Rebecca

The rain seemed endless.   All around me, the ground had turned into a boggy marsh.  The lightning surprised me more than the thunder, but neither could shake me from my grief.  I was alone now.  Nothing could change that and I knew it.  In my desperation to try to make sense of it all, I ended up at this clearing.   This seemed to be the place where it all started.  Perhaps this is where it should end.

It was incredibly hot that summer.  Hot and humid.  The combination of those two gets into your head and makes you a little bit crazy.  We were certainly crazy that summer.   When the dog showed up in our yard, it didn’t really seem like much of a big deal.   Animals came and went all the time.   But this one just stood there on the edge of the yard, staring at us with its dark eyes.  Looking back on it, I wonder if he was lonely or hungry.  I really wish I had thought about it back then.

At first, it was innocent.   We threw sticks and he ran after them.  He would chase us around while we ran.   It was fun.  Then my brother tripped and the dog jumped on him.  My brother didn’t like that at all.   It seemed like something welled up inside of him, something inhuman.  He grabbed the dog by the throat and drug him to the wood shed.   I followed, silenced by my brother’s intimidating glares. 

 

The first sounds were strange.   A squishy thud, a quite yelp, then just squelching and silence.  I stood stony faced and stared at the mess, at the death.   My brother told me to bury him in the clearing, this clearing.  It wasn’t easy to dig into the clay that summer.   I struggled at it and wanted to give up or ask for help, but my fear kept me in line.   I had no idea what my lack of courage would lead me into.

Over the years, the memory of that summer faded, but its influence never left.   Somehow, the act of burying that dog gave me a confidence that I could get through anything.   I made it through school and got a great job.   I was on top of the world.   That was when I met Rebecca.  She was everything I could ever hope for -- strong willed, attractive, and ready to take on the world. Oh, and a redhead.  That was a bonus.

We were doing well and living a happy life.   My life as a youth and that summer were a distant and never considered memory.  We were happy.   Then my brother showed up on my doorstep on night, a rainy night like this one.   He reeked of whiskey and women.  

“Let me in you worthless fag!” He yelled at the door as I struggled with my housecoat and made my way to the foyer.    I opened the door and let him in.

“What are you doing here?  Are you OK?” I asked, somewhat perplexed at seeing him after all of these years.

“Fuck yeah, I’m great! Helluva night!  One for the history books!” He winked at me.  

“You are soaked, why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a towel.”

“Fuck that, get me a drink!”  He looked down at himself and laughed.  “OK, and maybe a towel, too.”

“Just a towel.  He doesn’t need a drink, I can smell his stink all the way over here.”

It was my dear Rebecca.   She was standing at the base of the stairs, glaring fiercely at my brother.   She had never met him, but I had shared plenty of stories of my youth with her.   She never seemed to find any sort of affection for him.

“You have some nerve showing up like this.  Drunk, filthy, unannounced.”  She stormed over to my brother and glared up at him, her short stature betraying the viciousness in her soul.  

“Oh, but you are a fiery wench!”  My brother chortled.   “I think I have just one more in me.  You want me to tame this beast for you, brother?”

I was mute.   And I was enraged.   No, of course not, you pig.   You dare not touch my love, my life, my very reason for living.   And yet, I stood there mute, intimidated by my brother’s presence.   That same impotence I felt all those years ago.  He grabbed my Rebecca and threw her to the floor.  She fought of course and I stood there, a lame and useless excuse for a human.  Her eyes reached out to me, begging for help, yet I was paralyzed by it all.  

It did not take long for my brother to lose his temper and do the unthinkable.   As he wrapped his hands around her throat and crushed the life from her body, something stirred in me and broke me from my brother’s spell.   I screamed with a rage I did not even realize I had in me and tackled my brother.  It was too late.  He had robbed her of her life. 

I don’t remember what happened next.   The police said he was killed when his head caved in on his brain.  I remember wondering about the lead crystal vase and how its makers would never have expected it to be used in the way it was.  

I was never charged.   The police ruled Rebecca’s death a homicide by my brother and my brother’s death a result of me trying to stop him.   It didn’t matter to me in any case.   I stumbled through my weary life for a few months.  The consolations for my loss and atta-boys for my actions rang hollow in my ears.   Twice I had let a life be taken because I had not acted.  

And so I made my way to this clearing.   This place where I long ago buried my first victim.   My tears mean nothing compared to the rain coming down.   My grief and sorrow are a hollow tribute to the trust that was betrayed.   There is nothing left for me to do except make an offering suitable to the transgression. 

One slice and then another.   I feel nothing.   The crimson pours out and mixes with the muddy water below me, but I hardly notice.   I stare up at the rain falling down.  The night is beautiful.  As I fade to blackness, I think once again of Rebecca.  I hope she can forgive me.