The Black and The Blue

by Jay Brushett

  “The mushroom part is new,” she said.

  “Yeah, I’ve developed a taste for them over the years. Strange isn’t it, how you hate them when you’re a kid?”

  “I still hate them.” She paused, looking at the menu. “But I’ll have chicken balls and a couple egg rolls too. I think that’s what I always used to get here as a kid.” She closed her menu and laid it at the edge of the table, on top of Jimmy’s.

  Shortly a waiter arrived and took their order.

  “What was it Brad used to get here?” Jimmy asked.

  “Wow,” Rhonda said, “I haven’t thought of Brad in a long time.”

  “Really? I would’ve thought he would come up from time to time.”

  “No.” She paused. “I mean it was a long time ago, and we were pretty young.”

  “So they never found out anything else? Never…”

  “Found his body in a ditch somewhere?”

  “Yeah, to put it bluntly.”

  “Nope. Nothing. He just vanished. But, like I said, it was a long time ago, people have moved on.”

  “His brother hasn’t.”

  “His brother… Steve?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Creepy guy, talks about fate and Jesus a lot?”

  “Well he did seem pretty fatalistic, but he never mentioned Jesus when I was speaking with him. Hmmm, he might have said something about God at one point.”

  “Yeah, well, after… Brad… he got weird. They even took him out of school. And, if I remember correctly, he was going to therapy. Guess it didn’t help much. Then, when his parents kicked it… well, they were his only anchor, you know?”

  “It’s sad. He used to be pretty nice, an ass sometimes, but nice enough to us younger kids.”

  The food arrived and they dug in.

  A few minutes later, after chewing and swallowing another bite of egg roll, Jimmy laid down his fork. He looked at Rhonda and asked, “Did you ever think about what happened? The timing I mean.”

  She stopped eating and looked at him, fork hovering in her raised hand. “What do you mean? Brad disappearing? I don’t follow.”

  “Well, in the woods that day, the day he went missing. It’s a little blurry now, and I can’t be sure after all these years, but… well, that thing Brad found, under the water. It was weird, right? It didn’t seem like any old piece of junk.”

  The blood drained from her face.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “Really?” he asked. It seemed to him that her sudden paleness seemed a pretty clear sign that she did know what he was talking about. “It was a pretty eventful day, wouldn’t you say? Larry chased us. That wasn’t an everyday occurrence.”

  “I remember something about it, it’s pretty vague.” She paused. “Maybe our friend disappearing the same day overshadowed it.” She realized as soon as she said it that it was a little too defensive.

  Jimmy wasn’t deterred though. “But that’s exactly my point. What if they’re connected?”

  “We just played at the playground that day, like we did lots of other days.”

  “And then ran deep into the woods and found a weird object.”

  “I don’t remember any weird object,” she said.

  “Rhonda…” Jimmy said.

  “No! I remember Larry chasing us, running, him catching us. He grabbed Brad and then, then, I don’t remember how, but we were running away, back to the playground. And that’s that.”

  “Okay,” Jimmy said, deciding to let it go, “maybe you’re right. It was a long time ago and it’s possible I’ve overlaid a couple different memories or something.” He knew he hadn’t, he knew what he remembered. That day and that night — the object and Brad’s disappearance — were connected in his memories, were cemented together. Part of that was the stress and shock of Brad’s disappearance, sure, but he knew there was something, some other link.

  The object was real. Brad had held it. Larry had touched it too.

  “Where is Larry now? I haven’t seen him,” he said.

  Rhonda, some colour now returning with the slight change in topic, said, “No, you wouldn’t. He moved away years ago, to go to university.”

  “Larry went to university?”

  “Actually, he graduated at the top of our class from high school.”

  “You’re shitting me?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s true. And he stopped picking on other kids too. I guess he was one of those bullies that grow up after a while. Too bad they don’t all do that.”

  “So where is he now?”

  “Last I heard, and this was a few years back, he was in Toronto, teaching. At U of T.”

  “That’s, wow… I’m floored.” And he was. If Brad had walked through the door and sat down next to them he wouldn’t have been more surprised than he was to hear that Larry was a university professor.

  The conversation veered away from the past to more recent events.

  “So, what brings you back here, really?” Rhonda asked.

  “Well… I… I’m thinking of buying my old house.”

  “The one you grew up in you mean?”

  “Yeah. It’s a good price.”

  “For, like, a summer place? For you and your family?” Rhonda asked. Was she probing, or making conversation? Jimmy couldn’t be sure.

  “Ah, no, there is no family. Not anymore.” He looked down, not meeting her gaze.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  He waved his hand as if to dismiss her apology. “No, it’s fine. I’m getting divorced… if she ever signs the papers.”

  “I… know what that’s like,” Rhonda said.

  “You do?” Jimmy asked, surprised. He had, stupidly, assumed that Rhonda wasn’t, or hadn’t been, married.

  “It’s been almost seven years now, but yeah, I’ve been through it.”

  “Is he still around here?”

  “Oh no, it wasn’t here. It was in New Zealand, he was a Kiwi.”

