Chapter 37

Walt Fisher

It was all like a bad nightmare, a dream that he just couldn’t wake up from and yet in his heart he knew that it wasn’t a dream, that it was all real and yet somehow he felt that if he just held on, just kept going, that things would work out. After all, surely God wouldn’t forsake him? Not after all he had done to be a good Christian and all, going to Church on Sundays, raising his boys believing in God and the teachings of Christ, surely God wouldn’t forsake him.

As he sat on the hard bench against the wall holding Marilyn’s hand, he wondered what God’s grand plan was and why it had reached out to strike at him of all people. He had tried to be good, had followed Christ’s teachings as best as any man could and here he was, one bright flame of his love about to be buried and another having turned into a sinner of the worst kind, how could God do this to him? Surely there had to be some reason for this horrible test that he was being forced to face? Surely there had to be a reason and if only he could figure it out, maybe then he wouldn’t feel this way, feel so lost and so filled with anger and despair.

Sitting there like some criminal only made his anger grow, as he wondered why Marilyn couldn’t see her own boy had merely expressed what he knew many other’s in the community must feel. After all the Jews were the devils own, condemned to wander aimlessly for eternity because of their murder of the saviour, so how could anyone really not understand what young Neil had done, and that is of course assuming he had done anything. The cops always liked to blame whomever they could catch, not necessarily the guilty parties, such as those two Jew boys who weren’t even questioned after finding his poor Justin. Why weren’t they in jail now, answering questions? It wasn’t fair and he just couldn’t figure it out, why was God not coming to his rescue? Why wasn’t God reaching down with his avenging sword to protect good Christians like him?

His anger was real and justified and yet it seemed like no one else dared express their true feelings for fear of offending those who daily sinned against God and Jesus. How was it that the likes of those could get away with all that they did while innocents like his poor Justin were left to suffer and die needlessly? He had been a good father, Justin had been a model son really, listening to him and trying to please him in every way possible, so why had God let him be taken from him? Why?

It just didn’t make sense as he sat there, his hand trembling a little and as he fought desperately to hold back the tears that welled up constantly as he suffered with his loss in silence. There was no way he could let these people see his pain, it wasn’t manly and yet he knew they would understand, he could feel their sympathy but still a real man didn’t give into those unmanly emotions, it just wasn’t proper. His heart ached though and he wished he could simply leave and go to the cabin, to the last place where he and Justin had been, where he had found the pure joy of being a father last and now he knew that would never happen again.

Sure he had helped other boys just as he had helped his own, after all it was his duty as a father to share his knowledge, to give them the guidance that all young boys needed in growing up but it wasn’t the same as watching your own flesh and blood achieve the success because of your help. That was the ultimate reward and with both of his sons, in the beginning at least, it had been that way. Robbie had such promise, such talent and then he had thrown it all away, leaving just Justin to carry on and to fulfill his destiny, to be a true son to him. Funny really, he had always thought that Robbie would be the shining example, the one who would inspire Justin more than him, but with Robbie’s disgrace, his conversion to the dark side, it had once more fallen to him to show his youngest the true path, and he had, of that he was certain. Justin was coming along in ways Walt had never seen with Robbie.

There was no mistaking Justin’s own natural talent, even though his temper was not as good as Robbie’s, even though he was prone to letting his emotions run wild and lash out, he still had more raw talent than Robbie, more fire inside really and that made him more of a man than his brother could have imagined. Justin would have been a real leader in the army of man had he lived and that thought made his whole body shudder a little. ‘If he had only lived’ echoed inside his head and he lowered his face, feeling his loss once more, feeling like God had suddenly deserted him and he couldn’t understand why, he just couldn’t understand why.

Somehow he knew he had been lacking, had missed something that should have tipped him off about Robbie and yet as much as he had thought it all out, as much as he had gone back into the vaults of his memories, he just couldn’t figure out what it was that he had missed. Surely there would have been some sign that Robbie was slipping from his control, from his chosen path, and yet as much as he had agonized over it, he just couldn’t find that missing piece, that one part of the puzzle that maybe would help explain all this. How could he be so blind and yet as he thought about it, he knew that it had to be something that was maybe beyond his own control? Maybe that was it, maybe he just had to accept that the forces of evil were greater and more devious than any simple, God fearing man like himself?

He looked upwards, searching the empty ceiling to see if maybe some answers were there but as his eyes stared upwards with a blank look, a darkness descended on him as he saw a young Robbie, him and his friend climbing a tree down at Beacon Hill park and he could see them laughing with each other. Robbie had never liked heights and yet there he had been, climbing with out a care or so it seemed as he and his friend scampered up the huge tree, going from branch to branch as if they were merely walking along a narrow sidewalk. Strange how the mind could play tricks on your thoughts, because, as the memory came to him, he also remembered the looks that both boys gave him, not one of adoration as he had been used to, but one of sullen quiet, as if they were afraid.

