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New Orleans 1870
A YOUNG BOY OF NINE sat in his makeshift bedroom and listened intently to his parents’ conversation. If his dad found him eavesdropping, he would whoop him good. While listening to what they were saying, he mindlessly took his index finger and toyed with the rapidly expanding hole in his threadbare pajamas.
They came to America for a better life, but they had yet to find it. His parents had the same problems here as they did in France. This was supposed to be the land of the free, but there were just as many rules here as back home. Back home, he knew how to earn spare money to help his parents put food on the table, but he had not found that here. He knew nothing of this new country, but tomorrow morning he would find a way to help his parents. He was tired of going to bed hungry, listening to his parents fight and his mom crying herself to sleep. His dad tried hard, but there were too many people here and not enough work to go around.
When he heard his name he cringed, knowing that they were not fighting about the lack of money, but their son. He was sent home from school with a note again. He saw the disappointment in his momma’s eyes when he handed her the note. The fight had not been his fault, this time. The older boys were picking on a peeshwank (a small child) in school. The little boy didn’t even stand up to the bullies. Instead, he sat there crying, curled up in a ball. Mais non, he wouldn’t stand for that one bit. Those boys got what they deserved. His dad may scold him for not controlling his temper, but at least those kids wouldn’t pick on the peeshwank again.
His mother begged him to be a good boy, but there was something inside of him that he couldn’t control. When he felt the anger inside of him building, he knew it would consume him. There were times like today, though, when he didn’t want to control it.
When he arrived at school the next day, he noticed an extremely intimidating man waiting with one of the bullies in front of the school. He had never seen someone who even dressed like him. He must have a really important job because he wore a suit like his dad wore only to funerals back home. When they left France, his dad didn’t even bother to bring it with him - saying that there would be no one to impress here. Besides, they needed the money to help pay their way over here.
The young boy took a step back and searched for another way around. He froze when he saw the bully point a finger in his direction. The neatly dressed man motioned for him to come over. Dragging his feet, he slowly walked over to them. Now he wished he had skipped school today, but his parents would have nothing of it. He had been grateful that his dad didn’t scold him. His dad said he understood why he did it, but next time to please use his words rather than his fists to settle an argument.
Instead of looking up at the man, he kicked at the dirt and asked, “Am I in trouble, sir?”
The man glared down at the young boy, “Did you beat up my nephew yesterday?”
He exclaimed, “He was picking on a peeshwank and should have known better!”
The man scratched his head and asked, “What is a peeshwank?”
“They were beating up on a small boy while he just sat on the ground and cried the whole time.”
Suddenly the man hit the bully behind the head and spoke a line of words he didn’t understand. “I’m sorry that my nephew did that. You are a brave little boy, unlike my nephew here. I am afraid he is destined to be nothing but trouble.”
He shifted his eyes from the intimidating man to the bully, unsure of what to do or say. The man told him, “My nephew thinks the only way to earn respect is by being a thug. Well, I won’t stand for it. How can I repay you for standing up to my nephew and protecting that little peeshwank as you say?”
He looked the man directly in the eyes, and told him, “I need a job sir. Mais, no one wants to give me an odd job; they think I am a babe. I ain’t no babe and can work just as hard as the men they hire.”
He let out a laugh, “If you want a job, then I will give you a job. Meet me here after school and I will show you where to come to work, okay? But if I give you a job, you can’t tell anyone, okay? Not even your parents.”
“Mais oui. Yes, sir.”
The day seemed to drag on. He was ready for school to be over so that he could start his new job. The man never did say what he would pay him, but anything was better than nothing.
As soon as he burst through the doors leading outside, he saw the man who promised him a job. He patted the young boy on the back, “Are you ready to get to work.”
“Mais oui.”
“Okay, I am going to show you where you will come every afternoon after school. Remember, you can tell no one of this.”
“Mais oui. I am thankful to have a job, sir.”
He laughed, “Such troubles for one so young.”
As soon as he entered the man’s office, he knew this man was rich. The lights on the ceiling sparkled like the stars in the sky. The man caught him looking up in awe and laughed, “That is a crystal chandelier.”
“I have never seen anything so beautiful.”
He pushed the young boy along, “Come on, we still have much to do.”
He was excited and intimidated at the same time to be in a place this extravagant. He felt out of place and was afraid to touch anything. If only he could tell his Mere everything that he saw today. She wouldn’t believe him, though. She would think he was making up tall tales to make her laugh. Today, though, was the day that would change his future forever.
***
THE LITTLE FRENCH BOY’S legs pedaled the sleek new bicycle as fast as he could down the bumpy, cobblestoned streets of the French Quarter. He had never owned anything as nice as the gift from his new boss and took extreme pride in the bike, being mindful to avoid the water puddles on the road.
