Walking Among Birds

by Matthew Hickson

  “Yes, Father, we will,” Jack answered.

  Upon that final promise, the twins bade farewell to the priest and went to start on their way back to their rooms. It was as black as coal outside now. The moon would be absent all night, the sky looked like a raven’s feather. The boys walked and talked, and talked and walked. Fr Culpa’s story seemed true, but they were filled with curiosity. It had shed a lot of light on his life, but had not done anything to explain Tom’s death.

  So they hatched a plan. Lorenz had always taken more of a shining to Jack than he had to Peter, so Jack would go and talk to him. Peter, meanwhile, would go and try and get some information from Cole, as Jack couldn’t even bear the thought of going and spending time with Cole again. So they climbed those stairs that they had ascended so many times and remembered the first time they had climbed them, the memory of Tom carrying their cases in front of them now seemed like a perverse miscarriage of justice. What had seemed like a day full of opportunity and the promise of a new life now seemed like the start of a dark spiral of death. At the top of the staircase, they went their separate ways, Peter heading to Cole’s room and Jack going straight to find Lorenz. Little did they know it would be the last time they climbed those stairs together.

  CHAPTER XII

  “One of the greatest tragedies in life is to lose

  your own sense of self and accept the version

  of you that is expected by everyone else.”

  —K.L. Toth

  Jack found Lorenz in his room. He was sitting on his bed just blankly staring forward. He didn’t even notice Jack knock on the open door the first time, but quickly whipped around in a fright the second time that Jack knocked.

  “Lorenz,” Jack pleaded as he invited himself in, “if you know anything about Tom’s death, and I suspect you do, then you need to tell me about it.”

  “I, well, I…”

  “Please, Lorenz, I can help you if you tell me what happened.”

  “Okay…but will you do something for me?”

  “Anything, Lorenz. Anything.”

  “Will you sleep in my room tonight? That bed is spare.” He pointed across the room. “I’m scared, I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Okay, yes, I guess I can do that. Why are you scared?”

  “I told Fr. Culpa everything and the police are probably on their way now, as we speak. And if Cole finds out and comes and finds me, he’ll kill me. I need someone here to protect me.”

  “Okay, Lorenz. I’ll stay. Why would Cole want to kill you? What did you see last night?”

  “I hit the bag early and went to bed before lights out,” he started. “I was still a bit shaken by what had happened in the dining hall and I had the trouble falling to sleep. But then just before midnight, I was shook awake by this big shadow of a man. At first I thought I was dreaming, but it turned out to be Cole. I asked him what he was doing and he told me to get up, get dressed, and come with him. He said he wanted to sneak Tom out and talk to him, perhaps rough him up a little. So in my half asleep state I agreed, and went and woke Tom up softly, telling him what Cole had told me to. ‘Charmaine wants to talk to you,’ I said. James briefly woke up and sleepily asked what we were doing, so I told him we were just going for a walk and that we’d be back soon. Tom got dressed and wiped the sleep from his eyes, walked along with me. He seemed pretty excited, I guess he thought that Charmaine had been impressed with his exposé. Well, we went down the stairs and out a side door where we knew no one would be watching. And I…”

  Lorenz was starting to get teary again, as he let out a deep sigh.

