Don't Press the Panic Button
I walked up the flagstone walk and set Davis down before going up the steps and peering inside. The front door was open wide and the screen door was locked. Bosco was always such a stickler for locking doors. I remembered him saying that his father used to come in their back door when Rose left it unlocked. I knew exactly what had happened on those occasions and always did my best to lock the doors. Those wounds were far behind my husband but the scars still remained.
I could hear the radio playing from the livingroom. He was listening to 'Blue Rodeo's' newest hit. I didn't hear him singing along, so I figured maybe he was in the bathroom and this would be as good a time as any to make my entrance with the baby.
I pulled my keys out from my purse and gently slid the right one into the lock. Damn, it was a hot afternoon, with the humidity well past one hundred. The blue sky above had puffs of white clouds floating lazily along, with no will other than to move towards the abyss, the end of the world. For clouds had no care other than to relish the land with its wet rain and to give way to our imaginations, the things children would dream about while lying on their backs, looking up at the sky, imagining. It was a perfect day to lay back and dream of yesterday and of the days to come.
When I had the door unlocked and had Davis securely in my arms, I went inside and felt the cold breeze of the air conditioning hit me as if I had jumped into a swimming pool on a sweltering hot day. I felt relief standing there, the cool air biting my arms, my legs and neck. I started to calm down a little as the rest of my body started to relax. I set the baby down and peeled the thin cotton blanket down from his face to check and make sure he was still breathing. He was. His dark face so sweet and content, I couldn't resist bending down and kissing his smooth cheek and running my palm over his black curls.
I straitened up when I heard the toilet flushing in the small bathroom down the hall. Quickly, I picked up the baby seat and set Davis inside the small parlor room, which at one time was the livingroom when Rose ran the house, and brushed my long hair back out of my eyes, before entering the hall again. I prayed that the baby would stay asleep long enough for me to explain the situation.
I walked over to the side table and set my keys in the little dish. I looked around and realized that this was the place that I wanted Davis to grow up, the same place his grandfather and father had. It was within these walls that Bosco and Mikey grew into men and in those rooms, we had sat together as a family, the five of us. In this house we had laughed and cried together; had good times and bad; watched movies and played checkers and monopoly. In this house we had created love.
The water stopped running and the bathroom door swung open. Bosco stepped out, wiping his freshly washed hands on his jeans. He was wearing a red polo t-shirt and the tight blue jeans I had picked up for him at a flea market and his Nike sneakers. I could smell the sweetness of his cologne and I literally ached to have him hold me in his arms. He looked up, startled at my sudden appearance. My eyes welled up with shiny tears upon seeing him and his, at seeing me.
"Hi." He said softly, stuffing his dry hands into his front pockets, shoulders slumping slightly. He went to step forward to embrace me, but must have remembered that he was still mad at me, and reluctantly stood back, rocking himself back and forth on the balls of his feet. He looked down, not meeting my gaze.
"Hi." I said and quickly looked down, my blond hair falling across my eyes.
Neither one of us was good at saying sorry. In our own way we more than made up for it, but there were times that someone needed to break the tension, the silence and confess what was on their minds.
"Is everything okay?" He asked, his eyes pleading and sorry.
"No, baby. It isn't." I said, looking up from the floor for fear that I would cry before I told him what was waiting for him in the other room. A new son. A new life.
"Are you okay?"
"No."
"Are Brett and Carly okay?"
"No."
"Did something happen to the baby?" He asked, his face full of concern and worry, not the anger that I thought I would see.
"Are you still mad at me? Cause if you are, I don't think I can take it– not after the last two days I've had." I blurted out, hoping terribly that he'd just make up with me.
Despite my firm resolve not to cry until I had it all out, just seeing him so hurt and lost looking drove me over the edge and I felt a tear slip down my face. Immediately he was striding over to me and grabbed me in a huge hug. I felt my arms go around his waist and held on for all I was worth. He rubbed my back and kissed my hair.
"Damn Faith, I"m so sorry for the things I said. I was upset. It was uncalled for and mean." He blurted. "Please forgive me." He murmured into my hair. "I was goin out of my mind missin you".
"It's okay. I'm sorry too. I'm so sorry that you were hurt." I wailed, the tears choking me as I clung to him. "It was the longest two days of my life."
