Authors: Mercedes Keyes
They were obviously out of place, by their school uniforms and insignia patches torn amidst the dirt and grime picked up from the
ground of the alley while wrestling about.
Manny found himself staring at the larger boy. Wondering why the two were together, there seemed to be a definite age difference in them. Clearly in a huff, exuding barely restrained aggression, the redhead looked up at Manny with haughty, narrowed, amber eyes. The stance of him displayed a chip on his shoulder, daring anyone to knock it off. He looked to be fifteen to sixteen years old – nothing out of the ordinary in that – but – there was just something about him. Something so familiar it gave Manny goose bumps. What immediately came to mind, he dismissed because it was just preposterous – thinking himself insane for the thought, but that face – he shook the thought off, it was just too far fetched. Suddenly a light went on…he remembered this was no doubt the same youngster that caused so much mayhem around the docks. Caught often doing outrageous dares, trying to prove something to his schoolmates, as if trying to impress them – jeopardizing the safety of himself and the dockworkers.
“
Well well well – so here I finally get the chance to meet, the notorious wharf rat. Usually I'm seeing you from afar, or hearing about you – now here you are…right before me eyes. How do you do young man – a bit far from school are you not?” Manny asked, pulling his eyes from the haughty one to the younger, who seemed to be the more reasonable of the two.
“
We – we-…” The smaller one started but was immediately stifled by the bigger one who jabbed him in the side to be quiet. He eyed Manny up, then down and asked. “What’s it to you Mister? We ain’t bothering nobody. You can get on about your business now…we’re just fine!”
“
Aah!” Manny exclaimed; it was obvious his intervention was not appreciated. He ignored the redhead and looked down asking the timid one. “What’s your name son?”
“
Timothy, sir.” He meekly identified himself.
“
How old are you, Timothy?”
The older boy snorted in exasperation, muttering. “He don’t have to tell you his age, and if you would move on, we can be on our way.” Manny’s eyes narrowed. “He has a mouth to speak for himself. When I address you, then speak, otherwise stand there and remain silent. Now, Timothy.”
“
I’m fourteen, sir.”
“
How far are you from home?”
“
Further than allowed, sir. Brooklyn Heights, I just came here with Rory, ‘cause he said he had something to show me.”
Manny turned to the other. “I guess you’re Rory?”
Rory turned to look
behind himself, and then around; finally back at Manny. “Yep, looks like to me I got no choice, seeing as how it's just the two of us…and then you. You can spare us your name; we'd just like to go.”
“
You know, were it not for this young man, I’d regret my interfering.”
“
Well sir, interfere no more. We’re just fine, thank you.”
“
Talking tough now, you weren’t so tough a moment ago…fact is you were squealing like a trapped piglet.”
“
That would be him.” Rory indicated with the thrust of his thumb back at his friend.
“
Yes, speaking of him, perhaps it would be best that you leave him with those of his own age.”
“
Sir, Rory’s not the older one, that would be me, I’m the older; he won’t be fourteen till-…” Timothy spoke up to correct Manny when he was quieted by Rory again.
“
If I want him to know my age, I’ll tell him!” Rory snapped sharply. Manny was stunned. “You’re only thirteen years old?” He asked incredulously.
“
Yeah! What about it?”
Manny found himself staring again, looking at the boy. “It’s just that…you’re really tall – for a boy of-…”
“
You’re one to talk…look at you!”
“
You hostile little mongrel, one more smart remark from you and you’ll be praying for someone else to come running to save you – from me!” Manny snapped having had enough of his mouth.
“
Oh yeah?! You just try it! You just-…” He sucked in when Manny grabbed his lapels and brought him to his tip toes, glaring down at him daring him to make another sound. Rory gulped and quieted down. Manny opened his hand and released him. “Now – where do you live? I want an answer, I want it now.”
Rory squared his shoulders despite the fear, and mumbled, “Cobble Hill. Now can we leave?”
Manny felt that old twisting feeling again. The boy’s mannerisms, some of his gestures, this time he gulped.
“
Can we leave…please.” Timothy pleaded.
Manny backed away from Rory, whose brows pinched in wonder. As if to wonder why Manny was staring at him the way he was.
