CROSSES TO BEAR
Things were going to be weird. So much had
happened, so much had changed. The world as Ray Mosley had come to
know it was not the same. It would never be again.
Ray raised his sunglasses to study his reflection in the bus
window. He was pleased by what he saw. He couldn't help
but marvel at what an improvement the 18-year old Ray was over previous
editions. His braces were a thing of the past, and his acne had
quickly vanished upon arrival on the west coast. He had let his hair
grow long and liked the way it framed his face. Ray knew that he was
still no pretty boy, but was convinced he was finally growing into his
own. The girls back home had never taken to him
before. He wondered what they would think of him now.
As different as he was, it was his hometown that had truly
undergone cosmetic surgery. A few minutes after passing the sign
welcoming one and all to Clemensville, evidence of this began to present
itself. The site of Ray's formative years now included a shopping
mall. It had been under construction throughout his
childhood. Grown-ups had discussed on mosquito plagued porch lit
nights how it would boost the town's economy. Kids talked in
excitedly reverential tones about the video arcade and six-screen movie theater
they had been promised. The future, though not quite living up to
such grand expectations, had nonetheless arrived. What was there
left for people to talk about?
As he walked the half mile that separated the bus terminal
from his home, Ray looked for signs of further change. Two blocks
from his destination he came across one.
He had thought Howard's Malt Shop would be around
forever. It had never failed to satisfy his craving for a rootbeer
float and the best burger and fries on God's green earth. The
building was still standing, but no Howard, no floats, no booth where he had
spent innumerable hours listening to the jukebox, spoiling his dinner, dreaming
about being someplace else someday.
"Hello, son. Welcome home."
The greeting was followed by a light punch on the
shoulder. Then Ray's father headed back to the living room where the
big screen TV featured a perpetually playing ball game, and a bottomless can of
beer sat on the coffee table. This less than overwhelming
demonstration was about as much affection as Ken Mosley had in
him. Ray didn't hold it against his father. People were
what they were. What he didn't get from his father, his mother was
more than happy to supply. But her presence was another feature of
Clemensville that had been relegated to the past.
Ray's parents weren't the best actors, but their performance
before a distracted audience of one had sufficed. He learned over
the phone while away at school that their marriage had been a farce the past
several years, running exclusively for his benefit. Until he was old
enough to understand. Until he was too far away for his pleas to
sway their decision. This was Ray's first time home since his family
had splintered. He was to spend half the summer with his father in
Clemensville, the other half with his mother at her new residence in Florida.
"I think the Braves are going to do it this year."
"Me too, Dad."
"Looks like this summer is going to be a real
scorcher."
"Yeah, it sure does."
They had exhausted their two standard subjects of
conversation. Nine months had passed since they were last in the
same room together. There was much to catch up on. Both
of their lives had metamorphosed. But they were used to
communicating through Ray's mom. That had been the set
routine. Speaking directly to one another for prolonged periods of
time would take some getting used to. There would be a lot of things
to grow accustomed to this summer.
"I'm gonna take a walk, Dad. Check out the
old stomping grounds. I can't believe Howard's closed down."
"He died."
"Oh. But still, did they have to replace the
malt shop with a Laundromat?"
"People need clean clothes."
"Yeah, I guess they do."
Ray didn't have a great many people to
visit. None to be precise. His only hometown friend still
had many more years of his prison term to serve. He and Carter would
not be spending this summer hanging out in Howard's Malt Shop. They
would not be sharing future plans with each other, or reminiscing about days
gone by. Childhood was officially over.
Ray found himself walking a familiar course, deep into the
woods, towards the lake. A light but persistent drizzle had kept
away the usual throng. The young and carefree of Clemensville spent
the majority of their summer hours frolicking here. From late autumn
through the blustery months of winter, it would belong to Ray and Carter
alone. Except for one night, when they managed to lure a visitor.
In another place, amongst people who were more open minded,
Ray and Carter would not necessarily have chosen one another for best
friendship. But in Clemensville, they were not been given many
options. Both of them being labeled outcasts from their earliest
days, they were either to hang together or go it alone in a town small enough
for everyone to know their names, but no one uttering them except in derision.
