*****
“Hey, Princess! How’s the weather in the Caribbean?” Bobby asked.
“It’s wonderful,” Piper said. “I’m sorry you guys aren’t here, but Mom wanted her Mommy and me time. But she’s waiting on e-mails and texts, so she’s still working.”
Sonya Neslund and Bobby Chambers, at their respective laptops, took in the Skype image of their friend Piper Jones, wearing a tank top and shorts, in the cabin she was sharing with her mother Robin aboard the Royal Caribbean cruise ship.
“Bring back lots of pictures,” Bobby said.
Sonya took in Bobby on the little screen in the corner. His blond bangs were swept to the side, his blue eyes with their impish twinkle. He had some acne on his chin, but covered the break-out with a little makeup. He was wearing a multi-colored sweater in red, blue, and yellow.
Sonya soon realized that Bobby and Piper could see her on their screens. Sonya, usually not self-conscious, smoothed down her orange-red hair and blue sweatshirt. The fifteen year old wore no makeup, and neither was Piper; her skin tan, thick blonde hair past her shoulders. Piper was a beautiful girl, big smile, high cheekbones. Sonya could admit she was a bit envious, but Piper’s warmth and generous nature made everyone like her.
“How’s your dad and Uncle Bill?” Piper asked.
“Oh, they’re fine,” Sonya said. “They plowed out the neighbors’ driveways. Uncle Bill always used to do that.”
“Do you think you’ll get snow days?”
“I hope so,” Bobby said. “It’s four below out there.”
“It’s eight-six above here.”
“Show off.”
“I miss you both. I’m a little bored, but the ship is docking at St. Croix tomorrow.”
“You don’t talk to anyone?” Bobby asked.
“Yeah. There’s some kids on the ship; they’re okay, but I’m just enjoying the sun. Mom can’t quit talking about her new clients, The Church of Mankind.”
“The crazy church,” Bobby said.
“Freedom of religion,” Piper chided. “The First Amendment...”
“Yeah, yeah. But you have to wonder how a church can believe in reincarnation and The Second Coming, but still find time to hate gays.”
“A confusing mix,” Sonya said.
“Mom supports gay rights,” Piper said. “So she’s not so sure about these people, but Mom says she’s going to ask for a higher fee. They just don’t want any harassment in Marine.”
“They’re going to get it, anyway,” Bobby said. “But don’t think it will be about The Church being anti-gay.”
“About what, then?” Sonya asked.
“They’re just weird. They sue people for disagreeing with them, people die or disappear.”
“Mom says they have too much money, being tax-exempt,” Piper said. “They’re too powerful, and they’re opening more churches across the country.”
“Even in crappy towns like Marine,” Bobby said.
“What are you going to do at home?” Piper asked.
“I have a paper to write.”
“Nothing for me,” Sonya said. “I already wrote mine.”
“I did before I left.”
Bobby sighed. “I hate you both. Why do I have to care about the Puritans so much? They would have hanged me with the witches.”
Sonya Neslund’s life, like that of her friends, had taken on some dull aspects since her young neighbor, Kyle Stone, had been revealed as The Ravisher just four months ago. His attacks had been a unique kind of evil for Marine, the small port city of three hundred thousand, who had never dealt with a psychotic slasher. His three victims were all classmates of Sonya’s from East Marine High School and Sonya would have been the last.
Kyle’s father Wayne Stone had been a member of The Blue Diamonds, a motorcycle club and a powerful influence in Marine in the 1970s and ‘80s, their presence still felt in spite of law enforcement shutting down their illegal activity, including drug trafficking and prostitution. A serial killer had also been in their midst, the bodies of several teen girls and young women found in the lake over a period of four years. Jimmy Hepler, another Diamond, was assumed to be the killer of these women, along with Wayne Stone. Jimmy had also kidnapped and raped a woman named Angela Kent, whose daughter Justine had been Piper’s best friend, now a patient at Haven Rest, a private psychiatric hospital for young people in Marine. Justine had known Kyle Stone was The Ravisher, stringing them all along, sending a deranged trans girl named Brandon Romeo, masquerading as a young lesbian named Ariel, to rape Piper. Bobby managed to save Piper, and Sonya escaped Kyle, who was now paralyzed, a bullet put in his spine by an undercover cop, the shooting taking place in Sonya’s backyard. Kyle was now in jail, awaiting his trial. His mother moved away with her other sons and the news trucks and reporters went away.
Sonya wanted to feel as if she had not been seriously affected, but she couldn’t lie to herself. The nightmares of her mother’s long battle with cancer were replaced by Kyle Stone in his ski mask; holding the knife, the cold, sharp tip grazing her cheek and chin. She would wake up, sweating and shaking. She would burst into tears at odd moments, such as when watching TV at home or sitting in class. Her father Aron wondered if she had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but Sonya would laugh, refusing to see a therapist.
“Besides”, she had said, “who can afford to see a shrink around here?”
Piper had admitted that she felt the same way. She was more careful speaking to strangers and social networking, which was how Piper had met Brandon Romeo in the first place.
“Sometimes I feel sad for no reason,” she said.
Sonya and her friends had gone through the Holidays enjoying the busyness and festivities. Christmas Day was quiet for Sonya, her first without her mother, but Piper threw a New Year’s Eve party at her house for half of their class. Chaperoned by Robin, the teens rang in the New Year with sparkling apple juice and pizza. They returned to school the same week, then Piper departed for her cruise. A raging snowstorm hit days later, Sonya and Bobby snowed in.
