Wish Me from the Water

CHAPTER 1

Jason brushed his dark bangs away from his eyes as he raced along the path to the high school. He was late, and he was supposed to meet his brother Tommy by the bike rack on the west side of the gym. He looked at his watch and was sure the game had already started. He was really looking forward to tonight.

Tonight was the season home opener for the Bluffington Shadows’ High School girls’ basketball team. He didn’t care to watch the game, but there was a girl he wanted to ask out after the game ended. Patricia Mackie was her name. She played guard for the Bluffington basketball team.

Jason didn't play basketball. Hockey was his game, and hockey took up nearly all of his, and his older brother Tommy's, spare time. Tonight was one of the few nights the Midget Triple-A hockey practice didn’t overlap with the basketball schedule.

He first spotted Patricia at the hockey camp tryout in early September. She sat up in the bleachers with the other girls. There were always girls in the stands at the Triple A tryouts and games. Patricia kept pointing at him, giggling to the other girls when he made another save. After each session was over, the girls swarmed the entrance to the rink, desperate to say hi to all of the boys they liked as they left the building. It took all of the nerve Jason had to open his mouth and say hi back to Patricia as he passed by her each time. He liked her, but he had no idea how to talk to a girl.

He finally decided tonight was the night he was going to ask her out on a date. That was the reason he desperately wanted his older brother Tommy to be there with him at the game. If any guy knew about girls, it was Tommy. He was the centre on the hockey team. Tommy never had a problem attracting girls. Tommy's star status as the league’s leading goal scorer was a huge girl-magnet everywhere he went.

Jason was almost out of breath, having run from across town. He brushed his long hair off to the side and turned onto the shortcut that was cut into the small ridge below Simon's Flattened Frog Bistro. The path started below Simon's and ran exposed along the hillside before it suddenly cut deep in through the dense trees. The shortcut dropped off a good quarter mile to the school as the main road swung out away from the bottom of the hillside, running parallel to Pinhole Creek. The patch of forest here was thick with old growth spruce, jack pine, and poplars. It was a common hangout area for kids; it only took a few paces into the brush to be out from under the wandering eyes of downtown Bluffington.

Patricia was still on his mind as he rounded a bend in the trail and spotted movement off to his left in a small clearing. It was Doogie Fisher and Willie Wahnkman holding someone down in the dirt, laughing and teasing him. Doogie was seventeen, the same age as Jason's older brother Tommy. Doogie always seemed to find trouble wherever he went, and Willie always followed right behind. Willie was a few French fries short of an order, as they say, and he always did what Doogie told him to do. Right now, Doogie was Willie’s teleprompter.

Tell him! Tell him what he is!

You're a faggot, Tim, Willie said and laughed. He looked smugly at Doogie for approval.

Tim struggled to sit up, but Doogie and Willie kept one foot each firmly planted onto his skinny back.

I'll let yous up but first yous gotta tell me what yous is, Doogie demanded.

No, Tim yelled spitting out dirt-spotted saliva.

Tell me, and I'll let yous up.

No! Tim said again, determined not to give in. He struggled some more, but it was useless. Doogie took his foot off Tim's back for a moment, flicked more dirt into Tim's face, and dropped with both knees hard onto his back. Tim yelled out in agony, and again tried to wiggle his way out. Doogie pushed down on the back of Tim's head making him eat dirt again before letting go.

Tim coughed and spit out more dirt. He opened one eye and tried to look around. The other stung with grit.

Jason stopped running when he recognized his small friend Tim. Tim lived on the east side of town in an area known as Townhouse Row. He played triple A hockey with Jason and Tommy. He was the youngest on the team and was small in stature, but he was fast and had very good hands.