Their bond was based on believing themselves to be better
than what they had been born into. Even if they existed in their
neighbors' eyes solely as creatures to feel superior to. This was
because their fellow Clemensians were ignorant people, decades behind the rest
of America. They were frightened by all that was different, anything
that required adaptability on their part. It had taken till almost
the turn of the century to make their one dream come to fruition. The
actuality of that dream was four connected businesses. Vic's Video
Rentals, Bob's Auto Parts Store, Henry and Jenny's Ice Cream Parlor, and a
Gap. The Clemensville mall.
Carter and Ray knew that there was far more to the
world. How could there not be? Being the starting
quarterback or prom queen of Clemensville High could not possibly be the apex
of existence. They were treated as freaks, and though it hurt at
first, the friends assured each other that they wouldn't want it any other
way. The alternative was to be the same as these
people. Just about anything was preferable to such a fate.
Carter had possessed this self-assurance from the time he
was a toddler, but the young Ray had not been so sure of himself. As
a child, the cruel words and turned shoulders of classmates would send him
running home with tear-filled eyes. His mother would give comfort,
show that it was possible for him to be loved. His father would tell
him not to be such a sissy, and to cut out that racket which was drowning out
the ball game.
Then Ray befriended Carter, a kindred spirit who was also no
stranger to teasing and taunts. Carter taught him to think better of
himself than others did. He taught Ray the meaning of defiance,
helped turn his shame to pride.
Things went along relatively smoothly until high school,
when they realized how similar they were to their peers in one important
aspect. The hormones of Ray and Carter raged as strongly as anybody
else's. The two friends could not fail to be stirred by the passing
stream of girls who flaunted budding sexuality, but cast not a single
flirtatious peek in their direction.
For the average pubescent Clemensian male, the return of a
smile; the holding of a girl's hand; or a card on Valentine’s Day was
sufficient panacea for runaway longing. For the shunned and
secluded, a stronger sign of affection was necessary.
If the brothel displaced by construction of the Clemensville
mall had still been in business, things may have turned out
differently. Certainly, a dose of tolerance in a couple of girls'
hearts would have altered fate's path. But neither whores nor
humanity were in much supply, and that is why the decision was made and the
plan hatched.
Michelle Clark was right down the middle. Not
quite pretty or ugly, neither fat nor thin, not dirt poor but also far from the
glitter of middle class status. Yet her aspirations were nothing
less than full throttle. What she longed for was to be included in
the beautiful people's games. In order to fit in where neither her
genes nor fortune had placed her, Michelle did what she could to sneak
in. She slept around with guys who wouldn't pay her any mind any
other way, and had gotten hooked on the alcohol consumed to make this
bearable. For such behavior she gained a well-earned reputation that
spread so far, it even reached the ears of freaks.
It was Carter who came up with the idea. Ray
possessed the more fertile imagination, but his daydreams usually remained
unrealized due to lack of decisive action. Carter felt restricted
enough as things were, so felt little inclination to hold himself back.
The plan was simple enough. After a few drinks
together guards would be let down, inhibitions would lower, and things would
happen naturally. This was the conclusion reached by Carter, and
after Michelle agreed to join them by the lake to sample his uncle's bootleg
moonshine, Ray saw no reason to disagree. But very little of what
was to take place that night would be natural.
Ray came to a stop. He now stood in the same spot
where the heinous acts had been undertaken. A year ago he foolishly
thought that he knew himself, what he was capable of, where he would draw the
line. Only in his darkest nightmares could he possibly be capable of
what had taken place. As he would learn, not all nightmares required
that one be asleep.
It seemed reasonable and typical that the loss of their
respective virginities would be a joint effort. They had worked in
tandem since kindergarten, the strengths of one compensating for the weaknesses
of the other. Their "double date" started off smoothly
enough, with hits from a jug of liquor taking the place of conversation at
first, then eventually facilitating chatter. But in attempting to
make the transition from drinking buddies to lovers, things began to go
awry. Ray wanted to call it a night once it became apparent that
their attempt at seduction had failed. He was willing to accept that at least
they had ventured, though nothing had been gained. But he kept this
opinion to himself, for he didn't want to wimp out and break their pact to wake
up the next morning as men of the world. He figured that Carter would
eventually come to his senses. Instead, Carter willed that their
plan of action be taken to completion by any means necessary. Ray
followed his friend's instructions, just as limbs automatically obey the
decrees of the brain.
