be a part of our lives.

Who could tell what this day would bring, I thought to myself as I chewed on my breakfast. We might not like him or he might not want to see us again...what if he just wanted to meet Bosco and then be done with him? It would break his heart, I knew it would, for even though my husband was trying to make me think that he didn't care what Arthur thought of him, I knew that in his secret put-away heart he longed for a father, even at his age.

I put the dishes in the sink and grabbed my small purse off of the counter and turned to him.

'Are you ready to go?' I asked softly.

He nodded and stood up and put his own dishes on the counter and grabbed his wallet and keys from the table. ' As ready as I'm ever gonna be.'

We walked out to our Mustang hand in hand and before we parted to get into our respective seats I reached up and gave him a big hug, squeezing him tightly, then kissed him on the cheek. ' It's gonna be okay...you'll see. And remember I'm right here beside you. If you want to leave, just say the word and we'll be gone.'

He stood there, his arms wrapped around me tightly and bowed his head into my hair. ' I don't know what I would ever do without you, Faith.' He murmured. ' You're my life.'

We got in the car and buckled our belts and started off down the driveway, my knees practically knocking together from the anxiousness I felt inside. We stopped at Denny's and grabbed a couple of coffee's for the drive and then headed to Queens. It took but a few minutes to find the enormous house on Gamwell Avenue. It was set back in off the road with a long driveway. It was a colonial style brick with green ivy growing up the sides, enter twining with itself and making it look like a jungle paradise. The entire front of the house was preceded by a long, concrete galerie. There were huge white pillar columns on either side of the portico that ended with ornate carvings of something that I couldn't see from that distance. The shutters on the windows were black with white curtains hanging inside. There was a huge gazebo with a black shingled top in which to sit and gaze out at the cars and people walking or diving by.

Bosco whistled, impressed. ' That is one friggin house, huh?' He said as he parked the car between a sleek looking black Mercedes and a blue Lexus convertible.

' Nice cars.' I commented, feeling a little overwhelmed by the opulence and richness of just the outside of the house and the expensive automobiles. Next to these people we were dirt poor. I clicked off my belt and turned to face him.

'Ready?'

'Yup. Let's do it.' He said bravely, exiting the car and coming around to my door, which he opened for me.

I stepped out and smoothed my skirt down and ran my hands through my hair, and for some reason I didn't want to have one hair out of place. I hadn't realized that we were going to the home of such wealth and wondered about the people who lived within.

'You look fine. Don't worry about what anyone else thinks.' He said with surprising bitterness, which I realized instantly was his nervousness seeking an outlet.

We walked hand in hand up the front steps and walked across the gallerie to the front door. It was red with a shiny brass knocker. I looked around, interested in the various flowers and plants that filled the whole porch area. There were benches at each end, wicker with soft padded cushions that made me want to sit down and fall asleep while reading a good book. In front of each bench was a wicker coffee table that held various magazines. The whole scene looked like something out of one of my decorating magazines.

Seconds later, the door swung open and an elderly man appeared. Was it Arthur? I widened my eyes, terribly excited at that moment.

He looked about eighty or so, but I wasn't sure. He was about five foot seven or eight with dark hair and eyes. His hair, or what was left of it, was parted down the middle, and looked like it had been dyed many times over. He wore a dark suit with a green tie and a pair of dark dress shoes. I sucked in my breath, trying to see any similarities between my husband and this man before me. He smiled winningly at us, his eyes sparkling. I liked him right away.

' Hello, you must be Mr. and Mrs. Boscorelli...come right in.' He said in a deep voice, stepping back so we could enter.

' Hello, are you Arthur?' Bosco asked, swallowing and squeezing my hand hard. I could feel the sweat of his hand clinging onto mine.

The older gentleman laughed, a deep chuckle and shook his head. ' I'm afraid not. My name is Otis Lange. I am Mr. Logan's butler.'

Mr. Logan...so that was his name. Arthur Logan. Well, he must have been quite well off to have a butler. We stepped inside and Otis shut the heavy door behind us.

I almost gasped, but knew instinctively that it would have been in bad taste to display such mannerisms. We stood in a grand foyer that was as big as our living room at home. It had a white marble floor that echoed with our steps, with a huge tear-drop chandelier hanging from the ceiling that looked like huge diamonds. To the left and the right of us were large paintings that looked old and very expensive, hung with care to please and impress its viewers. There were vases filled with flowers, roses, daffodils and daisies set upon gold trimmed stands and an ornately carved hall tree that held some hats and a ivory cane. Before us, the grand staircase that was made of white marble, loomed, complete with a shiny balustrade that I imagined might have had children sliding down it for fun. The stairs were covered with a thin red carpeting down the middle, adding to the rich look and making my mouth hang open.

' Right this way' Otis said, holding out his arm indicating that we follow him to the left.

We walked into a large living room that was at least the size of our kitchen and living room combined. It had three large black leather sofa's with matching easy chairs and leather ottoman's to put your feet up on, along with a huge coffee table that was almost the size of my dining room table at home. There was an ivory hand carved chess set in the middle, with some candles and magazines as well. To the back of the room was a large fireplace with a mantle made of red brick that climbed to the top of the ceiling, making it look larger than it actually was. There were more paintings hung on the spacious walls and various works of art displayed on long side tables. To the right was a long bar with at least six stools sitting lined up in a row. There was a long mirror behind it lit up with tiny lights.

I turned myself around the room, taking everything in, amazed and beguiled by what I saw.

'Can I get you a drink, Mr. Boscorelli, Mrs. Boscorelli?' Otis asked pleasently.

I shook my head. It was only ten o'clock in the morning but Bosco nodded and asked for a shot of whiskey. He was so nervous I was sure he was on the verge of passing out. Otis moved swiftly behind the bar and got Bosco his shot.

' Have a seat anywhere you like. I will return shortly.' Otis said, and excused himself to go find his benefactor.

Bosco looked absolutely terrified as he downed his shot quickly and set the glass on the bar. It clanked loudly. He walked over to one of the sofas and sat down, his knee shaking. He swallowed heavily and held out his hand to me. 'Come here and sit with me.' I walked over and sat next to him and held his hand.

' Sure is a nice place, huh?' I said softly, hoping to take some of the tension from the moment.

He looked around. 'Too rich for my blood.' He said and then stopped. This man was his blood. The joke didn't apply.

'What do you think he does? I mean, he must do something important to live in a place like this...it's a palace!' I whispered.

'I dunno...but he sure as hell doesn't look like he needs any help.' He muttered looking around.

He tightened his grip on my hand as we heard voices coming toward us. My heart beat in tripple time and my hands were just as sweaty as Bosco's. I glanced over at him, so terribly afraid that he was going to be upset by this meeting. He chewed on his bottom lip and I could see the perspiration that had broken out on his forehead. Just in time, I reached over with my free hand and wiped it away.

'Here we go...here we go...' He muttered.

A second later, Otis walked through the door, guiding an elderly man much older than he, by the arm. He was about five foot ten or so, or he would have been if he had been able to stand up to his full height. He was shuffling along slowly, his head raised, his eyes wide with anticipation at seeing us for the first time.

I brought my hand to my throat and gasped. He was an exact duplicate of what I imagined Bosco would look like at that age.