Jason had his own run-ins with Doogie and Willie in the past, and he was not about to back away when one of his closest friends was on the receiving end. He charged through the trees into the clearing and tackled Doogie before Doogie had a chance to defend himself. Jason swung hard and quick. His fists pounded down, splitting Doogie’s lower lip wide open. Jason got in as many swings as he could before Doogie could turn things around and fought back. The only thing that always kept Jason safe from Doogie’s beat-down attempts was Jason’s persistence. He would never give up in any fight, and for every three or four punches Doogie landed, Jason always got at least one good one back. Doogie wasn't used to taking punches, and he didn't like it at all when he took one to the face.

Willie took his foot off Tim and turned his attention to Jason and Doogie rolling about on the ground. Tim used the opportunity to scamper away to the side of the clearing where he stood up and wiped the dirt from his face with his sleeve. He watched uneasily as Jason and Doogie continued to exchange blows.

The two boys wrestled in the dusty earth and continued to throw punches. The two kept trading blows until they stood chest-to-chest across from each other. Doogie shoved Jason away hard with both hands. Jason staggered back a few steps but managed to keep his balance while keeping his eyes on Doogie.

Both boys were exhausted from the short scramble. Doogie pressed his fingers to his lips and pulled them away seeing blood.

Yous're dead, Jason, Doogie said, flustered. Doogie always talked with a slur, and there was a noticeable deficiency in his sentence structure.

We'll c'mon then, Jason replied. He lifted his hands and beckoned with his fingers.

Doogie wiped his mouth again.

C'mon, big man. It takes two of you to pick on someone Tim's size? He's half your size, Doogie!

Tim's a faggot, Willie said from the side and laughed. He looked first at Tim and then over to Doogie and Jason.

This seemed to settle Doogie, and he looked back at Willie approvingly. He is a faggot. You knows it, Jason.

Tim stood at the side of the clearing. Colour drained from his face.

You're the faggot, Jason responded, standing his ground.

Doogie pointed his finger at Jason. Yous better watch your back because this ain't done yet.

Jason moved to the side of the clearing towards Tim and ignored Doogie. He asked Tim if he was okay. Tim nodded while spitting out another clump of dirt.

Sometime, somewhere I will get you! Doogie shouted. He touched his lip and felt it beginning to swell. And yous too, Tim. Yous're both dead. Next time when yous doesn't have Jason here to protects you. He stared at Tim. Fricking faggot, he mumbled, and motioned to Willie. The pair quickly left the clearing in the direction of downtown.

Jason stepped up close to see if his friend was all right. Tim immediately shoved Jason away hard. Back off! he shouted angrily.

Jason stumbled backwards. It's okay, Tim, they're gone, he said. He tried to calm Tim down, but Tim stood there shaking his head side-to-side violently. He stared at Jason with a distant and vacant expression.

Jason approached Tim again, but Tim stepped back, extending his hands out in front of him ready to push Jason away if he came any closer. Tim continued his shuffle away from Jason until he stumbled and fell backwards into a small shrub at the edge of the clearing.

What's the matter with you? Jason asked. He was very concerned about his friend's odd behaviour, but Tim said nothing. He lay spread-eagle upon the shrubs shaking his head.

Let's go home. I'll walk with you, Jason offered. His friend was more important than any girl or basketball game. He reached his hand out towards Tim.

Tim shook his head. No! I'm not doing that. He scrambled back up on to his feet. I can't do this anymore, he cried out. He turned and ran off through the forest towards town. Jason watched him leave, not sure what he was supposed to do. He eventually chased after his friend. Jason was extremely fit and caught up to Tim easily. He walked next to Tim through the dense trees keeping a good eight feet between them. He wasn’t sure what had set his friend off.

What was all that back there about? Jason asked.

Tim stopped walking, and kept his stare straight ahead without looking at Jason. It's too much. I just don't want to do this anymore.

Do what anymore?

Tim slowly turned to Jason. Live, he blurted out.

Jason shook his head slowly from side to side. You don't mean that. Those guys are just assholes and you know it. They get me all the time too, so you can't give up because of them. Look at my face from Doogie's punches, he said, pointing to his own swollen lip and dirty, bruised cheekbone.

You don't understand. It's not them. Tim stared at Jason as tears fell down his face. Do I look like a fag to you? he asked.

