Wintertide: A Novel (8 page)

"I don’t think I’m in Seth's
league," I responded.

Seth turned to me, his ever-ready
smile in place.

Not to be outdone, Eddie then
launched into a ridiculous story. Apparently, the BMW of a wealthy, voluptuous,
blonde was towed to the garage where Eddie worked. It was late at night. They
were alone together, and he received payment from her not in cash or credit,
but by satisfying her alleged nymphomaniacal tendencies.

Seth laughed encouragingly at Eddie,
and I suddenly felt like the odd one out once again. But then, a certain
clarity hit me. What the hell was I doing here? This evening was beginning to
represent everything I despised about being with these two. They were phony and
pathetic and I knew this about them and yet here I was again.

It took a sharp nudge from Seth to
attract my attention. The room suddenly came into focus again. "We were
just remembering the time you sprained your ankle by the creek on old man
Matthew's farm."

"That was a close call,” Eddie
commented.

I’d effectively forgotten that
afternoon at the creek. Seth's words brought it back to me for the first time
in several years.

I have painted South Seaport as a
bleak place during winter completely devoid of any beauty. That's not exactly
true. There was one place that I often found myself drawn to, particularly on
those days when my parents were entrenched in battle. A fresh water creek
flowed along outskirts of Mr. Matthew's land. Mr. Matthews was a crotchety old
widower who never had a kind word for anyone. If you trespassed on any part of
his considerable property, he would not hesitate to call the police and press
charges. He'd walk his property throughout the day,  poking the hard ground
with his wooden cane.

On one unusually warm winter
afternoon, Seth and Eddie followed me down to the creek after school. Seth had
been there with me before, but it was the first time Eddie had ever come with
us. I loved that spot with its rippling creek rushing over the green mildewed rocks.
White birch trees lined the area, their bare branches forming a canopy of
twisting tendrils. It was always peaceful and quiet there with nothing but the
smooth lapping water and the cool winter breeze.

We were walking on the rocks,
laughing, having a contest to see who could best navigate the slimy stones. Eddie
produced a flask and wanted to turn the innocent contest Seth and I had been
playing for years into a drinking game. After having taken two shots of vodka
from Eddie, I was jumping across the rocks, the water just tickling the white
bottoms of my sneakers, when my right foot slipped, twisting at an impossible
angle, landing me with a splash right in the middle of the creek. I winced with
pain when I tried to lift myself up. Seth and Eddie ceased their laughing and
came running toward me. I was soaked, and my ankle burned. I could feel it
swelling, pushing against the leather of my shoe. They gently picked me up and
helped me hop over to the side. I couldn't walk home. That was immediately
apparent. Seth lived the closest, about a mile away.

"I'll run home and get my
mom's car," he offered. He dashed off into the woods. He was barely gone
five minutes when we heard old man Matthew's scratchy voice. "Who's out
there? I heard you kids yelling. You'd better get off my land or I'm calling
the police!"

Eddie stood and looked out toward
the farm house. "Shit, he's headed straight for us."

I glanced up at him becoming more
miserable by the moment. I told him, "Just leave me here. There's no
reason for both of us to get caught."

He remained there for a moment,
crouched low, deciding what he should do. Then he shook his head slowly back
and forth as he began to wriggle out of his leather jacket. "Shit,"
he kept repeating, "shit, shit, shit.” He put his jacket around my wet
shoulders. I thanked him weakly, expecting him to run off now. But he didn't. He
placed an arm around my shoulder and lifted me to my one good foot. "Come
on, Hiller,” he commanded. “Move your ass."

I couldn't have been more surprised.
"Forget it. You'll get caught, too. Just go."

"Stop being such a lazy shit
and move. You can be such a wimp sometimes."

That got me angry, but it got me
moving. Eddie grunted under my weight. We trudged together through the woods,
swifter than I had thought possible, our labored breathing loud in our ears and
Mr. Matthew's voice echoing from behind us. When we finally burst through the
trees and onto the side of the road, Eddie set me down and tiredly dropped to
the ground beside me. As he tried to catch his breath, he started laughing
quietly. I looked at him, barely able to contain my shivers, my ankle pulsing
in pain, and then I felt it, too. I stifled the first few, but then I burst out
laughing, my relief nearly overpowering.

