I finished securing the last button my jacket as I stood before the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles of my blues with one hand, as I picked up a brush in the other. I pulled the teeth of the brush through my damp hair, wincing as it tore at the tangles. I could feel my eyes stinging and my throat burning; a warning that I was about to cry. My lip was trembling; ever so slightly, but enough that I could tell. I sucked in a breath and looked at my watch, determined to keep my composure. I knew if I lost it now, I'd never gain it back in time.
It'd been four months since Bosco opened the door to his fate. Literally. And four months since he'd slid down the wall and collapsed, staring robotically ahead as if his soul had completely died. He'd never protested, he'd never demanded to see a closer view of the warrant. He hadn't stood up and pulled a typical version of himself, demanding to know who the hell they thought they were and what they were doing. I'd rushed up to him just before his legs buckled from beneath him, and I saw the defeat in his expression. So he'd just sat there, waiting for them to get what they'd come for and then leave after promising he'd be hearing from them soon.
I'll never forget how long I stayed beside him, holding his arm supportively as he gazed off at nothing, not blinking, not speaking. I still wonder if he was asking himself if it had been worth it. If what he'd done had been worth the consequences he'd been about to face. I never asked, but I knew the answer.
I couldn't keep myself from going back to the day following the day of the search. The day I'd talked him into going back to House to at least make an attempt to mitigate the severity of situation; perhaps get a PBA, maybe let Lieu see if he could give him some leverage. He took me up on the advice that he should go in, but refused the rest. I didn't really blame him at the time, seeing as though the entire situation had pretty much felt hopeless. Still, I remember being crushed that of all people, Bosco would let them take him down without a fight.
I finished brushing my hair, shivering as it fell cold and still slightly wet against my shoulders. Then I leaned against the sink, that day replaying in my mind over and over. His words, or rather, the lack thereof. His expression. So dead, so emotionless. His expression never changed when my mind switched to the prison where he ended up. I remember trying to visit him the very next day, only to be told I wasn't allowed. I think if I had been able to then, it would have been easier. Instead I had to wait, dwelling on what the outcome would be. So I wasn't surprised that when Sully tried to walk me in for a second time, I broke down, struggling against my feet that were trying to run the other way. Thinking that perhaps if I avoided Five Points altogether, it couldn't possibly prove to be real.
I replayed those days over and over again; the painful visits that at first consisted of only tear-laden silence, and then morphed into hushed discussions about his fast-approaching trial. I'd found that we were pretty adept at changing from an emotionally shocked state to a literal life or death fight.
Had a voice not sharply interrupted my thoughts, I'm unsure how much longer I'd of stood there, subjecting myself to the memories.
"Mom!" I heard Emily calling. She couldn't have been further away than the living room, but her voice seemed distant until I'd successfully channeled my train of thought. "We're gonna be late," she announced, nearly running into me as I rushed out of the bathroom. Her words had hardly sunken in before Charlie came striding out of his room in the traditional teen fashion, save for a forlorn expression and inner preparation for what most teens never have to do. I glanced from him to Emily, who was staring worriedly at me, anything but blind to my nervous state of mind.
"You guys sure you want to do this?" I asked, reaching down to straighten Charlie's tie. They both gave me a steely, cognizant stare of assurance – hardly a ghost of their long-dead young, carefree faces. I had little time to further question them before my cell phone began a melodic, impatient ring. The sudden sound sent me searching furiously for it inside my coat. Sully crackled on the other end, a combination of his already-haggard voice and a tone laden with burden and very little hope.
"Where are you guys?" he demanded.
"We're on our way," I assured, grabbing Bosco's keys and ushering the kids out the door. "We'll be there in twenty."
He was silent for a moment, only the sound of his impatient breathing audible. "I hope you know what the hell you're gonna say up there, Faith. I hope you got a damn good plan."
Click.
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Harried, I flip my phone closed without saying goodbye, and ran a shaky hand through my hair. I handed the cabbie a wad of money before making my way up the steps toward Ty, whom I'd spotted just seconds earlier as I pulled up.
"Hey," he greeted, his voice nervous and breathless. "Where's Faith?" A touch of concern seemed to take over his tone as he looked at his watch.
"On her way," I told him, staring out at the street, hoping she might pull up on cue. No such luck.
Ty nodded. "We should go up now, huh?" He stared up at the tinted doors, the breeze flipping his tie around - only because it had been put on so messily. I imagined he hadn't been to see his mom, or she'd have insisted on fixing it. I almost laughed.
I mirrored his nod. "Yeah," I croaked, but he'd already pulled open the door and slipped in. I shook my head at the building before rushing in after my partner.
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I nearly dove from the driver's seat after swerving recklessly to the corner.
"Mom, you can't park here!" Emily squealed incredulously, motioning to the sign reading FIRE LANE. Of course I couldn't. Flustered, I raised my fingers to my temples, hoping to tame some of the pounding in my head. I wasn't successful.
"Okay, look," I instructed, emerging the rest of way from the car. "Emily, you find a place to park the car. Charlie, you come with me. Now!" I watched Charlie shoot his sister a wild glance, probably having something to do with the fact that their mom had gone insane. He clambered over the seats while Emily slammed the passenger door and rushed to the driver's side. I couldn't help but think Bosco wouldn't have approved of the way we'd treated his car since we left the apartment.
With Charlie somewhere in tow, I started across the street, whirling around half-way to shout at Emily. "Second floor!" She nodded in acknowledgment. I stopped suddenly at the pit of the stairs, gazing up at the words carved meticulously in the building's stone.
THE TRUE ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE IS THE HIGHEST PILLAR OF GOOD GOVERNMENT
I scoffed quietly at the phrase I'd seen so many times before, yet rarely saw executed. Shaking it off, I took a deep breath and began taking the steps two…three…four at time until we reached the top, greeted by a wide pane of tinted class, spotted here and there with doors of the same shade. NEW YORK SUPREME COURT it read. In other words, you walk out having gained or lost something.
Or in my case, someone.
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