  “I led him right out the door that Cole was waiting next to, and he pounced and grabbed Tom, lifting him right off the ground. He covered his mouth with one hand and hoisted him up under the armpits with the other. I had gotten him ambushed. I followed them into the forest and Cole took a role of gaffer tape out of his pocket to cover Tom’s mouth with it. He screamed, but it was muffled so much by the tape that it could hardly be heard. We started heading towards the lake, all the while Cole held Tom’s hands behind his back, pushing him along as he stumbled over the tree roots and uneven ground. I followed silently, trying to figure out what Cole had in store for him. We were getting near the lake now, and then we stopped. Cole pulled Tom’s shirt off over his head, undid Tom’s belt, and slid his shorts to the ground. It looked like we were going to the lake to dunk him in. And then he turned to me. ‘Take your shirt off, Lorenz,’ he ordered. ‘But it’s cold out here,’ I said. He told me just to do it, so I did it. Then he told me to take my shorts off too. ‘If we’re dunking him in the lake, I’m not going in to. It’s too cold,’ I said. He just rolled his eyes and then whisked Tom away again, this time heading deeper into the forest. We stopped again. ‘Take your shorts off,’ he repeated to me, ‘or I’ll take them off for you.’ I could hear the agitation in his voice, he was losing it. He was actually turning insane right in front of me, turning into an animal. So I reluctantly took them off, and there we were, two young boys standing in their underwear on a cold, dark night, a much larger figure looming over the both of us. I asked what we were going to do to him and he told me that if Tom liked Charmaine so much, he would have to settle for her brother. I looked at him in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’ I questioned.”

  Lorenz told Jack exactly what Cole had in mind, though I feel that this is not the place to write it. We will maintain the decorum of this retelling of events and just say that it was something that disgusted Lorenz, and something that he would never willingly do. But he was afraid and Cole was a formidable force.

  “My heart started pounding, I could hear it beating in my head and feel it in my neck. Cole put his hands down the front of Tom’s underwear and…” Lorenz broke down in tears again.

  “‘Take your underwear off, Lorenz,’ he ordered. I just stood there—my mouth wide open, shaking my head in disbelief. He lunged towards me, grabbing the waistband, but I jolted away and they snapped back on. I turned and I ran, as fast as I could. Once I was far enough away, I put my shorts and shirt on again and snuck back into the college, going back to my bedroom, barricading the door with that bed and sitting up all night waiting for the possibility of Cole turning up. I don’t know what happened after I left. I didn’t dare look back.

  “You didn’t tell anyone when it happened?” asked Jack.

  “No. I guess I was too embarrassed, and scared. I thought about it, honestly I did. But it weighed on my mind all day so I decided just a couple of hours ago to tell Fr. Culpa, who was going to go call the police straight away and have them take Cole.”

  I wish here that I could tell you that the police arrived and arrested Cole and that they all lived happily ever after. But unfortunately, I cannot tell a lie. Because who should enter the door at that moment but Peter, looking furious. He rushed up to Lorenz and grabbed him by the collar, but Jack pushed him away.

  “How could you?” Peter yelled. “Cole told me everything. You’re sick, you know that?” He turned to Jack, “Lorenz killed him and he told Cole the plan before he did it. I checked with James Copperfield as well, Lorenz woke Tom up and they left his room together.

  “Peter, calm down. Think about it logically. Lorenz wouldn’t do that. Cole’s lying.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down, jerk!” Peter yelled, pushing Jack off him.

  He had the same manic look in his eyes that Cole had had in the forest. He was out for vengeance. By this point, Lorenz had backed against the window, his eyes full of horror and fear at the unstoppable anger he saw in Peter.

  It was all over in a matter of only a few seconds. Peter charged towards Lorenz, trying to tackle him down so that he could get a square fist to his face. But instead, the window behind them broke under the force of two bodies being thrust towards it, and they fell down in a tangle of arms and legs. I cannot describe the sickening thud of them hitting the ground, nor the feeling of Jack’s stomach dropping. From the window high above, Jack could see Lorenz stand
ing up, gripping his arm and wincing in pain. But Peter remained lying on the grass, silent and lifeless.

  CHAPTER XIII

  “In Him was life, and the life was the Light of

  men. The Light shines in the darkness, and

  the darkness did not comprehend it.”

  —John 1:4-5

  People may wonder why I have decided to write this whole saga down or from what sources all my information hails from. The events of those harrowing months were soon obscured by other newsworthy happenings, and St. Benedict’s slowly faded out of the spotlight of local scrutiny. The story, like all stories, eventually became an “oh yes, I think remember that,” and a “what year was that then?” among the locals, so much so that the local town was at risk of losing the true story of what had actually transpired.

