Empty Shell

by Ashley Fontainne

  “It’s okay, Kendal. Just take your time. I’m listening.”

  “I know me and Jack both have told you some crazy stories about our younger days, like the one I told the other night when I’d had one too many. By the way, sorry about that.”

  “No need to apologize. We all have dark memories we wouldn’t want the world to see and cringe when they appear. Go on.”

  “Well, I have a story to tell you that even he didn’t know about, and pertains directly to my question, which I promise I will get to once I give you some back story here. Of course, you already know Jack and I met in sixth grade, became friends, played every sport our school offered together and pretty much hung out every day, right up until ya’ll got married. And I’m pretty sure you know about the day that solidified our friendship.”

  “Yes, the day you saved him from getting a beating from the local thug after gym class. Guy, wasn’t that his name? Guy Powell?”

  Kendal’s smile was sad, full of wistful memories. “Yep. Guy Powell. I walked in when him and another kid, Tommy Hankins, were harassin’ Jack once the locker room was empty. You know, back then, Jack hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet. I was almost four inches taller than him, and he was kind of a pale, sickly lookin’ kid. Before he met me, he didn’t go outside much. You know how he loved to read—that began when he was just a youngin’. So, I walked in and stopped them before they roughed him up over his lunch money and new sneakers. I think Jack may have hung around me back then because he thought I could be his personal brute or somethin’. I don’t know. Maybe he thought I was some kind of honorable guy for stickin’ up for the wimpy kid. Maybe he admired the fact that I beat the livin’ crap out of Guy’s face. Maybe he wanted to hang out because he hoped I’d teach him how to fight. Maybe he wanted to hang out with the ‘rich’ kid from the other side of the tracks. I don’t know. We never talked about that day, it just became the startin’ point in our journey together.”

  Kendal took a deep breath. He stood up abruptly from the swing and began to pace around the deck.

  “None of those things are why I crushed Guy’s nose and bloodied his lip, then kept poundin’ on him after he was down until Coach Richards pulled me off. What set me off was somethin’ that had nothin’ to do with Jack, or could even remotely be considered heroic.”

  Intrigued, I asked, “Okay, so what was it then?”

  Kendal motioned for another cigarette. I handed him one, followed by the lighter, and watched his face light up when the flame sparked to life. He looked so much like Jack that, for a moment, I felt like I was looking at his ghost.

  “My home life—it was horrible. We may have lived in an upscale neighborhood in a fine house and materially, I never wanted for a thing. New clothes, new toys, new cars when the time came. But behind the walls of the Rayburn household was a dark prison. A drug addict for a father and a mother who spent her days cleanin’ every possible inch of our house, hopin’ she’d done it right before Dad came home and covered her in black and blue marks again. When I was still in grade school, Dad left me alone, savin’ his rage for my Mom and leavin’ me be. I learned to keep as quiet as a church mouse when he was home, hopin’ that he wouldn’t notice me and hurt me like he did Mom.

  “But, when puberty hit and I shot up like a weed, things began to change. Guess he finally noticed me and decided to get his bluff in before I matched him in height and weight. First, it was just yellin’, tellin’ me what a no good, worthless hunk of flesh I was. That I would never amount to nothin’, that I was only alive because my Mom had survived her punishment from him for bein’ pregnant. You know, hateful, ugly things to destroy my will to fight back.”

  “Oh, Kendal. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

  Kendal’s pace picked up as his memories took control of his mind. “I never said a word to anyone. Mom and I didn’t even talk about it. She’d spent years learnin’ to hide the truth from our town. None of the ladies from church or her bridge club knew. She would just cower inside her marble prison until the newest batch of bruises disappeared. Her favorite story to explain away her absence from one event or another was that she was sick. God, everyone in town probably thought she had the worst immune system ever.”