Funny, there was never any reason for any of his kids to be frightened of him, after all he was a good father and sure he disciplined the boys, it was his duty when they stepped out of line but it was never done out of hate or out of petulance, it always was for a reason, a means to teach them the valuable lessons of life, so how could they ever be afraid of him? It just didn’t make sense and as he sat there, the looks flashed before him, nagging at him as if maybe in those looks lay the answer to his questions; but it had to be a mistake, they never really looked at him that way, did they?

Strange to be sitting in the police station wondering how he was looked at by all the boys that he helped and yet maybe that was just part of the grieving process. He knew that his life had been changed in a way he had never imagined and even though he had lost both of his boys, he couldn’t just stop being who he was could he? He still had others to consider, Neil for example, which was why he hadn’t hesitated to come to Marilyn’s aid. After all while Neil wasn’t blood, he was as close to being a true son to him as Justin had been. No, he couldn’t very well ignore his responsibilities even though he was in such pain and feeling such loss.

He let his head slowly return to a normal level, no longer glancing up at the ceiling as he turned now and stared at Marilyn. Her fear was very real and he couldn’t understand why the police were making this so difficult for her, it wasn’t like Neil had any record or was even a bad boy. He was a good kid who simply had acted out of grief, out of pain that was hard for any adult to cope with, never mind a child of just 16. Didn’t they have kids or were they so hamstrung by the so-called liberals that they simply couldn’t do what was right anymore? Hell, back in his day, if the cops caught you doing something they didn’t haul you off to jail, they drove you home and with lights blazing. They walked you up the steps to your house where in those times the family dealt with it. He knew too that most families would deal with such a situation a lot harsher than any police cell could ever accomplish but those days were long since gone, long since abandoned in favour of some socialist nonsense.

Poor Marilyn, he thought, having to deal with all this without the benefit of a man next to her but then the guy she had married had been a real jerk, unable to be a real father or husband, something he knew that Justin would have been good at, especially at being a good husband, after all he had seen to that, just as he had tried with Robbie, only trouble was Robbie never saw it that way. He still couldn’t understand that, figure out why Robbie had revolted, had suddenly become so opposed to learning the more important lessons of being a man, but then maybe it was just not in him. It happened, despite being of good stock, being of good blood; some people turned out different and maybe too it was just the way of today’s liberal world. All the talk about gay rights, about gay marriages were nothing but adding to the confusion for those with weak minds like Robbie. There could be no other explanation, because any strong person would see all that crap for what it was, a sop to allow deviant behaviour, to allow sin to be respectable. Hell even the Church itself was bending to those perverted thoughts and he just couldn’t understand how good normal Christian folk could tolerate such an assault against God and the true path, but they did, didn’t they?

His pain grew, as did his anger, as he sat there, thinking about all that had conspired against him to finally come to a head with his loss of poor innocent Justin. He glared over at the reporter talking to the desk sergeant, knowing that in many ways they helped the forces of evil by their constant reporting of the poor misunderstood people who really had only one goal, that being to destroy all that was good and right, such as the sanctity of marriage. How dare they even give 2 seconds coverage to those freaks who wanted the same right as normal human beings had? How could they allow such thoughts to even be aired and yet they did, daily in their newscasts and worse in their television shows. My God he thought, the way television, that once showcased the real family with its shows, now catered to the sicko’s and the weirdo’s and no one seemed to care, to be upset by it all. Well he cared and each day he knew he did his part to help stem the growing tide of evil that seemed unstoppable.

Looking at Marilyn he could see her fear, even smell it really, and he felt a bit disgusted by it; but then, she was only a woman after all and she had tried to do her best for Neil, at least she had the good sense to call him and get his help; so, he managed to forgive her for her fear, her tears. He gripped her hand a little more tightly and tried to impart some confidence, some backbone into her. She turned to stare at him and he could see the redness in her eyes as well as the puffiness that was growing around them. He smelt her fear rising as she gripped his hand even tighter, and he cocked his head to one side, smiling a small thin one to try and give her some comfort.

Walt “It is okay Marilyn, he’ll be fine.”

Somehow his words didn’t comfort her that much and she couldn’t explain the unease that kept creeping up inside of her. He held her hand while they were sitting there and at times it felt good to have a man’s firm grip on her hand; and yet, there were moments when it felt strange, felt uncomfortable. Her mind was playing tricks on her she thought, because Walt Fisher had been nothing less than a Saint in how he had helped her and Neil. He was here now even though his own youngest boy had just died in a terrible accident, but he was here, a testament to his character; and yet, the nagging doubts ate at her, weakening her when she needed all of her strength and then some.

Marilyn “Oh God Walt, he is just a baby, how can they be treating him like this?”

