Wintertide: A Novel

by Debra Doxer

  After wiping a hand across his mouth, Eddie turned to me. "Did Coop here tell you? I'm working over at that garage down by the town line."

  "I heard," I said. "How do you like it?"

  "The money is pretty good. I'm actually thinking about opening my own shop eventually."

  "Maybe I'll invest a few bucks if you ever do it?" Seth offered.

  "You're on. How about you, Dan? You want in on this?"

  I laughed and shook my head, happy to have an excellent excuse. "If you wait until I actually have some extra cash, you'll never open your shop. The day I graduate from college, I'll already be swimming in debt."

  Eddie scoffed at that. "I thought you college kids were supposed to be smart. That sounds pretty stupid to me."

  "Actually, I might get even stupider and go on to law school."

  Seth turned to me surprised. "You want to go to law school?"

  "I don't know. Maybe."

  Eddie laughed. "I can picture it now. Dan on TV in a suit and tie with an eight-hundred number flashing on the bottom of the screen. Call Dan, he’ll get you cash for your whiplash."

  Seth and Eddie whooped it up loudly. I noticed some of the other patrons turning to look at them. Eddie called the bartender over and ordered another round. When a fresh drink arrived, he tilted his head back and polished off his first one.

  "So, Dan? Tell me about some of the obvious advantages of college life. What are the girls like?” Eddie pointed at me with the empty brown beer bottle. "Because Coop here is screwing his way through every sorority house on campus. Right, Coop?”

  I raised a suspicious eyebrow at Seth. He wouldn't meet my gaze. He kept his stare intent on the television screen while Eddie laid a congratulatory hand on his shoulder. Same old Seth, I thought, still willing to say anything in an attempt to impress Eddie whose eyes now challenged me to describe my conquests.

  "I don’t think I’m in Seth's league," I responded.

  Seth turned to me, his ever-ready smile in place.

  Not to be outdone, Eddie then launched into a ridiculous story. Apparently, the BMW of a wealthy, voluptuous, blonde was towed to the garage where Eddie worked. It was late at night. They were alone together, and he received payment from her not in cash or credit, but by satisfying her alleged nymphomaniacal tendencies.

  Seth laughed encouragingly at Eddie, and I suddenly felt like the odd one out once again. But then, a certain clarity hit me. What the hell was I doing here? This evening was beginning to represent everything I despised about being with these two. They were phony and pathetic and I knew this about them and yet here I was again.

  It took a sharp nudge from Seth to attract my attention. The room suddenly came into focus again. "We were just remembering the time you sprained your ankle by the creek on old man Matthew's farm."

  "That was a close call,” Eddie commented.

  I’d effectively forgotten that afternoon at the creek. Seth's words brought it back to me for the first time in several years.

  I have painted South Seaport as a bleak place during winter completely devoid of any beauty. That's not exactly true. There was one place that I often found myself drawn to, particularly on those days when my parents were entrenched in battle. A fresh water creek flowed along outskirts of Mr. Matthew's land. Mr. Matthews was a crotchety old widower who never had a kind word for anyone. If you trespassed on any part of his considerable property, he would not hesitate to call the police and press charges. He'd walk his property throughout the day, poking the hard ground with his wooden cane.

  On one unusually warm winter afternoon, Seth and Eddie followed me down to the creek after school. Seth had been there with me before, but it was the first time Eddie had ever come with us. I loved that spot with its rippling creek rushing over the green mildewed rocks. White birch trees lined the area, their bare branches forming a canopy of twisting tendrils. It was always peaceful and quiet there with nothing but the smooth lapping water and the cool winter breeze.

  We were walking on the rocks, laughing, having a contest to see who could best navigate the slimy stones. Eddie produced a flask and wanted to turn the innocent contest Seth and I had been playing for years into a drinking game. After having taken two shots of vodka from Eddie, I was jumping across the rocks, the water just tickling the white bottoms of my sneakers, when my right foot slipped, twisting at an impossible angle, landing me with a splash right in the middle of the creek. I winced with pain when I tried to lift myself up. Seth and Eddie ceased their laughing and came running toward me. I was soaked, and my ankle burned. I could feel it swelling, pushing against the leather of my shoe. They gently picked me up and helped me hop over to the side. I couldn't walk home. That was immediately apparent. Seth lived the closest, about a mile away.