We stood there for about five minutes just holding each other tight. If there was ever a time I needed to feel him, it was now. For what I was about to tell him was going to rock his world and I didn't know how he was going to react. I did know, however, that he didn't no view people who abandoned their children in a good way. He was abandoned by his birth father and then by his father Anthony and still bore the scars to prove it.
Finally, I stopped crying and tipped my head back and looked into his eyes. He wrinkled his brow and bit down on his lower lip as we gazed at each other.
"What happened, Faith?"
"I have a lot to tell you, Bosco. But I need...I need for you to listen, really listen to me cause it's gonna be hard for you to hear."
A muscle along his jaw line twitched as he tightened up and backed away from me, preparing for what ever bad news I had to tell him about. It seemed that the entire last year was filled with 'sit down', or 'I have to tell you something', or 'Don't say anything until I've finished, but...". Would there ever be a time that we didn't live under this cloud?
"Okay. First, did you get my message about the baby?"
He nodded. "Davis Monroe Boscorelli. That's kind of big name for him to learn how to spell."
"Yes. It is. Well...I think that we should go into the kitchen for a few minutes and talk where we can sit down." I suggested, grabbing for his arm and starting to pull him along.
"Faith..why can't we talk here?" He asked, and stopped walking. I tried to pull him but he wouldn't budge.
"I want to sit down. I"m tired."
"I don't want to sit down. I want you to tell me what happened now. Not in the kitchen." He said, pointing at the floor with his index finger. "Tell me here. Right here. You do this to me every time."
I let out an exasperated sigh and gave him a pleading look. "Please...just come to the kitchen where I can sit down and get a cup of tea. Bos, I'm tired. Please."
Reluctantly, he agreed and followed me into the kitchen. I sat down at the large table and put my head into my hands. He looked at me over his shoulder as he filled the kettle with water.
"Herbal or lemon?"
"Lemon, please."
When the tea was ready he filled two steaming mugs and set them down on the table, then went to get some honey and milk out of the fridge. He got two spoons out of the drawer and sat down.
"So, can you tell me now?" He asked as he squeezed some honey onto his spoon.
Instead of answering I dug into the pocket of my sweater and pulled out the envelope that contained the letter that Brett had written to us and handed it to him.
"What's this?"
"Just read it." I answered. I poured a generous amount of honey into my mug and added a little milk before stirring it around. I took a big sip and relished the taste on my tongue.
He quickly unfolded the medium sized piece of stationary with Harvard University written across the top in burgundy writing and began to read. His mouth fell open as he read in silence.
"Dear mom and dad," It began. "This is the hardest letter that I have ever had to write. Please understand that we never meant to hurt you or anyone else, but there just wasn't any other way. In my heart I will never be able to deal with this baby, knowing that it wasn't mine, but Mike's. I hated it from the moment I found out that Carly had betrayed me. I made my plans to leave for Japan to teach English. Carly didn't want to live without me and we came to the conclusion that if she gave this baby up for adoption that we could begin again. To start over."
Bosco looked up at me, horror written clearly across his features. "Is he serious?" He whispered, shaking his head.
I nodded, feeling the tears start to fall again. I felt so bad for him, reading about what his selfish son and daughter-in-law had done. He continued to read, the farther down the page he got, the tears started to come to his eyes. One escaped and zig-zagged down his cheek.
"Together, without this baby to encumber us, we are going to live in Japan. We have decided that it is too painful for either of us to return any time soon, so we are going to stay here until we feel that we are both able to face the rest of you. Carly has written Ty and let him know the situation. Maybe someday you will be able to forgive us for being so impulsive and selfish, but again, there was no other way. There is no forgiveness in my heart for the man I used to call my brother. He is dead to me now. May God bless you both for what you are doing. Love, your son, Brett."
Finally, he set the paper down on the table and shook his head slowly. " So...they're not coming back. Ever? I don't understand...I don't understand how they could do this–" He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "When did this happen?"
I reached over and put my hand over his and squeezed it gently. "Yesterday. I went to the hospital to see Carly and while I was down in the cafeteria she got her stuff and she left. I came back and she was gone."
He reached up with his free hand and ran it through his hair, confused; angry. "How? She just left the baby? Just walked out the door?" He asked incredulously.
"That she did. But you have to understand that Brett made her do it. He bullied her into giving this child up. She told me that they had an agreement and that it was none of our business, but that everything was going to be fine."