  “After a few months of his verbal assaults, things became physical with me. A smack upside the head at the dinner table for not finishin’ my meal fast enough. A kick in the ribs while I watched television in the livin’ room when he passed by, like I was a mongrel in his coked-out-of-his-mind way. He was constantly in my face, warnin’ me how tough he was and not to ever attempt to overstep my bounds in the house. Then, when he would start wailin’ on Mom, instead of ignorin’ me like he’d done before, he’d stare right at me, his face smug, tauntin’. His lips curled back in a sick grin with each blow he landed on my mother’s body. Like he was darin’ me to step in and rescue her.”

  “His plan worked and for the first eleven years of my life, I was completely petrified of him. When mom and I would attend church services when she was free from marks, I remember thinkin’ each time the pastor mentioned Satan that I already knew what he looked like. I was livin’ with him.”

  My heart ached for my friend. Jack and I had both known Kendal’s childhood had been difficult and honestly, we both suspected abuse occurred. Kendal rarely spoke about them and when he did, his upbeat demeanor would change. His voice would become cold, distant and edgy, like he was talking about strangers whom he felt not emotional contact with. I couldn’t recall a holiday Kendal ever went to visit them while they were still alive. He preferred to hang out with us. He didn’t even attend the funeral of either parent when they passed away, or shed a tear that I could recall, at least not in my presence. But when Jack’s parents passed, Kendal wept like he was one of their children.

  Now I knew why.

  As Kendal relived his violent past, I couldn’t help but say a silent prayer of gratitude for the wonderful families both Jack and I had been born into. Neither one of us came from money, but what our households lacked in monetary treasure was more than made up for in the amount of love and support both sets of parents doted on each of us.

  I wanted to say something, to offer a word of encouragement, but as I opened my mouth, I closed it again. My gut told me to let him finish. I watched him struggle to rein in his emotions. Men didn’t often release such raw, honest thoughts. Most preferred to keep them buried inside until they festered and became septic. Kendal was extracting some of the toxic memories of his past, so I didn’t interrupt. Besides, I couldn’t help but wonder where he was going with this story.

  “But that day in the locker room—something inside me snapped. When I saw the look of fear in Jack’s eyes, pinned up against his locker like a wall decoration and then the look on Guy’s face—I lost it. It was like instead of seein’ the two of them, I saw my dad and me in their places. I was the terrified kid crushed up against the locker by my old man. I…well, I just…oh, you know. Saw red and kinda went nuts. Beat the livin’ tar outta that boy tryin’ to make my old man pay for all the wrong he’d done to me and my mom.”

  Kendal’s voice was low, barely above a whisper. The pain seeped through his vocal chords and into the quiet, damp night air, hanging over us both like the smoke from our cigarettes. Heavy. Somehow I knew this was the first time that he had shared with anyone the painful journey of his childhood. And I sensed what he was about to share wasn’t going to be much better, either.

  “Jack and I were like two peas in a pod after that. I stayed over at his house more than I did my own. Now you understand why. I was just as much a fixture at his parents’ house as I am here. Deep down inside, I…oh, God, I envied his life, Mel. I wanted to be him, not hang out with him. Even in my youth, I knew those thoughts were wrong and they made me angry on the inside. Jack’s family was poor; we were rich. But Jack had a mom and dad who loved him, supported him and treated him with kindness. I didn’t. His mom was warm, welcomin’, treated me like I was her own. His dad l
et me tag along when he and Jack went fishin’, or played ball outside or worked on their cars. I mean, I learned how to do things from a man who wasn’t my own flesh and blood. Though I enjoyed it, I hated it at the same time.” His voice cracked.

  Even in the dim light, I could tell Kendal was crying. He composed himself and wiped his nose on his hanky, and my stomach began to churn. I had a feeling I knew what was coming next.

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” Kendal said, using his palm to remove the tears from his cheeks.

  “Kendal, you don’t have to—” I began, but he stopped me.

