Deep Within Chapter Two "Troubled Childhood

                                CHAPTER 2

TROUBLED CHILDHOOD

Dr. Evans was a seasoned Clinical Psychiatrist.  He'd been practicing some 5 years now since his rigorous 3-year residency at N.Y.U.   His specialization was Child Psychiatry, and ever since he was a kid, Steve always enjoyed helping others.  Perhaps it may have had something to do with his troubled childhood, although it was not full of traumatic episodes similar to some of the patients he'd seen, Steve's childhood memories were indeed full of some really traumatic close calls.  Aside from the fact that part of Steve's personality was one of compassion, a special yearning to help those who were less fortunate, Steve always wanted to fit in with the rest of the kids.  First evidenced when he was only knee high to a grasshopper at nursery school, Steve could be seen passing toys to other toddlers who had nothing to tinker with for the day.  He'd give up his meatballs, which stood atop of the pasta on his lunch tray, or sell lemonade at the corner, collect the money from his lemonade earnings and go buy baseball cards to share with his friends.  He really enjoyed his little pals, but unfortunately it was short lived because at the ripe age of only five years, his parents decided to move. 

Steve, only three years out of diapers, had already bonded with his little friends on the block.  Now, unfortunately, he would have to leave behind the buddies who he'd shared loads of childish fun with, all because his parents wanted a bigger home.

"Ok Stevey, its time to get going.  We're moving to a bigger house so you can have some brothers and sisters to play with one day." -Yeah Right- Steve's Dad thought with a big comical smile, hoping all along that his family wasn't going to grow any larger.  He then picked up the last bag of personals tossing it in the trunk of their family Minivan, as little Steve looked up at him in disarray.

           "I want to stay with my friends on this street, Daddy. I don't want to go to a new street," little Steve remarked, as he turned away from looking at his Pop.  He then ran back inside towards the kitchen and climbed up on the only wooden chair left in the empty dining room near the kitchen window.  The chair had been positioned just close enough to the kitchen window, enabling little Steve to grab hold of the windows edge with his small, plump fingers as he began peering out at his little friends who were running around in their Batman and Scooby Doo under-roos.  They were waving for him to come out and play "catch the frog".  His excitement could not be contained.  He wanted to open the window right that instant, jump out on the grass and run around with his buddies.  Of course, just as little Steve began pressing his face against the windowpane, his face flat, lips now puckered on the glass for a closer look at his waving buddies, Dad quickly snatched him away.

"I said lets go there buddy, we have to meet the movers at our new home," Dad stated loudly as he grabbed Steve, now startled, from his legs and lifted him onto his shoulders shouting, "giddy-up, giddy-up little Stevey Giddy-up."  However, Steve, paying Daddy no mind, kept looking back at his friends for as long as he could. 

Meanwhile, Dad continued for the garage door where the family van was packed and ready to go, still holding on tight to Steve's small legs while on his shoulders.  During this traumatic childhood experience, Steve kept thinking; Giddy-up giddy-up my underoo soiled little butt.  Go right ahead Dad.  Pull me away from my only friends.  You'll see.  I will never, ever forgive you. You're a mean Daddy and I am going to cry all the way to your stupid new house and I don't care what you say.

 As his family expected, Steve eventually settled in on his new street, making friends with the kids around his age, although they were a couple of years older then he. Now at eight years old, it was time to fit in with the older kids on the block.  So Steve began trying to be accepted by helping his neighborhood friends with whatever he could. He noticed the older kids on his street were building the neighborhood tree house, and so he asked if he could help in the construction.  They accepted and the rest was history.  Steve now had some new friends to play with.  They were Ronny Alanio, Tommy O'Rielly, Butch Bigliamo, and Little Joey Bigliamo.  These were the kids Steve would grow up with since his family was staying put.  However, things were much different now than with his first set of buddies.

Boulder Street.  The name for the street received its title because of a huge apple shaped boulder situated on the Bigliamo's yard, a corner house at the east end of the block.  Over the years, the boulder became sort of an icon for all those living on Boulder Street, as well as a great landmark for any one looking for Boulder Street in particular.

Steve urgently wanted to fit in and so he decided he would take a dare that was asked of him, participating in the "Boulder Street ritual" that Butch, explaining carefully to Steve, happens to all new kids on the block. And since Steve was still considered the new kid on the block in their eyes, or at least Butch's evil eye, he really had no choice if he wanted to become part of the gang.  Nonetheless, he was ready for the challenge.  Steve knew if he passed this test, he was sure to be one of the tough guys on the block.  He had to do this.  How hard could it be- his thoughts now wandering-I can do this. One little rap on this old lady's door and I am so out of here and hiding with my new pals-and then his thoughts were interrupted by Butch in his face.

"All right Stevey, here is how it goes," Butch said with a devious grin. "You're going to do the honors of knocking on Mrs. Needlewhitter's door while Tommy, Joey and I fall behind a ways, say... right behind those bushes on the opposite side of the street from her entrance."  With a short pause only to catch his breath, Butch continued.

"Then, after you knock on her door, you're going to run quickly back to us and we're all going to watch the fun unfold, got it?"  Butch said sneeringly, while laughing and pushing Steve towards his destination.  The push was just forceful enough that Steve fell to the ground by the entrance gate.  Now shaken, he wanted to get up and punch Butch right in the face, but he knew it would only be a grave mistake considering Butch had a record, 5 wins- 0 loses with past scuffles.  So instead, Steve pushed himself back up, gathering his wits and slowly made his way towards the faded white picket fence. 

Butch was the neighborhood bully.  He was the leader for all things, good or bad on Boulder Street.  He was taller then the other kids his age and had that Robert DeNiro look to him even as a kid.  His dark, slicked back, gelled hair was cut real short and his talk was like a true Italian kid straight from the Bronx.  A little on the heavy side, Butch was a force to be reckoned with, thanks to his dad Fat Tony.   And right now Butch was fixated on little Steve.

Steve approached the poorly painted gate door and observed his immediate surroundings.  A small cottage like house situated on a very small lot.  It appeared weathered and in need of ample restoration.  The blue paint had been chipping and fading and the windows were the original aluminum sliders, old and rusty.  The grass had been growing way above the mandatory limit.  This limit on how tall your grass could grow was established according to the other homeowners on the block.  All of whom had their lawns well manicured. They would shun upon those neighbors who didn't attend to their lawns regularly, so that their lawns would fit in with the street decorum expected by all. Even the roof had a missing shingle here and there, across the top.  Her driveway, full of cracks in the cement, was very noticeable to the naked eye. His eye.  Steve also noticed only one window at the front of the house. Small, but close enough to the entrance door, his destination point, that he wondered if Mrs. Needlewhitter weren't secretly watching, waiting to catch the next person who tried to make it from her front gate to the door.

 Now ready to set out on his mission, Steve started to sweat as his heart began to increase in its beats, his anxiety level up, and his courage begging to go beyond the normal standards for an eight year old who thinks they're invincible. Untouchable.  Unstoppable.  The "Boulder Street initiation" mission to become part of the gang was about to begin. Take that step Steve, don't woozy out.  Your friends to be will think you're a cowardly chicken, now go for it!  These voices repeating in his head, made him feel like a person, perhaps an evil person, was forcefully pushing him to make the move. Without second guessing, Steve obeyed his inner thoughts, taking his first step towards the gates little entrance door.  While inching ever so closely, Steve couldn't help but notice that Mrs. Needlewhitter had hung a white and red lettered sign that read "KEEP OUT"!!!  Now even more anxious, Little Steve knew he was ready.