| Something about a fishing trip. Yes, that was it. The dream-like blackness swirled in his head. He couldn�t remember too clearly. Something about a fishing trip�him and Ben. This was the first thought that let Louis Baxter realize that he appeared to be conscious again. What had happened? For some reason an uneasy feeling crept over him. He tried to open his eyes but his muscles refused to respond. He was suddenly aware of a sick, nauseating feeling in his stomach that throbbed in matching waves with a splitting headache. It was then that he realized he�d been hearing the soft, rhythmic sound of the ocean along and had not taken notice. His body finally allowed him to flex a leg muscle, and this suggested to Louis that he was somehow sitting upright. Once again he struggled to lift his spinning head and strained to open his eyes. The setting sun was still bright enough to hurt his eyes and smear his vision with murky light. Slowly the deck of Ben�s boat began to materialize a few feet in front of him. Beyond it was an empty stretch of ocean that went as far as his clouded vision could see. The setting sun cast what seemed to be a field of crimson fire upon the vast sea. �Louis?� called Ben Mitchell�s disembodied voice from somewhere off to his right. �Louis, are you awake?� Ben�s voice seemed tense and strangely echoed. Louis strained to turn his head. A few seconds of focusing revealed what appeared to be Ben sitting restlessly in a lounge chair several feet from him. Louis swallowed dry nothing. �Ben?� His voice was hoarse and sounded very loud inside his own head. �Hello Louis.� Ben stood up. At fifty-three he was still in good shape but his knees cracked as he rose. He was wearing his favorite clothes that Louis always saw him in when they fished; plaid shorts, a Maine lobster tee shirt and a weathered, Boston Red Sox baseball hat. His wispy, grayish hair was now stuck to his brow with a nervous sweat. He had the silver lining of a two-day beard across his face that he always got on their weekend fishing trips. It was then that Louis saw Ben�s eyes, and as they locked for a brief moment Louis saw them quite clearly; cold, empty, and full of hurt and blood red hatred. Good God, thought Louis, he knows! He finally knows. A sudden panic quickly stirred deep inside him as he looked down to see himself securely tied to a wooden chair. As sick and disoriented as he felt, he began to understand the situation perfectly, yet somehow he was still confused. Without thinking, he began to speak. �Oh God, Ben, I never meant for this to happen, so-� �Spare me the bullshit, Louis,� Ben said shaking his head mournfully. He looked up at Louis and gave a phony, distant smile. �I bet you don�t feel too well.� Louis didn�t. Everything somehow seemed unclear and blurry. The increasing panic made his swelling nausea even worse. He had the disoriented feeling of drunkenness and his stomach burned with an unnatural acidity. His mouth felt dry and scorched and tasted of stale bile. His mind could not focus on any of his thoughts correctly, everything was swirling about and seemingly disconnected. �Ben, what have you done to me?� �It�s not what I�ve done to you, it�s what I�m going to do to you, friend.� said Ben Mitchell sadly. Louis�s mind began racing. This is not fair � I was going to tell him. I was going to tell him soon about us and ask for his forgiveness. What have I done? He then remembered the moment that he first slept with Abby. Ben was on one of his three-day business trips to Boston. It wasn�t planned (or was it?). He was only checking up on her because he knew how she got when she was home alone for days at a time, and it just happened, and then somehow continued to happen. Louis hated himself for it. Ben and Abby had been his closest friends for the last twenty-five years. He couldn�t help it. He simply could not help it. He spent the first two years after his wife�s death alone, living everyday with the memories of the horrible accident that claimed the life of his beloved wife of twenty-three years; the rain pouring down, the windshield fogged, the drunken bastard in the red pickup. Alone for so long. Abby understood though, and Louis felt as though she loved him just as much as she loved Ben. Abby! �Oh God Ben, what have you done to Abby?� �Nothing,� Ben paused, �she doesn�t even know that I know.� He looked to the sea and lowered his head with a slight sob. �Louis, how could you do this to me? How could you do this to us?� Louis didn�t have an answer, although he had pondered the question many, many times. Naturally, Louis never wanted to hurt Ben. Ben had always been like a brother to him since they had met in grade school nearly five decades ago. Louis looked at him sympathetically. �Ben, please understand, I am sorry, I am so, so sorry. I was going to tell you this weekend and ask for your forgiveness. I hate myself for this, Ben, you have to understand that I was so alone.� Ben turned towards him; a maniacal grin covered his face. �Oh, forgive you?� He stepped closer; his bloodshot eyes piercing Louis. �Forgive you for sleeping with my wife behind my back every God damned time I turned around? For lying to me? Deceiving me? Louis, you took away the most sacred thing in my life!