The weather on Shelter Island in July and August of 1977 was hot but not as hot as the City (as everyone on Long Island called Manhattan Island). With Eddie gone and Rita and his mom enjoying each other, and Margaret and Randy playing house, only Big Bob's life was in turmoil. And even he was making progress. Finishing up the generally thirty day stay in an alcohol rehabilitation center on the mainland three days early, now retired police officer Robert H. Willis had been a model patient. After some difficulty early on in taking direction and being treated equally, he had adapted to the Spartan life, lost twenty pounds and actually spent time contemplating his past, present and future. Not surprisingly, he wasn't happy with the past and the present and was more than a little apprehensive about what awaited him on the outside. Would he be able to help Julie? Did he even want to? Could he have a relationship with his only child, indeed the only living relative that he could both locate and expect to open the door for him? He decided that he'd try talking to Julie to see if she was at least willing to try to get herself together. He was cognizant of her penchant for addictions of all sizes and shapes and of her overwhelming need for love. He was also aware of the role he'd been playing, starring in if you will, and wanted to try to help her as part of helping himself. Let me figure out what's going to happen with Julie he thought, get that all on line and my next trick will be building a relationship with Rita.
It was now August 18th and Big Bob was free to go. Not being allowed any contact with the outside world, he would be going home to a house being run for the last month by a young woman who seemingly had difficulty coping with any and all aspects of life. Compounding her situation, she was by any standard a poor mother and guardian to a two year old. As he waited for the ferry to leave Greenport he tried to imagine his home as filthy and dirty.
Worried about something that'd taught him at rehab? Take it to its worst possible conclusion and you'll usually see it still won't be the end of the world. And if it doesn't turn out to be that bad you'll really be happy. He pictured piles of dirty diapers, three feet high, stacked in his living room, Julie lying on the couch covered with empty beer cans and cigarette butts and smells that were strong enough to seep under the front door and out into the street. He smiled at his imaginative powers and decided Julie's mental condition after being alone for thirty days was what mattered. And with Robert spending his days with Randy's girl friend, the stacks couldn't have reached three feet. And maybe the little shit had finally learned to use a toilet.
At about 10:15 P.M., Bob pulled into his driveway behind Julie's old bomb. There were lights on all over the house, but there were no discernible odors as he walked to the door. Already ahead of the game, he thought. Big Bob unlocked the front door and walked into a living room void of people, beer cans or diapers. The house looked to be in pretty damn good shape he decided. He called out Julie's name, got no response and headed upstairs. Half way up he heard the shower going. Could he be so lucky as to be getting home, not having had sex (with another person) for a month, only to find his girl friend stepping out of a shower? Why I believe that'll be the case he thought. He was smiling broadly as he began to remove his clothes on the way in to his bedroom. He flipped on the light switch and had started toward his dresser when he realized there was a man in his bed. Whoever it was, was lying face down with his arm hanging over the side and a sheet covering half of his ass. From that angle he looked to be young with fairly long black hair. Take it easy, Bob said to himself. Don't do anything crazy; don't do anything you'll regret. Regret was a word Bob had heard of but never considered until the last few weeks. Whoever he is he's here because Julie brought him here. He was thinking all the right thoughts but they were having no effect on his blood pressure or, especially his adrenaline level. Even as he continued to remind himself to stay cool, he was moving to the bed. He pulled the sheet off and screamed.
"Get the fuck up!" Simultaneously, the shower stopped and the young man spun around but didn't get up.
"Get up now or I'll drag your ass out of there." The young man remained frozen, terror in his eyes. Julie came into the room, dressed only in a towel. Big Bob couldn't help but notice how good she looked. This further infuriated him.
The man in the bed was still frozen but he finally spoke.
"Listen, I didn't know she was married. I didn't know nothin'. I met her tonight and she took me home. I swear to God I'm telling the truth. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." He'd broken his freeze only to put his hands up in a stop position. His trembling was perceptible across the room. Bob turned to Julie.
"How you doin', Julie?" Julie disregarded the calm tone to his words.
"Bob, please, it's not his fault. Let him out of here. Let him go. Don't hurt him. It's my fault." She was crying. "I was lonely. It was really stupid. Please let him go."
Thirty days was not enough time to excise all the demons in Big Bob's soul and he was in a situation that had made far more stable men than he commit horrible, brutal acts.
"Get out of bed and stand in that corner. I'm not gonna ask you again." The young man, naked as the day he'd been born, followed the instruction.
"Julie, get on the bed." She didn't move. Big Bob started toward her and got within a few feet before she too followed his instruction. He walked to his closet, reached up to the top shelf, fumbled a moment and brought down a handgun. He turned back to his captives and pointed it at the young stud.
"Please, man, don't kill me." The young stranger was now peeing on his own leg. If it ain't her kid, it's her boy friend, Bob thought.
"You don't think she's worth dying for?"
"Bob, please. You don't want to do this. He didn't do anything wrong. It was me."
"Take the towel off, Julie." He pointed the gun at her. "Now, slut!" She obeyed.
"Lie on your back and face your little friend." She turned toward her lover. Big Bob was back to pointing the gun at the man.
"You know kid, I've seen your face somewhere. Who the fuck are you?"
"My name is Steve Miceli. I work in the I.G.A. Maybe you saw me in there."
"Maybe so. How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"Eighteen. Jesus Christ, Julie, you got kids in both of my bedrooms." Of course Steve Miceli was a lot closer to Julie's age than Big Bob, but he wasn't in the mood for subtraction or, for that matter, reason.
"Okay, kid, take a look at her. Is she worth it?" He didn't respond.
"Asshole, is she worth it?"
"Please don't kill me. I'm beggin' you."
"You're not answering my question."
"No."
"Good answer. How 'bout you, Julie. Was a couple of hours with him worth your life?"
"Bob, I've got a kid. For God's sake."
Bob walked over to Diana's dresser, threw the mirrors and make up and crap that Julie had lined up on it on the floor. He propped himself up on the edge and pointed the gun back at his prisoners.
He had decided a moment before that he wouldn't kill them although it had been a real consideration. Now he had to decide just what it was he would do.
It was nearing eleven o'clock.
"Get the kid."
"No, my God, how could you think of hurting a little kid. Please..."
Bob interrupted, "I'm not gonna kill anybody. Get the kid. You're leavin'. We're all leavin'. I'm gonna get you all the fuck out of here."
"Can I get dressed?" Julie asked as she went to pick up her towel.
"Drop the towel. You're not getting dressed. Get the kid or I'm gonna throw your little friend down the fuckin' stairs."
Bob followed the naked Steve Miceli, the naked Julie Crandell and the now awake Robert Whoever out to Big Bob's car.
"Okay, asshole, get behind the wheel. You, take the kid and sit in the back seat." Big Bob sat next to the former and now again little Steven Miceli and instructed him to drive to the ferry. With Robert in her arms, people looking into the car saw only a shirtless driver, his passenger and a young woman, child in her arms, in the back seat of an automobile.
The ferry docked and Steven was instructed to drive to Main Street in Greenport.
"Stop at the light."
"It's still green."
"Stop at the light or I'll bust up your face."
Steven Miceli stopped at a green light at 11:00 o'clock on Main Street in Greenport on a beautiful August Saturday night.
"All assholes out. Now!"
With horns blowing, young men whistling, some people laughing
and some people yelling at him, Big Bob drove away.
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Material Copyright © 1998-2003 by Jim Bearden