The Castaway Hotel - 2 - 36. Chapter 36 - Apologies And Additions

My days at home soon started to fall into a routine. Steve came to have lunch with me a couple times a week and we would talk about different things. Most of all, he would keep me informed about Eddie’s case. He had scheduled a meeting between the judge handling the case and me, so I could discuss my ideas about a suitable punishment for Eddie. When the time came, Steve accompanied me and we were able to agree upon a suitable sentence.

With Steve’s help, I also managed to attend court on the day Eddie heard his sentence. When the judge asked him if he had anything to say, he walked over in front of me and told me how very sorry he was for what had happened and then he turned to the judge and told him the same thing. The judge emphasized the seriousness of his actions, but then explained he was getting a break on the sentencing. The judge informed Eddie that we had talked this over and I insisted he didn’t belong in a juvenile detention center. I heard Eddie’s parents breathe a sigh of relief as the judge told him what his sentence was.

In the end, Eddie was ordered to receive psychological counseling from the Department of Mental Health and do ten hours of community service each week for, a year. He would spend one hour a day after school and two and a half hours on both Saturday and Sunday in the children’s ward of the hospital. He was to read the children stories, play games with them and help keep them entertained, while they were getting better.

After it was over, Eddie came up to me and gave me a hug and told me he was very sorry, once more, and then he thanked me for not letting them send him to reform school. I knew he was truly repentant about what he had done and wouldn’t do anything like that again. After giving us time alone, his parents also came over to thank me for convincing the judge not to send their boy away. I explained it wasn’t that difficult of a decision, as I always thought Eddie was basically a good kid. They all thanked me one more time, before they left the courthouse.

On the way back into the house, I stopped to pick up the mail. I had been getting many get well cards from friends, acquaintances, teachers, students and parents, so I was always eager to see whom I was going to hear from next. Although I was generally surprised by some of the people who took time to do this, today was even stranger, as I got a letter from a totally unexpected source. After seeing the return address, I opened the envelope and read it.

Dear Mr. Currie,

I read about you getting shot in the newspaper. I’m real sorry and hope you get better soon. You are a nice man and the boys need you an awful lot.

I’ve learned a lot since I’ve been away and I know now how I blew my chance to have a nice home and good family to live with. I wanted to tell you that I am sorry for what I did when I was there and I want you to tell Trey that I’m sorry, too. I had no right to do what I did to him and I know that now. Some of the older and bigger guys here did the same thing to me. I didn’t like it at all and felt guilty afterward that I tried to do that to Trey. I hope none of you still hate me for all the rotten things I did while I was there.

I was hoping that maybe you’d let me stop by and say hello to you when I get out. I’d like to tell all of you in person that I’m sorry. It just doesn’t seem good enough to say it in this letter. I was a jerk and now I am paying for it. I’ve learned my lesson and don’t blame anybody but me for what happened. I just wish that I’d listened to you when you tried to tell me that what I was doing was wrong.

I hope you get well soon and hope you will also write back to me.

Your friend,
Frankie

It seemed as if Frankie had learned a lesson, and I sincerely hoped that was indeed the case. It’s too bad he had to learn it the hard way. It sounds as though it hasn’t been very easy for him since he was taken away and I was saddened to hear he had also been sexually assaulted and probably physically abused by some of the other inmates. I felt bad about that and planned to write him back. I wanted to let him know we accept his apology and would welcome a visit from him. I would discuss this with Trey and clear it with him first, before I sent out any such letter of invitation.

My recovery had been a little slow, at least to me, but I now felt I was nearly healed. I was still using a cane when I walked, as an aid to help me until I adjusted to my new knee, but I was getting around fairly well. I wasn’t sprinting and it was more of a hobble, but at least I wasn’t bedridden or confined to a wheelchair or a walker.

It was now nearing the end of March and the weather was beginning to warm slightly. It was a Friday afternoon and the boys had just arrived home, when the doorbell rang. Ricky answered it and was soon leading a teenage boy into the family room to see me. It seemed odd he was here, because none of us seemed to know him.