Jason snickered, What do you mean? Those guys call everybody a fag.

I asked you a question, and it's not funny. Do I look like I'm gay?

Jason hesitated. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. You look like everyone else.

Tim began to sob. He sat down on the leaves and twigs and gestured Jason to come near. I gotta tell you something, and you can't tell a soul. You hear me? Not a soul.

Jason nodded and sat down next to Tim on the moss that covered the forest ground.

I never told anyone this yet, but... Tim wiped away a few tears that had fallen down his face. He sniffled and caught his breath. And I'm not gay.

Jason shook his head, It didn't matter if you were, Tim.

It's just... He hung his head and sobbed. I've been buggered.

Jason frowned. He didn't quite believe what he heard. He asked Tim to repeat what he said.

I've been buggered, Jason, and I want it to stop... and I don't know what to do.

Who? was all Jason could ask. He found it inconceivable that his friend Tim was being molested. Tim only shook his head, and Jason prompted him to tell him more. Who's doing this?

Again, Tim shook his head. He wouldn't say who it was. The two boys sat in the forest. Neither one said anything else for some time. Jason's cell phone rang. He saw it was his brother Tommy, and he pressed the ignore button. Tommy was probably still waiting outside the school and wondering where he was.

Jason seriously wanted to know more. Who could possibly do such a thing to his friend, and what was actually done to him? Thoughts raced through his mind. Where and when? He wondered how long Tim had suffered. Was it an adult in Tim’s home? Someone else he knew? Doogie? He suddenly shouted out before he could stop his voice. Doogie? Was it Doogie?

No! Tim shouted back. It wasn't Doogie. Nor Willie, or anyone our age.

Oh, sorry. Jason knew it was an adult. So you're not going to tell me who it was?

I can't, Jason. I can't. You wouldn't understand. He stared firmly at Jason as if he wanted to say more and then looked away dejected.

Try me, Jason pushed, but Tim wasn’t going to say more. Over an hour passed as the two sat in the forest. Tim refused to talk about who it was, and Jason did his best to offer only his ears. He didn't ask any more questions about what went on, but he hoped Tim would open up with more on his own. Tim cried and Jason told him that it was okay to cry. The sun eventually settled behind the mountains to the west, and darkness fell by the time the boys walked out of the forest. They discussed nothing more.

Jason offered to walk Tim home, but Tim insisted he needed some time to himself before he went home. Jason didn't like the thought of leaving Tim on his own, but relented. Tim turned and headed back into the forest along the path down towards the high school alone, while Jason followed his own way home through the centre of town.

Jason walked away but was deeply bothered. He wanted to turn around. Part of him shouted deep down inside and insisted he must turn around and follow Tim. The conversation amongst the twigs and darkness of the forest wasn't finished. He finally stopped when he was about halfway home. He looked across town in the direction of Simon's Bistro and the path Tim had followed back into the trees. In his heart, he felt a terrible darkness he never knew he could feel: His friend was in trouble, and he didn't know what to do.

CHAPTER 2

Sarah glanced out the kitchen window, turned to check on the salmon that baked in the oven, and watched for Gerald's truck to arrive. The sun had already set, and the last of the blue glow had long since faded behind the mountain peaks. Gerald still was not home from work. She knew what she was in for, and it was going to be all her fault again. The salmon was all dried out. The baked potatoes were shrivelled and began to collapse inward. The only thing salvaged was the peas, and that was only because she had not yet thrown them into the microwave.

She poured herself another glass of wine. It was her third as she waited for Gerald. Waited was the right word. She always waited. What Gerald wanted, Gerald always got. Supper: hot and ready on the table when he walked in the door. A cool beer ready for his consumption in the fridge. Her legs wide open whenever he wanted them there.

She was tired of this game.

The lights of Gerald's truck suddenly shined through the front window onto the wall as he pulled into the front drive. Sarah dumped the remains of her wine quickly into the sink and placed the empty glass in the back of the dishwasher. She had to be quick. She popped the peas into the microwave, opened the oven and began to plate the food for both of them. She had to be sure not to forget a cold one from the fridge.