� He was now inches away from Louis�s face. Louis could swear he felt steam raging from him. �Ben, I didn�t take her away, she loves you very much.� Louis said desperately. The sweat was now rolling down his placid face in beads. �You will always mean more to her than I ever will. You know that.� Ben stepped back and fumbled in his breast pocket for his cigarettes. �It doesn�t matter, you betrayed me,� his voice stinging a sensitive spot in Louis. How many sleepless nights had Louis sat up thinking about the time when Ben found out about their affair? How many times he had thought about the betrayal of his most loyal friend? Louis could never figure out just why he did it. He never had any sexual feelings for Abby when Ellen was alive. Ellen was the love of his life. Theirs was the rare example of the fabled perfect marriage. Louis could never have children, but Ellen understood. Ellen was so understanding about everything. Her death took a major toll on Louis�s life. He had seen the red pickup coming that night, and he could have stopped, but he didn�t really think the guy in the truck was going to keep coming. The next thing he remembered was being in the hospital with two broken legs, two fractured ribs, and a three-inch gash on the right side of his face. The doctor told him that Ellen had died during the accident and there was nothing they could have done. After getting out of the hospital, Louis spent the next six months in the solitude of his home, blaming himself for not stopping that night. If he had only stopped. Oh Ellen, I am so sorry. Somewhere in the back of Louis�s mind he could see Ellen watching his every move. She was always watching, watching with cold lifeless eyes that penetrated deep into his being. But now she was pointing an accusing finger at him. He began to weep. Not only did he cause the death of his beloved wife, he also destroyed the relationship with the two only other people that he ever really loved. Now it�s time to pay the price, finally. �Ben, so what�s going to happen to me?� he sobbed, trying to move his hands that were tightly tied around the back of the chair. �It�s simple Louis,� Ben said lighting his cigarette with a shaky hand. �I asked you on a fishing trip, I drugged your beer, I tied you up, and now I have you miles out in the ocean without a soul around and I�m going to kill you�. Louis felt his heart skip a beat. This can�t really be happening. This was going way too far. �You can�t be serious?� he said pathetically, full knowing that he had never seen Ben more serious. �What else could I do?� Ben raised his voice, �Did you expect me to put all this on the back burner or something? You were my best friend, you lousy bastard.� �Ben, I am your best friend.� His words were slurring like he was in slow motion. �It was so wrong, I suffer for this in my own way. Did you think I enjoyed doing this to you? I never knew how to tell you.� Ben chuckled, but said nothing. �I even have nightmares,� Louis continued. �Ben, I couldn�t take the guilt any more, I was going to tell you this weekend, I swear to God.� His brain felt dulled as if pressed upon by a twenty-ton weight. �What difference would it have made if you had told me, Louis? Then I wouldn�t have you where I have you now,� he said sarcastically with cigarette smoke streaming from his mouth and nose. �You can�t just kill me Ben, the police will find out as soon as you get-� �Do you think I care?� Ben raged. �You don�t seem to get it Lou, do you? You have completely ruined my life. Everything I have ever done to make Abby and me happy was crushed by your greed. I can�t get much more miserable than this. The thought of me spending the rest of my life in jail is better than thinking of you fucking my wife. She was mine, God damn you!� His voice boomed echolessly into the emptiness and shook Louis to the bone. Then Louis heard the first thing that should have gave it away. As Ben�s voice rattled in his head, Louis realized that he also heard �To Be Mine� by the Moody Blues playing somewhere faintly in the distance, but he couldn�t figure out from where. How could Ben know that song had a special meaning to him and Abby? He is playing some sort of cruel trick. What has he done to her? He could have only got that information from deep inside her. �Ben, I�m confused, what�s really going on?� Ben threw his unfinished cigarette over the rail and once again said nothing. Louis began to really panic. What has Ben done to me? What have I done to myself? For some reason he knew his end would come like this. He had lived the past three years in torment of his guilt, and this seemed like a fitting end. If he had just told Ben about them sooner, or if he had never touched Abby in the first place, none of this would be happening. Paranoia swept over him, as he thought of himself dying, alone out here in the ocean, while being mentally tortured in such a cruel way. �Ben, listen to me. I understand how you feel, but you�re not thinking rationally. Cut me loose and we can talk this over . . .you don�t want to do this.� Ben chuckled. �I know Ellen�s death is an excuse, I know you were lonely. Well, I don�t feel bad for you Louis, you killed her.