The Accursed

by J G Koratzanis

  Run? No. Where would he go? Fight? No way. They were older, meaner, probably faster. They had knives and apparently were not afraid to use them.

  A hand reached through the curtain and brushed it to the side. Rick’s upturned lips contradicted his dejected eyes.

  “How are you holding up, buddy? Got you some comics from the gift shop. Hope you like X-Men.”

  Chase extended a hand, winced and drew back.

  “The doctor said I was fine. No organs or arteries cut. So, what the fuck?”

  Rick sat next to Chase in the foam chair beside the bed and gripped his hand.

  “You mother’s here,” he said. Chase furrowed his brow.

  “She’s not my mother. She’s my—”

  “Sorry. I know, I know. Your foster-mother.”

  “Why’s she here? How’d you find her?”

  Rick drew a breath and looked away.

  “Stephanie.”

  Chase shook Rick’s hand. “Stephanie, what. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She’s here for Stephanie. The ambulance brought her here. She’s sick.”

  “No shit she’s sick,” Chase let go of Rick. “Where’ve you been for the last—”

  “No, Chase. She’s sicker than sick.”

  Chase placed his hands over his bandages, made circles with his finger and his jaw tightened.

  “How do you know all this?”

  “When you were admitted, I gave them your family— foster family’s name and info. They weren’t home because they were already here. I asked for her room and went up.

  “Right before I knocked to go in, I overheard the doctor talking. It’s not good, Chase. She—”

  The rattle of aluminum casters and ball-bearing chains of the privacy curtain halted Rick’s words.

  There, Linda stood, the curtain held tight in her clutch. There was no concern nor sorrow in her gaze. Only darkness.

  Rick stood from his seat and stepped towards Linda.

  “Hey, little brother. I’ll leave you two alone. I have to make a phone call. Be back in an hour or so.”

  Chase nodded as Rick walked away.

  “What happened to you,” Linda said.

  “Some punks stabbed me,” he said.

  Linda tossed her purse to the chair and put her fists on her hips.

  “Why? What did you do to deserve it?”

  He looked away.

  “They wanted my jacket,” he trailed off.

  “That’s stupid. Your jacket’s what? Three-years-old? Really, what did you do?”

  Chase huffed.

  “It was a new leather jacket. I just bought it from King’s.”

  Linda’s head tilted, and her hands dropped.

  “Where’d you get the money for a leather jacket. God knows you’re too much of a loser to get a fucking job.”

  Chase bolted up and ignored the twist in his gut.

  “I’m not a loser! And I do have a fucking job, Linda.” He mimicked her tone. “I deliver the paper after school. I’m not staying late for tutors!”

  Linda folded her arms and grinned.

  “Figures. Stupid and selfish.”

  “It wasn’t my fault! Selfish? Selfish how? I just—” he dropped back to the Hill-Rom bed and slumped.

  “Stephanie’s upstairs dying of AIDS and all you can think about is yourself. Ever consider what she wants? What I want?” Her eyes flared.

  “Always,” he muttered. “That’s the fucking problem.”

  “What? What did you just say to—”

  “Nothing, Linda. Nothing. I’m sorry.”

  Linda stooped for her purse.

  “Figure you’ll be here for a few days. I have to get back to my daughter— who thinks of me first. Call me when you need a ride home.”

  Linda turned away and stepped to the curtain.

  “Linda?” She halted.

  “Why did you choose me? Why do you want me in your house?” he said. She turned her head without considering him.

  “I don’t. The state pays me good money every month for Foster care. Thought it would be an easy job.”

  His jaw went slack.

  “It’s not. Thanks, Chase,” she finished and stomped away.

  V

  Shreds of X-Men comics lie on the floor as Rick returned. He looked around, shrugged and sat on the bed next to Chase.

  “I guess it didn’t go well?”

  Chase shook his head.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m selfish and Stephanie’s dying. You were right. She’s sicker than sick.”

  “What do you mean you’re selfish?”

  Chase shrugged. “I shouldn’t have bought myself the jacket.”