She heard the truck door slam as she rushed to set the two plates down onto the table. She sat and then straightened her dress and hair. She looked across the table at the two plates and cutlery. Something was missing.

Gerald's beer! It was still on the counter in the kitchen.

The front door opened as Sarah rushed back out from the kitchen with Gerald's beer in hand. She caught Gerald's stare as she placed the beer next to his plate and sat back down. She swallowed hard and read his eyes immediately. They said, Let's get it started.

CHAPTER 3

Tommy waited at the bike rack for his younger brother, Jason, for more than half an hour. It was uncharacteristic for Jason to be late. He called him on his cell, eager to get inside the gym after hearing the shouts and cheers from the spectators inside, but the call went to voice mail. He didn't leave a message. He finally went inside and searched for his friends, Bobby and Ricky. He spotted Bobby waving at him from the back of the seats near the top. Ricky sat next to him with his eyes pointed downward at the play down on the court.

Tommy gave a quick wave back and worked his way through the crowd. It wasn't easy for someone like Tommy to walk through a crowd unnoticed. He was the star of the Midget AAA team. Tommy was tall and lean. His light blonde hair was short, almost military in style. He was the league-leading scorer, and it seemed that everyone knew who he was. He worked his way towards the bleachers and acknowledged the comments from fans as he passed through. Great start to the season, Tommy! Way to go, Tommy. Good game last Sunday! Going all the way this year, eh, Tommy?

He maneuvered his way through the crowd, smiling and acknowledging everyone who commented. For Tommy, his responses just came naturally: a handshake back to an outstretched hand; a thank you here and there; a big smile or simple nod. He had his fans. The entire town loved Tommy, and he accepted his minor celebrity status graciously. The one to watch for in Junior A, the papers wrote.

Tommy was already more than good enough to play Junior A and was invited to camp tryouts, but Tommy's dad, the coach and trainer of the Midget AAA wouldn't let him. He wanted Tommy to bask in the limelight for one more season. He could be the league-leading scorer for one more year, and the MVP for one more year. There were still more records to be broken. He wanted that feeling of being the best buried deep inside Tommy so he wouldn't forget what it was like when he played Junior A next year.

Where's Jason? Ricky asked knowing he was the reason Tommy waited outside.

Tommy just shrugged, looked down towards the girls on the court and smiled. Ricky shook his head, rolled his eyes and nudged Bobby on the arm. Look at him. Already at it with the girls.

The boys watched the rest of the game. The Shadows won, easily beating the South Calgary Cheetahs ninety-two to sixty-eight.

The crowd cleared quickly, and the boys lingered outside the back exit of the gym. It was late and they all had school in the morning. They were just about to head back along the path through the forest to town when Tommy spotted their teammate, Jason's friend Tim, sitting alone on the post-and-rail fence on the far side of the parking lot. He stopped and stared at Tim for a moment. Something didn't look right. Tim was alone, his hair was mussed and his clothes looked dirty and disheveled.

Hey guys, you go on ahead, Tommy said. I'm just going to see Tim over there for a sec. I'll catch up with you. Ricky and Bobby looked over to see Tim backlit by the street light. Bobby turned away and began to shuffle himself down the path alone before he realized Ricky wasn't following.

Ricky, c'mon. I gotta get home. I'm late already.

Ricky played hockey with Tommy, Jason and Tim, but quit at the end of last season. He was in grade twelve with Tommy and was a natural at hockey. He played right wing to Tommy's centre and was instrumental in helping Tommy win the scoring title last season. Ricky wouldn’t offer up any reason for quitting other than he wanted to do something else.

Bobby didn’t played sports like the rest of his friends. He was a year younger, in grade eleven with Jason and Tim, and he had his own problems. He was born with deformed legs, and it took years of surgery and physiotherapy for Bobby to progress to where he could walk without aid of crutches. Only a shuffle of the left leg remained, and he was told it would be with him forever. Bobby's mother still doted on Bobby. She was very strict and demanding, and she treated him as if he was made of porcelain at times. Getting home late was not on option for Bobby.