� He glared at Louis with cold, glossy eyes. �You killed her, and you got off because the other guy was drunk, but I know it was your fault. You could have stopped. You should have stopped, but you wanted to play games because you were pissed off at the guy in the pickup for cutting you off. You didn�t think I knew that, did you?� Louis was in awe. It was true. He could not imagine how Ben knew that. He never told a soul. Not even Abby. It was something he could not even admit to himself. Again, Louis remembered the horrid moment. �Ellen was torn right in half. She was still screaming when she realized that she had no lower half and she would soon be dead, all because of you, Louis, all�� �Shut up!� Louis screamed. Ben�s words sounded as if they were whispered by some evil demon, teasing him, conjuring up the most vivid wounds in Louis�s memory. �Please shut up, how can you say that? How can you do this to me, Ben? How?� Ben stood tall, �How could you sleep with my wife, huh, friend? Wrecking one person�s life wasn�t enough for you?� There was silence between them. The Moody Blues song continued its ghostly tune. Every note struck a vision of Abby. He had met Ellen through Abby on a blind date. They had gone to high school together, and although Louis and Abby were never involved, they had been good friends. He remembered all the good times they shared; weekend trips, summer vacations, nights of fine dining and theater when everyone was happy and Ellen was alive and Abby and Ben were as close as always. Then he remembered the funeral. As he sat in his wheelchair and listened to the priest, he wept. He had lifted his head to see Ben and Abby. Ben had his head down, but Abby was looking right at him. Her thoughtful eyes were full of all the hurt and sorrow that Louis believed he felt. She just stood there looking at poor, pathetic Louis and crying. Vividly he recalled seeing Ben and Abby standing there in funeral attire, and he felt cheated. Why couldn�t it have been Ben�s wife? Why Ellen? Why? Ben began a stroll around Louis�s chair. �It�s judgment day, Louis, and you deserve what you�re going to get.� Louis swallowed, �What have you done to me Ben?� not really wanting to hear the answer. Ben stopped his pace right in front of Louis. �I simply gave you something to help you along your trip.� Again, there was that little evil voice that didn�t seem quite like Ben�s. �What trip? Christ, what have you done?� Louis began to squirm helplessly in his chair, trying to free himself, but his body was ill and weak. Ben lit another cigarette. �You probably can�t see your feet, but there�s a . . .well, I�ll just show you.� He grabbed Louis�s chair and with a quick motion spun it around. Louis�s head rattled and his vision turned gray for a moment, making him just about heave. He looked up to see a huge square cinderblock the size of a large tombstone balancing on the edge of the deck, just short of falling into the dark sea. Ben sighed and walked over to it. He reached down to pick something up, but Louis could not quite make it out, but then he heard it; a familiar, chilling rattle. A chain! A chain that was connected to the slab of stone and then to his . . .oh no! Louis frantically tried to kick his legs, only to find them secured. �Don�t worry,� said Ben, �the chain was too big to use on your feet, so I fastened it to the bottom of the chair�. Louis froze with fright. He squeezed his eyes shut. This cannot be happening. �I had to even use your chainsaw to carve a decent runway out of the deck.� Louis saw the mutilated area of the boat in front of the stone that teetered on the edge, inches away from falling into the now foreboding sea. He began to plead. �Ben, you don�t know what you�re doing. Let�s be rational. Please, please Ben, don�t do this!� Ben returned to his lounge chair. �Not to worry Louis, I�m not going to do it right this second. You still have a few minutes to make your peace. Besides, I want some time to say goodbye to you before I send you straight to hell.� �Ben,� he gulped, �please listen to yourself, you can�t just kill me�Ben, I saved your life one time, you must remember that.� �You saved my life, and then you destroyed it. It would have been different the other way around, but we�re not even. I owe you,� Ben said slowly, �I owe you, friend, and you�re going to suffer for ruining the lives of your three closest friends. In a few minutes I�m going to push that rock over the edge and you�re going to go with it. The water is really deep here, Louis. How long do you think you can hold your breath? Do you think you can make it all the way to the bottom with one breath of air, or will the pressure crush you first? Your ears are going to pop about once a second at the speed you�ll be going. Louis, it sucks to be you.� �Good God Ben, what do you want from me?� Louis wailed loudly. �What do you want from me!? I�m so sorry. You don�t know, you can�t even understand. I�ve always been sorry. I know how angry you must be, but this is fucking nuts!� �I don�t want anything from you, except for you to suffer like I am,� Ben said calmly, �such a shame Louis, I never dreamed for a minute . . .� �How did you find out?� Louis asked through his shortened breaths. � You were sloppy.� Ben murmured. �You think I never noticed the way you two look at each other? Do you think I didn�t notice the change in our relationship since you killed Ellen?� �I didn�t kill Ellen!