  To this curiosity, I will answer them. My name is Jack Lapin, and when I was a fifteen-year-old boy, I saw first-hand how horrendously disgusting people can be.

  The days following Peter’s tumble out of the window with Lorenz went by in a blur, so much so that I think my subconscious has actually tricked my mind into blocking it out. Peter survived the fall, but never recovered. He suffered a debilitating neck injury and was made a quadriplegic, never able to use his arms or legs again. He’s still alive, but incapacitated. He struggled physically and mentally for a few years after the accident, I guess you never really get used to something like that. He never married or had kids, but he does find joy in sitting in his wheelchair on his porch staring out across the fields, especially at sunset. He recently took up poetry, he has a lady come in twice a week who he dictates to and she writes it down for him. His poems are actually very good. Like all of us, he has some good days and some not so good. He never returned to school or worked when he came of age—after all, what could he do? The mental stress is the worst for him, the idea of what he could have become had his life progressed unhindered.

  Lorenz visits him almost every evening on the way home from work. He picks him up for church every Sunday morning with the du Sabre clan and they all go out to lunch after. As I mentioned before, Lorenz began to change the night Tom died. After the accident with Peter, he became a changed man. Years later, he got married to a nice girl named Grace and had two handsome sons and a beautiful daughter. I sometimes tag along with them for lunch and get to see the fuss of the young du Sabres arguing over who gets to sit next to “uncle Peter” each week. I asked him once what caused him to change his ways, whether he had found God in the darkness and despair of that time. His answer was that he hadn’t found God, but that God had found him and dragged him along kicking and screaming. After all, God wasn’t the one who had been lost.

  They’re a wonderful little family. Lorenz and Grace are madly in love and their children are happy and healthy. The boys remind me so much of their father when he was in school, except they’re much nicer. They inherited his chiselled jawline and bright eyes. And their young daughter, Épée, has Charmaine’s eyes and sandy hair, as well as a lot of wry wit just like her aunt. Lorenz became an advocate for the rights of people with disabilities. He was extremely successful in his studies, earning a masters degree and a PhD, but in the end gave up all of that to create a charity, The Steerforth Society, a clever play on words about steering the lives of children forth in the world. He lives a humble life with his wife and children, enthusiastically tackling anything he feels needs mending. You’ll often see him volunteering down at the op-shop on Saturday afternoons with his family, or find him running a game of bingo down at the old folks home on a Friday night. He never sees a need that he doesn’t try and fulfil nor a yearning that he doesn’t try to satisfy.

  There was never enough evidence to convict Cole of anything, and the eventual verdict was that Tom had tied the dumbbell to his own foot. From the moment Lorenz left Cole with Tom on that night, nothing could be proven, even the autopsy found nothing suspicious except for pool water. The final verdict was that Lorenz was telling the truth, but that after Lorenz left, Cole left Tom alone shortly after. I doubt we’ll ever know what really happened that night. Cole was moved to a special school to reform him and was made to do community service, but only for a short while before his life intersected back into normal society.

  I don’t talk to Cole or Charmaine now; I have no reason to. Lorenz tells me they got married and had a girl they named Raven. To all intents and purposes, they lived happily ever after. Raven’s grandfather, Lance, dotes on her and supports the family. He found Cole a prestigious job managing the main power plant in the city—he’s in charge of many people and makes a good wage. They have everything they ever wanted.

  Lorenz stays in contact with them, trying to persuade them to change their ways. They don’t approve. I actually bumped into Cole the other day while walking along the street. I tried to avoid him but he recognised me in a heartbeat and made his way across the street to heartily shake my hand. I was not as zealous. He told me about his life, how everything had been going well. He told me he had heard about Peter’s circumstances and that it was a shame.

  “I don’t understand why Lorenz spends so much time on him,” he complained. “If you can’t help them all, what’s the point in helping any of them?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

  “Well, you know, it’s not as if he can solve all the problems that every downtrodden person has. Why bother helping any of them? If you can’t fix a problem, there’s no point trying. And he has three kids to look after, you’d think he would be prioritising them with what little money he has. I don’t know what his problem is.”