It grated on his very soul to hear the way some mother’s called their children ‘babies’ when they really were anything but that. Neil was 16 and if this was back in the time of Christ he would have most likely been married and out supporting a young family by now, but those times no longer existed. Instead mother’s called their 16 year old boys babies, and to some extent even society was doing that too, giving them special treatment under the law, excusing many of their outrageous behaviours simply because they were not some magical age of 18 or 19. It only added to the confusion he thought as he struggled to control his irritation and provide the comfort that Marilyn needed, after all she was only a woman.

Walt “Now calm down, Marilyn, he is a good young man. He is not a baby and he will be fine, trust me, okay?”

Marilyn “Yes, yes fine, it is just… why won’t they let me see him? They didn’t hurt him did they? You hear such things on the news, Walt, they didn’t hurt him did they?”

There was no mistaking the panic in her voice or in the way she held onto his hand so tightly, but he knew the police, least the police of today’s reality. Neil was perfectly safe and, if anything, they would take extra care to keep him that way given his age. He shook his head sadly, knowing that at worse Neil did deserve a good walloping for being so reckless, but nothing a good trip out to the back of the cabin wouldn’t cure. So he leaned back, feeling once more like he was regaining his composure, slowly letting his grieve work through his system without showing any signs of the horrible loss and emptiness that filled his heart. He could do no less given that it was his obligation as the man of the house, and in Marilyn’s case the only real man she had known for many years now.

Walt “No Marilyn, I am sure they didn’t, besides this isn’t Vancouver or Toronto; now just take it easy, you don’t want to make a scene out here, okay?”

Marilyn “God, how can you be so calm? I am sorry Walt, all you have gone through and I am burdening you like this…”

Walt “Hush, it is okay Marilyn. One does what one has to; besides, Neil has been like a son, it is the least I can do, especially now…”

It was supposed to comfort her but the way he spoke the words, the way he held her hand didn’t comfort her one bit, instead it only made the unease greater deep inside and she hated herself for thinking this way, for letting those unreasonable thoughts intrude at a time when she needed a clear head. Neil needed Walt right now, so too did she and that realization seemed to slowly give her strength and calm her nerves: but still, the way he looked right now, so calm, so peaceful really was unnerving. How could any father be so calm and so cool so soon after losing a son as young as Justin, never mind how talented he was or anything else, yet Walt was just that. Perhaps it was that he was from the old school, that quaint era when men actually thought that a show of emotion was a sign of weakness, but then she had to admit, Walt was exactly that, a person from another era really.

Marilyn “He really adores you, Walt. Justin was more like a brother than a best friend, we are all going to miss him.”

Walt “Yes they were close, weren’t they?”

Marilyn “Yes, Walt, you and Sharon doing okay? I mean… this can’t be easy, maybe you should go home, I think I can handle this…”

Walt looked into Marilyn’s face and saw the questioning look in her eyes, saw the sympathy too even though he knew that she wouldn’t be able to handle this, not right now and certainly not the way the police seemed to be handling it all either. No, he couldn’t abandon Neil right now, he needed his stand-in father right now and as much as he would like to have been home, alone in the basement suffering his loss in silence and solitude, he couldn’t let Neil down or his mother. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this type of pain either and he patted her hand, knowing that she was trying to be strong but he knew too that she couldn’t do it without his help.

The mention of his wife’s name gave him a slight edge to his voice and to his thoughts. She had barely spoken to him since they got the news and in many ways she was surprising him by her silence but what had him worried was the way she would suddenly just sit up and look at him, almost as if he were an evil demon or something. Maybe she blamed him for Justin’s death, even though it wasn’t his fault; if she would just stop and think about it, she would see that if anyone were to blame it was those two Jew boys, those two who had not given Justin the help he needed, when he needed it. He still couldn’t understand why no one else had seen that, but then too, that news report earlier had hinted at it, but that was all. Damn the media, they knew something and weren’t saying, which only made his anger grow inside, because he knew something wasn’t right with the whole thing. Just what were they doing in his son’s apartment anyhow? What business were they so intent on doing that they didn’t get Justin immediate help? He wished he knew the answers and maybe, just maybe then he could get some justice for his Justin.

Walt “No, that is okay Marilyn. Sharon will be fine, she understands that right now I am needed here. There really isn’t much I can do about Justin, though I wish I could… Neil needs me, I couldn’t disappoint him right now, like you said, he and Justin were like brothers.”

The image of Sharon sitting in the chair and the way her face suddenly became all twisted and angry flashed before her as she listened to Walt’s soothing voice. Something had made Sharon turn from the quiet, sweet, docile woman she was known as to what looked like an angry murderess. There was no mistaking the hate that suddenly had come to her sweet, innocent face and worse was that Marilyn had seen it, seen it directed at the man now holding her hand. What was it that had suddenly turned Sharon that way? She couldn’t help but wonder as she looked at Walt, wondering what it was about him that kept nagging at her?

