Lena came up to him at school. “What are you doin’ Saturday, Edmund?”
“I don’t know. I think my mother has something planned.”
“My family is goin’ to some kind of party. Why not come over to my place? We can watch television and play records and dance.”
“It’s supposed to snow Saturday. How’ll; I get there? Walk?”
“It’s only about 5-blocks. I thought you liked me.”
“I do. It’s just there’s only mom and me and I have to help out with cleaning the house and stuff.” Why do I have to make up excuses for this slut? Why can’t I just say I’m not interested?
Two-weeks of avoidance finally brought about a change in Lena’s approach to Sorelli. Josie Arrigo was her advisor.
“Just start to ignore him. He’ll come begging for a date. Believe me it works all the time with my Sandy.”
On the third Saturday away from socializing, Sorelli felt relieved. Lena Masiello stopped pestering him. The following Sunday his mother came home from another all-night soiree with her now steady guy he had yet to meet.
“When am I goin’ to meet him mom?”
“I talked to Tony this morning. He wants to meet you too. How about next weekend? We can go out together.”
“I’d like that, mom.”
“Good.” She looked at the doorbell chime above the doorway as it sounded three times. “Who could that be?” She pressed the intercom button. “Who is it?”
“Boston Police Department, ma’am. Is this the Sorelli home?”
“Yes.” She got closer to the intercom. “Is something wrong?”
“Do you have a son named Edmund Sorelli?”
She looked at her son with fearful eyes.
Sorelli shrugged his shoulders in question.
“We have to talk to your son, ma’am. Please, may we come in?”
Two police officers in dark blue winter coats came to the doorway and stamped the snow from their boots. They removed their gloves and unbuttoned a few top buttons in the warm kitchen entryway. An officer with a graying moustache looked at Sorelli. “Are you Edmund Sorelli?”
“Officer, what’s going on? I’m his mother.”
“Where’s his father?” The other officer asked.
“I’m a single parent. His father left us before he was born.” She looked with fearful eyes at her son.
The mustached cop raised his eyebrows. “I’m Officer Lahan. This is Officer Starch. May I sit down?” He looked at the kitchen table and chairs.
“Yes of course.” She looked at the snow stuck to their feet. “Please take off your boots.”
They complied but only Lahan sat down. Officer Starch stood by the front door.
Lahan read from his wire bound small notepad. “Do you know a girl by the name of Lena Masiello, Edmund?”
“Yes, he does. I met her three-weeks ago.” His mother blurted the response.
“Please, Mrs. Sorelli. I want Edmund to answer.” Lahan looked from Mrs. Sorelli to her son. “Edmund?”
“Yes. I go to school with her and we had a date once?” Sorelli looked at his mother and back at each police officer.
“Did you have a date with her Friday night?” Lahan had his pen poised on the pad.
“No. I was here. I always stay home Friday night. I do the laundry.” Sorelli looked at his mother.
“Was anyone with you Friday night to verify you were home…” He looked up from his notes. “…doing the laundry?”
“Mom was here.”
“I was here with him. We share the chores. He runs the washing machine and I hang the clothes in the bathroom to dry. We both fold the dry clothes.” She looked at Lahan. “Why are you asking him where he was on Friday night?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Masiello told us their daughter went out on a date Friday night with her boyfriend.” Lahan paused, looked at Starch at the door and back to Sorelli. “She’s been in the hospital since late Saturday morning. She was assaulted and sexually violated.”
“I was home. I haven’t dated Lena for about a month. Who said it was me?” Sorelli was angry and fearful.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish