Wish Me from the Water

by R E Swirsky

  "You're probably right," she said.

  Simon put his arm over her shoulder and pointed at her. "You, my dear, are going to start work here tomorrow, if just to get your mind off of him."

  "Tomorrow? I'm not so sure."

  "Tomorrow, and I won't hear another word about it." Simon stood up, bowed gracefully to her and quickly tended to two customers who had just arrived.

  CHAPTER 35

  Christmas came and went, and the cold winter of January settled in. Bobby and Ricky made numerous visits up to see Tommy and Jason. Ricky had seen Tommy three times since Christmas, but he just couldn't find the words to ask him about what bothered him so much. The talk stayed trivial and always steered clear of the subject that ached in Ricky's mind every day. He found that each time he was face to face with Tommy, he just couldn't broach the subject.

  Each time they left the Detention Centre, Bobby could tell Ricky had not asked Tommy about that first visit. Today, he quizzed Ricky on how it went, hoping Ricky had finally gone through with it. Ricky just shrugged and stared out the window.

  "So, when are you going to ask him?"

  Ricky shrugged again.

  "You're just going to make yourself go crazy if you don't get this off your chest."

  "Just leave it," Ricky snapped back.

  "Look. I'm the one driving you up here every week, and it's my gas. I'm not gonna keep doing this. You have to ask him one of these times."

  "I'll pay you for the bloody gas! Just leave me alone!"

  Bobby didn't like it when they argued. He knew Ricky was hurting, and it was beginning to show more and more.

  "I'm not worried about the gas. I'm just saying, we have been up here three times already. You're going to have to ask him sometime. I can see it's eating you up."

  "Just shut up already. I'll ask him when I'm good and ready, okay?"

  "You want me to ask him?"

  "No!" Ricky shouted and glared at Bobby. "You will say nothing about this! You promised me you'd say nothing. Nobody says anything about this but me! Ever!"

  Bobby stared straight ahead and kept his eyes on the road. He could feel Ricky's eyes burn at him. "Okay, okay. I just thought I'd offer. I won't say nothin' to nobody."

  The two drove on in silence for a while. Bobby worried about his friend. He wanted to help in any way he could, and believed Ricky knew he would always be there for him, no matter what.

  The snow started to fall softly, and Bobby thought about how long it had been since he felt the warmth of the sun. It was cold outside, and it always seemed to Bobby that people became nervous and restless when the cold refused to leave. The cold would burrow its icy roots deep into the valley and leave many thinking it was going to stay forever.

  "Is there anything you want me to do then?" Bobby finally asked hoping Ricky would open up.

  Ricky said nothing and continued to stare out the window as they drove home through the falling snow. Bobby pondered their friendship. They never used to shout at each other, and it seemed to happen more often lately. Even small talk would cause them to suddenly erupt into a mild disagreement. He didn't like it.

  He glanced over to see Ricky still staring out the window. Ricky spun his head towards Bobby and forced a smile. His brow remained furrowed.

  "Just... Shut up eh? That's all I really want," Ricky said and lightly punched him on the arm.

  Bobby was pleased and returned the smile back with a nod. "Okay, I'll shut it."

  Bobby knew Ricky was struggling, but he could also see Ricky rise above the pain that burned inside him. He forced himself to be jovial for Bobby's sake. Bobby wondered if there was some way he could help his troubled friend.

  CHAPTER 36

  Dean had a lot on his mind as he pulled his police cruiser into the staff parking lot at the high school. He was here just to do a little bit of a background check, that was all. It was about the Oliver murders and, in particular, the whereabouts of Tommy and Jason the afternoon before the murders. As he pulled his car to a stop, he spotted a group of students gathered over in the corner of the student parking lot by the hillside. They were all huddled around one small, beat up four-by-four that was sandwiched in amongst the other vehicles. It was none other than Doogie's Ford Bronco. Now what in blazes was going on over there?

  Dean stepped out of his vehicle and tried to discern from across the parking lot who was in the group and what they were doing. He could easily see scrawny Willie Wahnkman and the two usual girls, Patricia Mackie and Sandi Fiestanaugh, who hung out with Willie and Doogie. He knew those two girls well, having cited them with warnings for possession more than once. There were two others girls and one small chubby lad whom he didn't recognize.

  He decided he wasn't going to be distracted by this group right now, but he watched for a moment anyway. Sandi pointed with a glove-covered hand towards him and said something to the others. She laughed loudly as he continued to watch the group. Doogie's head suddenly popped up above the group and then disappeared down.

  "Oh ya. Something is going on over there," Dean thought to himself. He could see the small plume of smoke rise from the centre of the group.

  Dean debated going over to the group to bust them all but quickly decided against it. Doogie's court date for shooting up the sign and for the list of other charges was coming up soon. Nope. It was best to let these things settle themselves out. He knew what headed Doogie's way. Judge Rumpoldt made a point of showing very little tolerance to the wayward youth in town. Maybe one session in front of Judge Rumpoldt would be the lesson Doogie would finally listen to, but that was up to Doogie.

  Dean gave a smile and short wave to the group. Patricia was the only one who waved back, and then she ducked her head back inside the scrum and whispered something to Sandi. Dean had seen enough and headed inside.

  Bluffington High was typical of any high school with kids crawling everywhere during the noon break. Some leaned against their lockers, and others were scattered about on the floors as they ate their lunches. It was a mad, yet organized, chaos. Dean quickly found himself in the office and, after a few calls by the principal, was directed to the Tommy and Jason's teachers. He quickly discovered both Tommy and Jason abruptly left school upon hearing about Tim's suicide that day, and neither showed up for any classes for the remainder of the day.

  It was as Dean suspected. Both boys went to school as usual, but quickly dashed out once they heard the news. Coincidence? Dean doubted it. It was conceivable they texted each other, but that should not have been possible. Cell phones were not allowed in classrooms. No. Each boy must have been upset enough to run out on his own only to arrive at home at the same time and murder both their parents. The odd coincidence bothered him.

  Dean learned early on in the investigation that Tim had played Triple A hockey with Tommy and Jason. He had also learned that Tommy's and Jason's dad was the coach of all the boys, and young Tim, a talented hockey player, was getting extra training from Peter Oliver. It didn't fit that anyone with such a dedication to the sport, who was willing to train for an extra hour or more every other night, would be depressed enough to commit suicide. The athletic types were usually well grounded and immune to the taunting of others, or so Dean thought.

  The bullying Tim experienced still bothered him a lot, and he wasn't ready to let it rest where it was. His thoughts turned back to the party of teenagers gathered out around Doogie's Ford Bronco. Within the hour, Patricia Mackie sat nervously across from Dean in the counsellor's office. Dean wasn't sure if she was high or not.

  "Tell me about Doogie and Willie bullying Tim Guenther."

  Patricia shook her head and was clearly uncomfortable. "I don't know anything about any bullying." Patricia was a taut, lean, young girl with jet-black hair. Dean thought she wore too much makeup and could sense her nervousness in the way she sat with one leg crossed over the other. The top leg bounced up and down endlessly.


  Dean smiled. "You texted everyone just moments after word spread about Tim's suicide that Doogie and Willie had beat Tim up the night before. Don't tell me you knew nothing about it. Your text is the one that started the entire ‘suicide due to bullying’ theory."

  Patricia started to cry and wiped a tear away with her finger.

  "Oh, stop that already," Dean said and offered her a tissue. "You're not in any trouble here, Patricia. I'm just trying to find out more about what happened. So the two of them beat Tim up the night before. Where did this happen, exactly?"

  Patricia dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. "Well, it happened just below the hill out in back of the school… in the forest, just off the path that heads back to town. Willie was with Doogie."

  Dean nodded. "Go on."

  "Doogie just said they had Tim on the ground and they were teasing him. Trying to get him to say something."

  "What were they trying to get him to say?"

  Patricia stopped bouncing her leg. "Just that he was a faggot. They wanted him to say "I am a faggot," but Tim wouldn't. When he wouldn't, they pushed him down and shoved dirt in his face."

  "Uh huh. What else?"

  "Nothing really. Just that they kept doing it to Tim. They kept shoving dirt in his face and mouth trying to get him to say it but he wouldn't say it. Ask Willie. He was there too. They shoved him around for a while and then left and headed up to the arcade in town."

  "Okay. So Tim wouldn't say it. Then why did they let him go if he wouldn't say it? That doesn't sound like the Doogie I know."

  Patricia shifted suddenly with that question and looked away to the floor. Dean could see the wheels turn inside Patricia's brain. She didn't answer.

  "Listen Patricia. I'm going to be asking Sandi the same questions. She's sitting in the other room across the hall right now. Your story and hers had better line up. So tell me. Why did they stop bullying him and let him go?"

  "I'm not supposed to say," she said and fidgeted with the tissue.

  Dean was surprised. He didn't expect such a response. "Who said you're not supposed to say?"

  Patricia continued to stare down at the floor. She offered no reply.

  "Doogie told you to not say anything. Am I right?"

  Patricia nodded.

  "And Doogie said to not say anything because..."

  Patricia looked up at Dean. "Because Doogie got his face punched in really bad and Doogie doesn't like getting punched by anyone. His bottom lip was split open. He didn't want anyone to know who did it and told us to keep quiet about it."

  Dean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He was pleased with the revelation. "So, Tim punched Doogie and split his lip," he replied, nodding.

  Patricia shook her head. "No, no! Not Tim. It was Jason Oliver that busted Doogie's lip open."

  Dean stared back at Patricia. And there it was. The connection. "Jason Oliver?"

  "Uh huh. Doogie said he was kneeling on Tim's back shoving dirt in Tim's face when Jason came out of nowhere and jumped him, punching him in the face and splitting his lip open. Doogie was really upset because Jason blindsided him. He said he didn't see Jason coming at all. The two fought for a bit and that was it."

  Dean was still shocked. "Jason Oliver? You're sure it was Jason? Not his brother Tommy?"

  "It was Jason. The cute one."

  Dean smiled. "The cute one," he repeated. "You like him, don't you?"

  Patricia looked up at Dean. "He's okay. Tommy's too much of a jock. Jason’s... well, Jason is different. He's kind of shy, and I like the way he peeks out behind his long hair." She smiled briefly.

  Dean was pleased with this talk. A lot of new information came out. "So Jason came up on Doogie and Willie beating up Tim. Jason jumps Doogie and busts his lip. The two fight and then Doogie and Willie leave."

  "That's what Doogie told me."

  Dean thought about his earlier interrogation of both Willie and Doogie, and neither mentioned Jason.

  "And Sandi's going to tell me the same story?"

  Patricia nodded. "I'm sure she will. She was there when Doogie told me. Willie was there too."

  Dean was pleased. There was more to this than he originally thought.

  "Okay Patricia. I am going to go speak with Sandi now. I'll be back after I'm done talking to her."

  Dean interviewed Sandi, and, after a bit of dancing around the facts, she told Dean the same story. He released both girls back to class and left the school a bit more puzzled over both Tim's suicide and the Oliver murders. There was a connection. Dean now had to figure out what that connection meant, and what it had to do with the murders.

  CHAPTER 37

  A small group of eight sat in a circle inside Room 116 of the Spy Hill Correctional Centre for Young Offenders. Jason sat uncomfortably in the middle of the group. Three youths sat on each side of him, and the counsellor, Marilyn Sanderson, sat opposite. It was the first session that Jason was asked to lead, and he looked to Marilyn for direction on how to proceed.

