“My name is Naomi, and this is my friend Anne. We’re trying to find someone who used to live on this street. I was hoping you could tell me about how long you’ve lived here?”
“I’m Carol Bell,” she says, shaking each of our hands. “I could tell you how long I’ve lived here, but I don’t want to give away how old I am.” She gives me a cheeky smile and a wink. “I’ve lived right here my whole life. My daddy built this house, you know.”
Anne elbows me, and when I look at her, she’s bouncing with excitement. I turn back to Carol.
“That’s incredible,” I say. “It’s a beautiful house. I bet you love living so close to the ocean.”
Carol nods. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I turn and point to Luca’s old house. “You see that blue house down there in the middle of the street?”
She leans out of the doorway to see where I’m pointing.
“Would you happen to remember a family who lived there several years ago? Last name was Pichler. They would have lived there for at least eight years, probably longer. They had a kid named Luca.”
She twists her lips, thinking. “Ah, yes,” she says after a moment. “I remember the Pichlers. Real nice family, but they had it rough. I’ve worried about that boy. You know him? How is he?”
I wonder what she means about his family having it rough. This seems like a nice neighborhood, and Luca never complained of a rough childhood in his letters.
“Luca was my pen pal, and we lost track of each other over the years. I was hoping you could tell me about him or his family. I’d love to be able to write to him again.”
“Oh, that is just so sweet,” Carol says. She purses her lips, her eyes wandering back across the street to the blue house. When she continues, her tone has changed. “Lydia and that husband of hers were always fighting. I don’t think he ever hit her, but there were screaming matches in the street that would wake the whole neighborhood. The cops were called a few times, but neither of them was ever arrested. Then Mr. Pichler left one day and never came back. It was probably for the best, but I think the kid took it pretty hard. It was a few years later that Lydia got sick. I can’t imagine being a kid and losing both of my parents before I’m even out of school.”
Carol says all of this nonchalantly, as if this should have been common knowledge since I was Luca’s pen pal. I stare at her, dumbstruck, trying to process what she’s saying. I didn’t know that Luca’s father left him or that his mother got sick. He never mentioned any of this in his letters. But then again, maybe he did in his own roundabout way. I think about the few letters that were harsher than the others, the ones that were so mean that it didn’t feel like a game anymore. I don’t think I understood the extent of what he was going through at the time. I decide that when I get home, I’m going to reread all of the letters. There has to be something that I missed.
“That had to be tough,” Anne says. “So, his mother…”
“Passed away,” Carol says.
“What about Luca?” Anne asks. I’m grateful to her for asking these questions, because I’m too caught up in my thoughts about Luca to think of what to ask next. I can’t even begin to imagine what he went through. I’m thinking about him in a whole new light now. I had always wondered if he was an angry kid. I wondered why he was always so mean. I never guessed that he had been faced with so much pain and loss at such a young age. I’m sad that I didn’t know any better. I wish I had been able to read between the lines and say something that might have comforted him. But maybe that would have ruined what we had.
I hope that he had someone he could confide in.
“By the time I heard of Lydia’s passing, Luca was already gone. I never heard from him again, but I didn’t expect to. To him, I was just the old lady who lived down the street.” Carol turns to me. “Is that the last time you heard from him too?”
I shake my head, swallowing around a lump in my throat. “He continued to write to me for years after that. He was doing really well when I last heard from him. He was getting married.” I force a smile.
Carol’s eyes light up. “That’s wonderful news. I never stopped worrying about that boy. I’m so glad to hear that he’s okay.”
“I was hoping that you might know where he lives now, but I’m guessing that you don’t. You don’t happen to know anyone else in his family, or someone who might know how to contact him?”
She shakes her head. “Unfortunately, I don’t. He was an only child, and so were Lydia and Mr. Pichler. As far as I know, the kid didn’t have any cousins or uncles or aunts. No one ever came by to visit.” She purses her lips, thinking for a moment. “He did have a friend who lived around the corner. They would ride their bikes up and down the street, but I was never quite sure which house the friend came from. I’m sure he’s long gone by now too. Young folks these days don’t stay in the same house forever.”
I look over my shoulder at the street, picturing Luca riding his bicycle with a friend. I wonder if it was one of the boys from the beach photo he had as his profile picture on Facebook. The image is interrupted by Carol’s words, still ringing in my head. Luca grew up in a broken home and then lost his mother too. Meanwhile I grew up taking happiness for granted.
“No, they don’t,” I agree. “If I had stayed in my childhood home, I’d be living in a rundown trailer in Oklahoma.”
My family wasn’t wealthy, but the thought of losing either of my parents never even crossed my mind. I never had to wonder if my father would come home. It doesn’t feel fair that this was Luca’s reality.
“You need to find a man who will build you a house like my daddy did for my momma,” Carol says.
“Now that’s a relationship goal,” Anne says with a smile. It’s clear that she’s unaware of how hard I’m trying to keep it together. I came here looking for answers, but I wasn’t expecting the ones I found to make me so emotional.
I clear my throat. “That’s probably pretty hard to find these days,” I say. Not that I need a man to build me a house. I’ve worked hard the last several years and saved up to buy my own house without help from anyone except the bank.
“I wish I could help you,” Carol says.
“You have,” I say, even though I feel like I’m back at square one. At least I can rule out Luca’s childhood home as a place to find him.