“They give names to the big snow storms now,” Sonya’s Uncle Bill Neslund had said. “This one was named Bernice. I knew a Bernice; she was a red-head. No! She was black...”
Bill had Alzheimer’s disease, early onset. At sixty-two years old, he had been forced into early retirement as a maintenance man at Marine’s paper mill; his days spent doing what he could around the house. With help from his younger brother Aron, Bill could still shop and go to doctor’s appointments. However, his days of small-game hunting were over. This time of the year, he would be ice fishing. The lack of outdoor activity made him restless and anxious.
Sonya, sitting at her futon in her tiny attic bedroom, shut her laptop. Bobby had also been down, but was better at hiding his real feelings than Sonya or Piper. Sonya caught the smell of beef and onions cooking. Aron was going to make his famous beef stew; both Neslund brothers divorced men for years before Aron moved into Bill’s house to help care for his big brother.
She heard a knock at the attic door. “Hey, Sonya! Help me peel these potatoes!”
She came downstairs to find Bill in front of the TV with Helga, the Boxer white with brown markings, her underbite giving her a falsely vicious look. Bill had recently received a haircut, his thick head of curly white hair more tame. His features were broad, his eyes a pale blue. He wore a flannel shirt over a T, along with gray sweatpants and slippers. Aron was at the kitchen counter, wearing a navy blue fleece shirt and jeans. He had not shaved, his stubble a mixture of gray and auburn, like the hair on his head. His features were similar to Bill’s, but his eyes were green, a trait he shared with Sonya. Both men were of considerable height and charm, making them two of the most attractive older men in the area. Women still flirted with Bill, not knowing early-onset Alzheimer’s ran in the family.
Aron handed Sonya a paring knife. “Bill can’t help. He wore his back out from shoveling snow.”
“I had to,” Bill said. �
�You’d never get to it.”
“I like to wait a day or two. Let it pile up. It’s not stopping, anyway.”
“I’m not shoveling tomorrow. Get the snow-blower out.”
“It doesn’t work.” Aron pared the carrots, the peel landing in the garbage pail. “Probably needs a new starter.”
Sonya grabbed a potato from the counter. “Do you think I’ll get a snow day tomorrow?”
“Probably. I wish I could go on a Caribbean cruise...”
“They’re docking at St. Croix.”
“Aw, man.”
“What’s a polar vortex?” Bill asked.
“Beats me,” Aron said.
“The Weather Channel says it’s colder here than in Antarctica. That’s what killed the dinosaurs, you know.”
“Another snow day, more laundry,” Bobby said.
He eased the basket full of towels out of the doorway, heading for the laundry room at the end of the hall.
Bobby’s days consisted of school, homework, and housework. His mother Delia worked full-time, frequently overtime, on first shift as a supervisor at Forge Plastics. Bobby’s older brother Rick had found his own place, convincing their mother he was taking his medication every day. Rick was bi-polar and prone to violence. Bobby was glad to see him gone, no longer a target for Rick’s rage and abuse. The last time, Rick had broken two of Bobby’s fingers. Friends had bailed him out of jail and he managed to stay away since.
Bobby never gave off the impression he was lonely, busying himself with friends and schoolwork. His grades were good; he liked to write and was enjoying his Spanish class, developing an interest in foreign languages. He covered his insecurities as an openly gay high school freshman by making jokes and using his wit as a weapon. However, Piper tried to keep her attraction to girls quiet. She had told Bobby more than once that he was the brave one, but being brave could be exhausting when the harassment and insults were daily. A pregnant student recently dropped out because the name-calling and put-downs were making her ill. A line divided the kids in the school district; conventional and unconventional. Acceptance was key; get good grades and agree with everyone else. For a kid like Bobby or Sonya, going to school at East Marine resembled a prison sentence. In the public school structure, every minute felt almost meaningless without the presence of friends.
Bobby didn’t notice the two men easing a battered recliner through the back door until he almost bumped into them. He slid against the wall, basket over his head, until the men passed by. Bobby saw the truck with boxes and furniture through the door. He thought new tenants moving in so soon after a winter storm was unusual; however, he didn’t give it too much thought as he started a load of towels in the laundry room. Since Rick moved out, at least he no longer had to wash his brother’s clothes.
“Hi. Um...do you know if the building manager’s around?”
Bobby turned to see one of the new tenants; a young man with light brown hair, wearing a red puffer coat, his head covered with a knitted gray cap. His cheeks and nose were flushed from the cold, heavy black gloves covered his hands.
He looked familiar to Bobby for some reason. “Mr. Fuller might not be here today. The weather...”
“Oh, right. Well, maybe we’ll catch him tomorrow.”
“Be careful. It’s not salted out there.”
“I noticed.”
“The heat’s on, at least,” Bobby said.
“You like living here?”
“It’s okay. We’ve been here for three years.”
“My name’s Archie.”
“I’m Bobby. I live just down the hall with my mom.”
Bobby noticed that Archie’s eyes were blue, his nose straight and long, his lips and chin small. He could have been the same age or a few years older than Bobby. Bangs covered his forehead, underneath the cap.
“You go to school?” Bobby asked.
“Not anymore.”
“Hey, Arch!”
The boy almost jumped. “Oh! Hey, I gotta go. Talk to you later.”
The Sons of Man Page 2