  “You lived in New Zealand? Holy shit! What was that like?”

  She smiled. “Beautiful, amazing, magical.” She paused, her smile turning upside down. “Horrible. Hell.”

  “Sorry, now I’m prying.”

  “No, it’s actually good to talk about it. I don’t talk about it much. I would say pretty much no one here knows. I don’t get out much, socializing I mean.”

  “I get that. Ever since this… this shit storm happened I’ve been pretty withdrawn. That’s kind of why I came back here. I needed to get away, separate myself mentally and physically.”

  “Exactly.” She smirked, “So are you going to be looking for a job at Ed’s too? I could give you a great reference.”

  “Hahaha, no, I’m good. I do freelance writing. Website copy for the most part.”

  “Sounds like a good gig.”

  “Yeah,” he scratched his chin, thinking, “yeah I guess it is. It’s mobile, so that’s nice.”

  “And you’re staying here now?”

  “Well, I didn’t say that. I’m thinking about it. I don’t know if there’s anything here for me either, you know?”

  She nodded. “I wondered the same thing when I came running back here. And I’m still here. Though I couldn’t tell you why if you asked me. I’ve been hiding. Or waiting.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Well I’m glad you are here, it’s nice catching up, seeing a familiar face. I needed it.”

  “Likewise. I hadn’t realized how much, but yes, I needed it too.”

  They finished their meal and said their goodbyes, promising to do it again soon.

  Jimmy couldn’t help but feel he had pushed Rhonda away somewhat. She had opened up about some personal things but didn’t want to, or couldn’t, remember what had happened that day in the woods.

  He would leave it at that.

  Besides, now he had another thread to follow: Larry. The man might remember something, or at least be able to verify Jimmy’
s version of the story. Larry could help him find out if he was remembering correctly or making it up.

  But he remembered it, he knew he did. There had been an object, a shimmering orb. And it had something to do with Brad’s disappearance.

  ······························

  JIMMY LEFT LEE’S AND drove back to the hotel parking lot. But once there he sat behind the wheel, letting the car idle. Something was pulling at him, a mental itch.

  Returning the gearshift to D he left the parking lot and made his way back toward the house where he had grown up. He stopped short and pulled over into the weed-strewn remnants of the gravel parking lot that had once serviced the playground. The parking lot and playground were long abandoned. There was a new playground in another part of town, with updated equipment and more safety features. Kids today had foam rubber instead of gravel and hovering parents instead of independence.

  The trail he had traversed so often as a child started at the end of the parking lot. It led, he knew, through some trees and along a small river. Then it crossed that body of water and finally ascended a hill to the open playground area.

  He didn’t know what he hoped to find there. Nothing? Something? Anything that would help jog his memory?

  Jimmy could hardly see in the glare of the setting sun, which was starting to touch the horizon. He started down the trail, though it was hard to still call it that. Tree roots thrust up from the ground in many places, crisscrossing the path. Many hid beneath knee-high grass and the thick boughs of the trees above kept out most of the failing light. He had to creep along to ensure he didn’t trip.

  He came to the spot where the trail crossed the brook and, stopping, laughed. Had they called it a river? It seemed ridiculous now. It had flowed faster, he reasoned, was wider when he had been a child. But, no, there were the rocks, as he remembered them, the ones they had hopped across. He used them now to cross the weak but still somewhat wide stream.

  Up the hill, into the glaring sunset once again, and he was there. The playground was now naked. Time had yanked away its splendour and left it a husk of its former self. The merry-go-round was more rust than steel, the blue and red paint only a hinted at memory. The slide, though tarnished, was still there and looked much the same. But it lay on its side, uprooted from the ground. The swing set was still there but there were no swings. The metal frame served no purpose — no chains or rubber seats hung there now. The passage of time screamed in silence from the faded paint and rusted metal of that equipment.

  Jimmy walked to the merry-go-round and sat. He stared at the trees beyond the swing set while the sun and the Earth proceeded on their ceaseless celestial dance. The sun dipped below the trees and the saturated golden light disappeared. A pale purple-grey replaced it, that colour turning to black with each passing moment. There was little wind. He could hear trees creaking and swaying and loons and ducks in the marsh.

  It was nice, in its own way. Peaceful even. But it hadn’t helped, had only depressed Jimmy. It reminded him of his happy childhood and his friend, both now departed. He decided it was time to go.

  Then, in the still air, he heard gravel crunching, down the hill, back toward the brook.

  Was someone there? An animal? He held his breath a moment, not even realizing he was doing it.

  A shape crested the hill, grey and shadowed in the twilight. It was small. A dog? Coyote? No, it didn’t have the bulk of those creatures and was too tall. It proceeded to the point where the path opened into the playground area. There it paused a moment before turning and plunging into the darkness of the trees and was soon lost from view.

  It had not noticed Jimmy or didn’t care about his presence. But Jimmy had seen it. And he knew what it was, though he didn’t believe his eyes.

  When it had paused its features had been clear in the failing light. It was a boy.

  It was Brad.

