Chapter Three
FRANK - NEW ROCHELLE, NY
Yet Frank proudly drove a Cadillac, which he’d gotten as part of his job at the dealership.
He didn’t want to be one of the guidos, who were stuck in the old world even though most of them had never set foot on actual Italian soil.
They seemed low-class. Sure, he was friendly with some of them—he’d gone to school with them and even worked with a few of them now.
His hands and nails were just as dirty from working on cars as theirs were.
But he longed to make a better life for himself and his family.
The town of New Rochelle was situated on Long Island Sound, atop a rocky shoreline that signified its tough interior.
New Rochelle was for the rough-and-tumble—those who worked hard and could shed their blood, sweat, and tears, all the while striving for a better life for their kids.
Only one slice of town was far from typical New Rochelle in class and style—Davenport Neck.
As he approached Davenport Neck, Frank smelled the sea air, its briny pungency pulling him toward it like a siren.
He rolled down the window and breathed in a unique mixture of diesel fumes and sea.
It invigorated him and made his senses come alive.
Seagulls flew overhead, squawking as they dove into the water before arching back up to the sky.
This was a different world, on the edge of the sea.
It felt freer, more open, brighter. Even though Davenport Neck was a mere ten-minute drive from where he and Teresa lived, as soon as he crossed the little bridge that arched over the inlet, he had arrived someplace special.
Compared to most of New Rochelle, with its modest working-class homes, fast-food joints, and pizza places, Davenport Neck stood out like Cinderella at the ball.
The wide streets were filled with mansion after mansion, with expansive green lawns reaching down to the water’s edge, bikini-clad women lying on chaise lounges, champagne glasses in hand, private docks with boats waiting to be taken out for a spin, and Rolls-Royces parked in the circular driveways.
There was yacht club after yacht club, with a few beach and tennis clubs thrown in for good measure.
Davenport Neck was made for those born with a silver spoon in their mouths, who’d never had to toil away a day in their lives.
When Frank dreamed of a perfect place to live, he always pictured Davenport Neck—on the water but a step up from the New Rochelle he’d grown up in.
At the very tip of Davenport Neck sat the Drifters Boat Club, a place that signaled success to Frank.
Two years ago, when his boss at the Cadillac dealership had said he could get Frank a boat slip for free in exchange for Frank working part-time at the boat yard, Frank had jumped at the chance.
And even though he’d heard that the owner of the Drifters, Jim Butler, was a real hard-ass, so far, the man had been pretty easy to get along with.
It was a dream come true, an invitation to a better life that he couldn’t pass up.
Ever since he was a boy, Frank had lusted after boats.
He bought boating and yachting magazines and would sit at the kitchen table, flipping through them, daydreaming that someday he would own one of those beauties.
Frank had saved money for years until he had enough to buy a thirteen-foot Boston Whaler.
It was a small entry-level boat, but it was his, and he hoped it would be the start of a long line of boats he would own throughout his lifetime.
He’d named it Horizon so it would always remind him of where he was heading when steering it.
Frank pulled into the Drifters’ parking lot.
Even though it was already six o’clock, he would still have several more hours of light on this summer evening.
He’d been glad when Teresa had told him she planned to bring Anthony to see her mother, Rosa, that night, encouraging Frank to take the boat out for a spin and burn off some steam.
Knowing his wife, she also wanted to check up on her little brother, Marco, and make sure he wasn’t straying too far from his latest drug-treatment plan.
Frank doubted this attempt would differ from the last hundred times Marco had tried to get clean.
But that was his Teresa—loyal to those she loved, sometimes to a fault.
He walked down the dock and broke into a huge smile when he saw Horizon.
There she was, sitting next to his friend Henry’s boat.
He pulled back the cover and folded it up.
Then he started the engine, untied the ropes, and slowly maneuvered out of the slip, through the harbor, past the buoy, and into the open water of the sound.
Work at the car dealership had been stressful lately.
He was hoping for a promotion soon, but it was taking longer than expected.
He wanted to make more money so he and Teresa could move to a bigger apartment—maybe even get a house someday.
And they wanted to have another baby, hoping for at least two children.
He needed to provide for them without constantly worrying about making ends meet.
For the time being, he would continue to prove himself at the dealership, while also taking weekend shifts at Drifters.
But he was feeling restless. He worried it wasn’t just work stuff nagging at him but that something was resurfacing—a shadow from his past trying to creep back in.