Ricky! Bobby yelled. I gotta get home.

Ricky continued to watch Tommy as he reached Tim in the parking lot. Tim jumped from the fence as Tommy neared and darted out towards the street. Tommy followed close behind. As he watched Tim scamper away with Tommy chasing after him, he felt something deep inside him hurt and he swallowed hard. Ricky really wanted to follow Tommy and Tim, but Bobby yelled at him again.

Okay, I'm coming! Just shut up already! Ricky shouted back. He turned and ran the few paces to catch up.

What's the matter with you, Ricky? You don't even like Tim. Why do you even care about what's going on over there?

I don't care, he lied to Bobby. He walked on a few minutes in silence. Tim's okay I guess. When we played together last year, he was just an ass to me all the time… trying to check me into the boards all the time in practice, or tripping me up. Shit like that. He'd really piss me off. Sometimes when he'd see me wide open going for the net he'd refuse to pass the puck to me. He always seemed to have a chip on his shoulder.

Hmm, was all Bobby replied. Bobby never talked hockey. He was always a good listener and the other boys knew it. They could say anything to Bobby without being judged and know he wouldn't repeat it. Bobby lived across the street just four doors down from Tommy and Jason. They had all become close friends over the years. Bobby bonded more with Tommy even though he was Jason’s age.

I don't know why he didn't like me, Ricky pondered aloud.

The two walked along the path through the trees back towards the centre of town. It was eerily dark in the trees, and Ricky was glad for it as he wiped away at his eyes. Bobby couldn't see he was almost crying. He felt something as he had watched Tommy chase after Tim, and it hurt inside. He knew he would have to talk to Tim eventually.

CHAPTER 4

Gerald slammed the front door and glared into the kitchen at Sarah seated at the table. Sarah forced a smile, and kept her eyes downcast; she pretended not to see the rage set on Gerald's face. She knew how to behave when he was like this. Usually when he was late from work, he was drunk, and tonight was no exception.

Supper’s ready. Come sit, she said pleasantly, and patted the seat next to her. She dared not look up at him yet. Not until he spoke. Only then would she know how intense tonight was going to be.

Damn fucker! Gerald shouted. That God damned idiot Danny didn't put the load on the back of my truck properly. Lost most of it pulling on to the highway out by Baxter's garage. Spent most of the last hour picking up two by fours and shit from all over the road!

Sarah knew better. Gerald was drinking, and he probably got into another scramble at the bar, hopped into his truck and pulled out in a tear onto the highway. It was most likely his own damned fault.

Oh babe, I'm so sorry, she apologized. Gerald tossed his jacket onto the couch and walked into the kitchen. He left his dirty boots on. Sarah's eyes dropped to watch the muddy chunks fall onto the carpet.

He's in for shit when I get in tomorrow! I'm telling you.

Gerald sat down at the table and caught her as she looked at the chunks of mud. What are you lookin' at? he yelled.

Big mistake. She knew better than to stare at the dirt that fell from his boots. Gerald raised his hand in the air, ready to backhand her. When I'm speaking you look at me! You understand me?

She got it. Tonight was going to be very intense. She looked immediately up at Gerald and nodded.

Gerald lowered his hand and began to eat. Sarah followed Gerald’s lead, being sure not to eat faster or slower than he did.

Salmon, he said.

You like salmon, Gerald. I thought tonight I'd make you something special.

Gerald picked away at the salmon. He cut into a potato. Dried out shit, he said. You cook like your God damned mother.

Gerald slammed his fork and knife down on the table. He glared at Sarah and suddenly pushed his chair away and stood up. He reached over, grabbed Sarah by the neck, and shoved her face down into her plate. If I wanted slop to eat, I'd a married a fucking pig farmer!