When Seth came by with his mother's
station wagon, he wore a completely perplexed expression. "What's so funny?
How did you two end up here?"

I spent six weeks on crutches. As
soon as the cast came off, the first place I went to was old man Matthew's
creek because it was spring time and I couldn’t stay away. I remember thinking
how most people didn't really know Eddie McKenna. He wasn't what he seemed. He
could be kind. That was before the perilous night rides in his Camaro and the
afternoon in his garage. But as I sat there across from him at the bar, I
remembered that day, and I felt sorry for him and the dark side that he
couldn’t escape.

"You really saved my life that
day," I said seriously to Eddie.

"You repaid the favor,"
he replied. Then he quickly turned to the bartender and ordered another drink,
his sixth or seventh. Seth didn't appear to have heard him. I realized that he
must have been referring to that night on the ledge when I pulled him back from
the brink by the end of his coat. Eddie had never said a word about it since that
terrible evening, until maybe now. I ordered another beer.

The night went on in that same way,
reliving old times, the bar bill growing larger, mainly due to Eddie and Seth. I
did loosen up. Well, as loose as I ever get. I didn't really intend to see
either one of them again after tonight and that thought prevented me from
making an excuse to leave early.

It was just after midnight when the
bar began clearing out. Eddie threw some bills down. “Let’s go,” he said,
walking to the door, not waiting to see if we followed. I pulled out my wallet
and felt Seth’s hand on my arm. He gestured toward Eddie’s money still sitting
there. I saw a one-hundred dollar bill on top. Eddie had obviously paid for all
of us. I pulled on my wool coat and followed Seth outside.

Warmed by the alcohol, it took a
few minutes for the cold to penetrate. When it did, it was relentless. I could
hear the ocean waves crashing in the distance. The sea cliff was several yards
behind us. I purposely kept my back to it, not wanting Seth or Eddie to be struck
by the need to reminisce about it. The dirt parking lot was mainly empty except
for my mother's Buick, Eddie's Camaro and a few other large American model cars.
I dug my hands deep into the pockets of my coat and stamped my feet in the dirt
trying to keep warm by moving. I was preparing to say goodnight to them when
Eddie turned to Seth and gave him a meaningful look.

I consider myself fairly adept at
intuiting what other people are thinking by their expressions and body language.
Because I had known Seth since the first grade, he was basically an open book
to me. Eddie was a bit more complicated. As Seth grasped Eddie's meaning in
that moment, his eyes widening, the beginnings of a sly grin curving the edges
of his mouth, I knew that I wasn't going to like whatever idea Eddie was about
to present. The sea cliff first came to mind. Finally I just asked. "What?
What are you two thinking about?"

Eddie turned to me. There was a
devious twinkle in his eye. "How do you feel about breaking and
entering?"

I knew I wasn't going to like this.
"Well,” I began, “as a generally law abiding citizen, I'd have to say I'm
against it."

"How is it different from
trespassing? Which you're obviously not against," Seth stated.

"Well for one, there's no breaking
involved.”

Eddie shook his head at me and
began to turn away.

My bottom and top teeth were
beginning to knock against each other. "Where are you planning to break into?"
I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Seth became excited. "Eddie's
been doing it all winter. It's so easy, it's like you can't not do it. That big
grey house up on the cliff overlooking the ocean has been empty for months. Kids
have been getting in through the living room window and lighting fires in the
fireplace, hanging out, screwing around, getting drunk. It's completely
deserted. So, there’s no risk involved."

I vaguely remembered my mother mentioning
something about it.

"Come on, Danny,” Seth pushed.
“You've got to see this place."

It actually wasn't as bad as I had
thought. I’d imagined them planning a convenience store robbery. Like most
other year round residents, I harbored a definite desire to see the interior of
these tremendous summer homes, the likes of which I would surely never own. It
seemed to be a harmless enough activity. I looked over at Eddie. He stood with
his back to me staring out over the ocean, his white breath floating up over
his head.