The bike had been a bonus for working so hard this last month. It took him several days to learn how to ride the bike, but now that he had the hang of it, he could do his errands faster. Especially one as far away as this errand. Plus, on the bike he didn’t worry about the soles of his shoes melting on the hot sidewalks. He wished he could take his new gift home, but that would bring questions he couldn’t answer. Besides, he didn’t want his parents to feel guilty that they couldn’t afford a gift as nice as this. No, it was best that he kept the bike at work. His new boss understood when he explained the reasoning behind it. In fact, Mr. Gambini may respect him more for that decision.
He may only be a nine year old boy, but his life made him grow up faster than the other kids in his class. While others rushed out of school to go and play before going home to do their chores, he rushed out the door to his job. Not that he hated working and helping his family, but he occasionally wondered what his life would be like if he didn’t have the worries that he had. What would it be like to always have food on the table and a warm bed to sleep in? He learned that problems had solutions, and sometimes the solutions were too difficult to make happen. However, he was determined to help his parents out. When he looked at his mother, he saw the worry in her eyes. He could feel the weight of his dad’s worries on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to grow up and experience the kind of pain they had in their grown up lives. At his young age, he already had problems with handling the trials that life threw his way. He could just imagine how much harder his life would be as he aged. Mais non, his childhood may not be as happy as his friends, but he was grateful to have a roof over his head and a job that helped put food on the table.
The young boy sometimes worried that his parents would be disappointed in him if they ever found out who he worked for. His Dad believed in honest work. Although the young boy didn’t know exactly what his new boss did, he doubted the work was on the up and up. Especially since his boss stressed to be careful if the police asked him why he was in this area. He once overheard Mr. Gambini explain to a man that no one would stop a young boy delivering a package, but if one of his men were noticed, the police would definitely stop the man.
When Mr. Gambini handed him the package earlier, he told him to guard it as if his life depended on it and to give it to no one other than whom he was supposed to. If the man wasn’t there, he must wait for him and not return until he delivered the package. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but the newspaper smelled like the docks. He swore that a fish was wrapped in the newspaper, but that couldn’t be. Why would the police want to stop someone delivering a fish? But he didn’t want to disappoint Mr. Gambini, especially not after he had been so nice to him and treated him well. Sometimes Mr. Gambini would give him a nice piece of meat or even fresh milk or eggs to bring home to his momma. Whenever she asked how he came across the food, he explained how he did an odd job for the butcher or someone else. Instead of money they repaid him in goods that would just be thrown away. She then kissed him on the head and told him how thoughtful he was to help his Mere and Pere the way he did. At first, he felt guilty lying to them, but lying was better than seeing the disappointment in their eyes.
After he had delivered the package to the store owner, he maneuvered his bike towards the levee road. He wanted to catch a fish or two for supper. It had been a while since he went fishing on the river and fish sounded ideal for dinner. He could already see the smile on his momma’s face when he brought her a mess of fish all nicely cleaned for her to cook.
The bank of the river had hardened and smoothed out over the years. It had become a firm mud. He hid his bike in some bushes on the embankment and walked the rest of the way. He didn’t want to get his bike dirty, and he doubted it would be easy to pedal in this mud.
As he made his way to his fishing spot, he fashioned himself a bamboo pole to use. His dad taught him this soon after moving here. There was always something sturdy around to use for a pole, and he kept a pouch with a knife, string and hook in his pocket for just this occasion.
It took him no time to finish the pole and throw the line in the water. As he waited for a fish to bite, he watched the sun glisten off the rippling water. This spot was peaceful and calm. He listened to the sound of the water lapping against the river bank and relaxed as he felt the afternoon breeze against his skin. The smell that blew in off the Gulf enveloped him. He was in his own little world at the moment.
From his fishing spot, he watched as the smudge pots bobbed up and down in the water. Buoys made from old beer barrels were placed offshore to warn ships of the sandbanks nearby. As much as he missed living in France, there were times like this that he enjoyed living here. He never had views like this in France. He found the water calming. He could sit here, fish and not think about life’s trials and tribulations. What would it be like to live on the river and work on a boat? Would he find the water still as calming? After this afternoon’s episode with the package delivery, he needed some peace and quiet. He didn’t understand why the old man had become angry about the package. The old man screamed and yelled at him as if he were a piece of white trash. He hoped Mr. Gambini asked him how it went so he could tell him not to deal with that cranky old man again. There had to be someone else he could do business with.
As the sun went down, he gathered the day’s catch and went back home. Some shady characters preferred to sleep here, so he had to leave before dark. His dad warned him about the problems that occurred down here at night, and he didn’t want to be near that kind of trouble.
After he had dropped off his bike, he made his way back to their tiny apartment. When he rounded one corner, a man stepped from the shadows and waved at the young boy as he passed.
One day, he would stop and talk to the elderly man. He would ask him why he lived on the streets and didn’t have a house. Although if he stopped to think about it, what they lived in was barely a house. The apartment was small and drafty, but at least it kept the rain off of their heads and provided a place to sleep safely at night.
