by Debra Doxer
She spoke as though it were completely obvious. "Well, he's the only resident criminal I know of. He's been arrested you know? For drunk driving. And this past fall, someone sideswiped a girl on a bike, knocked her down and just kept right on going. A witness said he saw the McKenna boy's car driving away. The police talked to him about it. They didn't arrest him though. I suppose there wasn't enough evidence. But everyone knew he had obviously done it. I was right not to let you hang around with him. He's trouble and everyone knows it."
Seth had been right on the money. If my mother was any indication, it did seem that fingers would point toward Eddie. I should have confessed right there and told my mother exactly what had happened and how sorry I was. I could clearly imagine how she would react, angry at first, then sympathetic. She would ride with me to the police station and stand by me, a pillar of the community, while I told them everything I knew with a tearstained, regretful countenance. Instead, I took a glass of ginger ale with me upstairs and asked Mom to wake me up for dinner. I retrieved another one of the pills from my jacket pocket in the closet, swallowed it with the ginger ale and laid myself down on the bed waiting for sleep to take away my thoughts.
I came aware slowly in the darkness. I was disoriented. My head felt heavy, my mouth was dry, and my tongue felt swollen and foreign. At first, I thought I was in my dorm room. But when I sat up, the outline of my window across the way brought the walls and furniture into perspective. I was at home, in my bedroom and in the middle of a horrible mess. I stood up so quickly my head pounded in response to the abrupt movement. What time was it? I switched on the light, squinting against its brightness and brought my watch close to my tired eyes. It took a moment to focus. It was just after nine thirty. I’d slept all day. I pulled on a sweater and grabbed my wallet.
I dashed downstairs and found my mother asleep on the couch. There was no sign of Dad, and it didn't appear as though any preparations had been made for dinner. As I was quickly scribbling a note to her, Mom woke up.
"Daniel, how are you feeling?" she called from the living room.
I turned around quickly, coat and keys in hand. "Fine. The nap really helped. Seth and I are going to grab something to eat. I was just leaving a note for you."
She looked flustered. She stood and approached me, rubbing her eyes. "What time is it? I can't believe I slept so long. I was only going to close my eyes for a minute or two. Won't you let me cook something for you? There's some hamburger in the freezer, or maybe...."
"Thanks, but I'm meeting Seth. You look tired. You should rest."
"When will you be back?” Her eyes were red and bloodshot.
"Not too late," I said as I headed to the door.
She followed me. "This time, put your coat on, Daniel."
I shoved my arms into my coat and dashed to the car. I really wanted to brush my teeth and drink about a gallon of water. I yawned several times as I backed out of the dark driveway and drove far too fast towards Seth's house. The cloud cover remained and no stars or moonlight were visible.
The heat finally came up in the car as I pulled in front of Seth's house. Hot blasts of air blew onto my feet and chest. Seth jogged out of his house and jumped in quickly, shaking the Buick up and down under his weight, spilling ash onto the floor from the full ashtray I kept uselessly reminding myself to empty.
"You're late," he said breathlessly. "Jeez, you look like hell."
"Thanks,” I replied.
“So, I sort of casually brought it up to my mom this afternoon. You know, about how the guy who was beaten the other night was doing. She told me that his doctors don't seem to think he's going to make it. He's in a coma."
I only nodded as I stared at the dark road, once again hearing the thump of the poker striking the man’s head. Initially, I was going to tell Seth that my mom had just taken a very good guess at who had committed the crime. But I changed my mind.
I had passed the garage hundreds of times before, but I had never really looked at it. It had no name. I suppose when you're the only game in town, you don't need one. It was a long narrow structure lined by four garage doors, painted red. Out front there was a small island with two gas pumps. The place looked dark and deserted when I pulled into the lot and parked in front of the narrow doorway on the side that Seth indicated. When I turned off the headlights, the doorway disappeared into darkness. Then a light came on illuminating a tiny rectangular window at the top of the entrance. When Seth and I got out of the car, the entrance door creaked open a foot or so. Seth walked toward it motioning for me to follow. I gripped my keys tightly and shoved my hands into my coat pockets. Seth ducked inside, and I did the same, allowing the door to close behind me.
The office, which was obviously the tiny square room we were in, had a metal desk, a swivel chair and an old stained green couch. It smelled like a combination of gasoline and stale cigarette smoke. A fluorescent light lined the center of the ceiling, and the only window was located on the door. A calendar was stuck to the wall above the couch. For the month of December, there was the stereotypical glossy color photograph of a naked blond with huge breasts. She wore only a fuzzy Santa Claus hat and a pair of high-heeled red boots.
Eddie was sitting Indian style on top of the desk, a six pack of beer beside him. He ripped off a couple of cans and tossed them at us as we came in. I noticed his spiky hair, his ripped jeans, his paint-stained sweater and his dark eyes rimmed with bluish circles.
"You look like shit, Dan," he said to me.
I ran a hand over my scratchy cheek. "Thanks, Seth already informed me of that fact.” I opened the beer which foamed down the sides over my fingers and took a long deep drink.
Seth plopped down onto the stained couch. I pulled the chair out from the desk not wanting to be beside Seth on the couch. When I sat down, I set my beer down on the floor beside me.