  “What his problem is? Well I don’t know exactly what you mean but I’d say it’s fairly obvious you have something to do with it. He still thinks about Tom’s death a lot, and about Peter, if that event is even something you’ll indulge to remember.”

  “Now look here,” he was starting to get defensive, “if you think I haven’t had my fair share of suffering during the years between then and now, well I have. Life has been hard on me too. And we can’t all just flip a switch and pretend we’ve become better people. In some ways I wish I had taken the fall out the window – wouldn’t have to go to work every day, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, anyway, I best be off…nice seeing you again Cole,” I lied.

  “No problem. Nice seeing you too, Joe.”

  “Jack,” I whispered inaudibly as he walked away.

  There was no point discussing it with him. I could tell that, to him, he had done nothing wrong, that things had just worked out the way that they had and that they had worked out well for him. So I bid him adieu and continued on my way. I assume that at some point, whatever has been holding him and Charmaine together all this time—their huge excess of money, their over-enthusiastic sex drive, or perhaps simply their nonchalance for the outside world—won’t be enough and that their marriage will collapse. Although, saying that, I don’t hate Cole. Far from it in fact. I don’t think I’ll ever understand him or Charmaine as human beings, but I can’t hate them. They’re just being themselves.

  Lorenz, on the other hand, still tries to sway them. He doesn’t see them as much as he would like to, but they’re now the only family he has. He was completely disowned by Lance when he refused the call to the military life. He still sends a Christmas card each year to his dad. I actually had the pleasure of reading last year’s card before he sent it, here it is translated from his scrawling French handwriting:

  Dear Father,

  Joyeaux Noel and happiest of greetings to you. We do hope to hear from you soon; the children would love to meet their grandfather whom I know they would love very much. We are happy and healthy.

  With much love and prayers for you from my part of the du Sabre family: Lorenz, Grace, Felix, Épée, and Thomas.

  As for everybody else involved in these events? Well, they went their separate ways. Charles Latan was fired in disgrace after the inquest. Mrs. Culpa also decided to step down from her position and the
school continued on without them. Father Culpa died last year after a short but aggressive battle with cancer. Peter and I went to his funeral, along with Lorenz’s family. The Blacks were nowhere to be seen. It was a beautiful service, hearing about all the lives that he had touched through his short but meaningful existence on this earth. Lorenz, who had become good friends with Fr Culpa after his time at school, read a letter as the eulogy. After the funeral, we had tea and biscuits back at his place and I managed to get a copy of the letter. It had been given to him by Fr Culpa the day after he tumbled out the window with Peter.

  Dear Lorenz,

  I understand that the last couple of days have brought great distress and hurt. It has brought sadness and disillusionment to us all, but perhaps most of all to you. Always know that I am here to talk if you need to, and that my door is always open.

  People often ask me to explain my faith. I tell them to look carefully at the world: the way the breeze rustles through the leaves on a cool evening in autumn, or the splash of colours that lights the sky at sunset. Listen to the birds as they each sing their unique song in the morning, or simply be still and contemplate how perfect the world is in its imperfection. Look closely as each uniquely formed but symmetrical snowflake makes its own way in the unforgiving blizzard, and revel in the hope that the first blossom of Spring brings. We don’t need to ask God for a sign, he’s already given us one and called it the universe.

  But remember this: if we are to change the world, rather than just intend to do good, we must sometimes make sacrifices. Think of the apple tree that stands outside the rectory: the bench underneath it was made from one of its brethren, and yet it shelters passer-byes without complaining.

  In life, some of us are born to be priests, and some of us are born to be philanthropists. Some of us play sport, and some of us draw pictures. Some of us will be butterfly catchers, and some of us will collect antiques. Some of us are destined to be struck by lightning, and some of us will do nothing particularly noteworthy at all. No matter what our lives turn out to be, know this: it is never too late nor too early to be the person you want to be. Never.