Bumstead's Well

by R E Swirsky

  "You've been a big help to your father," Anita said. "It's not easy with me when my brain goes. You know what I mean." She looked at Chris and reached for his hand. "Chris looks after me very well, but he deserves a break from time to time."

  “Yes.” Chris nodded. “Thanks for coming. I do feel better with the extra sleep."

  "Charlie was right in what he said about Vincent," Arlene added. "He has been good for both of you, and it looks like you've raised him well. Probably better than I ever could have. I can see that."

  Vincent rolled his eyes. "No doubt," he whispered.

  Chris nodded to her. "We raised him the best we could."

  "But you really don't have to leave tomorrow," Anita said. "Why not stay another week or two?"

  Vincent sat back down on the couch next to Anna. He looked at his Grams and scratched his head. He didn’t understand her continuous outreach of compassion towards her.

  "No, I can't stay another day. I really have to get back."

  "But why? Is it because of what Barbara said?”

  “No, It has nothing to do with Barbara or anyone else here.”

  “Then why rush off, dear?”

  “I just have to, mom. Seriously. I have to go back home tomorrow."

  Anita smiled at her. “Well... You do know you're welcome back anytime. Just come. I like having you here next to me. It's always better talking face to face."

  CHAPTER 54 Day Ten - Sunday 10:05 AM

  Anita placed Chris' cup of tea on the small table next to him on the patio and adjusted the umbrella. It was still early in the morning and the sun already shone down fiercely. She finally sat down opposite Chris, pulled her chair in so it was tucked beneath the shade, and stared out towards the university. She fidgeted her fingers in circles around each other before reaching for her tea. Chris could tell she wanted to talk, but he wasn’t exactly sure what it was about. They dropped Vincent, Anna, and Arlene off at the airport earlier, and since they’d returned, Anita was reserved and unsettled.

  Chris suspected it might have something to with the well after all the talk on the drive to the airport was centred around the well and Vincent’s friends. He only just remembered Vincent’s cell phone was sitting in the drawer moments before they left the house for the airport because Vincent remarked how he’d have to get a new phone as soon as he got settled. Chris felt almost foolish for having forgotten completely that he shoved it in the drawer. He joked that Anita’s dementia must be catching. Anita laughed and slapped him gently on the arm. Vincent just smiled; he assumed his cell phone was destroyed in the fiery crash. All of his photos, music, and contacts were not lost forever.

  Vincent glowed the entire trip out to the airport. He could talk of nothing but his friends and the many photos they took that night out at the well. But with two weeks since its last charge, the phone was completely dead. He’d have to wait until he got back to school to recharge it.

  Chris rested his had on Anita’s arm and sighed. "Okay. So I haven't told you everything from when Vincent and I were out at the well the other day."

  Anita frowned at him and sipped at her tea. She spoke quietly. "You went out there on Thursday and you're only mentioning it to me now? When you don't tell me something right away, it's always bad, Chris. You do this. You mull it over for a while as if you're searching for the right time, the right words, or just hoping it will go away."

  He responded with a chuckle. Sometimes she did know him too well. “Well, we certainly do have a problem."

  "I suspected as much," she said softly. "It's never just done and over with you. It never has been."

  He hated that she knew him so well. At least she didn't say ‘I told you so’. He knew she wanted to.

  "Officer Wu took pictures of the inside of the well," he said.

  She turned and stared at him; she did not fully understand what he meant. "So? There's nothing to see inside the well."

  He sighed heavily. "I'm afraid there is."

  "What do you mean, Chris?"

  "He took pictures of the inside."

  "You said that already. You told me long ago there was nothing on the inside. What’s down there to see?"

  "I hate that man. I really do."

  "You said it would all be okay. What's down there?"

  Chris sipped slowly on his tea and wished he were somewhere else.

  "One of the skulls."

  Anita’s entire body twitched sharply at his words and her tea sloshed about and spilled down her hand. She put the cup down quickly onto the table and glared at him as she wiped her hand dry on the tea towel. Chris could feel her glare burn deep inside him.

  CHAPTER 55 Day Twelve - Tuesday 14:22 PM

  The coastal air blew gently across the waters of the Strait of Georgia and scuttled Vincent’s hair around. He sat resting on one of the many weathered logs that lay scattered across the sands at Wreck Beach below the University and stared out across the water. He was certainly glad to be back at school, but he tried to put the roller coaster ride of his emotions at bay and it just wasn’t happening.

  The sadness returned when he charged his cell phone and saw Roger and Aaron’s smiling faces in the many photos taken out at Bumstead’s well. It ripped at him and filled him with guilt. He couldn’t stand to be near anyone, so he fled across campus and down through the strip of forest to the beach to be alone. He wiped at the tears that were freely breaking the surface.

  Vincent stared blankly out across the white-capped waves and was mesmerized at how the sun sparkled and danced across them. It seemed as though the world was a perfect and peaceful place, and there were no problems and reasons to worry. The rhythmic rush of sudsy water swept up the beach towards him and then pulled away again. It toyed with his apprehension and made him feel lost.