“Dad,” Ricky said, “this guy says he needs to talk to Mr. Currie. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, Ricky. I’ll speak with him,” I agreed, so Ricky left us alone. Studying the boy, I wondered what he wanted. Almost forgetting my manners, I finally remembered to offer him a seat.

“Mr. Currie,sir, my name is Carlos Garcia,” he began. “I read about you in the magazines and also in the newspaper, after you got shot. That’s how I was able to find where you live. I was wondering if I could live here with you?”

Needless to say, I was caught completely off-guard by his request. “Carlos, I will need to know much more about you and your situation first, before I can decide anything like that,” I informed him. He looked a little disappointed I didn’t say yes immediately, but didn’t give up.

“What do you wish to know?” he asked, trying to comply with my request.

“Well, for starters, why do you want to live here?” I asked.

“Because I read that you have a good home and you are a good man,” he stated, with a great deal of feeling. “It said in the magazine that you adopted many boys and that you are a good father. I wish to have that too.”

“Don’t you have any parents or someone who is responsible for you?” I pressed. Surely a boy his age couldn’t be living on his own!

“I lived with my mother, when we come to this country from Mexico. We lived in California until she met a man and then we moved to Philadelphia with him. He does not like me and is very mean to me. My mother says that I must do as he says, because it is his house. When he beat me with his belt, I run away. I was not going to let him keep doing that to me.”

“How old are you, Carlos?” I asked, not sure if I was judging his age correctly.

“I am fourteen, sir,” he quickly informed me.

“And why did this man beat you with his belt?” I asked, trying to clarify the issue.

Carlos froze when I asked him this. It was as if he was afraid to answer. After some coaxing, he told me the story. “My mother was working and Roberto, that’s the man’s name, wanted me to get him a beer from the refrigerator. I did, but I was not careful when I set it on the coffee table. It tipped over and spilled all over his cocaine. He had the powder on the table and the beer made it all wet and no good any more. Roberto took off his belt and started beating me with it. He was screaming about how much money I had just wasted. I ran from the apartment and was too afraid to go back.

“When I saw the story in the newspaper about you getting shot, I also remembered the story about your family from the magazine. I was able to find out what city you lived in from the newspaper and was able to get rides to get here. I asked many people where you lived until one man told me how to get to your house. Will you please let me live here with you?”

“Carlos, you can stay here for now, while I check with friends of mine to see what we can do legally,” I informed him. “I’m curious however. Why didn’t you go to the police and report him?”

“My mother is not legal in this country,” he admitted. “We sneaked across the border at night. If I go to the police, they will send us back to Mexico.” He was almost ready to begin weeping at this point, but I could tell he was fighting back his tears.

“Look, I’ll see what I can do, but you’ll stay here while I check it out,” I agreed. I called for Ricky and he came back into the room. “Ricky, would you find Pat and Danny for me? I need to ask them a question.”

“Sure, Dad. I’ll be right back,” he confirmed, as he raced from the room.

“Carlos, do you have any clothes or other belongings?” I asked him.

“No, sir. When I left, I did not have time to pack any of my things,” he explained. “If I had gone back to get them, Roberto would have beaten me worse.”

“That’s okay. We’ll buy you some things to tide you over,” I assured him, which caused him to smile, slightly, almost as if he was sure I was going to do that before I told him.

Pretty soon Ricky returned, with Pat and Danny in tow. “What do you need, Dad?” Pat asked.

“Pat and Danny, this is Carlos and he needs a place to stay,” I informed them. “Would you two mind sharing Danny’s room, so Carlos can stay in Pat’s room temporarily, at least until we can figure out what’s going to happen with him?”

“Sure, Dad. No problem,” Pat answered, while Danny stood impassively beside him. Pat then looked at Carlos and spoke. “Hi, I’m Pat. Come on. I’ll show you up to your room.”