  "I'll run home and get my mom's car," he offered. He dashed off into the woods. He was barely gone five minutes when we heard old man Matthew's scratchy voice. "Who's out there? I heard you kids yelling. You'd better get off my land or I'm calling the police!"

  Eddie stood and looked out toward the farm house. "Shit, he's headed straight for us."

  I glanced up at him becoming more miserable by the moment. I told him, "Just leave me here. There's no reason for both of us to get caught."

  He remained there for a moment, crouched low, deciding what he should do. Then he shook his head slowly back and forth as he began to wriggle out of his leather jacket. "Shit," he kept repeating, "shit, shit, shit.” He put his jacket around my wet shoulders. I thanked him weakly, expecting him to run off now. But he didn't. He placed an arm around my shoulder and lifted me to my one good foot. "Come on, Hiller,” he commanded. “Move your ass."

  I couldn't have been more surprised. "Forget it. You'll get caught, too. Just go."

  "Stop being such a lazy shit and move. You can be such a wimp sometimes."

  That got me angry, but it got me moving. Eddie grunted under my weight. We trudged together through the woods, swifter than I had thought possible, our labored breathing loud in our ears and Mr. Matthew's voice echoing from behind us. When we finally burst through the trees and onto the side of the road, Eddie set me down and tiredly dropped to the ground beside me. As he tried to catch his breath, he started laughing quietly. I looked at him, barely able to contain my shivers, my ankle pulsing in pain, and then I felt it, too. I stifled the first few, but then I burst out laughing, my relief nearly overpowering.

  When Seth came by with his mother's station wagon, he wore a completely perplexed expression. "What's so funny? How did you two end up here?"

  I spent six weeks on crutches. As soon as the cast came off, the first place I went to was old man Matthew's creek because it was spring time and I couldn’t stay away. I remember thinking how most people didn't really know Eddie McKenna. He wasn't what he seemed. He could be kind. That was before the perilous night rides in his Camaro and the afternoon in his garage. But as I sat there across from him at the bar, I remembered that day, and I felt sorry for him and the dark side that he couldn’t escape.

  "You really saved my life that day," I said seriously to Eddie.

  "You repaid the favor," he replied. Then he quickly turned to the bartender and ordered another drink, his sixth or seventh. Seth didn't appear to have heard him. I realized that he must have been referring to that night on the ledge when I pulled him back from the brink by the end of his coat. Eddie had never said a word about it since that terrible evening, until maybe now. I ordered another beer.

  eight

  The night went on in that same way, reliving old times, the bar bill growing larger, mainly due to Eddie and Seth. I did loosen up. Well, as loose as I ever get. I didn't really intend to see either one of them again after tonight and that thought prevented me from making an excuse to leave early.

  It was just after midnight when the bar began clearing out. Eddie threw some bills down. “Let’s go,” he said, walking to the door, not waiting to see if we followed. I pulled out my wallet and felt Seth’s hand on my
arm. He gestured toward Eddie’s money still sitting there. I saw a one-hundred dollar bill on top. Eddie had obviously paid for all of us. I pulled on my wool coat and followed Seth outside.

  Warmed by the alcohol, it took a few minutes for the cold to penetrate. When it did, it was relentless. I could hear the ocean waves crashing in the distance. The sea cliff was several yards behind us. I purposely kept my back to it, not wanting Seth or Eddie to be struck by the need to reminisce about it. The dirt parking lot was mainly empty except for my mother's Buick, Eddie's Camaro and a few other large American model cars. I dug my hands deep into the pockets of my coat and stamped my feet in the dirt trying to keep warm by moving. I was preparing to say goodnight to them when Eddie turned to Seth and gave him a meaningful look.

