Me and Charley

33. The Festa, Another Tragedy, and A Future

So, we spent the night together at the Freemans'. Charley got Simon's bed and Randall the trundle, while Simon and I had sleeping bags and air mattresses on the floor. Ms. Sandra roused us early for the trip to the city. A quick breakfast and Mr. Mike packed up Nonna and the five of us boys into their family car, a Suburban like the one Charley's family had. "I ain't been to no city before," Randall said, "'cept after the accident when they took me to the hospital, and yesterday with Matt. I don't remember much about it. Never seen it anyhow."

"It's interestin'," I said. "Full of different sounds and smells and all kinds of people talkin'."

"You ain't been blind that long," Randall said. "How would you know about that?" I explained about how I couldn't see after each quarterly doctor visit, and how four years before I had to go more than a week with my eyes patched up, and how Doc Hynes told me to rest my eyes every chance I got. At first I got a sleep mask and used it at home pretty much any time I wasn't readin' or somethin', but then Charley painted the inside of my dark glasses flat black. They leaked a tiny bit of light but they were more comfortable. The sleep mask got all sweaty and smelly, especially on days like this."

Randall said, "So it didn't come on you all sudden-like as it did on me."

"That was different though," I said. "I knew I'd see again. This business of never seein' ever again..." I trailed off as I started to choke up.

"You all right?" Simon asked.

I got past my emotion and said, "Yeah, more or less."

I felt Charley's rough palm on my knee. "Hey," he said, "what's been your biggest fear?" I said nothing. He continued, "You been terrified all your life of goin' blind for good. Well you don't have to fear that any more, it's happened and that's done."

"Yeah," Randall said. "Nothin' for it but move on from here."

Sammy said, "Do you think Nonna's gonna get her miracle this year?"

Simon said, "I doubt it. She's sure tried it enough times. Randall ain't even got eyes she can fix."

Charley said, "Your eyes look all right to me."

Randall said, "They're fakes. My eyes was tore up so bad they took them out."

Charley said, "Well, they're real good fakes."

I said, "Anyhow, me and Charley and Randall, we ain't even Catholic. The Madonna ain't gonna mess with the likes of us."

"Hush!" Simon whispered. "Nonna's gonna get mad if she hears that."

From the shotgun seat came Nonna's voice, "I'm-a hear you boys, you just shut-a you mouth about La Madonna."

Randall whispered, "What's La Madonna?"

Simon whispered back, "She's Mary, Jesus' mother. Nonna talks to her all the time." We rode along amid the city sounds and smells.

Charley asked, "Mr. Mike, how far does this parade go?"

He replied, "About a mile, I think. Why do you ask?"

"I think that's farther than I can walk at a stretch." I knew that wasn't true but said nothing.

Mr. Mike said, "Charley, if you don't mind being alone for a while, I could drop you off at the Mount Carmel church where the procession's going to wind up. You can rejoin us when we get there." I think Mr. Mike was sensitive to the problem that being seen in the procession would create between Charley and his mother – and I harbored no doubt that he would attract attention. Four blind teens hovering around an old lady would be spectacle enough. At that point a torrent of heated Italian erupted between Nonna and Mr. Mike.