by Debra Doxer
Mr. McKenna returned with three bottles of beer, twisting the caps off for us and taking a long deep pull from his own before returning to the open hood of his car. Eddie wanted to leave, but his father suggested that we keep him company while he worked. Seth and I both knew that Eddie's dad hit him, but I think that for a moment we doubted it. Mr. McKenna was trying to win us over. That was how he was able to beat his son without anyone in the community stepping in to stop him. He simply turned on the charm for whatever audience was at hand. In those moments, as you watched and listened to this friendly man, you thought no, he couldn't be beating his kid, not him.
As Seth and I sat there that afternoon, drinking our beers and laughing at Mr. McKenna’s interesting anecdotes, Eddie stood away from us, on the other side of the car, fidgeting, his anger building. He knew exactly what his father was doing.
At one point, Mr. McKenna put down his beer, sat down on the cold cement floor and pulled himself under the Mustang. We eyed the bottoms of his dirty sneakers as he continued talking, his voice muffled. Eddie slowly moved toward a shelf at the back of the garage. He fumbled around for a moment and returned with a plastic yellow bottle of antifreeze and a small white funnel. Silently, his face expressionless, he stuck the bottom end of the funnel into his father’s beer bottle. Carefully, he twisted the cap off the antifreeze and poured the green liquid down the funnel and into the bottle where it mixed with what was left of the beer. When Eddie finished what I could only think of as a prank, he turned to us and smiled before he neatly replaced the funnel and the yellow container.
I turned to look at Seth. He returned my nervous glance with a noncommittal shrug, whispering, "He won't let him drink it."
Eddie came over and stood next to us when his father reappeared from beneath the car, grunting as he pulled himself to his feet. He walked over to the table and wiped his hands off onto that same dirty rag. Can you smell antifreeze, I wondered? How much could you swallow before you realized it? The container probably had one of those poison control warning labels which listed instructions on what to do if your child accidentally swallowed some.
Mr. McKenna smiled at us and picked up the bottle with a large greasy hand. I felt my muscles tensing. Seth put a hand on my arm. I looked at Eddie. He stood there silent, stoic. I knew he was going to let his father drink it. Mr. McKenna was saying something, telling another story, but I couldn't understand the words. I only saw his lips moving and the top of the bottle being lifted toward his mouth. Suddenly, I thought this was crazy. We were all going to stand here and let this man drink that? Eddie really wanted to kill his father, and we were sitting here laughing at Mr. McKenna’s jokes as he was about to drink down a bottle of antifreeze. I remembered Eddie on the ledge that night. He had truly intended to jump despite what he later said, and now it seemed he was going to let his father drink poison.
The rim was merely inches away from the man's mouth when I finally jumped up, lunged toward him and smacked the bottle out of his hand. His eyes widened, staring at me as though I were crazy. The glass hit the floor shattering, spraying liquid in all directions, a dark stain seeping across the cement. Seth's eyes traveled nervously from me to Mr. McKenna. Eddie glared at me. Mr. McKenna finally overcame his shock and yelled, "What the hell!"
I didn't stay to hear the rest. Without a word, I turned and walked away. I walked all the way home, three miles, told my mother my stomach hurt, went to my bedroom and closed the door. I avoided them both at school the next day. Seth finally sought me out. He approached me, smiling and shaking his head. "You can be such an idiot sometimes, Dan," he said.
Just as he did after the incident on the ledge, Eddie pretended that nothing had happened. Except things were different now. I was colder to him, and he no longer bothered to include me in his plans with Seth. For all intents and purposes, from that point on, the friendship was over. That left Seth with a choice to make. He didn't choose me.
seven
The next morning I found my father in the kitchen cleaning the dishes from the night before. Apparently, Mom was sleeping in again. Tomorrow night was Christmas Eve. I wondered if my mother was going to make the traditional ham dinner. I greeted Dad, lying again, saying that I had slept well. I swallowed two aspirin with a glass of orange juice and walked out into the bitter morning air.