“
Follow me to my coach. It’s getting late; I’ll have my driver drop you both off at your homes.”
“
We don’t need no ride home. We’re just fine walking.” Rory announced.
“
Is that true, Timothy?” Manny asked.
“
Well, sir actually I wo-…”
“
Hush! We don’t need the ride!”
“
How about you let him tell me, he can speak for himself.”
“
He don’t need to, I’ll speak for him.” Rory replied nastily, now that Manny had opened a little distance.
“
What is it with you kid? Your parents don’t pay you any attention? Is that your problem wharf rat? Mama take you off the tit too soon? Or is it that your father’s not home to slap your ass when you need it?” Manny had not expected to hit home with his words, but knew he did by the sudden look on Rory’s face that went from a stunned paling, hurt, to an angry red. Surprising him, Rory ducked and ran past Manny for the exit of the alley, Manny took off after him.
“
Hey! Wait a minute Rory! Wait!” He caught him by the arm right before he reached the sidewalk.
“
Let me go – let me go!!” He cried trying to wrench his arm loose from Manny’s powerful grasp.
“
Calm down boy, just calm down. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause offense.”
“
You don’t bother me! What do I care…I just wanna leave!” He grumbled keeping his face averted. It was hard to hide his blotchy complexion and tear filled eyes. Manny stood holding onto him, and for some reason, felt his own eyes water. He felt deeply for him, with no idea why.
“
Look at me boy, tell me, that why you do the things you do…for attention? So someone will notice you? If so, you’re going about it the wrong way boy, hey – I’m talking to you.”
“
Let me go.”
“
Not yet. Truth is, I don’t know what your circumstances are – but you need to find another way Rory. Instead of being in the kind of trouble you’re known for.”
“
I gotta go. It’s getting late.”
Manny released his arm.
“
Come one Rory, let me do you a favor.”
“
Don’t feel sorry for me!” Rory snapped at him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t need your pity – don’t need no favors!”
“
Rory…be a friend to Timothy then. If it’s too late for you, surely it’s too late for him. If you care anything about your friend, accept the ride for him. I know you don’t need it, you can take care of yourself but – hasn’t he been through enough today?”
“
Rory I really need to get home.” Timothy worried.
“
Alright, alright, fine…just so we can get out of here.”
Manny bit the inside of his mouth to hide his grin, such a feeling of elation stole over him. He
couldn’t explain it.
“
Thank you…it will make me feel better knowing you both made it home safely.”
“
Yeah, sure Mister.” Rory muttered as Manny led the way to his coach. They climbed in as Manny went up front to speak to his driver. Coming back to the boys, he smiled.
“
He’ll have you home in no time.”
“
What about you Mister?” Timothy asked.
“
I can walk from here, my destination is in sight.” Manny answered with one last look at Rory, who kept his face turned away, as if he could care less about the world and anyone in it.
Manny stepped back, “Take them home Marshall." He said to the driver, and then said to them, “You boys be good and stay way from the docks, you hear?” Timothy smiled and nodded. Rory stayed silent.
“
Have a safe trip sir, see you when you return.” Timothy called with a smile. Manny nodded returning the gesture and backed away, turning, he made his way swiftly to the wharf and the Flamingo.
***
Slowly the wagon made it’s way down Okala rd., the children were all leaning out the back of the wagons ‘ooohing and awing’ at the rich green fields and tall trees, as they inhaled the fresh moist aroma of honeysuckle, citrus and magnolia. It was midday Friday afternoon, with a pleasant breeze rustling the leaves in the trees.
Eugene rode horse back along side Esteban. All around them was the evidence that something about the rich luxury of Southern soil made trees taller, grass greener, flowers and fruit sweeter. Neither could deny the reasons for the white man’s rush to gain this land and hold it tight. It was breathtaking. Maria sat next to her husband, choked with such overpowering emotion – she could not speak.
Chirping birds flew overhead back and forth across the road from one branch to another – merrily chasing or defending their nests. A deer’s head rose catching everyone’s attention, making Celina cry out.
“
Look papah look! Sooo pretty.” She sighed dreamily, letting her chin fall gently back to her folded arms, watching as the dear sprinted gracefully away.
Everyone was dressed in their newly sewn clothes. Mike deliberately slowed their progress, giving Maria and Hope time to finish the many outfits they’d made for themselves and the children.
The boys wore white bellowing long sleeved shirts, drawstring black breeches
and buckskin vests.
Celina and Lolita wore pink dresses reaching the center of their shins, with puffed long sleeves and lace around the collars. Their dresses gathered at the waist with centered ribbon bows. Over their shoulders were matching short capes of the same pink and lace, with a ribbon tied at the chest, they were matching visions with white stockings and high top black shoes. Two French braids on either side of their heads reaching to the waist, tied off with pink ribbons, skin fresh and glowing with café au lait creamy complexions.
Hope and Maria wore similar white blouses, with sleeves puffed at the shoulders, gradually slimming towards their wrists, tucked into blue skirts. Their hair was pulled back in a bun, the sides adorned with coral and brass combs. Everyone looked, as Mike proudly to displayed his family. His wife had the face of an angel, and the personality to match, his very own Spanish doll. His children all gave the impression of being well fed, healthy, colorful and bright. Hope was with him, safe and sound, and as for Juan and Eugene, they were men – by his side, as his friends…no explanation was needed for them. With all, as perfect a picture as they could be, yet and still Mike could not get his innards to calm down.
He pulled the wagon to a halt. Maria looked over at him concerned. His face was cast downward holding the reigns staring between his feet. She was not sure what was going on with him now – but she waited for him to explain. Juan pulled over up ahead a bit and stood looking back at them. Eugene stopped in the road turning his horse sideways wondering at the hold-up, causing Esteban to look back from his position in the wagon doing the same.
Perspiration sprung to Mike’s forehead as he found a need to swallow back the watering in his mouth. His stomach quivered and he glanced at his wife quickly, ashamed – his face was red and he was losing his fight not to cry. He dropped the reigns and jumped down walking into the woods next to where his wagon sat. They were at the spot, the very spot where it all happened. It flashed in his mind loud and clear, the day Katherine tricked him into delivering himself into the hands of Chester Sands.
He was leaning against a tree with his back to the road. A cool soft hand reached up to wipe his brow. He looked down into his wife’s consoling eyes, so full of love and understanding. He turned his gaze away from her looking back through the woods that would lead on to Webster Fields. They were on the property now.
In the wagon, Lolita asked Hope. “What’s wrong with Papah…why’d we stop?”
Hope couldn’t answer
, finding herself choked up because she sensed his fear. Finally after Lolita squeezed her arm for an answer, she gave it softly. “He’ll be alright, he just needs a moment and we’ll be back on our way.” She felt fear too, and she began to pray.
‘Please God, don’t let this trip hurt my brother…please don’t.’
Esteban went to Eugene, then Juan for an answer as to what he should do. “We will wait.” Was Eugene’s simple answer, climbing down from his mount, leading it to graze at the side of the road. Again, Esteban followed his lead…Juan settled back on the plank, leaning back to cover his face with his hat, propping his foot up to get comfortable.
Mike had started walking deeper into the dense woods on the property – heading towards where he remembered their being a pond. Maria followed closely behind; suddenly he stopped and put his hand out behind him for her to take hold.
She did…and together they carried on.
He had been right; the pond was exactly where he remembered. He stood looking into it with his foot propped up on a rock, leaning on his knee with Maria standing at his side, his arm was around her.
“
She’s not here.” He said confidently, quietly. “Why did I come back here?”
“
Because, whether she is here or not. This – is - your home.”
He gave no immediate answer, thinking again. He wiped his hand over his grief stricken face, and turned to her. “What if my mother is dead? What am I gonna do if my mother is dead?”
“
Oh no
Querido
! You mustn't think such a thing. You must never think it. Until you face her grave, you must believe she is alive. Do you hear? She is alive.”
He hugged her, because she was his lifeline, his reason now for making all the wrongs in his life right. He had to turn it around; and here was the place to start.
“
Too late…to turn back now.” He realized aloud.
“
Too late, to turn back now.” Maria repeated agreeing.
“
Well then my dear wife, I guess it’s time, time for me to return to Webster Fields.” He stood.
“
My husband…you are already here. Now is the time to resolve something from your past…so we can move forward.”
“
Yes…so we can move forward.”