Sarah struggled to free herself from his grasp. Her arms were outstretched, but Gerald repeatedly shoved her face down into her plate.

I hate Salmon! I hate fucking peas! You like peas so much, well eat these! he screamed, and shoved Sarah's face all over the plate again. The peas and potatoes mashed into her eyes and up her nose.

Sarah tried to scream but couldn't. His grasp was solid. He lifted her face off the plate and slammed it back down hard enough to split the plate in two. Sarah flailed her arms and knocked the butter and Gerald's plate to the floor. A trickle of blood dripped onto her plate from the cut on her forehead.

Gerald grabbed her by the hair and sweater and dragged her from the table down the hall towards the bedroom. Sarah tried to scream, but her sweater was pulled up high and choked off her air supply. He threw her on the bed and told her he was going to show her who was boss in this house.

You stay right fucking there, and don't you dare move a fucking muscle! he shouted and left the room.

CHAPTER 5

Tommy approached Tim where he sat on the fence in the parking lot. He could see something had happened; Tim's shirt was torn, his hair was a mess, and there was dirt smeared across his hands and face.

Tim, what happened? Tommy asked.

Just go away, Tommy!

Tommy moved closer, but Tim jumped off the fence and ran a few paces towards the dark street in front of the school.

What happened?

Go away, Tim said again and darted towards the street. Tommy followed quickly behind. Tommy couldn't help himself; he had to follow. Not only was Tim a teammate and one of his brother’s best friends, Tommy couldn't help but step in when someone, anyone, was in trouble. Tommy was that way with everybody. He certainly wasn't about to let Tim walk away without knowing what had happened.

Tim ran down the sidewalk that followed the main road towards downtown. Tommy followed and called out for Tim to stop, but Tim ran faster. Tommy followed relentlessly, block after block. Finally, Tim tired and slowed to a walk, and Tommy caught up to him. Tim was crying.

Who did this to you? Tommy asked.

Tim just shook his head. You don't know nothing.

Maybe I don't. But I want to know who did this to you.

Tim stopped sharply and took a swing at Tommy. Tommy tried to dodge to the side, but he was too slow, and took the punch solidly on his shoulder.

Shit! What was that for? he asked and held his shoulder with his other hand. That frickin' hurt!

Tim turned and walked away not answering. Tommy followed.

Tim suddenly turned back and screamed at Tommy. Would you just leave me alone?

I can't do that. Not until you tell me what's going on.

Tim stopped. He was furious at Tommy, and his eyes were red and puffy from crying. You don't know nothing, he said again and walked on. Tommy reached out and grabbed Tim hard by the shoulder. For Christ sakes, Tim. I thought I was your friend. What did I do? I just want to help.

Tim turned back with his hand raised, and fist clenched. He was ready to slug Tommy again. His face grimaced with anger. You really want to know who did this, Tommy? Because if you do, I will tell you, but you really don't want to know! You don't! So if you ask me again, Tommy… you should just bugger off and leave me alone!

Tommy raised his hands in self-defense. Whoa. But I do want to know.

Jesus, Tommy! You just don't see it, do you? No one does.

Tommy shook his head. He didn't understand Tim at all.

Tim finally had enough. He stepped forward and shoved Tommy hard with both hands. Tommy stumbled backwards. You don't get it! Tim shouted. He stepped forward and shoved Tommy again with both hands. You don't, do you?

Tommy stumbled back again. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew his friend was in serious distress.

None of you see what's really going on. Not you! Not Jason. No one!

Tommy looked back at Tim whose tears etched dark channels of grime down his sad face.

Tim stepped up and shoved Tommy hard with both hands one last time. You wanna know who did this to me, Tommy? He stared at Tommy and stuck his finger in Tommy's face. Your dad did this to me! Your dad!

My dad beat you up? What are you saying? Tommy replied defensively.

Fuck, you’re stupid! Tim screamed. Just like everybody else! He kicked Tommy in the shins as hard as he could, ran off, and left Tommy to collapse on one knee and watch