“Hold on a second, champ,” I warned him. “Danny, are you okay with this?” I pressed, to see how he felt about this arrangement.

“Sure, Dad. I don’t mind sharing my room with Pat. We do it a lot, anyway,” he confirmed, much to my relief. Having heard their concession, I turned to Carlos.

“Okay, Carlos, you have a room for the time being, but now I have a question for you. Have you eaten today?”

“A little,” he offered, although not convincingly.

“What have you had to eat?” I pressed, to get more details, but he didn’t look like he wanted to say more. “Come on, just tell me,” I urged him. “You’re not going to get into any trouble over anything you say.”

He still looked scared, but he finally responded. “I stole an apple and a roll from the grocery store. That’s what I had to eat.”

“Are you still hungry?” He merely nodded his head up and down. “Pat, would you please take him into the kitchen and get him something to fill him up first. Then you can show him to the bathroom, so he can take a bath or a shower. I’m sure that would also help to make him feel better too. While you’re at it, will you also see if you can find some clothes that will fit him? Maybe one of the other boys has something he could wear until I’m able run to the store.”

“Sure, Dad. I can do that,” Pat replied.

“Thank you,” I told him. “Danny, while Pat is doing that, would you mind bringing Carlos’ clothes down and wash them for me?” I’m sure he’ll feel better in his own things, if they’re clean too.”

“Yeah, Dad. No problem,” Danny shot back.

“Thanks, Danny. I really appreciate that you and Pat are helping me like this.”

“Hey, we’re happy to help, Dad,” Pat answered, for both of them. “You’ve done plenty for us, so we can do our share too. Come on, Carlos. Let’s go see what you want to eat.”

Pat dragged Carlos off to the kitchen, telling him his choices and asking him what he wanted to eat. Carlos decided on a sandwich, but also had a piece of fruit and a glass of milk. After that, Pat showed Carlos to the upstairs bathroom and filled the tub with water, so Carlos could take a bath. Pat got Carlos a towel and gave him some of his own clothes to wear, since they were pretty close in size. Once Carlos was soaking, Danny brought down Carlos’ old clothes and threw them into the washing machine a few minutes later. When Carlos was done and dressed, Pat showed him which room would be his, gave him a quick tour around the house and then brought him back in to see me.

“You have a very big house, sir,” Carlos told me, his eyes wide.

“Yes, I do. I hope you don’t get lost in it,” I joked, but Carlos missed my humor.

“I will try not to, sir,” he agreed, straight-faced.

“I know you will. I was only joking about that,” I informed him, but jokes are never as good when they have to be explained.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know,” he apologized.

“Don’t be sorry. It was my fault,’ I admitted. “I should have explained to you that I was just kidding in the first place. Do you feel better now, since you’ve eaten and bathed?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Very much so, sir,” he answered, very formally.

“Carlos, you’re just going to have to stop calling me ‘sir’ all of the time,” I suggested.

“Yes, sir. I will, sir,” he agreed, while doing the same thing.

“I guess we’ll have to work on that,” I teased, before giving him some options. “You can call me ‘Josh’ or ‘Uncle Josh’ or even ‘Pop’, if you’d like – just stop calling me sir.”

“What do the other boys call you, sir?” he asked.

“Most call me Dad, while others call me Pop.”

“But I am not your son, like they are, sir,” he observed. “So what do you want me to call you?”

“It’s your choice, Carlos. It really doesn’t matter to me, as long as it’s not sir,” I agreed.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he responded, doing it yet again.

“Cut that out,” I pleaded, while smiling at him, to let him know I wasn’t upset.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he apologized, suddenly looking at the floor again. I wasn’t sure if he was expecting me to do something to him or just feeling bad because he kept making the same mistake over again.

“I give up,” I offered. “Carlos, why don’t you let Pat introduce you to the other boys and maybe you can decide later what you want to call me. They might even be able to help you figure that out.”

“Very good, sir,” Carlos agreed, before Pat grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from the room, chuckling as he went.