I enjoyed the ride to Professor Sheffield's house, not even realizing how much I missed the freedom of driving a car, something I never did anymore living in the city. I was having second thoughts about the coming evening. I’d texted Seth this morning, letting him know that I was joining them tonight. The plan was for me to pick him up around ten o'clock since his mother needed their only car, and we were to meet Eddie at a bar by the ocean called the Southside Tavern. It was new. I had never been there before. The last time I was in a bar was the last day of classes just before finals began. I met a red-headed sorority girl who came home with me. The next morning she gave me her telephone number with her name, Traci, written above it, a smiley face dotting the i. But she didn’t wait for me to call her. She’d been calling and texting me ever since. I had yet to get back to her.
Thinking of school, remembering that night with Traci and knowing I would be spending the entire day in a place that seemed far away from South Seaport, lifted my mood considerably. By the time I parked the Buick in the professor's driveway, I’d decided that tonight would simply be a fun time out, no more and no less. It was better than lying on that lumpy yellow couch in the living room, watching television all night and keeping my mother company.
Professor Sheffield ushered me in out of the cold. Like yesterday morning, he offered me tea. This time I joined him in the kitchen to make sure I would actually receive it. The kitchen was bright much like the rest of the house, with white tile floors and white cabinets. An island stood in the middle with a cook top and a breakfast bar. I sat on a wooden stool as Professor Sheffield filled the kettle with water. He handed me a large wooden box and instructed me to choose. I opened the lid and saw an assortment of teas inside, English breakfast, lemon, cinnamon, red raspberry, honey and chamomile tea.
"It was a gift," he explained.
I chose cinnamon, opening the package and placing the tea bag in my mug. Professor Sheffield picked out a lemon one and poured the steaming water into both cups when it was ready. The sweet smell of cinnamon lifted my wary eyelids.
"You look tired, Mr. Hiller," the professor said kindly. "I hope you're not having trouble sleeping."
I twirled the tea bag around watching the water darken. "It's hard to get used to being at home," I said.
"Yes I know what you mean. My sister used to own this house. I actually lived with my mother until some time ago when she passed away. I decided to sell that old place and buy this one since my sister was moving away. It worked out well. I sometimes have trouble sleeping here though. You should take some chamomile tea with you. It helps you get to sleep."
I thanked him and took the packages from his outstretched hand, shoving them down into my front pocket next to my keys. Then I stood with my mug. "I should probably get to work."
I spent the day hunched over the laptop, copying out Professor Sheffield's notes. Knowing the way his mind worked now, I had expected his writing to be messy illegible scrawls. In fact, it was nearly the clearest I had ever seen. He printed in large capital letters using dark, bold strokes. I was a fairly adept typist, and by mid-afternoon I had completed five notebooks. It translated to a mere twenty pages single-spaced on the computer.
I worked until late in the evening. Ten notebooks were completed by the time I said goodnight to the professor. I would have worked later had he not insisted that I go home, stating that he heard there was going to be a snow storm. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve day, and he mentioned that I could leave early and have the next two days off since he was going to be away the day after Christmas. I didn't want any time off. I enjoyed spending the day at his home. In comparison, my own seemed even more dingy and pitiable. I r
ecalled Seth's statement that I was spoiled. I suppose I could see how Eddie might have thought that, his own home life being so pathetic. But Seth? That I just couldn't understand.
Telling my mother the truth about my plans for the evening was out of the question. If she knew I was going to see Eddie McKenna, an attack of unequaled histrionics would likely ensue. Unfortunately, she had heard about the imminent snow storm.
"Daniel, please, I know I told you to spend time with Seth, but couldn't you see him another night? And you look so exhausted. You're just going to wear yourself out."