As he neared Mr. Rampart’s garden, he slowed to see if he found any tomatoes or other goodies his mom could use with supper. On one bush, he saw several ripe tomatoes and the biggest bell pepper he’d ever seen.
He knocked on Mr. Rampart’s door. Mr. Rampart grumpily opened the door, “What do you want, boy?”
Looking the man directly in the eye, he said, “May I trade you a fish for something from your garden.”
“Mais, you say you have a fish?”
“Mais oui. A nice sized one too.”
***
MR. RAMPART LOOKED at the young boy’s catch and smiled. He didn’t want to break the boy’s heart by telling him he could catch his own fish. Besides, he was merely trying to help out his parents. He had seen the young boy talking with Mr. Gambini and thought of warning him about the man, but decided against it. Mais non, he didn’t want to even think of that man’s name because it would bring him trouble. If the young boy kept associating with that man, he would speak with the boy’s dad. Gambini was the last man anyone on this street, or this town, should talk to.
He told the young boy, “Leave me one of the smaller fish and go get you a few things from the garden, but leave me something to fix my supper with, you hear?”
***
“MAIS OUI.” HE RESPONDED as he ran off to the garden before he changed his mind. He already knew what he wanted. With the tomatoes and bell pepper his momma could make her coubion. He had seen her make it enough times to know she needed tomatoes, bell pepper and onions for the gravy. Luckily, Mr. Rampart had all three in his garden. He could already smell the fish cooking.
He burst through the door to find his mom at the kitchen sink, “Momma, look what I got for supper.”
She looked at her son’s smile and asked, “Mais, what did you bring for supper, cher?”
He dropped his treasures in the kitchen sink and listened to his mother’s gasp, “Mon Dieu, what pretty fish! Is that what kept you from coming straight home today?”
Smiling broadly, “Oui, momma. I wanted to get you something special for tonight. It has been a long time since I went fishing. Don’t worry, I was very careful. I even stopped by Mr. Rampart’s and traded a fish for everything to fix your coubion.”
She ruffled his hair, “Why, aren’t you getting to be a resourceful little boy?”
He puffed out his chest, “I ain’t a little boy anymore, Momma. I can help out around here.”
Holding back the tears, she informed him, “You are turning into a fine young man, my son.”
He looked at her with pride in his eyes and hoped she was telling the truth. Would she be disappointed if he told her who he worked for in the afternoon? He had heard people whisper that the man was in the Mafia, but he wasn’t sure what that meant. He could ask his dad, but then that would lead to questions he could not answer. Besides, Mr. Gambini was good to him and he enjoyed working for him.
***
WHILE HE LISTENED TO his family sleep, he thought about how the day had played out. The day started out as it always did, but somewhere along the way it went drastically wrong. How had his life come to this? He came here to find a better life, and he had let them down. He found it hard to look at himself in the mirror nowadays.
If he hadn’t gone earlier than usual to pick up the daily delivery from the shop owner, then he wouldn’t have witnessed the man being murdered. Now, what was he to do? How could he protect his family? They barely had enough money to survive on, much less move from here. Even if they moved, where would they go? They couldn’t go back home. If he did, he would surely be imprisoned. He tried to make an honest living here, but he was tempted to slip back to his old ways.
Perhaps he could work something out with this mafia family. Maybe if they knew about his special skills, he could find work within The Family and it would save him from the same fate as that shop owner.
Being a contract killer didn’t bother him. He saw death as a reward, one where a person could leave behind all the pain that life entailed. This world had too much disease and hardship. A person could only endure so much and death was merely an end to the suffering.
From the outside, he didn’t have the look of an ice cold killer. He loved his family and strived to be a loving and gentle father. He was fortunate to be blessed with such a loving wife and healthy child.
He should have kept to the trade he knew best when arriving here. Then perhaps they wouldn’t be living in this dump. At least their apartment was on the second floor. When building this city, no one took into consideration that this area was below sea level.
Where they lived flooded easily. The neighbors living on the first floor were forced to move to higher ground when the rains really came down. The few times when they had to relocate, there was a little church near the French Quarter that allowed them to stay until the water receded.
This land was nothing like his homeland; it was untamed, wild and beautiful. There were towering cypress trees and massive oak trees that dripped with moss which swayed in the wind. The sweetest smelling flowers bloomed here and filled the night air with their fragrant scents. When the town was dark and all was quiet, he could hear the noises that came from the river. He found those sounds relaxing.
This small apartment may not be much, but at least it was a roof over their heads. If he found a better paying job, they could move out of this place. He’d heard that there were back breaking jobs working the fields on the plantations. They even paid the women and children to work there. However, he would not permit his wife to work in the fields. He knew her, though, and if needed she would go to work without uttering a single complaint. Right now, she ironed for women who spent their husband’s hard earned money rather than iron themselves. At least it was honest work and helped make the ends meet.