Eddie’s eyes traveled between Seth and me. "I really screwed up,” he began, “and I’m sorry you both had to be there to see that.”
I looked over at Seth. He glanced at me briefly, not returning my skeptical expression.
"I was drunk and pissed off,” Eddie continued, “and suddenly there was this guy standing there who wasn’t supposed to be there and I don't know, I guess I just lost it.”
He looked up and stared right at me, almost defiantly, daring me to contradict him. I didn't look away. I silently returned his stare. After a long moment, he turned to Seth. "So does your mother know anything else?" he asked.
"No, only what I've already told you."
"It still doesn't look like he's going to wake up?"
"No."
He turned to me again, placing his hands on his knees. "Look, Dan, we may not have always been the best of friends, but I don't wish you any harm and I'm sure you don't wish me any either. If we all keep quiet about this, it will just blow over eventually. The whole thing was just a horrible accident. I'd change it if I could, believe me I would, but I can't.”
"Do we know his name?" I asked.
"What?” Eddie looked at me suspiciously.
"Did either of you read the article in the paper? It must have given his name. I know he has a wife, and he's from Connecticut. Does he have any kids?"
"No kids," Seth said, sitting up a little straighter on the couch. "His name is John something. It's an Italian name. John Benedetti, I think."
"Benedetti," I repeated softly.
Eddie unfolded his legs and hung them down over the desk, softly kicking the grey metal with his boots. "I think there's something else we should talk about,” he said in an offhand way. “If the police start asking us questions, we have to be ready."
"Eddie?" I asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to see what he would tell me. "If no one saw us, why would the police start asking us any questions?"
"I'm not saying they will. But just in case, we should be prepared."
"Why would they even want to talk to us though?” I continued, feeling Seth's eyes on me.
Ed
die banged the desk with his heels a little harder, emitting a tinny echo. "Look," he said, some of his control slipping, "any time something happens in this stupid town, the police want to talk to me about it. You get stopped for driving a little drunk one night and suddenly they think you've committed every crime in the history of South Seaport."
"So you didn't hit a girl on her bike with your car?" I asked. I was baiting him. I knew it was stupid but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
A flash of anger crossed his face. "You see what I mean? No, I did not do that.” He glared at me.
“Let’s just relax,” Seth said from the couch. "So you're pretty sure the police are going to talk to you eventually,” Seth said to Eddie seeming to want to move the conversation along.
Eddie hoisted his legs back onto the desk, crossing them Indian style again. "Yes and when they do I'm going to tell them I was with the two of you, and we were nowhere near that house."
“So where were we?” I asked.
“After we left the Southside Tavern, we went over to the sea cliff. It’s within walking distance of the bar. It explains our cars still being there after the place closed.”
Seth started nodding, agreeing with Eddie as was our plan. Then Eddie looked at me. I didn’t nod. All I had to do was move my head up and down, but I couldn’t seem to make it move.
Eddie continued to eye me, waiting for my reaction. "You know," he finally said, his dark eyes studying my face, "we’re the only ones who really know what happened that night. If you decide to tell the truth, Dan, you'd be admitting to actually being there. Seth and I could say you did it. It would be our word against yours."
Seth leaned forward. "Cut it out, Eddie. We’re not going to say that."
"I'm just letting Dan know exactly how it is."
I wasn’t surprised. This was the Eddie I knew. This was what he’d wanted to say since we’d walked in the door.
"Dan's not going to go to the police." Seth was standing next to Eddie now. “There's no need to start threatening each other. We're all friends here."
"No," I said standing, pulling my coat back on. “We’re not.” Then I walked out, allowing the heavy door to slam closed behind me. I got into the Buick. I had the motor started and the headlights on when Seth came walking out, his mouth tight, his eyes angry. He got into the car and glared at me. "Are you an idiot?" he yelled at me. "What the hell did you think you were doing in there?"
I didn’t respond as I backed out of the dark parking lot and pulled out onto the road.
"We just had to go along with him, Dan. Why couldn’t you just have said what he wanted to hear?"
“You and Eddie have been talking this whole time, planning your stories, discussing this guy’s medical condition,” I stated staring straight ahead.
I could feel Seth’s eyes on me. “I told you that he came to talk to me.”
“If he told the police it was me, would you back him up?” I turned to see his response.
Seth shook his head like it was a crazy suggestion. "Of course not."
"Eddie seems to think you would.” I glanced at the speedometer and realized how fast I was going. I eased my foot off the accelerator.
"He was just saying that to scare you. Believe me, tonight was the first I heard of it.” Seth let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I told you not to antagonize him. Why couldn’t you just nod your fucking head at him?” he asked.
It was a good question. The problem was, I didn’t know why. I only knew that I could not stomach Eddie McKenna. He was manipulative and dangerous and I could not lie on his behalf. I knew I wouldn’t go to the police, but if they came to me, I would tell them the truth. I had to draw the line somewhere, and I was fully aware that it was a random place to draw it. After all, I didn’t intend to turn him in, and if he ever hurt anyone else again, I would be at least partially responsible for not having stopped him now. I wouldn’t take matters into my own hands, but if they landed there, I would do what was right. It was a cop-out. But it was the most I was capable of.