  As he had been when he disappeared: a ten-year-old child.

  Jimmy blinked and rubbed his eyes with his hands.

  It couldn’t be. It was impossible.

  Brad was gone, dead more likely than not, and, even if he wasn’t, he was no longer ten years old.

  So, what had he seen? Another child that looked like his dead friend? He supposed it was possible. And maybe the child hadn’t looked that much like Brad, maybe Jimmy had projected that image onto him. He had been thinking of Brad, so it was possible he had seen what he had wanted to see.

  Accepting that, he still had to ponder why a young child would run into the woods when darkness was falling. He should have called to the boy but, in that moment, words had failed him. Shock had stolen his tongue.

  He sat there a few minutes more, in the silence and now almost complete darkness, unsure what to do.

  Then, there it was again, the crunch of gravel under foot. This time it was much louder and coupled with strained breathing. Someone, heavier and larger than the boy, was coming up the trail. And they were moving, fast.

  Jimmy stayed rooted to the spot, not moving a muscle.

  A cone of light emerged over the lip of the hill, followed by the shape of a man. He carried a lit flashlight in one hand, pointing it at the ground ahead of him. For a moment he paused, scanning the area ahead of him with the flashlight.

  Jimmy didn’t dare move, he wanted to see what the man was going to do. He didn’t want to interrupt whatever was happening. The man was searching, scanning around with the flashlight, looking for something.

  For the boy?

  The man’s shape was familiar, bulky and tall. And, sitting only metres from him, Jimmy could hear his laboured breathing.

  The edge of the flashlight beam came close to Jimmy’s feet. He didn’t dare budge, as the sound of his shuffling would have given away his presence. The man turned his head to the left then, following where he was pointing the flashlight. For a moment his face was partially lit by the light reflected from the tarnished slide.

  It was Steve.

  Unlike with the child, Jimmy had no doubts.

  Steve turned then, having caught his breath somewhat, and, like the child before him, disappeared among the tall trees.

  Jimmy sat there in stunned silence. What was going on?

  He wanted to follow Steve, wanted to see what was going on. But then what? What if Steve saw him? What state of mind was he in? And did Jimmy want to chance getting lost in the woods all night? Was it any of his business? Was anything he saw that strange? Perhaps the boy didn’t have anything to do with Steve, maybe it was a coincidence.

  His mind swam. It was still swimming when he walked back down the path, got into his car and drove to the hotel.

  As his head hit the pillow he had one thought before sleep took him. Tomorrow he would locate Larry. Larry was the key.

  ······························

  JUNE 22, 1988

  My darling Bradley is back home.

  George found him, very early this morning after everyone else had stopped looking for the night.

  And it’s a good thing it was George too. Brad would be off to a mental hospital otherwise.

  No, we can’t tell anyone.

  George says that we should keep it to ourselves. Just him, myself and Steven. Steven will listen, he’s a good kid. He goes to church with me every Sunday, sings every hymn nice and loud too.

  It’s been hard lying to the police but… they wouldn’t understand. There are some things you have to deal with on your own.

  You take care of your own.

  That’s what my father always told me.

  Bradley is not himself. He’s… I don’t know, he’s… not there.

  But he will be. Our love will make him better, I know it.

  And if we told the police they’d send someone, someone to take my son away.

  No, we’ll sort this out ourselves. We will.

  He’s in God’s hands now and He will see us through this.

  Anyway, George is going to
tell the neighbours, thanks, but they can stop looking now. It’s been a few days, that makes sense. Soon the police will stop too.

  Then it’ll all go back to normal. And before long Bradley will be normal too, God willing.

  We’ll have our nice, normal family back again. Everything will be fine again.

  Chapter 3

  RHONDA WAS SITTING IN a plush armchair in the hotel lobby when Jimmy arrived there the next morning. He had mentioned where he was staying but her unannounced appearance startled him.

  “Jimmy!” she called when she saw him. Her voice had a relieved tone.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, surprised but cheerful.

  “I had to talk to you,” she said, lowering her head.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Not really wrong, well I…”

  “Yes?” Jimmy sat in another chair, next to hers, and faced her.

  She lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes.

  “I do remember,” she said.

  “Remember what?” But he already knew what she would say.

  “That day, in the woods. The,” she lowered her voice to a whisper and glanced from side to side, “object.”

  “Oh,” was all he could say.

  They sat there in silence a moment.

  “I hardly slept last night,” Rhonda said. “I felt bad for lying to you, yeah, but I also realized I had been lying to myself about it for a long time. Until you brought it up I hadn’t thought about it in years. And, well, before that, after so long you start believing the things you tell yourself.” Her eyes were pleading, begging him to understand.

  “I get it. It’s okay,” Jimmy said.

  She turned away again, breathed in, held it and then let it out. She turned back, though she avoided his gaze.

  “There’s something else,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “It’s weird.” She chanced a quick look up. “I mean really weird.”

  “The whole thing is a bit strange, no?”

  “Well, until I talked to you last night I didn’t even remember this, I had pushed it so far down. It was right after I came home, from New Zealand.”