How could an entire neighborhood be afflicted with such suffering for so long…and yet no one noticed? No one said anything? The depths of human selfishness broadened for me that year and I loathed the human race even more. No one looked out for one another. No one cared about the troubles of their fellow man. The signs were there, the hollowness around our eyes was visible. But no one asked beyond skin deep curiosity. Trouble at home? The parents must be fighting, best stay out of that. It made me sick.
And so I waited for something to happen.
The spring of 1998 came early for our community. The weather warmed at an alarming rate over the span of a couple weeks and soon Dad was preparing the pool for another year. I don’t know why he bothered. None of us went in it anymore. It wasn’t that I hated swimming, but I found it harder and harder to extract enjoyment out of anything anymore.
Tommy seemed to notice the grim mood encircling our household and so he prodded my parents to throw a cookout for the whole neighborhood. He was convinced that would brighten the spirits of us miserable people. I wanted to laugh when I heard him suggest it. All we needed to be happy was for him to leave…or to die.
And I soon found out that everyone else was thinking the same thing.
I sat on my bed with Jason, the windows open, a warm breeze wafting through the room. The neighborhood families milled about downstairs, a gathering of uncertainty and apprehension. From the bed, I looked out my window and saw my dad prepping the grill with a cluster of other fathers, including Jason’s dad, Mr. Murphy. They were speaking in low voices; the sun was taking a slow, diving plummet for the hills. The mothers and wives were downstairs in the kitchen preparing the side dishes and making small talk. I couldn’t image what they were saying, but everyone felt the pressure that swirled around us like dark energy. This was Tommy’s idea. Play the game and put on a happy face.
“What did he say to you? About the cookout?” I asked Jason who was propped up against the wall on my bed, hands on his lap. He looked miserable.
Jason sighed, “He just said we were all too gloomy lately and that your family was going to host a party.”
“A party,” I snorted, “As if…”
Jason ran his hands over his face. “I’m so tired Jack…all the time. I keep waking up and telling myself that today will be the last day…that I’ll go downstairs and Tommy will be gone.”
“Better keep that fantasy to yourself,” I said quietly, eying my open door.
Jason lowered his voice, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Jason scooted closer, “Does…does he ever get into bed with you?”
I shook my head, “Tommy? No…why, does he do that to you?”
Jason shrugged uncomfortably. “Sometimes. It’s been happening a lot lately. I can’t stand it…he scares me so badly. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and feel him sliding in next to me. He never says anything, he just lays there. I don’t even think he sleeps…” He trailed off.
“What does he do, Jason?” I pressed.
Jason rubbed his eyes miserably, “Sometimes he’ll…he’ll touch me. I feel disgusting and embarrassed even telling you this, but who else can I go to?”
I said nothing.
“It’s never really that bad,” Jason continued, his voice strained, “But one time he…he…”
“You can tell me,” I said softly.
Jason began to tear up, “One time he reached down into my pajamas and…and he just…held it. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, he just lay there with his hand down my pants…God, I get sick just thinking about it, Jack.”
My stomach rolled and I felt horrible for my friend. Tommy had never done anything like that to me. Suddenly I thought of my sister and my heart skipped a beat. Had he done something like that to Katie?
“Why would he do that?” Jason said, furiously scrubbing his face, wiping emotion away, “Why would he do that to me?”
“I don’t know,” I said quietly. “I don’t know why he does anything.”
“I’m so scared to go to sleep now,” Jason said, his eyes bloodshot. “I’m afraid that when I do he’s going to come in and do that again.”
“Can I ask you something?” I said, feeling like I needed to move away from the subject. “Something you have to swear to keep quiet about?”
“Well I just told you something super humiliating so…yeah, go for it,” Jason said miserably.
I checked the open door again before continuing. “Have you ever talked to someone…someone weird on the phone? Someone who seems to know Tommy?
Jason just stared at me.
“Like a voice that tells you things about Tommy?” I said growing frustrated.
Jason shrugged, “No, I don’t think so. I don’t really answer the phone much at my house though.”
“Have you ever heard anything through your headphones? Maybe a voice that says it wants to help you? Or is going to need you one day?”
“What are you talking about, Jack?”
I waved him off. “Oh never mind. It’s nothing. I think I’m just going crazy.”
“I think we all are,” Jason muttered.
“Where are all the other kids?” I asked after some time.
“I think your mom sent them all down into the basement to play. Do you want to go down?”
“No.”
“Do you want to go outside and throw the baseball?”
“Not really.”
Jason folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah…me neither.”
I looked out the window again at the men milling around the grill. “What do you think they’re all talking about?”
“I don’t know, Jack.”
“Doesn’t it make you mad?” I said slowly, “how no one has helped us?”
Jason just looked at me. “You mean…like the police or something?”
I waved my hand. “Anybody.”
Jason looked at his hands. “What could they do? Jack, the way Tommy is…I don’t know if it would matter. I feel like he’ll leave only if he feels like it. There are things about him we know nothing about. If anyone else got involved, it would just make things worse for us in the long run.”
