Wintertide: A Novel (16 page)

He seemed offended. "Yes, I
can handle it. Can you handle it?"

"I'm not the one who drank
myself into oblivion last night and walked three miles in the freezing cold to
say someone called my house and hung up."

"Screw you."

I took a step closer to him. "Why
do you think Eddie would call our phones in the middle of the night and say
nothing?”

Seth shrugged at me. Then he sat
down heavily on the bed and leaned his back against the wall, closing his eyes.
“How did everything get so fucked up?” he asked.

I sat down beside him. “I have no
fucking clue.”

We sat beside each other silently
for a time before Seth spoke again. "Did you know Eddie drove up to see me
my first semester at school?”

Since Seth and I hadn’t been
talking at the time, I didn’t know that. He continued without waiting for my
response.

"It was a surprise. I wasn't
expecting him."

"How did that go?" I
asked.

Seth traced his finger along the threading
of my comforter. "On his first night there, we decided to go to this bar in
town where everyone hangs out. It was a Tuesday night, and I had an early class
the next day so I  wanted to leave after a few hours. But Eddie met this girl. She
was older than us, a junior. She had her own off campus apartment, and I heard
her inviting Eddie back. I told him he could go with her since he had his car
there, and I could call a cab or have a friend pick me up. But he wanted me to
come with them. This girl, Stephanie, was pretty drunk by this time. She was
saying that her roommate was home and she wanted both of us to come with her. So,
I went.” He sighed before continuing the story.

"In the car, she sat in front,
next to him, and I got in back. While he's driving she puts her hand on his
knee and starts slowly sliding it up. I remember she had these long red nails. Then
he reaches over and puts his hand up her dress and I'm beginning to wonder
about his driving skills. But then he pulls the car over to the side of road. It’s
really late, and there isn’t any other traffic on the road. Eddie then gets out
of the car and I ask him what he’s doing. He comes around to the passenger
side, opens the door and starts pulling her out. She nearly falls on her ass,
and I’m still trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Then he leads her
over into the bushes while she's tripping all over her high heels. Eddie’s not
talking to me, and I figure he just can’t wait to get to this girl’s apartment,
and they’re about to disappear for a while. At this point, I just want to go
home, and she’s so drunk she looks like she's ready to puke all over him. I’m
sitting in the car waiting for them, and the next thing I know she's screaming.
I look over and see that he’s pushing her down onto the ground and hiking her
skirt up. She’s shoving at him, trying to push him away, but he’s not listening
to her.” Seth stopped talking suddenly.

I eyed him expectantly. He didn’t
look up at me. “He raped her?” I finally asked.

Seth nodded.

“And you watched him?”

Seth nodded again slowly. "He asked
me if I wanted a turn when he was finished.”

“Jesus. You didn’t…”

“No. Of course not,” he answered
quickly. “She was just kind of laying there afterward, crying. Eddie convinced
her to get back in the car and we drove her home. She didn't say a word the
whole time. There were pine needles in her hair, dirt on her hands and clothes.
She got out of the car at her apartment and just walked slowly up to her door.”

I started to ask a question but the
pained expression on his face stopped me.

"She went to the campus police
the next day,” he continued. “She couldn't remember our names. So they gave her
copies of the freshman registers from the last four years to look at. She
picked me out. Apparently, she got confused and thought that I was the one who
raped her. They called my parents. I told my dad that the girl was crazy and
that I never touched her. He got me a lawyer.”

“You didn’t tell them it was
Eddie,” I stated, shaking my head with disbelief.

 “This girl didn't exactly have a
squeaky clean reputation, and in a few weeks the charges were dropped. They
said she took a shower that night so there was no evidence. I don't own a car
and she remembered being in a car. Basically, her story didn't make sense. She
was too drunk to remember it right. It all went away, and no one at school
found out about it. But I don’t think my dad ever really believed me. He almost
pulled me out of school, but my mom managed to convince him not to. He told me
if he heard that I even jaywalked on campus, that was it. He was pulling me out
and never giving me another cent."

