All his life, Bradley Kenton had lived in Marickville, New York. He was born there in the summer of 1972, and had gone through his entire school years up until college there. He grew up in a suburban neighborhood with his mother, father, and younger sister.
When he was ten, Bradley could remember his father and mother having a terrible argument. Screaming and insults had gone on for hours. Bradley was sitting in his room, on the floor, playing a game of Monopoly with his eight-year-old sister when he heard the door slam. His father left the house to a mysterious place where fathers go when they don't want to be near family. Later that evening, Bradley and his younger sister put them selves to bed, their mother stayed in her room crying the whole night. On the afternoon of the second day, Bradley came running home from playing with his best friend and saw his mother in the living room crying. She told Bradley it was because she had dropped her favorite teakettle and broke it, but Bradley felt there was more to it.
"It's okay Mom, it's not your fault Dad left. He'll be home tomorrow, promise." Bradley smiled at his mother, and kissed her cheek softly. His mother returned the beautiful boyish smile with her own, and stroked his hair, telling him she hoped so. His mother hugged him tightly, almost hard enough to hurt him. She always gave Bradley long hugs; sometimes for an hour they would sit together and hug. His mother told Bradley it was because he always made her feel better. At the time it seemed like a small statement made by a boy that wished to make his mother feel better.
On the fourth day after Bradley's father's disappearance, miraculously, Bradley returned to his home to find his mother and father sitting in the kitchen together, holding hands. He smiled and ran over to his father, wrapping his arms around the burley man and hugged him tightly.
--
During college, Bradley had tough times covering his tuition fees, and was forced to work at a pneumatic farm equipment company. While there were large, important jobs to be handled around the warehouse, Bradley was the office janitor, and yard keeper. The majority of the business's sales were from other cities and states, so there were hardly any customers who entered the office. Bradley merely cleaned because the boss was kind and believed Bradley needed help with money. Along with cleaning the office, he had to clean weeds and prune bushes in the front and back of the business's large warehouse. Bradley didn't mind manual labor, and he never worked very hard there. He also worked nights at a cafe in Alfred. He bussed tables and did some light cooking, nothing he was very proud of. But, it got him some small tips, and more wages to save for school. The jobs paid enough for him to scrape through college and get his degree in English.
All through his attendance at Alfred University, Bradley dated a girl named Carol. Carol Bergen had been the best thing that had happened to him since self-independence from his home. She was short, just over five feet, and had long dark brown hair. Her eyes were a soft brown that made Bradley melt every time she looked angrily at him for something wrong he had done. She had a soft giggle that would always make Bradley smile, and her kiss was always soft and warm, even in the freezing New York winter weather. Since his third year in college, until the last few months before he graduated, he thought he would marry Carol. He seemed perfect for him, and he thought he was perfect for her. Six weeks before he was to graduate and go back home, Carol dumped him. Her reasoning was she had found a new guy that was perfect for her, she told Bradley the guy just appeared out of nowhere, and they immediately fell in love.
She had said it so matter-of-factly, and did not even want to discuss it. Two days later, Carol had left the university. Bradley had a hard time coping. For days he sat in his room sulked, had crying fits and his mind slipped into a constant state of depression. Every morning he woke up, it seemed like it worse than the day before, meaning every day was the worst day of his life. He missed almost over a week of every class, and barely even ate any food. Finally his roommate forced him to get up and go to class, literally and physically dragging him out of bed, harping that he would regret it for the rest of his life if he let Carol ruin him.
The tail end of Bradley's college career was a disaster. He could never get Carol off his mind. Everything he saw and heard seemed to make sense, and add to his misery. Everyone he saw seemed to have a perfect match, except for him. His finals did not go over well; he studied hard, and tried to retain as much as he could, but loneliness slowly crept in eventually, and he was unable to concentrate. He even tried meditation and other spiritual practices, but in the end he still could not get the break up off of his mind. During his final exams he became a nervous wreck, he would shake and quiver while he read the test papers, and would jot down answers, knowing they were only educated guesses at best. When it was finally over, Bradley was unsure if he would even graduate. He had a last minute meeting with his counselor, and found that he had barely inched his way through, and would luckily receive a diploma with his name on it.
--
After college ended, Bradley quit his two jobs, and returned home to his family for a few months. Ever since after the major fight happened when Bradley was ten, his parents were in love like teenagers. And when he returned home, he found it to be no different. They cared for each other almost as much as they cared for their two children. Bradley's sister had gone off to college herself, and was doing leaps and bounds better than Bradley had done. So Bradley had his parents to himself, which wasn't completely terrible, but also wasn't the greatest situation. He found part time work at his father's industry site, helping out in the office. This time he did the actual paperwork and made phone calls, instead of taking out the garbage and vacuuming floors. A more sophisticated employment for a young man with a bachelor's degree.
--
On an early March day, Bradley was walking down 23rd toward home. He liked to walk home from work and people watch while he went through the center of town. Since he got off in the evening, and it was March in New York, he normally stopped to get a cup of coffee and a muffin at his favorite coffee shop called Maestro's. Bradley had no idea why the owner called it that, although the owner was Italian. He was a large, round-bellied man with balding gray hair. He always dressed in a pair of dark slacks, a white oxford shirt, with a white apron over it. Bradley always went there with a smile on his face, and greeted the owner happily, and asked how his wife was. The man was never tired of talking about her, especially to Bradley. Bradley, of course, was never tired of hearing about her.
Bradley pulled his hands from the pockets of his slacks, and pushed open the glass door to Maestro's, the small "Open" sign bounced on the glass softly. Inside the small shop was warmly lit, casting a golden reflection onto the cold cement of the sidewalk out front. The shop was very slim, and very long. Like a studio apartment in San Francisco. It was decorated with old newspaper clippings from the early 1900's, most of them from the
New York Times
. When Bradley was in the coffee shop, he felt like it was 1920 again. The walls were brown, and the floor was dark brown as well. Immediately to the right of the entrance was a long bar, where the owner stood with a broad smile across his face. He was usually wiping the counter while he talked to one of his older friends who were constantly at the store. The bar had a long leather pad around the front edge so customers had something to lean his elbows on. In front of the bar, there were tall stools with leather seats, and polished wooden legs. Behind the bar, was the wall and counter where the coffee mugs sit, as well as the coffee machines, cappuccino machines, and every other form of anything coffee. Across the room, to the left of the entrance, there were a long row of assembled tables and chairs for customers to sit. Overhead hanging in the middle of the shop, were large ceiling fans for when New York's hot summers began to cook the entire state. The store always smelled of fresh coffee, the overwhelming scent of roasting beans. Bradley entered, and looked around, taking a deep breath as he always did. To his left, an older man was sitting at one of the tables reading a newspaper while he sipped his coffee as if it were alcohol.
"Good evening Tony! How's business?" Bradley exclaimed, while walking up the counter. Tony was wiping the bar down with a cloth as usual, and looked up, smiling when he saw Bradley enter.
"Bradley my boy! Business is excellent, couldn't be better. How's your family, son?" Tony walked turned to the counter behind the bar and began making the same order Bradley had every time he came.
"They are wonderful Tony;" Bradley smiled, setting his hands on the counter as he sat on a stool. "My sister is off at college, and he is a scholar, getting all straight 'A's', I think."