"Sure, why not," I shrugged.

Eddie turned around and eyed me
levelly. "We'd better walk there," he said. "We don't want
anybody to spot our cars parked in front."

I stared into his bloodshot eyes
and agreed despite the cold. He was in no condition to drive and the house was
just up the road. Up being the pivotal term. It was a steep climb, and I lagged
behind them.

I was rounding the last curve of
the long winding driveway, when the house suddenly appeared before me looming in
the darkness. I had only seen it from a distance. I hadn't realized how truly
tremendous it was. It had three stories with large picture windows lining each
level. In the blackness, the white trellises that covered the front shimmered
softly. Jutting gables broke up the long sloping roof.

The concept of such great wealth, a
house with so many empty rooms, overwhelmed me. How much did it cost to heat
that monstrosity? I remembered the now bankrupt owners and that Beatles song
came to mind, “The Fool On The Hill.” The fact that this had been merely a
summer house, used only three months out of the year, was astounding. It made
me angry suddenly, the thought of wasting so much money while other people, me
for instance, had nothing.

I saw Eddie jimmying open a low
window by the left side of the house. Seth was holding a bundle of sticks in
his arms. I reached them breathlessly, a cold layer of sweat tickling my back. When
the opening was wide enough, Eddie pulled himself inside head first, landing
heavily with an audible thump. That's going to hurt like hell in the morning, I
thought. Seth handed him the pile of branches and went in after him, first
putting one foot in and then disappearing inside.

I stepped over to the window, my
breathing still labored from the climb. It was dark inside, and I could only
see the outline of sparse furniture, a chair here, a coffee table there. I
heard Seth and Eddie moving around inside. I began to pull myself in, but my heavy
coat was causing me problems as it bunched up around me in the narrow opening,
momentarily wedging me in. Seth pointed at me and laughed, while Eddie
attempted to start a fire in the large stone hearth. I finally managed to
propel myself inward and take a look around.

Eddie was able to ignite a
respectable flame. It caught on quickly, crackling, radiating warmth and a
flickering orange glow in the spacious room. He picked up a fireplace poker
with an ornate gold handle from a matching set that sat by the fireplace, and he
poked at the flame, pushing the outlying branches toward the middle. The
hardwood floor reflected the light, casting it upward toward the high plaster
ceiling. The walls were bare, but a small oriental rug lay before the hearth
and some red velvet cushioned chairs were positioned around it. From Seth's
description, I had expected to find cigarette butts and old empty beer cans
lying on the floor, but there were none. My footsteps echoed loudly as I walked
toward the fire. I could feel its heat on my face.

"Maybe you'll own a place like
this one day," Eddie said softly.

I looked at him. Was he talking to
me? "In another life maybe," I laughed.

"This all might as well be
ours tonight," he said as he slowly stood, stretching his arms out beside
him. "You've got to take what you want, Hiller, because nobody is going to
give it to you."

"What about earning it?"
I asked.

He laughed. "Do you honestly
think I could ever earn enough to own a place like this?"

"You could win the lottery,” I
joked.

“I’m not exactly a lucky guy
though, am I?” he responded, suddenly looking annoyed. "And I'm not a
smart college boy like the two of you. I never will be, and I'll sure as hell
never make the kind of living that will buy me anything more than a broken down
shack right here in our quaint little town.” He grimaced, as though his own
words had left a bad taste in his mouth. His resentful eyes were intent on
mine.

Seth then decided to enter the conversation.
"How could someone have all this wealth and just lose it? It's one thing
to never have had any money, but what’s it like to have all this and then watch
it disappear? Maybe it would be better to never know what it's like to be rich.
Then you don't know what you're missing."

"You're so full of crap,
Cooper," Eddie said angrily. "You'd rather never have money than have
it and lose it? That's such bullshit. I’ve never had anything, and believe me I
know exactly what I'm missing. Your parents may not be rich, but you've always
gotten whatever you wanted."