“How could you continue to be
friends with Eddie after that? " I asked incredulously.

Seth rubbed his hands over his face
before answering. "I didn't talk to him for a while. Then last summer I
saw him. He apologized. He said he was drunk, and she seemed like she was going
along with it."

"You said she was screaming."

"She wasn't at first."

"Do you even hear what you’re
saying?”

"You don't understand. You
can't.”

“What can’t I understand?”

"Eddie," he continued.

“You’re right. I can’t. Why did you
even tell me that story?”

Seth shook his head. “I don’t know.
I guess I’m trying to explain him to you. You can’t just dismiss him and say
he’s a bad guy. He just loses control. You know how he grew up. Imagine having
the shit beat out of you on a regular basis and being told that you’ll amount
to nothing every day of your life. He’s so messed up that he doesn’t know up
from down or right from wrong.”

I knew Seth was right about Eddie’s
upbringing, but that couldn’t excuse his behavior. I was having a hard time
understanding how Seth could think it would. “You need to stay away from
Eddie,” I told him.

“Yeah, I know,” he answered
quietly.

My father came home for dinner that
night. Sitting down together for a meal brought the usual strained silence but
tonight it didn’t bother me because it allowed my tired brain to zone out, with
the only noises being the clinking of silverware and the chewing of food until
my mother spoke. “I heard they’re finally close to arresting someone,” she
stated.

My fork froze somewhere between my
plate and my open mouth. I glanced up at her and watched as she scraped the
residue from the casserole she had made for dinner across her plate with the
side of her fork. "In fact," she continued, "I understand there
is a certain resident of South Seaport who is wanted for questioning."

I glanced at my father who was
engrossed in eating and seemingly uninterested in anything else. "Who?"
I asked her already knowing what her answer would be by her smug expression.

"The McKenna boy. Didn't I say
it was him when it first happened?” She was looking up at me now, appearing
very satisfied with herself.

"Where did you hear this?” I
put down my fork and rested my now damp palms on my lap.

"My friend Judy was having
some work done on her minivan this afternoon, which by the way she's had
nothing but trouble with since the day she drove it off the lot, when a police car
pulled up. Apparently, the officer asked the garage owner if the McKenna boy
was there. He’s been working there for a while. The owner, I can't seem to
remember his name, told the policeman that the McKenna boy hadn't been around
for a few days. Then the owner asked why they were looking for him. The police wouldn’t
tell him but obviously they want to talk to him about the murder.”

She watched me expectantly, waiting
for  me to say something. "Daniel, did you hear me? They think the McKenna
boy did it?"

I cleared my throat. "You
don't actually know that."

"Mark my words. That boy did
it.” She stood and began clearing the table.

I went straight to my bedroom after
dinner. I considered calling Seth to see if he had heard this latest gossip,
but then I quickly dismissed that idea. He was already wound tightly enough. I
stayed in my room the rest of the night, and when I realized it was nearing
midnight, I took the last sleeping pill. I couldn’t deal with another sleepless
night.

I dreamt that Eddie drove by the
house. Around three in the morning, I heard the sound of a loud engine outside.
When I sat up and peered out the window, I could just make out the shape of a
dark Camaro moving down the road at an unusually slow pace.

The next morning my head throbbed
and my throat felt like sandpaper. It was another bitter, sunless winter day, the
kind of day that makes you want to stay hidden under the covers. But I didn't
give into that impulse. I showered, dressed, and then rummaged through the
bathroom medicine cabinet for some cold tablets, which I found and swallowed in
the upstairs bathroom before going downstairs. I thought of Professor
Sheffield’s niece, and I wondered if she had gotten me sick.

Mom was already in the kitchen
drinking her coffee and reading the newspaper. She smiled brightly when I
entered. "Good morning, Daniel. You slept late this morning."

I poured myself a large glass of
orange juice and sat down across from her. The cold liquid soothed my sore
throat.

She put the paper down. "A
girl named Traci called you this morning,” she announced, holding up my cell
phone.