We were sitting at the kitchen table. She had on a yellow housecoat that was covered with drawings of fruit. There were orange slices, bunches of purple grapes and green limes. It made for an odd combination of colors. She had cooked macaroni and cheese for dinner, but I didn’t have much of an appetite. She took that as a sign of illness despite my protests to the contrary.
"I already told Seth I'd be there. If it looks like the roads are going to get dangerous, I'll come right home. Besides I haven't seen a flake yet.”
"You'll come right home when the snow starts? You promise?"
"I promise."
"Did you know that Mr. Cooper has a twenty-eight year old girlfriend?” I asked, changing the subject and trying to shock her.
She looked at me calmly with an expression that said of course I knew. She stood and carried the casserole dish to the counter. "I don't like to gossip, Daniel."
"Since when?” I asked amused.
She came back to the table with her lips pursed together. "I don't know whether it's true or not, but it's my understanding that Seth's father kept that girl in an apartment long before the divorce started."
"Really?"
She nodded slowly. "But Nancy Cooper was no angel either."
"What do you mean?" This was sounding like a soap opera. Except instead of glamorous, beautiful people, the players were chubby, short and rather repulsive.
"Remember when she got that job over at a doctor's office in South Dennis?"
I did. That was in the middle of high school. Mr. Cooper would always complain about the mileage his wife was putting on their old station wagon.
"Well, I heard that there was more than just a professional relationship there."
"Seriously?" I asked astounded. "How do you know this?"
She gave me a sly glance. "A little bird told me."
I raised an eyebrow at her. For someone who didn’t like to gossip, she was awfully pleased with the information she had gleaned from somewhere. "Do you know who cheated first?"
"Who knows? Maybe they were both cheating at the same time? Maybe he did it to get back at her or she at him. What's the difference now?"
"Does Seth know all this?"
“I don't know. But don't you say anything. I wouldn't want to be responsible for him finding out."
"Okay," I said, not knowing what to think, really. Intrigue, here in lazy old South Seaport?
I watched my mother cleaning up, wiping down the table, and placing dirty dishes in the sink. I looked at her hands, cracked and wrinkled, purple veins visible beneath translucent skin. It's an odd thing to watch your parents grow old. The aches and pains that become apparent, the prescription bottles that begin to appear in the cabinet. You may or may not be particularly fond of them, but it is impossible to imagine a world without them. It’s even harder to picture them becoming ill, growing frail and sickly.
"How have you been feeling?" I asked.
She turned away from the sink, studying me with a curious expression. "I feel just fine."
"Are you sure? You're looking tired."
"I have an entire house to clean and dinner to cook. I don't just sit around here all day."
"It’s just that I’ve noticed you’re sleeping more than usual, but you don't seem rested."
She turned back to the sink, shrugging her shoulders, indicating the dismissal of my statement. "I'm just fine. You're the one I'm worried about, working all day, going out tonight into the middle of a snow storm."
That was my signal to keep quiet. I didn't want to start that conversation up again. I helped her dry the dishes, thinking about Seth's family and how misleading appearances could be. I didn't know what Seth was studying in school, but I did know the pressures his father could put on him to achieve. He was a man who had come from nothing but made a decent enough living to send two kids to college. I wondered how Seth’s family situation must be affecting him. He acted as though the divorce didn't bother him, but that couldn't really be the case.
I changed out of my chinos and dress shirt, exchanging them for ancient blue jeans and a wool sweater. I checked to make sure I had the fake ID I’d gotten from a friend at school and enough cash. Professor Sheffield was going to pay me tomorrow for my hours so far, but that money was going straight into my savings account.
I had a dull, nervous flutter in my stomach. I didn’t like surprises, and I had no idea what to expect from this evening. I was dating a girl last year named Lisa. She was very tall, almost my height, with a short blond bob that bounced when she walked. For my birthday she’d arranged a spur of the moment ski trip to New Hampshire. Most of the kids I attended school with didn’t want for money. Weekend trips were hardly unusual for them. But I had to work on the weekends. Lisa couldn't seem to understand that.
