CHAPTER THREE

Thaddeus bobbed down the street,  jabbing the air with quick powerful shots like a professional prizefighter inside a ring, somewhere in London,  battling for a medal. Shifting his weight onto the balls of his tiny feet, he swaggered his way down the alleyway like a tiny miniature rendition of Mohammed Ali. He had on a white tee shirt with a portrait of Ali in one of his best fighting stance sprawled across it. His favorite converse was worn out with ages, it looked like an antique on his feet. He always visualized himself on the screen someday with the world shouting in unison his name as he knocks out every opposition to his world heavyweight champion. 

Uncaring about his almost worn clothing, which already scented like a part of him that was shed off, he came to a quick stop along one of the corners of the street. He had taken a wrong turn while beating up his fictitious opponent; he spotted two of the older boys who ganged around the alleyway bearing towards him. If he didn't move quickly, they'd grab him and make him justify why his mother had always told him to always avoid places like this. 

Thaddeus cursed. Damn! If only he had Larry with him, he could tackle them both. Alone, he had no chance of standing up to them, there was no way in any universe he could beat them. Larry had always been the muscle in the pact and he was delighted of being the brain. 

These boys looked like humanoid rotweilers, if what he had been shown of rotweilers in school were accurate. He could start crying, but would it help?

Thaddeus remembered several other boys who had been caught up in this dark, rat-infested alleyway alone with the older boys. It was a saga he was quite familiar with, you either end up losing your money or you cry home with a scraped knee and a broken nose. If he stayed, similar fate awaites him. If he ran, he might get lucky. 

"Too dull to pause, or make an end..." A line from a poem whose title seemed fuzzy in his head.

Without pausing to mull over what to do next, Thaddeus turned and ran. With one swift movement, he barged into one of the dumpsters and nearly spilled out its contents. He would stand and run, unapologetic, but it was a little too late, Mathew and Mark were nearly all over him.

Rounding one of the trash lumps, he squeezed himself through the gate entrance of what used to be an old bar.

He kept sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him, the sweat dripping off him as he tried to restrain his fear was cold, it took all his energy to draw air into his lungs, trying to get as far away from where the other boys could reach him.  

As he ran into the full light of the street, his knees feeling like jelly under him, he grinned at himself as he felt a refill of fresh energy and air in his lungs. 

He tried to make sense of where he was. He panicked, he was far from home, he couldn't turn back into the alley, he tried to run down the street but he wasn't getting any closer to his home. He cursed and swore on top of his lungs. He threw blames at the older boys, it was getting really dark and the streets are a lot more dangerous at this part of the city by this time of the day. He kept walking down the street calling out to his sister's name; he feared being mugged or worse. He had heard rumors of ghosts.

He cried as he walked down the street, about to take a turn when he noticed the headlighs of his mom's Cadillac CTS busting down the street. The old bluish-grey wagon was distinct with one missing headlight; you can hear the clumsy vroom noise the old jalopy made almost 30 feets away. It felt like grace had found him. She picked him and drove home without uttering a single word. He knew it was going to be a long night of scolding.

It was startling she didn't, she treated the bruises he had earlier squeezing through the old fence, even made him a bowl of his favorite soup. He felt so much at peace, momma didn't make soup except on special occasions, he thought. Perhaps tonight, luck shined on him. He still felt the burning anger towards the older boys in the alleyway, he wouldn't be getting momma's love if he hadnt been chased earlier. Maybe a blessing in disguise.

It was a lesson he won't forget any time soon. The alley isn't meant for feeble kids like him...

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In distance stood an elegant Victorian spire of the St. John cathedral, and some irregular configuration of surrounding buildings. An impressive breathtaking display of ecclesiastical elegance. The glory the streets once carried leaves a scar on its beholder.  The statues of the Virgin and child, cherubs neatly adorn the chapel, the passage with its floor of encaustic tiles was brightly lit, and white-painted walls ran the whole of the church with pictures of saints and martyrs gracefully adorning them.  Pews ran across the cathedral in glorious ascension. The air tinctured with the scent of incense, candles, and the musty smell of Catholic prayer and hymn books. The offertory boxes placed where all eyes could behold them and their significant purposes. Kids dressed in their Sunday-best. The celestial voices of the choir singing "beautiful story of love" melted all worries. Their high-pitch soared over the clouds, danced gracefully on the staves as they worshipped God.

The priest in his sing-song tone gently reminded the congregation of Christ's love for them. He was dressed in his usual long-sleeved black robe with black button cutting through from the neck to the hemline, exposing only his shiny black shoe. Around his waist, a wide black tasseled sash, a pretty gold cross hung around his neck, the white of his dog collars beautifully contracted the crisp black robe... Thaddeus could not fathom why he had chosen to dress the same every Sunday despite the array of colorful attires out there. Although he admired the simplicity of his uniqueness...

His stomach grumbled and his imagination drifted. Crispy apple pie and a bowl of potato soup made him drool almost immediately. The finely chopped ham and smooth white mashed potato, rich creamy smooth and firm from the butter and milk that had been beaten into it to improve its taste and flavor. The steam announced it was freshly cooked. He inhaled the warm unique aroma hungrily. The gravy was thick and rich, a Sunday blessing. His mouth watered in anticipation. He shifted his attention to the succulent meat gleaming with a rich coating of spices, then to the apple-pie, the crust as crunchy as a butter cookie, and the white balls of whipped cream..... Uncertain where to start from, he dug his spoon into the bowl of potato; it smoothly penetrated the firm fluffy white mold. He lifted the spoon... 

"...amen, amen, amen" rang across the hall as the priest pronounced his final blessings, a rude interruption to his thoughts. He couldn't wait to get home and live the fantasy that clouded his mind during the mass.

Mama was a tall, fresh-faced woman in her early thirties, with a fine bust and a good carriage. Her skin was a light brown, the color of rich almond. Her hair was a wiry, coarse, and frizzy corkscrews that are quite hard to entangle and difficult to straighten as well, her pride and beauty. She'd spend a little longer styling it into a pretty curly hair. She inherited her father's hazel eyes. Men admired her figure and women envied her dash. Her trademark was her indulgent smile and enthusiastic laugh which could be heard ringing out anywhere she went, giving the impression that where ever Mama was, that was the best place to be. Sarah Carter had a great impact on her kids spiritual beliefs. The entire Carter household was devout Christians, but momma seems to be nearly an angel with the way she sings. She could read the whole bible from memory alone and she seemed to know all songs of the hymn. For Sarah whatever happened, good or bad, was a manifestation of God's wrath or delight. She was always a pillar of support to her kids.  She was the perfect blend of being lenient and strict.

Sarah hummed to herself the tune of her favorite hymn, clicking her fingers to the rhythm as prepared for the day ahead. She wore her old black dress, long-sleeved and tight around the hips, she remembered when it was her perfect size and she blushed at the memories. Mama balanced on her stiletto heels as though they were a natural extension of her legs.

It was the first day at her new job and she was ready to give it all it would take. She had just taken a new extra job to fend for herself and the kids.