Becoming New   A Team Meeting Story by Andrea Lena DiMaggio Copyright © 2010 Andrea Lena DiMaggio All Rights Reserved.   Some things are just more important than sports...

"You want to prove you're tough, kid?" Paulie Boy looked at Tony and Rocco and nodded.

"We're goin' over to that coffee house on Cavanaugh...you know, where all the queers go? Gonna grab one and beat him up...just for the fun of it." It almost sounded surreal, since Rocco's voice hadn't changed and he sounded more like a middle school kid than a senior in high school.

"I don't know if I can do that?" These guys weren't a gang, but they had a gang mentality.

"Sure you can...I've even got the right tool for the job." Tony handed Paulie a baseball bat. Paulie had just quit the team after losing his starting spot in center for insubordination. He was a great hitter and a great fielder but he struggled with the basic human skill of being kind.

"Hey Callahan...betcha don't hit 250 this season." Paulie shouted as Johnny Callahan took his place at the plate. Being ragged on by an opponent was one thing, but to hear it from a teammate?

"Would you just shut up?" Andy said from the end of the dugout. He had been trying to help Johnny with his batting. That he was even playing at all was a miracle; he still struggle with his sister's death last fall, and was now only beginning to pull out of his grief.

"Fuck you! You're not in charge." Paulie yelled back.

"Maybe, but I am." Benjamin Seraphino stood in front on Paulie, his arms folded. He leaned into the young man's body space and poked him hard in the chest.

"You don't stop ridin' the kid, you're outta the lineup...I mean it. I'm tired of reminding you. Have some decency. That kid has been through way too much, and he doesn't need your crap on top of it, understand?"

"Yeah....sure, Coach. Sorry!"

There's sorry and then there's sorry. Paulie was only contrite as far as it kept him out of trouble. He didn't understand that the more he acted like a fool, the more he became one.

"Strike Three!" The umpire's call got Paulie's attention. Johnny came back to the dugout, his head down. He placed the bat and helmet gingerly back in place and sat down on the bench. Paulie leaned over and whispered,"

"I bet your sister would be real proud of you now." At one time in the recent past, Johnny would have taken Paulie's head off. Instead he looked at Paulie and tears just began to flow. Tommy turned and looked at Johnny and nodded. Like he knew and he was going to do something about it. He stood up but a hand grabbed him and sat him back down.

"I'll take care of this, kid." Dom Sovrano stood and walked over to Paulie.

"Don't bother to get up for the sixth." He said softly. He turned and looked down the bench. Simon, go in for Paulie here at the top of next inning.

"Wait a minute. You can't do that!" Paulie went to stand and his head hit Coach Sovrano's chin.

"I just did," he said and walked to the edge of the steps of the dugout.

"Oh, fuck no...You can't do that, fucking ass hole!" Paulie started toward Coach, but two hands grabbed him from behind. Pete wrapped him up in a bear hug.

"I don't think you want to do that." Pete let Paulie go and he walked to the other end of the dugout and sat down. Bart got up and moved and Nate smiled and said,

"You gotta apologize, Paulie...you just gotta!"

At the end of the game, before the team got on the bus to return to the school, Coach Seraphino and Coach Sovrano walked up to Paulie.

"Do you have anything to say?" Dom asked. Paulie looked at him and was overcome by a wave of supreme stupidity.

"Yeah, go fuck yourself, I quit." Paulie said as he walked to the bus.

“Are you in or not, you big pussy?” Rocco said. He spit on Paulie’s shoe.

“Yeah…whatcha gonna do?” He said with bravado. These may have been gang wanabees, but that in itself may have made things even more dangerous.

“You just hang out at the end of the alley and keep an eye out.” Tony punched Paulie hard in the shoulder. He and Rocco handed Paulie their jackets as they rolled up their sleeves. Rocco had a baseball bat in his hands.

A few minutes later they heard a door open and a voice from the figure by the door.

“I’m going to go get the other boxes of brochures from the car, I’ll be right back.” The girl closed the door and took two steps before a fist hit the back of her head, sending her into the brick wall with a thud. She went to move but another fist punched her in the kidney, causing her to fall to the pavement.

“Fuck you, you fucking queer.” Tony said as he kicked the girl in the side. She gasped and tried to get up but another kick on her other side kept her down. A hard object hit her back, just below the shoulder blade causing her to grunt hard. Another blow caught the side of her head.

“What’s that you’re trying to say? You’re a faggot? Fuck yeah,” Rocco cackled his high pitched laugh. Tony picked up a brick from the pavement and banged it hard off the back of the girl’s right leg, but she didn’t scream. She put her head down and began to whisper softly.

“Fo…orgi….” She tried to say as she lifted her head. Tony kicked her hard one more time in her side and blood spewed from her mouth. Her head dropped to the pavement.

“Oh shit..fuck, let’s get outta here.” Rocco screamed as they took off toward the other end of the alley. Paulie strained to see what was going. The body on the ground had stopped moving. As he took a step toward the girl, two men brushed past him.

“Did you see who did this?” One man said? The other was already dialing on his cell phone.