  I consider myself fairly adept at intuiting what other people are thinking by their expressions and body language. Because I had known Seth since the first grade, he was basically an open book to me. Eddie was a bit more complicated. As Seth grasped Eddie's meaning in that moment, his eyes widening, the beginnings of a sly grin curving the edges of his mouth, I knew that I wasn't going to like whatever idea Eddie was about to present. The sea cliff first came to mind. Finally I just asked. "What? What are you two thinking about?"

  Eddie turned to me. There was a devious twinkle in his eye. "How do you feel about breaking and entering?"

  I knew I wasn't going to like this. "Well,” I began, “as a generally law abiding citizen, I'd have to say I'm against it."

  "How is it different from trespassing? Which you're obviously not against," Seth stated.

  "Well for one, there's no breaking involved.”

  Eddie shook his head at me and began to turn away.

  My bottom and top teeth were beginning to knock against each other. "Where are you planning to break into?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  Seth became excited. "Eddie's been doing it all winter. It's so easy, it's like you can't not do it. That big grey house up on the cliff overlooking the ocean has been empty for months. Kids have been getting in through the living room window and lighting fires in the fireplace, hanging out, screwing around, getting drunk. It's completely deserted. So, there’s no risk involved."

  I vaguely remembered my mother mentioning something about it.

  "Come on, Danny,” Seth pushed. “You've got to see this place."

  It actually wasn't as bad as I had thought. I’d imagined them planning a convenience store robbery. Like most other year round residents, I harbored a definite desire to see the interior of these tremendous summer homes, the likes of which I would surely never own. It seemed to be a harmless enough activity. I looked over at Eddie. He stood with his back to me staring out over the ocean, his white breath floating up over his head.

  "Sure, why not," I shrugged.

  Eddie turned around and eyed me levelly. "We'd better walk there," he said. "We don't want anybody to spot our cars parked in front."

  I stared into his bloodshot eyes and agreed despite the cold. He was in no condition to drive and the house was just up the road. Up being the pivotal term. It was a steep climb, and I lagged behind them.

  I was rounding the last curve of the long winding driveway, when the house suddenly appeared before me looming in the darkness. I had only seen it from a distance. I hadn't realized how truly tremendous it was. It had three stories with large picture windows lining each level. In the blackness, the white trellises that covered the front shimmered softly. Jutting gables broke up the long sloping roof.

  The concept of such great wealth, a house with so many empty rooms, overwhelmed me. How much did it cost to heat that monstrosity? I remembered the now bankrupt owners and that Beatles song came to mind, “The Fool On The Hill.” The fact that this had been merely a summer house, used only three months out of the year, was astounding. It made me angry suddenly, the thought of wasting so much money while other people, me for instance, had nothing.

  I saw Eddie jimmying open a low window by the left side of the house. Seth was holding a bundle of sticks in his arms. I reached them breathlessly, a cold layer of sweat tickling my back. When the opening was wide enough, Eddie pulled himself inside head first, landing heavily with an audible thump. That's going to hurt like hell in the morning, I thought. Seth handed him the pile of branches and went in after him, first putting one foot in and then disappearing inside.

  I stepped over to the window, my breathing still labored from the climb. It was dark inside, and I could only see the outline of sparse furniture, a chair here, a coffee table there. I heard Seth and Eddie moving around inside. I began to pull myself in, but my heavy coat was causing me problems as it bunched up around me in the narrow opening, momentarily wedging me in. Seth pointed at me and laughed, while Eddie attempted to start a fire in the large stone hearth. I finally managed to propel myself inward and take a look around.

  Eddie was able to ignite a respectable flame. It caught on quickly, crackling, radiating warmth and a flickering orange glow in the spacious room. He picked up a fireplace poker with an ornate gold handle from a matching set that sat by the fireplace, and he poked at the flame, pushing the outlying branches toward the middle. The hardwood floor reflected the light, casting it upward toward the high plaster ceiling. The walls were bare, but a small oriental rug lay before the hearth and some red velvet cushioned chairs were positioned around it. From Seth's description, I had expected to find cigarette butts and old empty beer cans lying on the floor, but there were none. My footsteps echoed loudly as I walked toward the fire. I could feel its heat on my face.