  He looked down at his phone and called the number of the only person he knew who could truly understand how he felt. But his Grams answered.

  “Hi, Grams,” he said. “Is Gramps around?” He forced joy into his voice despite his true countenance.

  “Vincent!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you called, but your Gramps isn’t here. He’s gone out somewhere. I honestly don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  “I just wanted to talk to him, that’s all.”

  “Has something happened?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted to talk. You know… to hear his voice.”

  “Well, you know we both miss you so much already. And it’s good to hear that you made it back to school safely…” She paused a moment. “This house… It feels much too big these days. With your Gramps and I alone here since you left, it can get awfully quiet and lonely. We really do miss you when you’re not here.”

  Her words stung. He didn’t expect to feel such emotion, but he did.

  “I miss you too, Grams,” he said. He swallowed hard and a lump caught in his throat. He missed his grandparents more than he could ever have imagined he would.

  “Are you and Anna settled in yet? School must be starting soon.”

  “School starts in a few days, and yes, we are both settled in at our dorms.”

  “That’s nice. Anna is such a nice girl. I am so glad we got to meet her. Your Gramps is so happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Grams,” he said. He wanted to cry out that he was going to jump on the next bus and come home to be with them. He wanted to say he understood what was happening to the family. He worried dearly for his Gramps because of the intense worry his Gramps had about his Grams. Her progressing dementia and the care she required consumed him, and he wanted to express his worries to her, but the right words escaped him. He resigned himself to common phrases that seemed so dry and empty.

  “I just called to say how much I am missing you both. You have done so much for me. I’m just really thankful for you two.”

  His Grams hesitated in her response, and he thought he could hear her struggling not to cry.

  “You were always such an angel.”

 
; Her words were followed by silence, and Vincent sensed his Grams’ anguish building at the distance between them. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he believed she was as cogent as ever and her dementia was sequestered elsewhere. Her coherent mind comforted him.

  “Thanksgiving is not far away. We’ll see each other then,” he said.

  His Grams voice broke in her response. “You just make sure you study hard, Vincent. And you make your own way in this world. We’ll always be here for you whenever you want to come home. Your Gramps isn’t here right now, but if he was, you already know what he’d say to you, so I’m not about to speak for him. We both love you very much, and we know that you will do great things out there again this year again.”

  Vincent tried not to cry, but the tears that were waiting to fall even before he made the call couldn’t be held back any longer, and a few slipped down his cheeks.

  “I miss you Grams. I so want to jump back on a bus or plane and come home… But I know that would be the wrong thing to do. Gramps always said…” He hesitated. He thought of the well and his seemingly impossible struggle for freedom.

  “Gramps was right, Grams. He always has been. Can you tell him that for me? Please?”

  “Of course, Vincent. You’ve always been very special to him.”

  He could hear his grandmother’s anguish dissipate as she spoke Her voice was filled with compassion, love, and a warmth. He could feel his love for his grandparents growing with each word.

  He sniffed and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve.

  “I know, Grams. I know. But I will be back at Thanksgiving. I promise.”

  His Grams didn’t respond right away. She seemed to be searching for the right words.

  “I know you will, dear. But I don’t think that’s the real reason you called this afternoon. You’ve always come back for Thanksgiving. I think the reason you called is because you have something more important on your mind. I know you wanted to talk to your Gramps, but I think I know what is troubling you.”

  “Huh?” He hadn’t expected his Grams to be so bold.

  “She sits heavy on my mind too.”

  “Who?” He knew of whom she spoke.

  “A lot has happened to you over these past few weeks. It can be hard to let people get close after such an ordeal. And let me tell you, Vincent. I’ve had my challenges over the years with blocking people out of my life.” She laughed. “I was young like you once. And I’ve done things and said things that I wish I could take back, but I can’t. It’s too late for me, but it’s not too late for you.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Grams.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “I don’t think I do. What are you suggesting?”

  His Grams laughed. “I think your mother has been bothering you.”

  “But I’m not even thinking about her,” he said. But that wasn’t true. He hadn’t been able to get his mother off his mind since he returned home from the well and saw her for the first time in nine years. She was like a permanent fungus growing on his skin.

  “I really do think she’s the reason behind your call,” she said.

  He wanted to tell his Grams to stop talking about her. He hated his mother so much. Even the mention of the word “mother” made him tense.

  “It’s never too late, Vincent. She is trying,” she added.

  Vincent was at a loss for words. He hoped to reach his Gramps when he’d called because he knew how the talk with his Gramps would progress. He would talk and his Gramps would only listen. He would make no comment or judgement. He listened to his Grams now. Was she judging him?

  “She hurt me, Grams.”

  His grams laughed heartily. “She hurt many of us. But look how close we have become because of what she did.”

  She was right. He never would have been this close to his Grandparents if not for his mother leaving him on their doorstep. But his Grams couldn’t seriously suggest that he owed his mother anything.

  “But what she did to me still isn’t right.”

  “No, I agree. But that was such a long time ago. And you have turned into a very fine young man despite what she did.”