I continued to watch the men outside. “Yeah…maybe you’re right.”
Jason crawled off the bed. “Come on, let’s go outside. I don’t want to be up here anymore.”
“Fine.”
We left my room and wandered down to the first floor. Katie shot me a look from her cutting board as we weaved between the bustling moms. Everyone looked like they just wanted to get this over with. They chatted amongst themselves, but it was a thinly disguised veil of cheerfulness.
Jason and I pushed past them and went outside. A couple of the fathers turned to appraise us, exchanging looks with one another, and then turned to my dad and whispered in his ear. He was scraping the gristle from the grill when he saw us.
He turned and came to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, his voice low, “Jack, why don’t you and Jason go downstairs with the other kids?”
“I don’t want to.”
Dad looked hard into my face. “Please? I need you to go.”
Jason and I swapped curious glances, “Why? What’s going on?”
Dad’s eyes shifted around nervously, “You don’t want to be here for this.”
“Be here for what?”
The storm door creaked open and all heads turned to the new arrival, my question hanging in the air like some self-fulfilling prophecy.
“I’m so glad everyone made it!” Tommy said cheerfully, strolling out to join the men. “This was such a good idea wasn’t it?”
A few of the men murmured reluctant agreement, parting as Tommy strode between them over to Jason, Dad, and myself.
He beamed at the three of us, “Hi, gang! You boys helping get everything ready? That’s mighty fine of you. All the other kids are downstairs playing and yet here you are with the men, chipping in like the good sons you are.” He slapped
my shoulder cheerfully, his high spirits written plainly across his face. “Really proud of you.”
While he was talking, the rest of the men had slowly made a circle around us. Tommy looked up and grinned. “Aren’t these boys great?” He ruffled my hair and it made my skin crawl. The men said nothing, arms cross, faces grim.
“What’s going on here?” Tommy asked, twirling a finger at the enclosed circle.
Dad took me and Jason by the shoulders and pulled us back against himself, away from Tommy.
Tommy’s eyes locked with my dad’s. “What’s going on here, Mike?”
Jason’s dad, Mr. Murphy, stepped forward, “I think it’s time you were out of our lives.” His voice shook slightly, but his face was a mask of iron.
Tommy’s smile fell. “Oh? Is that what this is about?”
The circle nodded, pressing in close.
Tommy looked down at his feet. “Are we really going to do this? Today of all days?”
Another one of the fathers spoke up. “You’re a cancer to this neighborhood. All the terrible things you’ve done to us over the years…it ends today.”
Tommy closed his eyes, his smile returning. “Hehehehe…”
“We’re giving you one chance,” my dad said darkly. “One chance to leave and never come back.”
Tommy opened his eyes. “But I’m not ready to leave, Mike. The children still have things to learn. Things I need to show them.”
Another dad, Mr. Thompson from two houses down, jabbed a finger at Tommy. “There ain’t nothing you can teach our kids. You’re a monster, a vicious, violent monster.”
Tommy rolled his head to meet his stare. “Are you just saying that because of what I did to your wife two years ago? Come on…you knew the rules. Besides, she’s finally talking again so what’s the problem?”
“You son of a bitch,” Mr. Thompson seethed. “you evil son of a bitch.”
“Get him,” Dad growled.
Immediately, the men sprang forward, grabbing Tommy. Jason and I were pushed out of the circle as the swarm fell upon their prey. Two of the men grabbed Tommy by the arms, another fell in from behind and wrapped Tommy in a headlock. The others grabbed his throat, his shirt, anything they could get their hands on.
Tommy said nothing, putting up no resistance at all. He was pushed back and shoved into a patio chair where eager bodies held him in place. Someone fetched a rope they had brought, pulling it from beneath the grill. Quickly, they looped it around Tommy, binding him to the chair. Through it all, Tommy just watched them, his face neutral and emotionless.
As he was secured, Dad hurriedly came over to Jason and me. “Go inside, kids.”
I looked up at my father, eyes wide, “No…no I want to watch this.”
“Jack—”
“Please, Dad,” I urged, an almost desperate edge in my voice.
He looked at me and saw the need in my eyes. “Ok…ok just stay back though.”
The cluster of men retreated away from Tommy, his torso completely wrapped with rope, molding him to the chair.
“Not such a tough bastard when there’s eight of us,” one of the dad’s snarled.
“Doesn’t feel so good does it?” another jeered, “feeling helpless? Powerless?”
Tommy’s voice was completely monotone. “Don’t think for a second this is the first time I’ve been in this position.”
“Talk is easy,” Mr. Murphy spat, “and we’re done listening.” He plowed a fist into Tommy’s face, the smack of flesh sudden and unexpected. Tommy’s head whipped back as the blow connected, an excited cheer rising from the men. They all stepped up and took turns slugging Tommy, releasing years of pent up fear and terror.
Through it all, Tommy didn’t make a sound, each strike rocking his body, but he gave no reaction until they were finished.
“You done?” Tommy finally asked.
My dad stepped forward and leaned down into his face, “Not even close. George, get the charcoal.”