All of the boys knew I didn’t care for all the formality of being called ‘sir’ all of the time. I heard enough of that at school, but besides that, it reminded me too much of my days in the army. I didn’t feel homes should be run like basic training or boot camps and I wanted the boys to feel comfortable here. Respect and politeness are fine, and even demanded, but the same thing can be accomplished in a less formal atmosphere. Respect can be faked, especially on such a formal level, but I preferred it to be genuine and mutual. To me, the constant use of the term sir crosses my boundary of desired politeness.

Once Carlos seemed comfortable and was off with the other boys, I called Sally and gave her a very brief explanation about my problem. Since it was Friday, she didn’t know what she could do for me, except come to meet him and see what she could find out from him. I told her that would be fine and she said she would stop by a little later, as she had to swing by her office for an emergency meeting. I let her go, but knew I’d be seeing her soon.

I went to check to see what the boys were up to, but I needn’t have. Although the television was on, the boys were just sitting around talking, as each of the boys took turns filling Carlos in about how they had come to live there. He seemed truly interested in what each one of them had to say and listened intently. I think this was giving him hope that I would let him stay here permanently.

About an hour after I talked to her on the phone, Sally pulled into the driveway. Once she was inside, I introduced her to Carlos and the three of us sat down to discuss his situation. After explaining to Carlos that she was a friend who had been responsible from bringing most of the other boys to live with me, he seemed to relax. I think he first suspected she might be an immigration officer or other federal bureaucrat.

I had Carlos give Sally a quick rundown on his background, before I asked what she might be able to do to help. She told me there wasn’t much she could do over the weekend, but asked if there was anything else we might need, before she left. Seeing she offered, I asked if she might be willing to take Carlos shopping for some things, since he had nothing of his own, but the clothes he was wearing when he arrived. She was hesitant at first, but after Pat volunteered to go with them and help out, Sally also agreed.

I insisted Sally stay for dinner, since she was doing me such a favor. Not only that, but I didn’t want Carlos leaving the house before eating. Danny, Dustin, Kevin and Pat had been very good about helping me fix dinner while I was semi-laid up, and they did the same tonight. In less than an hour, everything was ready and we sat down to eat.

Over dinner, the boys explained to Carlos about Aunt Sally. He was pleased to realize she was like another member of the family, so he didn’t have to worry about her turning him in to some regulatory office, once he went out with her. That thought never crossed my mind, but I guess you learn to think differently, when you aren’t in the country legally.

They left right after dinner, but not until I gave Sally my credit card to use to make the purchases. I even told her where I usually shop for the boys. A couple of hours later they returned, with several bags that contained clothes, athletic shoes and a toothbrush. Pat helped Carlos take the things up to his room and I was deeply impressed by how much Pat was offering to do to help out, since a few weeks earlier he might have been calling Carlos a spic or a wetback. He had certainly come a long way since then.

Before she left, Sally assured me she would start working on his case on Monday and she’d call the Philadelphia office to report this Roberto character to the authorities. Carlos had been able to tell her the address of Roberto’s apartment, although he wasn’t sure of his actual last name, since Roberto had used various surnames at different times. That sounded like something a criminal would do, or possibly he was an illegal alien too, and Sally agreed with my reasoning. She would make sure DSS and the police checked up on this guy and prevented him from doing any more harm.

I also called the furniture store and ordered a king-size bed for Danny’s room. When Brandon showed up for good, the double bed would be very cramped for three mature boys. By getting a slightly larger bed for them, it should take care of the problem for now. I asked for it to be delivered on Saturday and then I told Danny and Pat what I had done. Danny loved the idea and he thanked Pat and me for arranging it. When Pat asked him what he had done, Danny told him that by giving up his room to Carlos, he had helped to ensure his getting a new bed. Pat didn’t quite follow Danny’s logic, but he accepted his thank you, nonetheless. We would place the extra double bed somewhere for emergencies, but now I would have to determine where that would be.