I can't believe how long it's taking to get through Pennsylvania. I guess time and distance are magnified when you're alone. The more I think about it, everything is magnified when you're alone; especially being alone.
By the Wednesday after I visited the church where they found me I had two pictures of Father Murphy in my wallet and two, framed next to my bed. But instead of being happy with what I'd found and what I'd learned I was and continue to be frustrated with myself that I didn't go and find Father Murphy before he died. And I'm often disgusted with myself for feeling that way. Go figure.
An uneventful week in the office gave me plenty of time to decide my next step in the quest for my Holy Foster Grail. I could go in order and go and try to look up the Hornings. Or go in reverse order and visit the family that depending upon my mood either gave me the least grief or was where I had the best time. That would be the Learys'. That family put up with me through my crazy years and, if I really want to be honest, treated me fine. The problem I had was with their daughter, their real daughter, and the older I get the more I realize it colors my memory unfairly. I decided that no matter the order of my search, I'd save the Learys for last.
It was a beautiful May Sunday and the trip out east to Shirley would be nice and that was the best reason I could come up with for making a choice. So the Caputos would be it. I got a Suffolk County phone book and found they still lived in the same house. I didn't want to give them a chance to reject seeing me with some bullshit excuse so I decided I'd call them later that day and just say sorry wrong number if someone answered. I panicked when I heard a voice and just hung up but I got in my car and was in Shirley in a little over an hour.
The first thing I noticed was how the little shopping area where Mrs. Caputo would send me to buy groceries or get a haircut had been replaced by one about four times its size. The A&P was a Waldbaum's, and if the barbershop was still there, I couldn't find it. I walked the length of the shopping center not sure what I was looking for, eventually deciding that whatever it was, wasn't there. I was only two blocks from the Caputo home so I just left my car in the lot and walked over. I didn't know it at the time but that walk turned out to be the highlight of my trip.
I'd had a newspaper route for a short time and it included many of the homes on the little journey I was taking. I remembered who had given me good tips, who had offered me a glass of soda on a hot day; a flood of good childhood memories, a scarce commodity for me.
I had expected the trees to be taller but it was still amazing to see how their growth had put the streets in complete shade. They ALMOST made me not notice how unkempt many of the houses were. It was clear that the Shirley of my childhood had changed.
As unobservant as most kids I did have memories of many homes in the neighborhood not having any adult men in the house. And by the looks of things that was more than likely still the case. What was different was the amount of Hispanic looking people. I first noticed them as I toured the shopping plaza and as I walked my old paper route I saw a number of kids darker than I was. The contrast was stark compared to my current neighborhood, more like the area just a few blocks north of Scully Sales.
A few houses before the Caputos' place I saw a man, his back to me, washing his car. Mr. Donato, it was him! He was the cool guy on the block, the one that didn't talk to you like you were a kid, who'd play catch or throw a football around with you. I had plenty of memories of sitting in his backyard eating the cakes and candies they'd given me, of swimming in their pool. His wife was in a wheelchair but she was always happy, she'd roll out the side door and down the ramp he'd built for her with a plate of cookies in her lap. I didn't know why at the time though I think I could figure it out now, but the Caputos and the Donatos didn't like each other. At all. I remember being told to stay away from them, "They're no good, they think who the hell they are." A strange opinion considering Mrs. Donato's situation.
I paused a moment to get my thoughts together, I wanted to thank him but I wanted to thank him in a way that made him understand how very much his kindness had meant to me and how I had never forgotten it. I was standing about twenty feet from his driveway when he turned to see me staring at him.
"Can I help you?" I remember right then realizing what was happening and shaking my head at my stupidity. The person in the driveway couldn't have been Mr. Donato; he looked like the Mr. Donato of my memory, of twenty-five years ago. This person could have been anyone but it certainly wasn't him.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Donato."
"He's the man we bought this house from. we've been here about three years. he's in Florida, he said he was moving down there to be with his daughter. Nice guy. My wife might have his address, I could ask her." A big guy, he was wearing a sleeveless blue tee shirt and he had a large, difficult to make out tattoo on his shoulder.
"You didn't mention his wife, the lady in the wheelchair." As I was posing my question I was simultaneously figuring out the answer.
"His wife died, that's why he sold the house. He said she was ill for years and he just couldn't bring himself to stay here without her. Let me rinse off the car and we'll go in the house and I'll see if we can find his phone number."
"No, that's okay, I was just a kid in the neighborhood so he's not someone I'd call and I don't think I'll be going down to Florida anytime soon. How was he though, did he look all right?"
"Well, he looked sad, some days more than others. The day we went to contract he cried, my wife cried too. Really nice guy, I felt bad for him. Where did you live?"
"Two houses down, I was a foster kid with the Caputo family."
"No kiddin'-- well, I can tell you they don't have any foster children now. I rarely see the woman and in the three years I've been here I don't think I've seen the man five times. I said hi to her a couple of times and she said hi but I don't know, she didn't seem like she wanted to talk to me. As you can see they don't take care of the house or the lawn too well, kind of fucks up the block you know?"
"Well your place looks really nice, I can see you take real pride in your home."
"Yeah we do, too bad more people around here don't. If I sold this house today I'd lose five grand. And every month it seems another Spic moves in. I don't know what the hell we're gonna do." I should have seen that coming a mile away but naivete has been a staple of my personality for as long as I can remember. I wished him good luck and walked over to the Caputos and rang the bell. I waited a moment or two and rang again but just as I did the door opened. It was Mrs. Caputo. This time I was prepared to see an older version of the woman in my memory and I did. I remembered her as heavy, she was now immense. Her hair was gray and stringy and she wore a white housecoat with blue dots. She looked in my eyes but clearly didn't recognize me.
"Yes, what is it?" If I could have I would have ran away. She looked frightening, this fat little sixty-something woman and I stood speechless for a few seconds.
"It's Sean Murphy Mrs. Caputo, I was a foster child with you. I was ten when I got here and you took care of me for a couple of years."
"I remember. How are you?" There was no discernible emotion on her face, I do remember that her eyes looked glassy.
"I'm doing very well, how are you? How's Mr. Caputo?"
"I'm fine, he's doing okay too. he's sleeping now." She paused for a moment. "So where do you live?" Speaking to me was obviously an effort for her, a huge effort she didn't want to undertake. I wanted to tell her how much I hated my stay with her, how much I hated how she treated her husband. But I'm sure I felt no emotions of any kind just then, only a very strong desire to flee.
"I live in Nassau County, I work there too. I was in the area to meet a friend and I had a little extra time and I thought I'd just stop by to say hello. I'm glad you're both doing well." There was a noticeable change in her expression, I was sure it was relief. I'm still sure.
"Very nice seeing you Sean, take care." She had never fully
opened the door so it took only a fraction of a second to close
it. I tried to turn away before she did it but I was too slow. I
regret that more than my decision to go and see her.
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