He narrowed his eyes until they became slits. "Fine? I'd hardly call this situation fine. What the hell were they thinking?"
"They weren't thinking. Brett tricked me into coming to Boston. Davis was already born when I got there. He was already two days old. They planed for me to come out there so I could take the baby home with me. They had to have been planning this for a really long time. Neither of them wanted this baby. Mike didn't want to take responsibility either. None of them would make good parents for him. We both know it."
'What does he look like? Did you take any pictures?"
"No. I didn't—"
"You didn't? Now I'll never get to see him! How could you not take a picture?" He practically shouted in my ear.
I leaned in closer to him, wanting to gather him into my arms and hold him forever. "Babe..there's more to this story."
"More? How can there be more?" He scoffed sarcastically, shoving his chair back and standing up. He began to pace around the kitchen. Back and forth from the fridge to the sink. The sink to the island and so forth. He jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.
"Bosco...I.." I began.
"Who took him?" He asked suddenly, stopping in his tracks and facing me. "I mean, who are they? Did you get to see them? Do they seem like they're alright?"
Before I could answer, he started pacing again and mumbling questions to himself more than to me.
"Dammit Faith, we don't know what kind of people have our grandson! They could be crazy! Lunatics, for all we know!" He said, his voice becoming louder with each passing second. He was thinking about a million things a minute, not giving himself time to be rational.
"Bosco...please."
He whirled around, again, facing me. "They could be in some kind of cult or something...did anyone check into their backgrounds? Maybe they have a criminal record." He babbled, reaching down and squeezing my shoulder, his fingers biting into my flesh.
I stood up and pulled his arm off of me and grabbed his shoulders. "Bosco! Enough. I have something to show you. Can you sit down a minute?"
"What? Can I sit down?" He asked as if I were crazy. "Sit down now? After you tell me that Brett and his wife have jumped the country and gave up their kid to some crazy family who could be using it for who knows what—"
I couldn't let another minute pass and listen to any more of his agony. It was time to introduce him to his grandson.
"Just sit down. It will all make sense in a minute. Don't press the panic button just yet." I demanded and pivoted and walked down the hall.
I bent down and unbuckled Davis from his seat and carefully lifted him into my arms. He squirmed a bit but didn't wake up. I walked back toward the kitchen. I could hear my husband still ranting and raving to himself.
"Dammit, how the hell could they do something so stupid—". And a few strings of curse words after.
I rounded the corner and came into the kitchen again. Bosco was back to me, staring out the window into the back yard.
"Bos?" I said softly.
He turned around to face me. His mouth dropped open, his eyes wide as saucers. "What–how–what?" He sputtered.
"They left him for us." I said softly, kissing the top of his head.
"What? Us?" He said, not understanding.
"Come see him. Sit down. You can hold him." I said, motioning for him to take a seat.
He came closer and sat down on the nearest chair, dumbfounded. "What do you mean?" He asked again, as I handed the sleeping bundle to him. He cradled him gently in his arms and bent down to kiss his tiny face. He looked in astonishment at the child that our son and Carly Davis had made so carelessly and abandoned.
I sat down next to him and ran my finger tips over his dark curly hair. "They want us to take him."
"Us? How could they think that we could raise another kid?"
"You don't think we could?" I asked softly.
He breathed in deeply before looking up at me. "I dunno...I dunno what ta say...I'm shocked here. They left him, Faith. They left this tiny little boy at the hospital. I still can't believe it."
"I know. I can't either. But you understand why I had to take him, don't you? I couldn't leave him there when his own mother didn't want him. He's still our grandson, Bosco." I asked almost desperately.
He leaned over slowly and kissed me on the lips. Once, twice, three times and then pulled back and looked at me with such tenderness I thought I would cry again. "I understand. I don't know what we're gonna do, Faith. But I understand. He's family and that's all that matters."
And so, we sat in our kitchen that hot summer day, wondering about our children and how they could make such huge mistakes, and how they could ever be so callous and uncaring. We cried together and comforted one another until our little boy opened his eyes to look at his grandfather for the first time.
One thing was for sure; No matter what happened in the future and no matter how many more mistakes our children were bound to make, not to mention the ones we'd make ourselves, we would always have each other to love and lean on.
And that was enough.
TBC