The Plenty

by Peter Anthony

  Chapter 32.

  When Josh crept out of the camper, he already knew the depth of his destroyed reputation, now that Hank Murphy and Judd Blanks both knew. He sought isolation, to hide from the story that he expected to engulf the town like a flash flood. Like Kathy had done earlier in the day, Josh ducked in his car, in fear of recognition.

  Through Immaculate, Josh drove, low in the seat, peering over his steering wheel in search of his mother, June Werther, and his trick-or-treating children. The happiness on children's faces guarded every street, putting Josh's own depravity into high relief. An old couple in wheelchairs sat near the sidewalk handing out candy, laughing together, even holding hands. He rolled down his window to cool off and heard a girl cry out, "Step on a crack, break your back," and turned to see a line of girls carefully hopping along the sidewalk. Little boys sang a hit song swinging their bags of candy in the air. Girls curtsied in their princess costumes. Mothers corralled children near street corners, checking for traffic three times before crossing. A dog leapt into a pile of wet leaves to retrieve its ball, and it was all too clean-living for Josh after where he had just been.

  On one of the thin streets of Immaculate, Josh spotted a witch and a tarantula, and Bryce in his Superman pajamas, waddling alongside his grandmother holding her hand. Pulling the car onto the grass, Josh rolled down the window and motioned to his mother, saying, "I'm ready to take them."

  June said, "Do you want to join us?"

  "No," he said. "I'm ready to take them home."

  "I wanted to take them to Hope Carter's house," said June, smiling with benevolence, her ever-present happiness overflowing while she spent time with her grandchildren. "Hope will want to see them. That lady goes all out on Halloween. Did you see the spider web in her tree?"

  "No," said Josh, "no I didn't. It's time to go home." When June remonstrated, Josh repeated his order in a demanding tone that he usually reserved for certain conversations at work, not for his mother.

  Unhappy, unwilling, the children rode home in silence after Josh snapped at them in the backseat, even threatening with his hand to reach back and crack the next one that spoke. This type of abuse he had never threatened in ten years of child rearing, but having lost all order in his life, he overreacted. Rhea cried silently and Dawn stared out the window, mumbling wisecracks. A five minute drive to the house felt like hours. The dashed yellow lines on the highway ticked by under the alloy wheels of the Cadillac.

  In the garage, Josh said, "Everyone out. It's time to get ready for bed."

  Protests surged. Dawn said, "We haven't counted the candy yet. And mom said we can watch one scary show."

  "Inside," Josh said, losing his temper and holding the door open to the house as his children passed under his arm. Only half-attentive, he nearly closed the door before realizing that Rhea never exited the car. She sat in the back seat, weeping. But rather than talk her out of one of her paralyzing dispositions, he grabbed Rhea by the arms and carried her to the entryway of the house, setting her on her feet. She stood with her head down, staring at her shoes, staggering to catch her balance like a zombie.

  "I'm tired of this crying all the time," said Josh. "Why are you always crying? What the heck is wrong with you? You've been sad since day one." When she did not move, he dropped to his knees and seized her shoulders. "Pick your head up." Still she did not move, and he let go of her in disgust, leaving her among a pile of shoes, with tears falling from her cheeks to her costume.

  "Dawn," said Josh, "you can watch a show, one show. Bryce – time for bed."

  Bryce tried to run but Josh's arm circled his waist. Up the stairs he carried the boy, who flailed and kicked about, until halfway up the stairs Josh switched his grip and managed to control the limbs by pinning his arms down. He whispered to the boy, "Blanket? Do you want your blanket?" At the mention of the beloved blanket, the boy lost all fight. His eyes widened and he leaned back to inspect his father's face.

  At the top of the stairs, Josh turned down the hallway, stepping close to the railing that overlooked the main living room, some fifteen feet below. On his way to Bryce's bedroom, Josh heard a knock on the garage door, and heard the sound of someone pulling on the doorknob. A sense of fear struck him, with the notion that Judd Blanks had arrived to do him harm. Josh leaned forward to peer into the living room beneath, trying to peer beyond the chandelier that partially blocked his view to the kitchen. The boy started to squirm in his arms, and muttered his word for blanket, unhappy with the pause in his progress toward the promised blue flannel. Searching with his eyes, Josh held his breath and listened, and failed to react as he usually did, when Bryce lunged backward.

  The fall took but half a second. The crash on the hardwood was not loud at all. A dull thud, like someone jumping off a bed to the floor. And it did not seem real or possible. Josh, speechless, leaned over the railing. A hundred times, or a thousand, he had caught the backward lunge, and that he missed Bryce in this case, impossible.

  Bryce lay inert on the floor, face-down, with his head turned to one side and his legs splayed outward, arms at his side. Josh's mouth gaped but he could not yell. Putting one hand over the other, he started pulling himself down the hallway railing, and somehow decided that he could not wait to run down the steps and instead put his foot upon the rail and leaped to the floor, falling the fifteen feet and crashing onto an end-table, shattering it.

  "Bryce!" he shouted, rolling the child over and picking him up in his arms.