  "Okay everyone. As you all know, you are each required to participate in these group sessions during your stay here. Today we are joined by Jason Oliver. Jason has been staying here for many months and has offered to help lead these sessions. You all know the rules: Anyone can say anything they want, and I mean anything. Once a person has the floor, he is allowed to speak until finished. You can ask questions if you want, or add any comment, but remember there is to be no physical contact or aggression. I ask that you all please remain seated during these sessions."

  Marilyn looked about the room of youngsters and could see the discomfort across many faces.

  "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but you cannot leave until the session is over," Marilyn added and looked about the group once more. "Does anyone have any questions?"

  A few shook their heads but most remained still with downcast eyes. They clearly wanting to be anywhere else than in this room.

  "Okay then, I'm going to open up the floor to Jason. Jason, you can start."

  Jason felt the blood rush to his head and make him dizzy, but he knew it was his time to speak. He brushed his dark bangs out of his eyes and began.

  "Uh, hi everyone. My name is Jason Oliver and I've been locked up here for a long time now." He looked around and saw many eyes were now hooked on his. "I guess I'm supposed to talk here about things that you guys can all relate to, but since I don't know any of you, I'm not sure how this is going to go." He forced a smile and snickered nervously, but no one reacted or smiled back. Jason continued. "I'm in here because my brother and I killed our parents in the fall,” he said and raised his arms to gestured out to the surrounding walls. “We're both here waiting for the trial, and I know that we will be convicted and be sent away for a long time. We're just trying to get by. Just trying to get through each day. It's not so bad in here, really."

  "You killed your parents?" asked a pint-sized, wiry, young kid with a pale complexion and serious acne. He looked like he was about twelve but was actually sixteen.

  Jason nodded, "Uh huh. But I'm not going to talk about it at all, so don't ask."

  The pock-marked boy, Maurice, leaned back in his chair and looked at the others in the group before he prodded Jason immediately with another question. "Why'd you kill them?"

  "I just told you, I am not going to talk about it."

  "Jesus, fuck. And I thought I was a bad shit," Maurice said. He smirked and ran his hand backwards through his wavy, blonde hair.

  "Anyway, I wanted to say things aren't so bad in here. They treat you well. The food is not so bad and there are lots of things to do. I liked school before landing myself in here, and they have a great program for self-learning." Jason could see he had all of their attention now, but he knew it was because of the murders and not the content of his speech.

  "I want to hear more about you and your parents… Jason, isn't it?" Mauric
e asked.

  "It's Jason, but..."

  "How bad did you have to hate your parents to kill them? And how'd you do it anyway? Fuck, I hate my parents too, but Jesus… To kill them?"

  "I didn't hate my parents. And I said I'm not talking about it." He looked at Marilyn for some direction, but she gave none and continued to watch the group in silence.

  "I don't believe you," Maurice replied and smiled while he shook his head. "I'm in here because my effin parents put me in here. I fucking hate them, but I ain't gonna kill them."

  Some of the others in the group reacted to the debate. Some smiled, and others simply looked back and forth between Jason and Maurice.

  "You're in here because of what you did, not because of your parents. Just like I'm in here because of what I did," Jason retorted.

  "What the fuck do you know about me?" Maurice responded, very agitated.

  Jason understood more about Maurice than he thought. He could see the arrogance instantly. Maurice was just like all of the other Doogie's in the world who blamed everything that happened to them on others and took no responsibility for themselves when things went wrong.

  "I just know that you did something, and you got caught. That's why you're here."

  Maurice glared at Jason.

  "You got caught, Maurice. I'll tell you now, that's why I'm in here. I did something very wrong and I got caught. I miss my parents every single day. You're lucky you still have yours." Jason looked about the group, and he could see curiosity in all their eyes as they stared back at him. "How about you?" Jason asked as he pointed at a tall, husky, native boy. "What did you do to get in here? Drugs? Breaking and entering? What was it?"

  The native boy grimaced at being singled out. He shook his head, clearly uncomfortable about being expected to speak, and said nothing.