I dropped a frustrated and angry Seth off at his house, but not before promising again that I had no intention of initiating a discussion with the police. In fact, I told him that I intended to leave and return to school sooner than planned. He seemed relieved to hear that.
My mother hadn't once waited up for me since I'd arrived home. So when I pulled into the driveway just past midnight, I was surprised to see a light on in the living room. I stayed in the car for a while, running the scene from this evening over in my head, thinking about what might happen now. When I finally walked into the house, I saw my dad sitting on the couch in the living room.
I walked toward him slowly. "Hi,” I said softly.
“Daniel, I wanted to talk to you. Why don't you sit down?"
I sat down stiffly, wondering what this was about. I hadn’t spoken to him since our Christmas Eve fight. He rubbed the corners of his eyes with his index fingers. The skin was red from the pressure when he took his hands away.
"Daniel," he paused, sighing, "I want us to get something straight."
He watched me, seeming to want a response. I nodded at him.
"You probably think I'm the bad guy here," he continued. "That I'm hurting your mother, and that everything is my fault.” He shifted his position on the couch and rubbed his eyes again. He was obviously as uncomfortable with having a discussion with me as I was sitting here having to listen to him. "We have problems, your mother and I. Problems that are both of our faults."
"What problems?" I asked.
"That's not really the point, what the problems are. The point is that I don't want you getting the wrong idea. I don't throw money away on drinking. I did some free carpentry work for the manager over at the pub. He's an old friend of mine, and he serves me for free whenever I come in. Every dollar I make goes to pay the bills."
I didn't know what he expected from me. I was surprised that he cared what I thought. I simply looked at him passively and said, "Okay."
He stared at me for a moment, probably expecting more of a reaction. "You're a smart kid, Daniel. And I know you think I resent having to pay for your college, but that's not true."
Actually, he and I both paid for my college as did loans and scholarships. He only sent his check when I called and reminded Mom that it was due, usually overdue. If I wasn't already so drained from everything that had occurred tonight, I might have given him the acknowledgement he was looking for. Instead, he seemed discouraged by my silence. He stood slowly as though it required tremendous effort, put a hand on my shoulder and mumbled, "Well that's all I wanted to say. I just wanted us to get things straight. All right?”
I nodded obligingly.
“Goodnight son.” He turned away slowly and softly climbed the stairs.
I stood there for awhile after he had gone upstairs, feeling dazed and exhausted. But once I finally changed and got into bed, I tossed and turned restlessly. I thought of the last sleeping pill sitting in my coat pocket in the closet, but I couldn’t make myself move from under my covers to get it.
I was going back to school tomorrow. That was the plan I had made for myself. I had no place to stay, and I still had to talk to the professor about it, but I needed to leave. I desperately wanted to leave.
thirteen
"Daniel, won't you take a ride with me? You've been home for a week and I've hardly seen you at all."
I was sitting at the kitchen table, on my third cup of coffee, re-reading the newspaper article that I'd been staring at for nearly an hour. Mom was wearing one in a large collection of nylon workout outfits that she owned. It was purple with royal blue stripes down the side, and it made a swishing noise every time she moved. On her feet were a pair of white pristine running shoes that I was positive would never experience a movement faster than a brisk walk through the grocery store.
I was trying to figure out how to tell her that I was heading back to school today in a way that wouldn’t result in
her tears when she smiled down at me with an impossibly cheerful grin. "I have to return your father's tool belt, and I thought you might want to come with me. We could have lunch out somewhere.”
My attention was still on the article in the paper which said John Benedetti’s condition was worsening and the investigation was ongoing.
"What is it?" she asked, glancing down at the article.
What harm would it do to talk to her about it, I thought? I found that I wanted to talk about it with her. "You know that man who was found beaten? It says here his condition is a lot worse."
She nodded. “Yes, I saw that. It’s just so terrible. And his poor wife. I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to walk into your house and find someone you love lying there like that. It makes me feel so grateful for our family. I’m so proud of you, Daniel and I’m so happy that your home with us now. I don’t know what I’ll do when you go back to school after vacation. I’ll miss you so much.”
Her eyes became glassy as she stood over me looking down. I got up from my chair, and I gave her a hug. The plans for my departure were slowly disappearing.
"All right," I said taking a step back. "I’ll go with you but I don't want to spend the entire day being dragged from one store to another."
Her face brightened so quickly at my statement that it was painful for me to watch. The fact that I could put that smile on her face so easily and yet I seldom did, made me feel ashamed.
We went to the hardware store first, where Mom waited in line to return the tool belt. If she felt at all badly for having to do so, she didn’t show it. Then we went to the house wares section of a big department store because she needed a new pie plate. Carefully, she examined every one they had.
I finally told her that I needed some new shirts and excused myself to browse the men's section. It was far quieter there. I wandered in a daze down the aisles of clothing racks. The musky scent of cologne, which a tall woman in spiked heels was spritzing on everyone who came within a few feet of her, hung heavy in the air. Soft music filtered down from the ceiling.