He was a good man, had done more than anyone could expect for her and Neil and maybe that was it; maybe she felt guilty that he had done things for Neil that perhaps she should have done. Maybe she should have taken Neil camping herself instead of letting Walt do it, or maybe she should have participated more in little league than she had? She just didn’t know what it was, but the way Walt accepted that Neil was almost like a brother to Justin troubled her and she couldn’t quite shake that feeling of impending doom. Maybe it was that she was sitting in the lobby of the police station, her son in some horrible cell or something; but whatever it was, it just wouldn’t let her alone. She felt the tears coming back and her eyes became flooded by the growing liquid of her fear.

Walt could see that once more Marilyn was having trouble controlling herself and, as more tears started to roll down her face, he reached out and took a Kleenex from her other trembling hand and gently helped to wipe them away from her face. He could feel her fear as she shook to the thoughts racing through her mind and he let his hand holding hers pull a little. It only took a small tug before she was resting her head on his shoulder, sobbing quietly as the fear took control over her. Walt hated it when this happened but he had lots of experience with it, and so he let his arm surround her lithe trembling body, giving her comfort and security in his grasp.

Walt “It is going to be okay Marilyn, take it easy. I won’t let anything happen to Neil, trust me Marilyn. He’ll be okay. Come on now, you need to be strong for him right now, it will be fine, trust me.”

She felt his heart beating, heard the words soothingly being spoken into her ear and yet she couldn’t help but feel that it was all wrong, that Neil wouldn’t be okay and that nothing would ever be like it had been, nothing. Her heart grew heavy with the fear for her son as she cried and felt her tears soaking his shirt, his arm holding her tightly against his chest and yet the panic only seemed to grow, to become more intense as she struggled to believe him, to accept his comfort.

What would she do if they actually charged Neil with something? How could she help him when she didn’t even know what he had done, or why even? She had taught him not to hate, where had he picked up such a crazy notion? Her pain grew as she tried to make sense out of something that simply made no sense. Neil had never been one to hate, but, leaning into Walt’s shoulder, she realized that she really didn’t know her son anymore. Rarely did he sit down and talk to her, tell her the things that a son told his mother, and to be fair she had never pressed him either. Maybe that was what this was all about. Maybe God was showing his hand by giving her a sign that she needed to be more a mother than she had been? Could all this be because she had failed at even that?

First she had failed as a wife, chasing away the man she thought she loved; but over time she had come to know that wasn’t true. He and she just couldn’t get along, couldn’t agree on much of anything except that they shouldn’t be together; but Neil was the one who paid the price for her failure as a wife, not her. God, how could she have been so blind, so stupid to think that if she ignored all that had gone on in the past that it would just go away? Neil was a smart kid, he would have seen it all and maybe he didn’t understand it; but he knew and maybe she should have talked to him about it more, maybe she should have fought it out with him when he was little instead of just shrugging it off, letting him to try and work it out for himself?

Walt felt the wetness of his shirt and he cringed a little, hating that feeling but knowing that he would just have to bear with it for now. Women were such emotional beings and he hated that, knowing that it was a sure sign of weakness, which was why Men were destined to be the leaders of society, they at lest could keep their emotions in check.

Thinking about that, he wondered if maybe that was what was bothering Sharon? Perhaps she thought he should be reduced to a mass of blubbering tears and that he wouldn’t let her or anyone else see that she had become angry? That could explain her coldness, her looks of anger that were so unlike her, couldn’t it? He sighed a little as he patted Marilyn’s upper back, whispering to her that it would be okay, and as he did he kept thinking back to his own wife, to how she was so cold now, almost as if she had just shut down. He had expected her to be constantly breaking out into crying jags and such but something had changed inside of her. Her voice no longer seemed weak and frail when she spoke, instead it was more, well lifeless really.

They had been in the living room, all those people coming to offer their sympathy and their support when she had suddenly stopped her crying and looked at him. It was then that she changed and he still couldn’t quite piece it together but the look had stunned him. He was certain that if she had a gun in her hand at that time she would have aimed it at him and fired, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand why she should feel that way? Hell, he had given her two fine boys, it wasn’t his fault that one turned out to be a simpering, weak-kneed faggot nor was it his fault that his other boy had been hurt and failed to get treatment and yet somehow she blamed him, and he couldn’t figure out why?

Walt knew in his heart that he was a good father and husband, so why should she suddenly have murder in her heart for him? What strange evil force had suddenly overtaken her? His heart was heavy with the pain of that betrayal but he knew that given time she would come to her senses, after all she was above all else a sensible woman, who knew her place in the scheme of things. She knew that he was the man and she the wife, but perhaps it was just the sudden loss of Justin and then the sudden collapse of his father that had made her go strange?