My eyes widened at her. “What are
you doing with my phone?” I held my hand out for it.

You left it on the coffee table. I
saw her name appear when it rang this morning. "Is she someone from school?"

I nodded at her, checking out my
phone to see if I had missed any other calls. I hadn’t.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

“No, she isn’t.” I put down the
phone and coughed a few times into my hand. I immediately felt my mother’s
scrutiny.

“Are you getting sick?” she asked.

"Maybe. My throat’s a little
sore.”

 She stood and put her hand to my
forehead. "Hmmm, you do feel a little warm. Why don’t I make you some
tea?”

I really wasn’t up for my mother’s
hovering today. I started to stand.

She gently pushed down on my
shoulder. "You stay right there. I'll get you some aspirin, and I think I
have some cold tablets somewhere."

"I already took one."

But she wasn’t listening. She
hurried off. She now had a mission. A purpose.

After drinking my mom’s tea and
taking the pills she offered, I went back up to bed and promptly fell into a fitful
sleep. I dozed on and off. Several times I heard a telephone ringing softly in
the background. Dreams came and went. Seth and me, ten years old, dashing through
the woods. Sitting with Professor Sheffield at his kitchen table. My Eastern
religion class last semester. Eddie was there. Sitting two rows in front of me
in the lecture hall. I slumped down  into my seat in case he happened to turn
his head. But he didn't. He just sat there like any other student.

My mother woke me sometime later, standing
over me, shaking my shoulder gently. I looked up at her with groggy eyes. "Daniel,
I'm sorry to wake you, but Seth keeps calling. When you didn’t pick up your
phone, he called the house phone. I told him you were sick and needed to rest. But
he insists on speaking with you, and he refuses to leave a message with
me."

"Is he on the phone now?"

"No, I just hung up with him. I
told him you'd call him back. Do you know what he wants?”

I shook my head as I pushed myself
up.

Mom handed my cell phone to me and
continued to stand there.

"I’m all set, Mom. Thanks,"
I smiled weakly at her.

She pursed her lips and went back
downstairs.

Seth picked up on the first ring. “Jesus,
I've been trying to call you all day. Your mom wouldn't put you on. Are you
really sick?"

"I’m fine. What’s up?"

"You actually do sound kind of
sick. I thought maybe you were avoiding me."

"I’m not avoiding you. What’s
going on, Seth?” He didn’t answer at first. I only heard breathing from his
end.

“Seth?”

“I saw Eddie last night.”

“Okay…..and?”

"I don't want to tell you over
the phone."

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t. Can you come over
here now?”

I felt like crap, and I could only
imagine what my mother would say if I told her I was going out. “Can you come
here?” I asked.

"No way. Not with your mother
breathing down our necks."

"I'll get her out of the house.
Just be here in twenty minutes. Okay?"

He hesitated. "Are you sure
she'll be gone?"

"Just be here," I said
and ended the call.

I went down to the kitchen. Mom was
sitting there with an expectant expression. I went to the refrigerator, took
out the orange juice and brought it over to the sink. I reached into the
cabinet, took out a glass, and placed it front of me. "Seth wanted to talk
about his parents’ divorce,” I lied. “He's pretty upset.” As I spoke, I poured
some juice into my glass, and the rest I poured quietly down the drain.

"That whole situation really
is such a shame. What, Daniel? We're out of juice?"

I had turned around to face her and
was holding the carton upside down. "Would you mind running out for more? It's
the only thing that helps my throat."

She stood and looked curiously at
the empty container. "I thought I just bought that," she said taking
the carton from me and examining it. "I'll run to the market down the
street."

"Actually," I said,
"as long as you're going out, maybe you could pick up that black raspberry
jam I like."

"Oh, but they don't carry that
at the market. I'd have to drive to the grocery store in Hyannis.”

"Forget it then," I said.
"It’s no big deal.”

"No. I don't mind. I'll just
be gone a while longer then. Will you be all right by yourself?"