"I better head home now", Michelle had said on
that fateful night. "Thanks for the invite,
guys. This is some really kick ass stuff."
"My uncle makes the smoothest moonshine below the Mason
Dixon line", said Carter. "But let's not break up this
party just yet. Not when we're only beginning to get to know each other."
"If I drink any more I'll puke up every last
drop. And whatever we learn about each other now will be forgotten
by tomorrow. This stuff could make you forget your own name."
"This has been a lot of fun", said Ray, and indeed
it had been. Ray had initially been concerned that they would have
little to talk about, causing Michelle to quickly grow bored with them. But
their personalities turned out to mesh relatively well. It was
possible that they had actually found themselves a new friend.
"You know, I expected you guys to be weirder, the way
you always keep to yourselves. But you're okay. Of
course, that could just be the moonshine talking."
"We're kept to ourselves as much as
we keep to ourselves", said Ray.
"Huh?"
"I'm too drunk to say that again, but it definitely
made sense in my head."
The three of them laughed. Carter refilled
Michelle's glass.
"Don't think I don't know what you're up to", she
said in a casual, almost playful manner.
"What do you mean?" Carter seemed
genuinely perplexed by the statement.
"You've heard the football players talking about
me. No doubt about that. You figured you could work out a
similar deal for yourselves."
Michelle's frank words, stated without judgement, reminded
Ray of the evening's original intent. The combination of potent
spirits, easy conversation, and light-hearted laughter had temporarily put it
out of mind. Now it was back to the forefront of everyone's
thoughts.
"We're not trying to work out any deal here",
Carter said. "We're just hanging out, having a few laughs, and
we thought you would make pleasant company."
"Is that right?" Michelle seemed almost
convinced. Even Ray wondered if perhaps it was the
truth. The moonshine warming his insides made all scenarios
feasible. The fuzzier his surroundings became, the more muddled
their motivation grew.
"Sure is", Ray answered.
Carter finished off his glass in one gulp and shuddered from
the kick.
"Like you said, we're okay guys. No
different than those jerks, I mean, those jocks you usually hang out
with. They aren't any better than us, are they?"
Michelle didn't answer right away. The pause
created tension, or at least that was how Ray perceived the
situation. Alcohol tended to shorten Carter's temper, which wasn't
particularly long to begin with.
"No, not really", Michelle
said. "Good looks, great bodies and popularity aren't
everything, I guess. They aren't bad places to start, though."
Carter ran a hand through her hair. "You're
very pretty. Do those jerks, I mean those jocks ever tell you
that?"
Michelle's lips curled up slightly, but her attempted smile
was clearly a nervous one. She pulled her head away when Carter
tried to touch her hair again, and his hand ended up on her thigh instead.
"I think we're going to be real good friends", he
said.
"It's definitely time for me to go."
"No, you gotta stay just a little while longer."
"Sorry. Maybe we'll do this again
sometime."
Michelle started to get up, but Carter kept her down by
clutching onto one of her breasts. Ray was not surprised when she
slapped Carter across the face. He was, however, shocked when Carter
responded by striking her back with closed fist, bloodying Michelle's nose and
knocking her onto her back.
"Help me out here", said Carter
fiercely. Ray was temporarily mummified. It was not
supposed to go like this. It was not supposed to happen by force.
"Come on. You want to be a cherry your whole
life? If she can give it away to those assholes on the football
team, then she can give it up to us. We'll give it to her just as
good as them. We deserve it as much as them. I
can't do this by myself, Ray. Hold her down for ..."
Michelle's foot cut his plea short as it connected solidly
under Carter's chin, sending him reeling.
"You fucking freak", she screamed as she stood
up. "How dare you touch me? How dare you put your
disgusting hands on me? You're going to pay for this. I'm
going to make sure you're ripped apart limb from fucking mutant
limb. As if I'd ever let a monster like you touch me. As
if I'd even consider..."