Whatever had happened he wished it would go away soon, the idea of being in the same house with her quiet, condemning stares was getting on his nerves, but then perhaps that too was just part of this whole terrible dream that he and his family seemed trapped in. Maybe if they could get some closure, some assurances that things would get better, it might help, but how? The police were more interested in persecuting some innocent boy like Neil than they were in going after those who had caused all this, and he knew that somehow those two Jew boys had a lot to answer for. One way or another he swore an oath that he would see that they got what they deserved, no matter the cost to him.

As the determination to see those two brought to account grew inside of him he once more saw Robbie’s face before him. His eyes began to water as he stared into the image that floated before him. He saw his tussled hair and that one lock that hung down over the one eye, the way he stood so erect and yet seemed to be actually lounging when he wasn’t. Robbie was like that, deceptive in his prowess and his strength and Walt felt a sense of pride at that because he knew that Robbie was that way thanks to him and to his training of the boy. He had made him practise, had made him spend more time on thinking through everything he did before actually doing it, so that when he did do something it would look effortless and not cold and calculating. Robbie had that gift and when he turned on the charm, well no one could deny the boy anything he wanted then.

It really was something special to watch the way Robbie could take a crowd of people and have them all eating out of his hand with hardly any effort at all. The way he had led his basketball team, had made players who were ordinary look and even feel like they were superstars, all of that he could do with just a certain smile, a knowing cock of his head and Walt knew that all that was because of how he had taught Robbie. None of it was natural, Robbie never had any natural talent like Justin did, but in many ways Robbie was better at what he did because of that. He knew he wasn’t a natural, that what little talent he had was because of him, because he Walt Fisher had spent countless hours training him, tutoring him, teaching him and unlike other fathers, he hadn’t sacrificed his time in teaching his boys in order to watch television or go to the local pub or bar. No, he had done what most fathers never did, which was spend every spare moment of his time working with the boy, honing his limited skills until they shone.

That was what he did, not like his own father who was never around, who hardly ever spoke to him or helped him by giving him the sage advice or ageless wisdom of his years. NO, he was different than his own father in that respect and yet his father never had a son turn on him like Robbie had turned on him. The pain of that rejection, of that betrayal, still ached deep in his heart and as he thought about it, he knew that it had something to do with that boy he took up with, that Jew.

Yet as much as his father had never been around, had never shared his experiences with him, he still loved the man, he still respected him, so why should Robbie have turned out the way he had? Couldn’t he see that all that he did for him was out of love and duty as a father? Surely Robbie wasn’t so mentally deficient as to really believe that he was a bad parent or that the toughness he showed was for any other reason than love? Couldn’t Robbie see that every lesson, every time that he disciplined him wasn’t out of a sense of perversion but out of love? It was like Robbie had some block that didn’t allow him to see the truth of the matter, that it kept him from recognizing who really had his best interests at heart.

Justin understood that, he knew that all that he did was for Justin’s benefit, so why couldn’t Robbie have seen that? Why did he have to go and do what he did with Justin that time? Surely he knew better or maybe it was that his own father had mistaken it? Had he taken his father’s words of what happened out of context or was he simply still trying, even then, to prove to his own father that he was a good father? Could that have been it, could that have been the missing piece to the puzzle that nagged and tugged at him all this time? As much as he loved Tommy for being his father, he knew that he was the better man, the better father figure than Tommy ever could be, and maybe he had been trying so hard to make Tommy see that, that he missed something in his own boys?

He had always assumed that Robbie would be the one to take Justin in hand, to complete his training and his lessons in becoming a good man, a decent man who did his duty without fail, without question whether it was on the basketball court, in the classroom or even in the bedroom. Maybe he had mistaken what Tommy had described as nothing more than Robbie attempting to fulfill his expectations of him? Could he have missed that and in missing that turned Robbie against him? My God, he thought, could that be it, could Robbie have been so hurt at being thought he had failed him that he rebelled in the only way he knew would get to him?

Walt felt himself trembling a little as he replayed that time over and over again in his mind, wondering if maybe Tommy had simply explained it wrong, had simply over reacted as he usually did to such things, and in doing that he had inadvertently pushed Robbie into turning against him? Why hadn’t he seen that before? What was it about that moment that kept haunting him every time he thought about Robbie?

Still, even if he had taken what Tommy had related wrong, if he had perhaps punished in error, there was no excuse for Robbie to have done what he had. Robbie should have known better, should have come to him later and explained it to him so that he would understand afterwards, instead of turning on him. He knew better than to whimper and cower, he should have taken his punishment like a man and then later, when tempers had cooled, explained himself. That was how he had taught him, how he had taught them both and Robbie forgot that, so even though he may have punished him in error, he still had deserved it, after all he hadn’t followed the rules and you had to follow the rules, it was how you became a good person, a good man.