  “Oh yes, yes I do. Our friendship was based on a lie. Sure, eventually, the envy and jealousy dwindled when I discovered I really did like hangin’ out with Jack. You know how funny he is…er, was. Always a smile on his face. Always saw the good in others. Ready to lend a hand to anyone in need, no questions asked. What he heard in church, he lived by. Or, at least, he tried to, bein’ a preacher’s kid and all. I remember thinkin’ he was a tad off the times I went with him. He wasn’t like the rest of us kids, all fidgety and not payin’ attention, too busy lookin’ at the clock, waitin’ for the borin’ sermon to end and Sunday lunch to begin. Not Jack. He listened. Followed along in his Bible, highlightin’ passages as the pastor spoke.”

  I let out a bittersweet laugh. “That was a habit he kept his whole life. I used to tease him about his Bible. Told him it looked like a rainbow had exploded all over it.”

  Lost in exorcising his thoughts, Kendal didn’t respond. I wasn’t quite sure he’d even heard me. “By the time our sophomore year rolled around, the moments of wishin’ I had his life were few and far between. I think Jack always felt like he owed me for steppin’ in and savin’ his hide from Guy. Seemed like he was always lookin’ for a way to pay me back or somethin’. Just a feelin’ I had, you know? Not that anything was ever talked about like that between the two of us. He finally got his chance our last day of school our senior year.”

  “How?” I asked, trying to recall if Jack ever mentioned anything significant happening during that time. Nothing came to mind.

  “By savin’ my butt from gettin’ locked up,” Kendal said, more animated now that the memories he seemed to have buried deep began to flow.

  “Guy Powell hated us both ever since I ended his bullyin’ days. He dropped out of school our junior year once the drugs got ahold of him. Rumor was that he left our lil’ town and was runnin’ pot from Dallas to Little Rock on I-30 in his souped-up Chevelle. But me and Jack knew he was still sneakin’ back to town now and again. I’d wake up to a slashed tire or Jack’s house would be sportin’ a brick through a window. Another time, I went outside and my brand new red Chevy was yellower than a school bus. Jack’s tank had, um, cow poop dumped in it once. We didn’t make the connection we might be in danger. I mean, Guy was hittin’ our possessions, not us. But, when someone tried to set both of our houses on fire in the space of less than twenty minutes, we knew things had progressed. They went from being irritatin’, teenage pranks to somethin’ much worse.”

  Kendal was shaking with anger now. “I went after him that night. Lost all my cool after the fire in our garage was under control, and the fireman carried out what was left of my dog, Ranger. I overheard the fire chief tell my dad it looked like he’d been doused with gas, then set on fire. Never said a word to anyone, I just slipped out the back, put my mom’s car in neutral, and slid down the back driveway. I stopped at Whattaburger and pulled in, lookin’ for Guy’s drug buddy, Rupert. Asked him real nice if he knew where Guy was. Could tell he was lyin’ the minute that mouth of his opened. But, he started singin’ real pretty after I yanked him out of his car by the scraggly hair on his head. Told me he’d seen Guy partyin’ down in the mud pits off ol’ Highway 127 earlier. So, that’s where I went.”

  “I really don’t know how Jack found out. Never asked him. We didn’t talk about that night. Because when he rounded the bend on that old dirt road, it is the only thing that saved Guy’s life. I was so mad, I coulda killed him. But Jack—he still had a cool head. He convinced me to quit beatin’ the tar out of Guy, then told Guy if he wanted to continue breathin’, he needed to leave town and never come back. And if he ever showed his face again, he wouldn’t stop me from finishin’ him off. Told him that we’d just bury him and his car in the pits, and no one would ever even know he was missin’, and sure wouldn’t be able to find him, no matter how long they searched. It worked, because Guy limped away and never came back—at least not for several years.”

  My heart ached. If it had been Simba, I knew I would have gone crazy. “Well, now there is one story that I had not heard before. Oh, Kendal, I’m so sorry. What a horrible thing to have happened. Poor Ranger.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty rough. And I hadn’t given much thought to old Guy Powell in years. I mean, after all, it was a long time ago and the last I heard, he was in prison down in Texarkana. But, Jack and I ran into him right before Christmas down in Sheridan. Did he tell you?”

  “No.” There were many things Jack hadn’t told me in the last few months, I was learning.

  “Remember when I insisted Jack help me set up my new deer stand?”