An instant later, Michelle lay once again on the
ground. Ray stared for a moment at the fist that had landed on
Michelle's jaw. He had never hit anything that hard in his life, certainly not
a girl's face. Michelle's anger was certainly justified, but the
words she chose to express it with had caused something in him to
snap. He would not stand to let himself or Carter be verbally
abused. Anyone who insulted them to their faces with no concern for
consequences had better be prepared to swallow the words along with some blood.
Michelle was not likely bluffing when she said she would
make certain they would be made to suffer the consequences of their
actions. As Ray looked down at her, his life seemed to be unraveling
like a ball of yarn in the grasp of a kitten's claw. They had gone
too far too fast, and now there was no going back. The time for
apologies and letting matters lie had arrived and departed in the blink of an
eye. In its aftermath was a big mess that could not be cleaned up,
only made messier.
Carter let down his pants. He climbed on top of
Michelle and began tearing at her clothes. The booze and blows to
the face should have been enough to sedate her, but Michelle was a lot stronger
than she looked. Either that, or else the desperation of her terror
had kicked her adrenaline into overdrive. She knocked Carter from
off of her. He was simply not capable of holding her down long
enough to go about his awful business. He looked at Ray with no
attempt to mask how pathetic he felt.
"Help me."
And so Ray did. He applied his strength to keep
Michelle still while his best friend raped her. When Carter rolled
off a minute later, Ray straddled her to take his turn. Michelle was
no longer resisting. She was hiding someplace deep inside of her
psyche. A place she had no doubt run to many times before.
Nerves if not conscience rendered Ray's passion ineffectual.
As he looked down at the quietly sobbing girl beneath him, he could only think
that she wasn't the only one who had good reason to cry. So, he rolled off of
her. It was not lust, but reality that had begun to sink in.
They would be sent to jail. They would be
sentenced to the fate all freaks deserved - to live in a cage.
Killing her was mutually decided and agreed upon without a
word said out loud. It was too horrible a thing to talk about, but
as for doing it, no other option presented itself. They had their
futures to think about. Their entire lives had been spent dreaming
of escape from this place. Ray and Carter could have never conceived
the possibility of ending up someplace worse, and refused to consider this now.
Ray lifted a heavy stone that had been lying peacefully
beside the lake, serving no purpose other than to be part of the scenery. It
was thrust down to shatter Michelle's skull.
The murder was less than five minutes old, a decision as how
to best dispose of the body not yet made, when voices were heard. The party of
three was about to grow. There was no time for their crime to be
hidden, so the scene would have to be quickly abandoned. They began
to run, but Carter was at a major disadvantage. His left leg was
almost two inches shorter than his right. This, along with a right
arm that ended with a two fingered appendage that resembled a claw more than a
hand, were the crosses he had borne since birth. The
hunters (who were also up to illegal activities, since the season was over) had
no difficulty overtaking Carter, even with their senses dulled by several six
packs of beer.
Lack of pigmentation in his skin did not affect Ray's
running speed. He was therefore able to get away
cleanly. Once caught, Carter could have told of Ray's part in the
evening's exploits at any time. But he would never rat on his one
and only friend. Carter reasoned that Ray had more to be free for,
since he was all set to begin studying film in sunny
California. Maybe he would finally get a tan, Carter had
joked. Ray felt sick about the whole thing and came close to
confessing. But instinct for self-preservation and Carter's
reasoning silenced Ray's tongue.
"I was the one who initiated everything", Carter
had said. "You just followed my lead. Why should
both of us suffer? I can handle prison, but you I'm not so sure
about. Take care of your business at college. I'll be out
before you know it."
It was true that Carter had led the charge the entire
way. Until it was time to flee. Then he hadn't been fast
enough to lead anymore. He had fallen a distant
second. Michelle was of course, dead last.
Everybody in town was convinced that Carter couldn't and
wouldn't have pulled off such an act by himself. Ray and Carter were
each other's shadows. Wherever one was, there was the other. But
Carter confessed to doing the deed alone, and the law took him at his word.