  "Maybe you'll own a place like this one day," Eddie said softly.

  I looked at him. Was he talking to me? "In another life maybe," I laughed.

  "This all might as well be ours tonight," he said as he slowly stood, stretching his arms out beside him. "You've got to take what you want, Hiller, because nobody is going to give it to you."

  "What about earning it?" I asked.

  He laughed. "Do you honestly think I could ever earn enough to own a place like this?"

  "You could win the lottery,” I joked.

  “I’m not exactly a lucky guy though, am I?” he responded, suddenly looking annoyed. "And I'm not a smart college boy like the two of you. I never will be, and I'll sure as hell never make the kind of living that will buy me anything more than a broken down shack right here in our quaint little town.” He grimaced, as though his own words had left a bad taste in his mouth. His resentful eyes were intent on mine.

  Seth then decided to enter the conversation. "How could someone have all this wealth and just lose it? It's one thing to never have had any money, but what’s it like to have all this and then watch it disappear? Maybe it would be better to never know what it's like to be rich. Then you don't know what you're missing."

  "You're so full of crap, Cooper," Eddie said angrily. "You'd rather never have money than have it and lose it? That's such bullshit. I’ve never had anything, and believe me I know exactly what I'm missing. Your parents may not be rich, but you've always gotten whatever you wanted."

  Seth bristled at that. "Give me a break. You don't know anything about my parents."

  "I know your daddy has enough money to send you and your sister to college and pay for his whore on the side."

  "Screw you!" Seth yelled at him.

  Eddie stood and put his face close to Seth's. Close enough to force Seth to take a step back. "What did you say?"

  Our quiet evening had quickly taken a sharp left turn. "Come on, relax," I said trying to ease the tension. "All our fathers are sons of bitches. We all got screwed in the dad department. All right?"

  Eddie turned his anger on me. "You're such a goddamned hypocrite. Don't you ever compare yourself to me.” His eyes were bloodshot. The heavy iron fireplace poker swung loosely in his hand. "Your father never laid a hand on you. He never came home in the middle of the night with some drunk bitch and kicked you out of the house into the snow. He never put you
in the hospital because you forgot to take out the garbage. You both make me sick. You have no idea what real life is like. You have no fucking clue!”

  Eddie now gripped the poker with both hands and smashed it against one of the chairs. When the material ripped easily, he hit it again with more force. The wooden armrest splintered with a satisfying crack. Eddie slammed the poker into the chair again and again. Seth and I stood there shocked. I started to back away toward the open window. The chair's legs finally broke off completely. Fresh wood lay in pieces on the floor. He was now tearing at the cushions. The white stuffing poured out, getting caught on the sharp tip of the instrument Eddie brought smashing down while he grunted loudly. Seth now stood between Eddie and I, looking back and forth, realizing that I meant to leave him there. Eddie and I weren’t friends. I had no intention of calming him down or trying to make him feel better about his miserable life. I wanted to go home and go to sleep. Seth looked at me again, seeming torn at first, but then he made his decision.

  He had just started walking toward me when a light came on. The four walls of the room jumped out at us without warning. We all froze. Eddie, who was breathing hard, turned to look toward the doorway. A man stood there in red flannel pajamas. His straight brown hair hung down into his face. He had obviously just woken up.

  "What the hell are you doing in here?” He didn't seem frightened by us, only angry.

  I was next to the open window that had been our entrance, and I fully intended to save myself, perched to dash out and run back down the hill. But then the man looked at Eddie. If he hadn't said anything else, maybe we could have all gotten away successfully. The night would have ended and I would have remembered my last time with Eddie and Seth as simply another close call. But that’s not what happened.

  "I know you," the man said pointing at Eddie who stood there defiantly, his eyes still filled with anger. "You patched a tire for me on my way into town. You work over at the garage, don't you? What are you doing here?"