  When Dawn heard the sound, she ran in from the kitchen holding a sucker in her hand and asked simply, "What happened, Daddy?"

  "He fell. Bryce fell. Go get in the car, Dawn. Get Rhea."

  "How did he fall?"

  "Bryce," said Josh, touching the boy's face, wiping the blood away from his little nose. "Bryce. Bryce, buddy. Blanket, Bryce? Do you want your blanket?"

  "Daddy, is he sleeping?"

  "Into the car. Yes, he's sleeping. Bryce," he gasped, "is sleeping."

  Carrying the boy in his arms, Josh ran to the garage and opening the door was shocked to see his son Ethan standing there with Renee, whose mouth dropped when she noticed Bryce's flaccid limbs.

  On the drive to town, Bryce lay supine with his mouth open and eyes shut on Josh's lap. Like Kathy's maniacal drive the night before, Josh careened on the turns and passed several vehicles risking further harm to one and all. A bit of throw-up appeared on Bryce's mouth and Dawn tried to clean Bryce's face while sliding from side to side on each tight corner.

  A set of headlights followed them. Renee and Ethan raced to keep up to Josh.

  In the center of town, the light in Dr. Parker's office shined, as always, and Josh crossed the center line of main street to park on the wrong side of the street, stopping with his front wheel on the sidewalk. He honked the horn for a moment, to summon the doctor, and then stepped out of the car with Bryce in his arms, leaving the engine idling. Nearly dark outside, the silhouette of Dr. Parker appeared in the window just as Josh opened the door of the office. A second person stood in the waiting room with his arm in a sling. It was Jacob Marak, dropped off for repairs.

  "Parker," said Josh. "My boy fell. He fell. Over a railing in the house, he fell from my arms."

  "Set him here," said Doctor Parker, quickly fumbling in his pocket to find his reading glasses. "Gently, very gently, set him on the couch," said Dr. Parker, pointing to the waiting room's green antique. "He mustn't be moved again. Josh, you call the ambulance from the phone on my desk." Josh did not move but kneeled beside the couch. The doctor turned to Jacob and said, "You go into one of the rooms, please." He shouted, "Josh! Make the call."

  Without hesitation, Jacob turned and walked to the first patient room in the hallway, leaving a crack in the door so he could observe the waiting room.

  "Josh," commanded Dr. Parker. "Call the ambulance dispatcher. Her number is next to the phone."
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  Josh backed away without noting his surroundings until he bumped into the doctor's desk. Dawn and Rhea, with pallor in their faces and still wearing their costumes, stood on either side of Dr. Parker's elbows as he inspected Bryce with careful hands. The door of the office opened with Renee and Ethan entering solemnly, moving to a wall, standing in silence. Renee could not keep her hands from shielding her eyes, fearing the worst.

  Dr. Parker rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

  On the phone, the dispatcher spoke in Josh's ear and he tried to reply amidst his own confusion and disbelief. Immaculate lacked its own ambulance service and the dispatcher said that she would send the first available vehicle, with an apology, since the only available ambulance in Sharpsboro had already responded to an accident elsewhere and was currently en route to the hospital in Tonnamowoc. "What does that mean?" asked Josh. "That we have to wait an hour? Or more? What about sending another from the city?"

  The dispatcher had already sent the request, and made another apology for scarce resources on a typically busy holiday night. Reluctantly, the dispatcher admitted that the other ambulance would need at least a half hour to arrive, and Josh let the phone slide to his chest, as he held the cord near his neck.

  "What can I do, Parker?" said Josh. "What can I do?"

  "Pray."

  The doctor kept working on Bryce. After many years of practicing medicine, he gained a strong and terrible intuition for knowing when life has passed, and he felt the boy fading. As many times as he watched light dim in the eyes of an elderly person, and finally disappear under his gaze, nothing could prepare him for the seven times that he had witnessed it happening in a child, one of whom was his own child.

  "I can drive him to the hospital," said Ethan.

  Parker shook his head and without looking up replied, "He needs to stay here. He'll stay with me until the ambulance can transport him."

  "What can I do?" asked Josh, getting down on his knees on the end of the couch to assist. Putting his fingers on the crown of Bryce's head, Josh gently touched the hair of his son and thought the boy must be sleeping. Many times in the crib, the baby boy slept with an open mouth. Josh often felt the need to touch the boy just to cause him to stir, to make sure there was life. Asleep, or unconscious. But in the crib, a long pause between breaths always resulted in soft sound of inhalation or exhalation.

  The girls began to cry upon hearing Dr. Parker. Josh, already on his knees, pressed his hands together and leaned downward toward Bryce to say the Our Father. He had never been a religious man, until now.

  Renee broke into a sob and put folded hands to her forehead. Jacob saw his mother's reaction, and he moved forward to comfort her, opening the door of the patient room, which drew Ethan's attention, and the brothers stared at each other, over a chasm.

  Dr. Parker said, "He's still breathing. I'm going to secure him and we'll take my Explorer. Josh, take the keys and put the seats down so we can transport him. Renee - you take the girls home right now and find Kathy." When Renee did not respond, Dr. Parker said, "Renee, I need you to concentrate."