“Nnn no, I just got here when you did.” He dropped the jackets behind a pile of cardboard and followed the two men down the alley to where the girl lay. He stood back as more people rushed to see what had happened. Moments later an ambulance pulled in from the other end of the alley and was making its way toward the crowd. Paulie was scared but he found himself drawn to the scene.

“This looks bad, Gabe, one EMT said to the other, noting the girl’s motionless body.

Paulie pushed into the crowd and drew up to the circle around the girl. He stood motionless, waiting for the good news that would never come. The first EMT gently cradled the girl in his arms and turned her over, revealing the lifeless eyes of Paulie’s little brother Stephano…Stevie. He had the most peaceful look Paulie had ever seen. A loud scream broke the pall of the crowd and Paulie realized the voice was his own.

“NNNNooooooo..noooooooo.” He tried to push past the line of people but a policeman who had just arrived pulled him back gently.

“Sorry, son, but you have to let them do their job.” He looked back at the first EMT who shook his head with a sad expression.

“Yoouuu…ddontttt unnnndeerrrstaannnnnnnddd…That’s mmmmy brrooootherrrrr….” Paulie cried as he fell to the ground. The cop placed his hand on Paulie’s shoulder and patted it in silence. After a few minutes the ambulance had left and the crowd disbursed.

“Can I take you somewhere, kid?” The cop asked. Paulie looked at him blankly before shaking his head. As the cop walked back to the street, Paulie stepped over to where his brother had fallen. Brochures lay in misshapen piles on the pavement in a pool of blood. Paulie picked one up and gazed at it.

“Open Arms Coffee House — A Place Where Teens Can Discover the Love of God.” Paulie went to drop the brochure but it stuck to his hand, coated with his brother’s blood.

“Fuck them…it’s their fault…The fucking queers…they did this.” Paulie muttered to himself before he tore off down the alleyway.

He arrived home after dark. The streetlight illuminated the driveway, double wide and filled with cars. A police car was parked in front of the house, as well as a non-descript sedan with ‘clergy’ plates. He walked in the house and was greeted by stares from neighbors and his Aunt Sally. Father Pietro approached him and took his arm gently and guided him into the living room. His mother sat on the couch. She was flanked on one side by his Aunt Marie and on the other by Mrs. C…Carmella Campagna who sat in her wheelchair.

“Paulie…my baby…come…your momma has been worried sick.” Marie Scialpi was his father’s sister, and his favorite aunt, especially after his dad died. She stood up and pulled him into a hug, followed by a kiss on his neck.

“I’m so sorry, baby. He was a good boy.” Her tears flowed like a cloudburst and she shook in Paulie’s arms. He patted her on the back awkwardly before turning attention to his mother. She seemed lethargic, owing to the sedative the doctor had given her earlier. She just sat and wept softly as Carmella stroked her hair.

Paulie ran into the bathroom. Turning on the cold water, he wet down a wash cloth and wiped his sweaty face. Looking up, he noticed his reflection in the mirror. A moment later there was a loud crash of glass breaking as he ran from the bathroom, the mirror in shards in the sink. His fist was cut and bleeding. Vito Compagna tried to grab him as he ran past. He stopped and noticed a smaller figure behind Vito; a girl about his own age. Sammi Campagna peered at him; her face was puffy and her eyes were red and filled with tears.

“I’m sorry, Paul, Stephie was one of my best friends.” She sniffled and buried her face in her dad’s jacket and wept.

“Oh fuck no…not you…not now…get the fuck out of my house.” Paulie yelled

“Paul….Paul, son…think of your mother.” Father Pietro said softly. Paul ran past him and into his room, slamming the door. He buried his head in his pillow, trying to forget what he had seen.

As he had stared in the mirror, he had seen three faces; three faces that would come to haunt him over the next few days. Three faces that would move him from hatred to harmony and from fear to faith. The first face was that of Stephano…Stevie…but not as he had ever remembered his brother; he saw a pretty girl who looked a lot like his brother, but she was at peace. The sweetest smile graced her face and she seemed to be saying, “I forgive you.”

The second face was that of his deceased father. He wasn’t a ghost, but a vision from perhaps a place of rest and serenity. No longer bent and broken from disease, his father was strong and vital and looked at peace, just like his brother…no sister Stephie. Like some have said, he had the face of an angel. And for this purpose, perhaps, he was an angel so to speak; a messenger.

“Paulie…how many times did I tell you to take care of your sister?” Paulie had shaken his head. He remembered his father imploring him to take care of his baby brother

“Paulie, take care of your mother for me. And stop trying to hurt me.” The voice was not angry or condemning; rather his father seemed to plead on Paulie's behalf.

“What the fuck?” Paulie had thought. “What did I ever do to hurt him?”

The last face in the mirror, the face that was the most horrifying of all of the visions; the face that mocked him as much as his father had implored and his sister had blessed. His own face. The face that looked more afraid than he could ever remember, and the face that said quietly these few words; words that caused him to break the mirror and retreat to his room. These words.

“Turn yourself in”

Based in part on Acts 6:8 - 8:1, The Stoning of Stephen
and Acts 9: 1-9 The Conversion of Saul
 
Next: Becoming Real

A Way performed by
Words and Music by
Tim Marsh, Michael W. Smith & Gary Chapman
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_m5x4Mdjn5w