As much as he would like to think that the missing piece was that, he knew in his heart it wasn’t because really, while Tommy may have over reacted, had misspoke on what he had walked in on, he, Walt, had been fully justified in meting out the punishment to the two boys that he had. After all, it was his duty as a father to do that and Robbie should have spoken up, should have explained his actions better instead of taking that sullen, defiant attitude that he had. No, the fault wasn’t with him or with his parenting skills, and as much as he wished he could take the blame, there just wasn’t any way he was to blame. The fault lay with his father for rushing to judgement and it lay on Robbie too, for assuming his role with Justin instead of waiting for permission from him, after all who better to judge when he could take on that role of teacher than his actual teacher who was also his father?

Just like Neil had taken it upon himself to exact some measure of vengeance against those who had hurt Justin, he should have asked first, should have sought the wisdom of his elders. Of course he himself would not have condoned such a pity act but then too, he really couldn’t blame Neil for not coming to him, after all he wasn’t his blood father, still though he was perhaps more of a father than his biological father ever could have been. No, Neil too had been wrong, had assumed something that he still wasn’t ready for and so he too would need to be shown the errors of his ways, just as he had shown Justin and Robbie.

Coming back full circle to Neil, he realized that he couldn’t just sit here any longer. If he really was the father he thought he was, he shouldn’t be sitting here letting some woman soak his shirt, he should be doing something and if all he could do was shout or pace, at least he would be doing something. The pain of losing Justin still tore at him but Justin wouldn’t want him to become a simpering, old fool like his own father had become; he would expect him to go to the mat for Neil, which is what he knew in his heart that he needed to do. Walt couldn’t let the police or those liberals who seemed to be running the show deflect him from his responsibilities. He had to show them that this time they weren’t dealing with some nampy, pampy, confused adult, they were dealing with a real man, one who didn’t shirk his duty simply because it was difficult.

His mind was finally focused once more and he sat up straight and reached out with a firm hand to lift Marilyn’s head off his shoulder. He stared at her and handed her the Kleenex he had in one hand, his eyes beaming now, as he knew what he had to do. His heart grew calmer too as he once more found his path and he knew that this time, nothing would deflect him from doing what he knew was right. After all he may have lost Justin, may have lost Robbie too, but he still had his other boys, and his duty was once more clear to him.

Walt “Now dry those tears Marilyn, it doesn’t look good.”

Marilyn “I am sorry, Walt, it is just that I am so worried, he is my only boy Walt, what if they want to send him to jail? I couldn’t stand it…”

Walt “No one is going to send Neil to jail. They are going to send him home where he belongs.”

There was something different in Walt as he spoke and for whatever reason she felt comforted by the change. Her nagging doubts were suddenly no longer ringing in her ears as she sensed his strength and felt his determination in the way he spoke. Mind you it was also in how he looked that held her attention, had her believing suddenly that somehow things would work out for the best. She still had that uneasy feeling but, with each word that Walt spoke, she felt those doubts being shunted aside. All she knew was that she needed his help and more importantly that Neil needed Walt’s help.

Marilyn “But they won’t even let us see him or even tell us what is happening.”

Walt “Yes, well I think it is time that I stopped pussy footing around, time to demand some action, now you just sit here and collect yourself, leave this to me, okay?”

There was a strange strength to him, the way he seemed to actually grow in stature right before her eyes that she was finally believing in all that he said. She saw where Justin got his own special looks from, as she saw it now in Walt’s face, that same air of self confidence that had attracted her to Justin, had made Justin a favourite of hers and had made her wish that Neil could get some of that same confidence. Over the years she had seen the changes in Neil too, once Walt had taken him in tow and now she knew that Neil had grown without her realizing it, and she had Walter Fisher to thank for that. She sighed, at peace now that a plan of action seemed to be in place and if anyone could get her son out of this mess, it would be Walter.

Marilyn “Well… if you are sure, I mean…”

Walt “Trust me Marilyn, I know what I am doing, okay? You going to be okay here alone for a few minutes longer?”

Marilyn “Of course, uh… thank you. Walt.”

He smiled down at her as he stood up and taking her hands into his, he just smiled for a second, giving her what he thought she needed which was his comfort. He didn’t really understand how women could fall apart so easily but then that was why they were women and men were men. It was just the natural order of things, as ordained by God, and you couldn’t argue with that, even though some seemed to think they could. Well, this time ‘they’ would find themselves on the short end of the stick as he collected himself and girded himself for the battle ahead. No way was he going to return to this bench without knowing exactly when they could see Neil and when they could bring him home, where he belonged.