  “Oh yes, he complained for two weeks. He hated anything that had to do with hunting. He only went because you were driving him crazy.”

  “Yet another mistake to add to my list of screw-ups. We ran into Guy at the hardware store. He was working there, and neither of us recognized him at first. He recognized us, though. Followed us out to the parking lot and some choice words were exchanged. Threats made. Apparently, he’d never forgotten that day in the mud pits.”

  “Threats? What kind of threats?”

  “Standard posturin’ by a one-time bully. He strutted around like an old rooster, cluckin’ and a yappin’. Said we would pay for our actions. That he was watchin’ us and we would never see it comin’.”

  I shot up off the chair. “Kendal! Why didn’t you tell me this before? We need to call the detective—”

  “Mel, I already told the detective the entire story when he interviewed me. He didn’t seem to think it was relevant. I tried, I really did. Tried to get him to listen to me, to at least take the time to go and talk to Guy. He never said much, but I could tell by the look in his eyes he didn’t believe me.”

  I couldn’t stop my legs from trembling. Yet another new piece to a complicated, convoluted puzzle was now in place. Though a bit farfetched, a real suspect had emerged. Someone with a violent past who held a grudge against Jack. Someone who, according to Kendal, was no stranger to violence. I felt a flash of anger towards Kendal for not telling me earlier. I quashed it with the knowledge he had at least told the police. Plus, I was the one who hid like a child for almost three days and he had tried to contact me. The chance to bring it up vanished when Jack died, and things had been so crazy ever since, now was the first opportunity he’d had to talk to me.

  I could tell he had more to say and was just waiting for me to give some sort of signal that I was ready to listen. He motioned for another smoke, so I handed him the pack. He lit up, waiting a few seconds to let the nicotine calm his nerves and watched me pace. After a few hefty puffs, he sat down on the swing.

  “Continue. I’m still listening. Just trying to absorb everything.”

  “Once I was bigger than my old man and a star athlete, things got, well, tolerable at home. Lookin’ back now, I think the years of drug abuse set in then and the ol’ dog lost his bite. When my dad realized I wasn’t afraid of him anymore, things quieted down. But the anger inside me, well, it never left. Things went along fine until college. I had the pick of any woman I wanted—until Jack entered the picture. Women were drawn to him. Did you know that…well, I saw you first?”

  Uh oh...this isn’t going in the direction I thought it was. I shook my head no, unable to think of a verbal response.

  “I did. God help me, but I was so mad at Jack when he told me the two of you had a class together a
nd were going out on a date. He knew it, too, because he laughed and told me that the ‘big jock’ just lost out to the bookworm. At first, I laughed it off, but, the first time I saw the two of you together, I got angry. So angry, in fact, I decided to break the two of you up. So, here we are now, and I am finally ready to ask my question. Will God forgive me for my past deeds that ended up leadin’ to the death of my best friend?”

  My stomach felt like a soccer player had taken up residence and was practicing for the World Cup. I waited for my anxiety level to calm down and chose my words with care. Not just for Kendal’s benefit, but mine as well. Give me the right words, Lord.

  “God forgives all sin, when asked with a humble heart and a willingness to change our ways, Kendal. He knows every mistake we’ve ever made, or will make. That’s all part of being our omniscient Creator. To me, that is the most amazing thing about our Lord. Even though He knew all of our mistakes, He died for us anyway. However, just because He forgives our trespasses doesn’t mean we won’t reap the harvest of our sinful ways while here on earth. Our forgiveness from Him is for the next life. The one we currently live in still carries the stains of our past.”

  I saw Kendal’s shoulders sag, relief settling over them. I needed to know what he meant by his last statement; though, I was terrified of what the answers could be. I sensed this whole thing centered round that fateful night and tied into what I had to confess to him as well. “Kendal, how did you try to break us up, and why do you think that something you did over twenty years ago caused Jack’s death?”

  Kendal let out a deep sigh. “The girl you saw him kissing in his apartment—the one that led to, um, well, our night together?”

  Oh no…