  Rick bent over and picked up the pieces of the comics as Chase wept. Rick reached back to Chase.

  “I’m getting you another jacket,” Rick said.

  “No. You don’t—”

  “Yes. I said I’m getting you another jacket. You earned it.”

  THE BONFIRE

  I

  The motor within the door whirred as Officer Davis raised his window. The bite of the wind was feral, despite the early onset of Autumn. The weather, like his emotions, deteriorated with the passing calendar. He hated the fall. The warm days gave way to chilly, sometimes, cold nights and did not indicate how to dress. One day, sweating, the next freezing, the back seat piled up with extra coats that were forgotten until they had to make room for the police cruiser’s rear passengers. The leers from captains and sergeants overseeing the arrests never settled well. And he believed the trivial details kept him from making detective, though he had passed the examination for the last three years.

  “You Okay? Been kind of quiet,” Perez said.

  Okay? What kind of fucking question is that? Is anyone ever Okay? Bills piled up, wives argued about the toilet seat, kids failed in math, grandmothers’ broke hips, but in the end, everyone was kind of Okay. Unless they were dead. Then they weren’t. What about the agnostic or atheist? One questioned validity while the other believed in nothing.

  Davis didn’t know what side of the line he stood on. Michelle insisted he took up religious counseling. Drive to a mechanic, they’ll diagnose an unseen problem with a car. Visit a surgeon, and they recommend surgery. Go to a man or woman of the cloth, and they will sell you their God.

  “Hey, Perez,” he said.

  “Hm?”

  Davis shook his head, “Never mind.”

  II

  It was the event everyone waited for all year long. The Labor Day Weekend of Fun, as Sammie Gray called it. A displaced Boro Park native, the transition to Upstate New York, with her parents and brother, was what the family needed. Although the move allowed the Gray’s to enjoy a simpler, safer, better life, Sammie and Paul remained close with their city-friends.

  It was a modest home, surrounded by acres of forest, deer, and bear. The outcrops of bedrock, the manicured gardens and the babbling brook that meandered across the far end of the property seemed like a hidden gem from the Thomas Kinkade gallery. This weekend, the unblemished tranquility was marked with brightly colored tents of every size and shape to accommodate the thirty or so visitors.

  Sammie had the good fortune of making Rick’s acquaintance back in Brooklyn, when her older brother, Paul, had a run-in with an older teenager at the mall who had the overwhelming desire to bully Paul for arcade money. Hearing Paul’s scratchy, prepubescent denial a Pac-Man and Donkey Kong away, Rick stepped towards the bully. A hand on a shoulder, a stern look and a few words later, the bully reconsidered his life choices.

  Chase knew the Gray family, and through Rick’s introduction, any friend of Rick’s is a friend of the Gray’s.

  The Gray parents were forward thinking compared to most others and gave the teens two cases of Schlitz Beer.

  “Oh, thank you. Where’s everyone else’s,” Jackie, a long-time friend of Rick’s said.

  Jackie and Rick had less than two years left before they could buy for them
selves.

  “Don’t worry. The keg’s coming tomorrow,” Paul Senior said.

  The five teens sat around a round table and drank and laughed and created what seemed like an unspoken, unbreakable bond.

  Paul broke the monotony and finally asked about Stephanie.

  “She’s, um… she passed. About a year ago.”

  “Yeah, we already knew that,” Paul said in what became his typical sarcastic concern. “You get yourself tested?” Paul said.

  “Yeah, of course. But I knew I was fine. I never got the chance to fuck her.”

  “Um, eww. She was your sister,” Sammie said.

  Chase looked away from her as Rick shook his head and wagged a finger.

  “Fucking semantics. But either way. Eww.”

  Chase laughed.

  “How’d Linda take it,” Jackie said.

  “Not good,” Rick interjected. “Chase had to spend a couple of nights at my house until things settled down.”

  Chase closed his eyes, grinned, and thanked him for not going into detail.

  “How the hell did Linda not see her daughter was a hooker?”

  “Alright, alright. No more bad talk. We’re here to have a good time. Remember,” Sammie said.