Walt Fisher slowly walked towards the front counter where the reporter lounged, waiting still for the detectives to give him a comment or two and where the desk sergeant continued to sit, his head buried down as he did his paperwork. Walt saw the way the reporter suddenly stopped tapping his pen on the small notepad he had opened in his hand and even the sergeant seemed to sense something as his head came up from his paperwork. Well, he thought, it was something in his favour, these two realized that a real man was coming to talk to them and it gave him courage as he came up to the desk, ignoring the urge to turn and see if Marilyn were watching him, which he instinctively knew she was.

Walt “Sergeant, I want to see Neil Schellenberg now please.”

Sergeant Burns looked up rather amazed at the soft spoken words and yet as he looked into Walter Fisher’s face he saw something different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but it was as if Walter had become someone different. He didn’t look like the same tired, middle aged man suffering a terrible loss, but instead had an air of confidence about him that surprised the Sergeant. Funny how you could misjudge people on first look, he thought as he answered the man.

Sergeant Burns “I am sorry, Mr. Fisher, I told you I can’t do that.”

Walt “So you said, but I am asking one more time, I want to see Neil Schellenberg.”

Sergeant “Sir I am sorry, but…”

He held onto his anger, biting his lip as he listened to the mindless refusal from the desk Sergeant. Walt couldn’t really blame him too much, after all the guy had a job to do and orders might be orders but he’d be damned if he let something like that stand in the way of doing what was right. Neil didn’t deserve to be locked up like some animal in a cage simply for caring, simply for acting out his perfectly justified hostility towards those people. No, he wouldn’t back down, no matter the personal cost to him.

Walt “No Sergeant, that is not acceptable. Now if you can’t take me to him, then get me someone who can, get me the detective in charge.”

Sergeant Burns “Well, I have told them you and Mrs. Schellenberg are here, Sir, they are busy…”

Walt “I see, do I need to call my lawyer Sergeant? You have a 16 year old being held in custody, have you charged him yet?”

He sighed inside, keeping his face impassive as he listened to the threats coming from Walt Fisher. Sergeant Burns felt sorry for the man, knowing he must be under a terrible strain and frankly, he really didn’t understand why the detectives weren’t letting him or Mrs. Schellenberg see Neil. It wouldn’t hurt their case one bit, and the kid had more or less confessed, so really what was the big deal? Besides, he really didn’t want to have to deal with lawyers who got woken up in the middle of the night; they were bad enough during normal business hours.

Sergeant “Uh, no we haven’t, least not yet. I think the detectives are waiting for the Rabbi to get here and sign the complaint. Then I would assume they will formally charge him, after which I am certain that you and Mrs. Schellenberg can see Neil.”

Jake Mathews saw the way that Walt Fisher’s eyes suddenly narrowed and even the way his chest seemed to suddenly heave and shake a little. The mention of the Rabbi actually coming here also piqued his interests as he watched the way Walt Fisher slowly but completely managed to regain control over himself. His breathing was a bit shallow and rapid and other than the narrowed eyes you really couldn’t notice anything different, but he had. There was something there and as much as he had hoped to have gotten some story about the two boys who had reported Justin’s condition and tried to get him help, he knew that the police had cleared them both early on. Still, something wasn’t right and he trusted his reporter instincts. Hell, even Gordie smelled something big and he smiled at that thought, wondering if maybe he could get an interview with Walt Fisher after all.

Walt “You mean to say that a Rabbi has more clout here than a boy’s mother? My God, man, where is your decency? I want to see him now, he is a juvenile, you can’t just hold him like some common criminal without at least charging him.”

Sergeant “Actually, we can Sir. We can hold him for several days before having to charge him even. Now please, I understand how difficult this is, but really, there is nothing more you can do except wait.”

Walt “I don’t think so. I think I will call my lawyer and then maybe I will give this reporter here the interview he asked for earlier, and then maybe I’ll call some other people, and before this night is over, I can assure you of one thing, Sergeant, it will not be a pleasant evening. Now maybe it won’t get me to see Neil any faster, but by God it will certainly stop this foolishness from going any further afterwards, so what is it going to be? Do I get to see Neil Schellenberg now or do I start making waves?

Sergeant Burns “Sir, threatening me really isn’t going to help you or the young lad; look, I sympathize with you, really I do, but my hands are tied.”

Walt “Look, I know that, but surely you can see how this is effecting his mother, out of common decency at least let her see the boy.”

Sergeant “I would if I could. The detectives are being very particular on this, given the nature of the crime, there really isn’t anything I can do.”

Walt “Who can? At least let me talk to the detectives, or get them to talk to us, can’t you at least do that? Come on, there has to be someone.”