In the months to follow, Ray habitually re-lived that night
in his thoughts and dreams. He feared that the haunting memory would
drive him insane. This was almost welcomed, for insanity was usually
accompanied by bliss. But as time passed, he became acclimated to
college life and the embrace of a community far more tolerant than the one left
behind. Ray's visions began to appear with decreasing frequency, for
shorter duration, with lesser clarity. His conscience was slowly but
surely yelling itself hoarse.
Now here he was, one year later, back at the site of his
darkest hour. Had his parents not broken up, Ray would have used any
excuse to remain in California between his freshman and sophomore
years. A second option was to stay with his mother in Florida the
entire summer. But that would have been unfair to his father, who
was unpracticed at being alone, who had uncharacteristically expressed a desire
to spend time with his son. So, Ray complied.
He looked across the placid lake before him, the only other
witness to his role in the defilement and deletion of a girl's
life. But Twainmark Lake was telling no tales. Therefore,
Ray stopped thinking of his guilt. Instead, he thought back to a
long ago day when innocence was not yet a faded memory.
"You're kind of cute."
"Huh?" Ray was convinced that his
imagination was playing tricks on him. It sounded as if fellow third
grade classmate Susie Bain had just called him cute.
"You heard what I said."
He resisted the urge to demand she repeat
herself. The girl whom he had the world's biggest crush on actually
liked him back.
"I like your white hair and your pink
eyes. You remind me of my Gerbil, Rudy."
His joy vanished. He had been
tricked. Susie was teasing the albino boy, just like everybody else.
"I'm not making fun", she said, having noticed the
change in his countenance. "I really mean it. All
these other boys look the same. But you're
different. You're special. You're ..."
"Cute?" Ray had to hear it
again. He needed the confirmation.
"Yeah."
His smile returned and filled the classroom with its
radiance. Then the voice came, first shouting, then singing.
"Hey, look everybody. Susie and Chalk Face
sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G."
Ray was no stranger to ridicule. He turned
towards Susie, but she was no longer by his side. She was a
stranger to the spotlight of humiliation and had decided not to stick around
for the next verse.
Acceptance had been close at hand. If Susie was
able to see that there was a real person beneath the pale flesh, maybe everyone
else would have come around as well. But then the lone voice of
Carter had risen above the din, alerting everybody and reminding Ray that he
would never be allowed to belong.
The rain was picking up, so Ray cut his reflections of the
past short. He decided not to return home by the secluded path he
had taken to the lake. Instead, he walked the shortest distance,
right through the center of town. He strolled casually up Main
Street, past the mall, where practically every single inhabitant of
Clemensville was gathered. There was a half price sale going on at the
Gap, and it would take a lot more than a few raindrops to keep the townsfolk
away from that. A long line of people stood impatiently outside of
the doors, hoping to purchase something before the stock was depleted.
Everybody's eyes fell upon Ray, as usual. Not a
word was said to him, only snide comments whispered under
breaths. This too was the norm. But when he turned
towards the crowd, this time no one looked guiltily away. They felt
that their superiority complexes were truly warranted now. After
all, they weren't looking down on a freak. They were condemning a
rapist and murderer of one of their own. They had no proof and
needed none and perhaps would have assaulted him in retribution had he not
raised his sunglasses and held them at bay with his stare.
There was something different about Ray
Mosley. It wasn't how he looked, it was how he looked
back. There was a message issuing from his eyes that seemed to say -
If I can take the life of one of you, I can take them all. And
nobody was willing to take him up on the challenge. There was no
telling what a freak was capable of.
Things were going to be weird. So much had
happened, so much had changed. The world as Ray Mosley had come to
know it was not the same. It would never be again.
@mudhousebooks Patches of Grey - a novel by Roy L. Pickering Jr. Available in print and kindle editions at Amazon. #booktok #stockingstuffer ♬ Gray - Ari Bose
@mudhousebooks Matters of Convenience by Roy L. Pickering Jr. (sold at Amazon)
♬ original sound - little4love
@mudhousebooks Coming soon one way or another: my latest novel - Second Shot #booktok #MSWL ♬ Second Chance - El DeBarge
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