  That Friday was a hidden gem where no one would realize the impact it would have on their longevity until much, much later in life. For the first time in Chase’s life, he felt like he was with family. He felt like he was home.

  III

  The bonfire roared to life moments before the sun dipped below the tree line. The tents set up the days before glowed with battery operated lanterns and bustled with typical activities of teenagers; kissing, laughing, sneaking shot bottles of booze and talking trash about ex-girlfriends and boyfriends.

  There were more guests than expected, in which the Gray parents wrangled as best they could. Rule number one; no drugs. Not even aspirin. Two; everyone who drove in lost their keys for the night. Three; if you drink, even without driving, you’re here for the night. No questions, no judgment. Everyone obeyed.

  Chase wandered off from the bonfire in search of the stereo. The music had been plain, emotionless, boring. He wanted something with meaning, power, aggression.

  As his fingers drew near the pause button, a familiar voice summoned him from across the spacious yard.

  “Romano! What are you putting on?” Sammie said. He shrugged.

  “It better not be any of that heavy metal stuff no one likes!”

  He slumped.

  “Walk away from the radio and no one gets hurt,” she finished with a smile.

  Chase made his way over to the keg tucked away behind the garage. He missed it, the keg, with its colorless blend against the beige painted siding. If not for the red Igloo Cooler the hoses and tap passed through, he might have searched the landscape for the discarded, one-sip-left corpses of shot bottles.

  He stooped and grabbed a red plastic cup. Sensing strange eyes on him, he turned and scanned the yard.

  Rick and Jackie stood about fifty feet away. They sipped their Schlitz’ and laughed with a teenage girl, a petite blonde who wore a denim jacket, two sizes too big, and tan-colored, what Chase referred to as easy-access pants cinched high into her crotch.

  She smiled at Chase, combed her dainty fingers through her shoulder-length locks and twirled a foot up on its toes.

  He shook his head when he realized he stared for a moment too long. Rick jerked his head to the side as he eyeballed Chase who turned the cup upside-down and poured out the nothingness within. The girl chuckled as Chase raised a finger then pointed at her. She nodded.

  Chase turned back to the tap.

  “Don’t look for trouble. Don’t look for trouble,” he reassured himself as he topped off the second cup.

  “You think I’m trouble?”

  Beer sloshed over the rims as he spun on his heels.

  “What? No. I’m sorry. Not what I meant. Here,” he eased over a cup and flicked dripping beer from his fingers. “I’m Chase.”

  She bit her lip and offered her hand.

  “I know,” she smiled. “I’m Trouble. Nice to meet you.”

  IV

  Chase and Tina, the girl formerly known as Trouble, enjoyed a few beers and each other’s company near the bonfire. Jackie made his social rounds and checked in with Chase every few minutes. Whether it was an overwhelming need for gossip or a general concern for Chase’s dating game, Chase welcomed it.

  The hunter in pursuit of a victim to rid himself of his virginity, Tina’s predatory desires threw off his quest.

  Maybe Jackie sensed it. He had known Chase for a few years, and his awkwardness blared like trumpets.

  Tina sensed it too. And she dug her claws in deeper.

  “Hey, Chase. It’s a bit loud over here. Think we can duck out by the front of the garage?

  He shrugged and took to his feet.

  The walk towards the gravel driveway, between the house and the garage, felt long and foreboding. Something inside nagged him to walk away, pretend he needed the bathroom, something to lead him away.

  But she might put out, he thought and shoved away his whispering nuisance.

  She took Chase’s hand and led him into the shadows.

  His arm stretched far as he studied her from behind. The view of her sweatpants pulled high into her crease, outlining her supple bottom, and the three to five beers in fortified his resolve.

  “Whose car is that?” Chase said and pointed towards the street.

  A conversion van, which exhausts rattled with age, blocked the mouth of the driveway.

  “Beats me,” Tina said.

  “They left their lights—”

  Tina held tight as she whirled Chase around and pinned him against a massive trunk of a tree.