One of the men retrieved a hefty bag by the grill and dragged it over to my father who took it and held it up for Tommy to see.
“You wanted a cookout right?”
Tommy eyed the charcoal. “Hehehehe…”
Dad lifted the bag and upended it into Tommy’s lap. The pieces tumbled and piled like a tiny mountain on Tommy, leaving ashy streaks on his skin and clothes. Dad tossed the now empty bag aside and reached for the lighter fluid.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” He said, his voice grave.
“Mike,” Tommy said slowly, “I’m going to tell you this once. You don’t want to do this. It’s not going to end well for you.”
“Shut up!” Dad yelled suddenly, his eyes ablaze. “I am DONE listening to your POISON!”
He squirted Tommy with the lighter fluid, coating his face, chest, legs, and the pile of charcoal on his lap. When the bottle was empty, he tossed it aside. The men stared down at their captive, now soaked, an excited air of anticipation filling the backyard.
They’re going to burn him, I thought, they’re going to burn Tommy. A cloud of sparkling energy hovered around me and I felt my fingers twitch at my side. The men were ending this hell, they were finally ending it. I looked to the back door and saw the wives huddled behind it, watching the scene through the screen with deadly satisfaction. I spotted Katie, her eyes wide and disbelieving.
My dad struck a match in front of Tommy, the other fathers forming a semi-circle around him.
“It’s over, Tommy,” Dad said.
Tommy’s eyes met my father’s. “Don’t do this.”
Dad dropped the match and immediately a roar of flame engulfed Tommy. The men stepped back as the intense heat flared, licking up the lighter fluid like sweet candy. The coals caught next and began to glow like tiny suns.
Tommy’s face never changed as he burned, the ribbons of fire licking his skin. In fact, he didn’t make a sound. The air began to fill with nauseous smoke as the men watched with looks of shocked fascination.
Tommy began to char and pieces of his skin started to slough off in greasy, yellow puddles. As his face began to slip from his skull, he turned and looked directly at me. Through the blaze, he spoke in a soft, calm voice.
“See you soon, Jack.”
And then he threw his head back and began to laugh.
He laughed until there was nothing left of him, his body collapsing in the inferno. When the fire was put out a couple minutes later, it was as if Tommy had never existed.
Two days went by in dream-like disbelief. After the men cleaned up the ashes, they hesitantly went house to house throughout the neighborhood, searching for Tommy. But Tommy…was gone. Hesitant relief began to ebb through the community like a rising tide. Was this hell finally over? After they searched the houses, they did it a second time, hope growing. And still, Tommy was not there.
That night the families parted ways, each returning to a life they had nearly forgotten. We were all scared still, terrified even, but there was a distant sunrise now and it brought warmth we had grown numb to.
My family slept together in my parents’ king-sized bed that night. We crowded into one another, a relieved, almost euphoric feeling of comfort sweeping across our tired minds. I slept better that night than I think I ever had.
The next day, Sunday, we all went to church. My father spent a lot of time on his knees that morning. When he finally joined us outside after the service, his eyes were bloodshot and tear-streaked. The congregation welcomed us back with loving acceptance, questions about where we had been the past couple years pouring down on us. I listened to my parents make excuses, but no one seemed to be listening. They were just glad we were back. A couple comments were made about our haggard state, but my mother gracefully smiled and patiently explained that things had been rough for us. People nodded and stuffed their questions back down their throats.
I remember watching that and feeling anger stir in my gut. Despite my good mood and relief, that ember of resentment still lurked and
I felt a great heat beneath it. They had no idea what we had just been through. Not one of these smiling faces had reached out to us over the past couple years to ask where we had gone or why we had stopped coming to church. We were paper thin drawings that had been erased once we were out of sight.
I was silent during the drive home that morning.
That night we all watched a movie in the living room and Mom pulled out all the stops. Popcorn, soda, candy, and no bedtime. My sour mood had lessened by then and I rediscovered an emotion I hadn’t felt in ages.
Happiness.
When I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, Dad and Mom both tucked me in and told me they loved me very much. Without warning, I started to cry. They held me as I did, remaining silent except for gentle whispers of assurance. They knew. They felt it too.
Before they left, Dad asked me if I wanted my headphones. I hadn’t thought about them in months and I paused a moment before nodding. He pulled them from the nightstand where I had stashed them away and slid them over my ears. Immediately, I felt a little better, like this was how it had always been. They no longer scared me but instead filled me with the comfort they had once provided. Tommy was gone and the voice would be as well. Maybe it had never been there at all. Maybe my terrified, broken, confused mind had conjured it as a means to cope.
Dad kissed my forehead as I snuggled down into my covers. He turned off the light and left, closing the door behind him. I sighed heavily…and easily slipped into a deep sleep.
It was around two that morning that I heard it.
A buzzing in my ears, so familiar that I jerked awake, the noise pulling me from the arms of slumber.
The static grew loud in my head and I clutched the covers, eyes going wide. No…no, no please not this. I didn’t want this. This was supposed to be over.
The Third Parent Page 8