Frank looked out over the bow at the offing in the distance, that part of the sea visible between the boat and the horizon.
It held promise and mystery, luring him like a beacon of light.
Frank didn’t know if he was running toward the horizon or running away from what he tried to conceal.
He realized he’d been running for years.
He’d always thought he could outrun what haunted him, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Because of Henry. Henry was married with kids, just like Frank.
But something had shifted recently, and Frank felt there was something more between them.
It scared and excited him. He’d only really felt this once, years before, or at least, he’d only allowed himself to feel it once.
Since then, he’d desperately tried to push it out of his mind, but lately, it had come crashing back like a large wave cresting on the beach.
Frank would never forget the first time he’d touched another boy.
He’d been fifteen years old, and his friend Eddie had come over after school so they could do homework together.
Frank’s mother was in the kitchen, making dinner.
The neighbor’s dog started barking loudly, and Eddie and Frank went to the window to investigate, laughing when they saw the dog chasing a squirrel.
Standing side by side, Frank glanced at Eddie’s profile, admiring his long eyelashes.
Eddie positioned himself closer to Frank until their arms were touching.
Frank didn’t know if it was intentional, but he hoped so.
Unable to control the yearning he’d felt for months, Frank reached over and brushed his fingers lightly against the back of Eddie’s hand.
There was mystery in that first touch, as wondrous as the first time Frank had felt the ocean breeze on his skin.
Eddie didn’t pull away but was still looking straight ahead out the window, as if immobilized.
Frank’s heart jumped, hoping he hadn’t misread the cues.
After what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds, Eddie turned to look at Frank and smiled.
That smile melted Frank and made him bolder.
He lightly caressed Eddie’s hand and let his fingers trail up his forearm.
Eddie leaned his head onto Frank’s shoulder and closed his eyes.
Frank felt electrified, every cell standing at attention.
He kept going, moving his fingers up to Eddie’s neck, slowly turning Eddie’s chin to face him.
Eddie opened his eyes, and they stared at each other, neither moving any closer.
Frank felt his breath coming faster as he stared at Eddie’s lips.
There was the tiniest distance left between them, and he wanted to close it. He bent his head toward Eddie—
“Frank, what are you doing?” His mother's voice exploded through the room.
Frank’s hand dropped to his side with a thump.
Eddie jumped back. A chill ran down Frank’s body.
He wanted to shrink into himself and fade into the background.
But he couldn’t. His mother’s stare bored into him.
He felt exposed. He looked away, not answering her.
Eddie coughed but remained silent. Frank's mother marched over and stared at him without saying a word, her wide eyes glaring and questioning.
Frank took a deep breath while maintaining eye contact with her. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “We were just watching Coco chase a squirrel.”
He knew that wasn’t what she was referring to. His mother kept watching him while his heart thundered in his chest. The silence stretched and filled the room like a thick smoke.
Then she turned to his friend. “Eddie, I think it’s time for you to leave now. Frank needs to wash up for dinner.”
Eddie coughed nervously again, gathered up his books, and without saying a word or making eye contact with Frank, hurriedly left the room. Eva gave Frank one last lingering look and walked away. And in that moment, he knew she knew.
She knew, and her look had told him she thought those feelings were unnatural. Frank never hung out with Eddie again after that day. The experience had tainted their friendship. What had been pure and loving and tender had become twisted and perverted when exposed to the outside world.
Lately, Henry had awoken similar feelings in Frank and made every nerve ending in his body feel on fire. Frank assured himself he could resist this. He’d experienced attraction to men before and never acted on it. He would make sure this wasn’t any different.
He increased the speed of the boat and felt the bow lift and slam down on the waves over and over in a constant, soothing rhythm.
He wanted to feel the ocean spray on his face and wash away any trace of these confusing thoughts.
Frank breathed in the sea and felt instantly lighter, like a window had opened and fresh air had rushed in.
His body relaxed. He was always at peace on the water—feeling at home.
The only other place he’d ever truly felt at home was with Teresa.
When they’d met in the summer of 1965, he’d felt like he’d been saved.
She was only sixteen years old to his eighteen but possessed maturity beyond her years.
Yet she also had a carefree way about her that was appealing to Frank, who carried an immense burden within him.
Teresa was loving and kind and believed not only in him but in their future together as well.
She was his horizon. He couldn’t lose sight of that.
With Teresa at his side, he’d be able to weather any storm.