  Hands raced to the back of his neck and through his long hair as she forced her tongue past his lips.

  He kissed her back, slipped his hand under her sweatpants and took hold of what he admired just moments before.

  Their heads swung together as they kissed. He squeezed her bottom and pulled her in tight to his hips. She moaned.

  Trembling hands pushed up Tina’s shirt, up her smooth body and halted when met with the underside of her lacy bra.

  Gritty sounds of shoes on gravel opened Chase’s eyes. He eased Tina back, though the release from her lips lingered.

  “What?” she said.

  “Someone’s coming.”

  “So what?” Tina snapped and pulled herself closer. Chase nudged her back.

  Tina huffed as Chase continued to hold her at arm’s length. He stared through the dark and watched two girls approach. As they passed, Chase gawked at the one walking alongside Sammie.

  The girl’s hips rocked in rhythmic opposition to her arms as if she listened to a silent ballad playing in her head. Her smooth, fair complexion glowed in the light of the moon. A slight smile curled her lips as she spoke, delicate and refined. And her dark, wavy hair swayed with each footfall and corrected trajectory of her path.

  “Ahem. Chase? Remember me,” Tina yanked on his jacket collar. He stepped back.

  Sammie waved goodbye as the girl stepped into the van. The tires kicked up gravel from the driveway edge as it sped off.

  Chase’s heart raced, his fingers twitched, and his jaw tightened. Something deep within the far recesses of his spirit awoke and soared. The girl’s visage consumed him.

  Unconscious footsteps propelled him towards Sammie.

  “I’m sorry. I have to go. Something came up,” he said.

  “I know. I felt it. It was hard to ignore with you pressing it up against me,” Tina said as she hitched onto the hem of his jacket.

  “No, really. I have to go. I’ll catch up with you later,” he finished and pulled away. Tina gawked.

  “You know what? Fuck you, Chase. Tonight would’ve been your lucky night!”

  Chase turned around. Sammie’s scuffled footfalls ceased.

  “What are you talking about,” Chas
e said.

  “Oh, please. You can’t be that—” Tina folded her arms and chuckled. “Wait a minute. You’re still a virgin,” she said louder than Chase wanted to hear. He shook his head in denial.

  “Oh shit, you are. Wow.”

  Chase considered his feet.

  “You fucked up, Johnny Holmes. Fucked up big. You would’ve gotten luckier than you ever dreamed.” Tina whirled around and stomped away.

  Chase eased back against the tree and remained. Thoughts of Tina and the girl battled for dominance in his mind. The excitement of intimacy, the allure of newness and the crush of defeat melted into a single statement;

  Do what thou wilt.

  But what the fuck did that mean? All the years of hearing that ravenous statement without clarification and purpose, he gnarled his hands and gritted his teeth.

  “What was that all about,” Sammie said as she neared Chase.

  “Huh? Oh, nothing. Who was that you were with?” he said. Sammie took Chase by the arm and led him back up the driveway.

  “I asked you first. What happened with Tina?”

  Chase tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and chuckled.

  “That? That was the sound of me failing at getting lucky.” Sammie shook her head. “Trust me. You don’t want to get lucky with that ho-bag.”

  Chase watched his feet as they traversed the grassy yard.

  “So, you never told me who that girl was,” he said. Sammie grabbed her beer cup from the makeshift table of a tree stump by the fire.

  “Ooh, you like her,” she smiled. Her nose crinkled, and her eyes narrowed. Chase appreciated the differences in her expressions.

  “I… I don’t know. I don’t even know her.”

  “Now that was the one you should’ve hooked up with. Not that other skank.”

  Chase took Sammie’s cup and finished the final sip.

  “Who is she?” he said again.

  Sammie’s head shifted. “You never met Heather? I thought you did,” she said.

  “Apparently not. I think I would’ve remembered her. Why’d she go?”

  Sammie reached over her brother’s shoulder and grabbed his beer.

  “Hey!”

  “Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a very important conversation? Get yourself another, and while you’re at it, two more for me and Chase,” she said. Paul huffed, stood and trudged away.