"But it's all arranged," she whined.
"I'm sorry. I appreciate the thought, but I can't go."
"But it's your birthday. You can take one day off for your birthday."
"No. I can't even take one day off. I can't do it.” I suppose I could have. In the long run, one day didn't mean all that much. But I didn't want to, and moreover, I hadn't planned to.
She stomped around my dorm room angrily because she had already spent the money. She called me rigid and unfeeling. That was pretty much the end for us. She took along some guy from her psychology class instead. By the next semester they were living together.
I checked myself quickly in the mirror. I had yet to arrange for that promised hair cut and long dark clumps hung in my eyes, over my ears and onto the back of my collar. I hadn't met up with a razor that morning either. I actually liked the unkempt look that I was sporting unintentionally. Pushing my wallet down into my back pocket and jangling my keys in my hand, I bounded loudly down the stairs.
Mom came out of the kitchen when she heard me. "I've missed the sound of you stomping around the house," she said sentimentally.
I kissed her on the cheek, and she smiled up at me. "Now be careful and remember if it starts snowing...."
"I know. If it snows I'll come right home.” For a moment I imagined how it would look if it actually did start to snow and I had to tell Seth and Eddie that my mommy wanted me home immediately. I laughed out loud.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, Mom. I'll see you later."
As I walked out to the car, I checked my watch. It was just after nine-thirty, and there was no sign of Dad. Could he be having an affair? It hardly seemed possible. Who would have him? Did he really meet his buddies every night after work? I felt a sudden bottomless well of pity for my mother. But I couldn't help think that if she was unhappy it was up to her to change things. Suddenly, I felt like getting very drunk.
The Southside Tavern was perfectly situated on a hill overlooking the infamous sea cliff and the wide expanse of black ocean beyond it. There was a red neon sign in the window that spelled out its name along with a tiny glowing sea shell in the bottom right corner.
I followed Seth inside the overly warm, smoke-filled room. It was late for dinner, and the tables which occupied space at the front by the door were mainly empty. The heavy oak bar in the back was surrounded though. There was no sign of Eddie yet.
We sat down on a couple of empty stools at the end of the bar. No one paid much attention to us. I had a fairly good fake ID which put me at about twenty-five, but I wasn't carded when I ordered a beer. I wondered where my father went to drink
after work. A part of me was afraid I might run into him here tonight. But this crowd didn't appear to be his type. Tom and the rest of his drinking buddies liked to sit around in a more social atmosphere, chatting with the waitresses and the bartender. This place seemed to be mainly for loners. It didn't take much imagination to see why someone like Eddie came here. There was a television mounted to the wall behind the bar. It was tuned to a hockey game.
I looked over the heads of the people in front of me to try to catch a glimpse of the sea cliff which I knew was just beyond the window. But there was only blackness, reflecting the sullen faces of Southside Tavern’s customers back at me. My own included.
While peering into the glass, I noticed the door swing open behind me. “Here he is,” Seth said beside me.
As he approached us, I saw that he looked different. Instead of the long hair he’d always worn, the back was cut short now, and the front just fell over his forehead. His face seemed thinner. When he stood before me, he extended his hand, and I realized that he looked very similar to his father now. His smile was wide, displaying his white crooked teeth. I reached out to grasp his hand, but before I could he swiftly pulled it away running it smoothly across the top of his head.
"Gotcha," he said, his dark eyes rimmed with laugh lines.
I forced a grin. "So what’s with the hair?” I asked, pointing up at his head. His father had always been after him to get a haircut. His response usually included some unlikely event occurring in hell or elsewhere.
He shrugged his shoulders in the careless manner I had seen many times before as he took the seat next to Seth. "I felt like a change."
Eddie called the bartender over and ordered a drink while Seth asked for another. I drank slowly from my own cool bottle while Seth and Eddie gulped theirs down quickly when they arrived.