by Dan Dillard
Chapter 6
It was another week before we saw Sean or Matt. They came to Robin’s funeral, which was small—family, close friends, and kids from her kindergarten class—but we didn’t talk. She was buried in the cemetery near our grandparents and our great grandparents. Afterwards, the freshly filled plot was covered with flowers and crayon drawings from her friends at school. Her marker simply said, “Robin Elaine McNeill, 1974-1981”. A picture of a cherub was etched in the corner.
My mother and father were devastated, but the death of my sister seemed to put a calm on them. Dad was sober for two solid weeks. I don’t know if he felt some guilt or not, he never talked about his feelings. I was just glad he wasn’t hitting anyone for a change. We dealt with the hole at the dining table as best we could, and Danny and I still waited for her to get off the bus out of habit. We knew she wasn’t coming. Eventually, the folks in the neighborhood, some we only saw in passing before her death, stopped coming by just to check.
The first of our friends to show up at our house on his own was Matt. It was Sunday, two weeks after the game of light as a feather, stiff as a board happened. He knocked on the door and when Danny answered, Matt held his hand out.
“I'm sorry about Robin,” he said.
Danny shook his hand like we'd each seen grown men do on occasion. He patted our friend on the shoulder and invited him in. Matt stepped in the door cautiously, like he was unsure what he might find inside a place he’d been to hundreds of times. I watched from the top of the stairs and then went to my room.
“Is Todd home?” I heard Matt say.
“I’m upstairs,” I said. “Come on up.”
They trotted up the stairs with a jumble of thudding feet. I was still numb from the recent events, but I was glad to see him and also hoped a little normal might help.
“I'm sorry about your sister,” he said, extending the same hand.
I looked at it and then shook it with a firm grip. The three of us sat on the floor and tapped fingers, or played with our shoe laces. I didn’t want to talk about any of it and I suppose they didn’t either. Not because Sean had forbid it, but because it just seemed like something that had happened to someone else. Like maybe my sister had never really existed and I had only dreamed about her from time to time.
The radio advertised a local car dealer who was selling the newest Dodge Ram pickup with a 4-speed Torqueflite automatic for just $5999.00. Come on down folks, we’ll give you a helluva deal! Immediately following, REO Speedwagon took it on the run.
“How's Sean?” I said.
Matt frowned, “He's upset.”
“Yeah, we all are,” I said.
Danny nodded.
“But he thinks it's his fault and he's afraid he'll get in trouble. Maybe even go to jail.”
“I don’t think that’ll happen,” I said.
“It's not our fault, is it?” Danny asked.
“It’s definitely not your fault, Danny. It could just be a coincidence.”
“What’s that mean?” he asked.
“When two things happen and seem like they’re related, but they really aren’t. Do you understand that?” I said.
He shook his head like he did, but I wasn’t so sure.
No one spoke for a long time. We fiddled with our shoe laces, or thumbed some of the magazines that were on my bed. We’d all read them at least once. Danny twisted his Boba Fett action figure’s head around as far as it would go, then fired his rocket out of the figure’s backpack. It landed under the bed, but he didn’t retrieve it. We just looked in that direction, three lost faces. It wasn’t until Juice Newton’s “Queen of Hearts” came on that Matt lightened up. I’m not sure how the two were related, but he said, “You guys wanna toss the football?”
“Yeah, sure. But can we do it in your yard?” I said.
He nodded.
“The stain is still out there on the road,” Danny said. “They tried to clean it up, but I can still see it.”
Matt gulped audibly, looking toward the window, but not through it. “Yeah. We should play in my yard.”
He got up and led the way as we went downstairs. There were some cookies on a tray in the kitchen, left over from the various snacks and casseroles which had been brought over by friends and neighbors after the funeral. We each grabbed a couple and before heading out the back door. Matt chased Danny who had the ball, and I chased Matt through one neighbor's yard and finally into the Chambers' lawn. The cool fall winds whipped through the air and it caused the pointed ball to tumble and bounce like mad. The exercise brought a pink hue to our cheeks and smiles to our faces. It was almost like old times until Sean showed up.
He opened their back door, strolled out onto the concrete patio and stood next to the round, wrought iron table with the umbrella and watched us. At first he didn’t say anything, and we played on, but I glanced at him every few seconds. His presence worried me, his posture…his expression. It made me nervous. When I missed a pass from Matt that bounced over toward the patio and where Sean was standing, I finally got up the nerve to speak to him.
“Hi,” was all I managed to say.
“Go home,” he said.
“What?”
I looked at him. His face was a grimace of disgust.
“You heard me.”
“But why?” I said.
He stepped up, chest bowed, hurt on his face.
“You brought her over here. That's why she's dead. I don’t want you here. You or your brother. Go home.”
“Don’t say that,” I said. “That’s not true.”
Danny ducked behind me and Matt got angry.
“Go inside, Sean. You're bein' an asshole,” he said.
“Fuck you,” Sean said. “All of you.”
I felt Danny grab hold of my shirt tail and huddle close to my back. Sean turned his attention and his anger toward his brother. Matt didn’t back down. They traded shoves. Three weeks prior, Sean would’ve slugged Matt in the face and taken the consequences from his parents with a smirk. That day, he cried. He crumpled to the ground and cried.
“I killed her,” he said. “It’s my fault she’s dead. It's all our faults.”
“It’s not our fault, Sean,” I said. “We had no idea that was going to happen. She rode her bike into the street.”
“It was that ghost. She did it. I called her and she…she sealed our fucking fates. That’s why it happened. Robin was closest to all of it and now she’s dead.”
His voice strained and cracked like he was going through puberty all over again. There was real fear there, real sorrow. We helped him up into one of the four chairs that stood around that table. Matt and Danny were speechless, but Danny continued to tug on my shirt. I knew he wanted to leave. I did too, but something had to be set straight.
“I don’t believe that,” I said. “Robin getting hit by that car was just an accident.”
“What was all that shit she said? How do you know what she said? It was Russian, right? Was it a curse?”
“Do you believe in curses?” I asked.
He shrugged, staring into space. “Did you believe in ghosts?” Sean whispered.
He had a point. Our little experience opened all sorts of doors that I thought were closed. Nothing was certain anymore. I felt cold wash over me.
“I killed her,” Sean said, shuddering off another wave of tears.
“No you didn’t,” I said.
He stood up and stomped his foot, fists clenched. His chair fell over, clanking on the patio.
“Go home, McNeill! I see you in this yard again and…maybe I'll kill you too!”
I grabbed the football with one hand, my brother with the other and we walked away. Matt just shook his head.
“See ya,” Danny said.
“Yeah,” Matt replied.
When we reached the edge of the property Danny and I turned and watched as Matt shuffled his feet into the house. Sean’s eyes followed us but he didn’t speak. His face looked troubled.
It was miles away from the overconfident, smart-assed Sean that tormented us younger kids. It was miles away, period.