  Vincent continued to talk to his Grams over the next half hour and he came to accept that his Grams was right all along about the reason for his call. He didn’t like it, but having his mother on his mind was certainly going to be a problem as he came upon the upcoming semester.

  CHAPTER 56 Day Thirteen - Wed 8:10 AM

  Dean arrived at the station hoping to see Jet’s pickup truck in the parking lot, but it was nowhere to be seen.

  "Did Jet call in again?" he asked Millie. Millie was busy fussing with the air conditioner controls.

  "I haven't heard from him yet."

  "This is ridiculous." He looked at the clock. Jet surely should have called in by now. "Friday, Monday, and Tuesday he calls in sick. And today he's a no show again?"

  "I don't know what to tell you, Dean. He sounded terrible yesterday when he called. Could hardly speak and said his stomach was still hurting him."

  "Yeah, you told me that yesterday. You sure he hasn't called in yet?"

  Millie gave up on the air conditioner and sat down in her chair. "I just said he hasn't. You want me to lie?"

  Dean chuckled. "I just hate being without my phone."

  Millie shrugged and began inputting information into her computer.

  "I might drive over there."

  "Where? To Jet's place?"

  "Ayuh," Dean replied. "I could pick up my phone at least, and I could see how sick he really is.”

  "Or I could just call him," Millie offered.

  Dean thought about her offer. He really wanted his phone back. Even if she called Jet, he'd still have to go over there to pick up his phone.

  "No, Millie. I think I'll just swing over his way later. He's up on the bench isn't he?"

  "Just a sec," Millie replied. She punched some keys on her keyboard, pulled up Jet's address, and quickly copied it down. "No, he's not on the bench anymore. That was temporary. He's moved into one of those new condos on the south end of Main." She handed Dean the note with Jet's address. "It's one of those new four-story units. Looks like a very nice place."

  "Thanks, Millie. If he calls before I get out there please let him know I'm coming by.”

  “Will do.”

  “Oh, Millie? Do you know if he went to see a doctor?”

  Millie looked up at him. “Yesterday when he called in he said he’d give it one more day. If he wasn’t feeling any better by today, he said he was going down to the clinic.”

  Dean nodded.

  CHAPTER 57 Day Thirteen - Wed 9:40 AM

  "Well, that certainly is good news, Dr. Hamil.” Chris said. “Isn't it, Anita?”

  They were seated in front of Dr. Hamil at his office.

  Chris looked at Anita and could sense by her distant expression that she didn't share in his enthusiasm. He didn't know if her temperament was caused by the dementia or the skull that still rested at the bottom of Bumstead’s well.

  Anita put on a smile, but Chris sensed her distress underneath. The skull penetrated the forefront of her thoughts ever since he told her about it a few days ago. He knew it was still there. She hadn't once brought the topic up, but her irritation with him was broadcast in every gesticulated movement she made every time he came near. A slammed cupboard door or a plate thumped extra hard onto the counter next to him was enough to let him know she wasn't about to let go of it.

  "We have a slot opening up at the end of September. Just three weeks away," Dr. Hamil said. Dr. Hamil was tall and lanky and often spoke with an indifference that bothered Chris. “I will have a firm date for you sometime next week."

  "Can you give us details? I know you said it would just be overnight stays for the first while. When exactly would she be leaving the house and when would she be coming home?" Chris asked.

  Anita reached over and squeezed Chris' arm as she turned to hear Dr. Hamil's reply. He felt warmth
skitter about inside him. Her touch wasn’t something he expected while the skull still rested where it did.

  "The nurse will arrive at your home around eight o'clock each night to take her over to Steelwood. She'll return home before ten the next morning."

  Chris nodded and rubbed one hand unconsciously over the other. "Can I drop her off and pick her up myself?"

  Dr. Hamil responded immediately. "Absolutely not! The whole purpose of this is to relieve you of some your responsibilities and…” He glanced at Anita. “I am sorry to use this phrase but… it is meant to relieve the burden of having to constantly care for and look after your wife. Making this decision is as much for you, Chris, as it is for Anita. You told me how little sleep you've been getting now that it's just the two of you alone again."

  Anita patted Chris' arm and nodded. "It's probably best this way, dear," she said.

  Chris hated that she was right. "What days will it be?"

  "It looks like the opening we have will be Tuesday night through Friday night. She will be home only in the daytime on Wednesday to Friday and then all weekend from Saturday morning through Tuesday evening."

  Chris didn't like this man. His demeanour was abrupt and discomforting and he spoke at times as if Anita was not even in the room.

  Dr. Hamil slid the consent papers across the desk and pointed to where he and Anita should sign.

  Chris picked up the pen and scrawled his signature across the bottom.

  "And, uh..." Dr. Hamil stretched his neck forward, reached across with one arm, and shuffled his skeleton-like finger down across the paper below Chris' signature. "The date. You need to put the date right there."

  Chris added the date and stared down at his signature momentarily before he passed the documents over to Anita. The ink was like a poison, and he longed to snap the pen in half. He handed it over to Anita and watched as she wrote her name shakily below his on the document.