� Louis yelled. �Oh, but you sure blame yourself for it. Don�t lie to me, Lou, I should know.� A glint in Ben�s eye sent a shudder through Louis. �Christ, Louis, I could smell your aftershave in my own bed when I came home from a trip.� Louis ignored his statement. �I didn�t kill Ellen, you bastard, I loved her.� �Go ahead, lie to yourself, it won�t make a difference. It�s not going to save you.� Ben began to laugh, �It�s not going to save you,� he repeated. The Moody Blues song continued, or did it start over? Louis wasn�t sure. It seemed like it had been going on for hours. Louis was beginning to lose what little sanity that he had left. Ben�s laughing echoed in his head, growing louder and louder. He tried his best to block out the sound. He shut his eyes tight, but in the blackness appeared Ellen. She was trying to tell him something, but she couldn�t talk, she was bleeding to death, broken glass and metal was twisted into and around her. Her fading eyes fixed onto Louis�s, �Louis�� her lips parted, �you k-k-killed me Louis, you killed me to sleep with my best friend.� Her teeth were stained with thick, fresh blood. �No, no, that�s not true!� Louis was screaming out loud hysterically. �No one is going to hear you, Louis, scream all you want.� Ben�s voice pulled Louis out of one hell and back into another. �It�s almost time to say goodbye.� Ben walked over to the cement block. Louis began ranting. �Please don�t. Please, Ben, don�t kill me.� Tears and mucous rolled off his face. Ben smiled. �That�s right Louis, beg, c�mon, beg for me to spare your worthless life.� What more could Louis do? He felt insane. �Please Ben, I�ll do anything you want, let�s talk this over!� �I�m real sorry Louis, but this is already your third chance at life. You skipped out on dying in a bloody mess like Ellen did, you lived through a stroke in your sleep a year later, you should already be dead, Louis, then none of this ever would have happened. To think I pitied you. Poor Louis loses his wife and then has a stroke, probably because of it. I stuck with you through all that and what thanks do I get? You used me.� �That�s not true. This is all just a mistake.� Louis felt more guilt then Ben would ever know. Ben has it all wrong. He didn�t kill Ellen. He didn�t mean to take Abby from him. He was so tired of feeling responsible. It wasn�t his fault, was it? �It�s not my fault, it�s not my fault,� Louis murmured to himself over and over. �Oh yes, it is your fault, and now it�s time to pay, Lou Baxter,� Ben said with finality. He moved towards the rock, and leaning into it he gave it a push that budged it an inch or so over the edge. �Wait!� Louis screamed, �Ben, p-please, please�� He was crying like a baby. He did not want to face death, not like this, in such a horrid way. He wasn�t ready. He needed to see Abby, he needed Ellen, but he had betrayed them all, and himself. He never felt so alone. The sun was almost out of sight. The sky was smeared with a dark, red and orange color. The ocean now looked black and cold and fatally menacing. Louis could only see the silhouette of Ben pushing the huge slab over the edge, one grunted nudge after the other. The Moody Blues music was echoing in his head, Ben when laughing, he was crying, and the end was here and now. �Wait, God, please! Ben, wait!� Ben�s outline looked like that of an executioner wearing a great black hood against the bleeding sky. �It�s time to pay Louis, I�m sending you straight to hell where you belong. You are done ruining people lives. Goodbye, and have a nice trip, asshole.� �I�m sorry, I�m so sorry. No! Ben, don�t! Don�t!� his screams were almost inaudible. Ben�s final push sent the block over the edge. In an instant, Louis felt his chair jerk violently and fall over, smashing the side of his face hard against the deck. Without the slightest pause, Louis was dragged, chair and all, in fast pursuit after the sinking block. His final view was obscured by saltwater splashing up into his eyes from the huge piece of cement that was racing a several yards in front of him as he plunged into the sea. It happened so fast that Louis was still screaming when he hit the water, and he didn�t have time to get a good last breath of air. Theoretically, the suffering should have been quick, but to Louis it seemed like an eternity. Sinking deeper and deeper, he held what little breath of air he had in his lungs. In his mind he was still repeating, �I am so sorry.� The water grew darker and colder, and even as it was racing up his nose and flooding his ears, he still refused to drink his death. The pressure seemed to be crushing his face. A sharp pain jolted through his jaw. His chest exploded with a searing pain. He couldn�t hold his breath a second longer. His lungs screamed for air for which there was none. Please God, I�m so sorry. So sorry. He couldn�t breathe. His body jerked, and then jerked again. So, so sorry. Had his body jerked any harder, Abby Mitchell probably would have woke up and had time to call for an ambulance, but she was sleeping too deeply beside him. After all, Ben wouldn�t be home from Boston until Friday. It was four hours before she would wake to realize that Louis Baxter had died in his sleep. WRITINGS HOME |
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