The forceful will of the man was something to see really and Sergeant Burns really did wish he could help him out. Heck, the kid didn’t look like some typical teenage thug and maybe what he did was wrong and all that but it was out of grief, surely that should be taken into account? He stared at Walt Fisher, marvelling at how a man who was going through so much could just drop it all to come to this boy’s aid. He knew that it also spoke well for the boy that someone of Walt Fisher’s calibre was out here fighting for him too and maybe those detectives should know that? Maybe, if they knew that they might have a real fight on their hands from someone like Walt Fisher, it might help to make them think twice about going the route they were planning on. Hell, it might get that Sinclair bitch to back down a little, after all scoring political points against someone as popular as Walt Fisher wouldn’t be easy.

Sergeant “Well… I don’t know if it will help, look, let me go upstairs personally, maybe I can get them to at least come and talk to you and Mrs. Schellenberg, but I can’ guarantee they will.”

Walt “Good, that is a start. I knew I could count on you to do the right thing. I am sure if you put it to them right they’ll bend a little, after all he is just a boy, a good boy too, I can vouch for that personally.”

Sergeant “I’ll try, it might help.”

Walt stood there, watching, as the desk Sergeant called his civilian assistant to watch the desk and as the portly man left his station towards the back of the room, heading to the detectives. He felt happy in a strange sense, knowing that he was at least doing something, which was better than sitting doing nothing. Funny how taking action could invigorate one, and for a second or two he had forgotten all about Robbie and Justin, revelling in the amazed looks that greeted him from the reporter as well as from the Sergeant. It felt good to act and be a real man, and he stood there, letting them all stare at him, knowing that it was indeed a rare sight to see such a man these days.

Marilyn had seen the way Walt had stood up tall and straight and walk over to the large front desk. She was frightened wondering what her poor boy must be going through, wondering what he must be thinking, and hoping that Walt would succeed in getting to see Neil. She stared at his back, wondering how he could do this given all that he must be going through but then Walt was never one for showing his emotions; still, you would think that losing a son the way he had would change him, wouldn’t you?

Sharon Fisher

The sound of the phone ringing so late at night hadn’t even alarmed her for a second, as she knew that no matter what the news was it couldn’t be any worse than what she had already experienced. Her poor Justy was gone now, soon he would be put to rest in the ground never to run through the kitchen, grabbing at a cookie or swiping an apple off the table. All that was gone as she listened to her husband talking on the phone, listened to him promise whoever it was that he would be right over.

That too was typical of her husband, always acting the concerned and brave man of the house, always being the one to decide things, being the one to accept or reject what was done and when it was to be done. In some ways she thought of him as a mini dictator and yet as she did, she felt guilty for it, because after all he was her husband, the father of her children.

The mention of children made her stop dead in her thoughts, all she could see now was Justin’s face, that soft warm smile that he used to have that she had rarely ever seen since he had his 12th birthday, all of it gone forever now and why? That was what ate at her very soul, why had all this happened to her? What had she done that had turned God from her and her family, to let the dark forces come and snatch at her family in such a cruel and horrible way?

She had barely noticed Walt as he told her about young Neil Schellenberg and that he was going to help Marilyn. It was almost as if he were off in some far off place as she barely acknowledged his words. Sharon couldn’t explain it really but she had a strange chill each time he looked at her, a strange hatred welled up inside of her each time he tried to talk to her or touch her. It was almost as if her heart and soul believed he was the Devil himself which was crazy, or was it?

As the front door banged shut and the sound of their car starting and then leaving filled the quiet house, she came from the bedroom to sit once more in her chair, to gaze with a blank look at the room. Her pain was very real inside, almost like she could feel the dull edge of a knife being pushed into her body, refusing to let her skin stop its inward drive and yet she knew it wasn’t real, but then maybe if the knife could really penetrate, could really break past the skin, she could find peace, find a place where her pain would stop.

Without thinking she was no longer seated, instead she was walking through the house, staring at various chairs and corners, seeing Justin there when he was 5 or over by the front window where he had sat waiting for Robbie to come home from school when he was just a toddler. God, how he adored his big brother until just recently and yet she hadn’t a clue as to what had gone on, what had suddenly come between them, all she knew was that Justin no longer smiled, that he no longer laughed like he meant it, and all of that even was gone now too. Her hand brushed across the kitchen counter, her mind seeing Justin sitting on it, his hand bend upwards while she patiently whispered to him, soothing him while at the same time dapping a cold cloth against his skinned elbow, wiping away the dirt and grass and small pebbles that filled his wound. She could see his eyes blazing as he ignored the pain, keeping silent and how later that day he had showed his father his cut elbow, almost as if he were proud of it.

Walt had made a fuss too, beaming at Justin for not crying from the pain and giving him a big hug too, something Walt rarely did with the boys. It all was so unreal, she could see it all right now in the middle of the night and yet there was no Justin there, there never would be again and she felt the pain ripping deep into her heart. Her hands held her upright, her one hand sliding along the smooth counter surface until it banged into the wooden block that was next to the can opener. Her fingers pushed up against the wood, the pain in her soul too great to let her feel the pain of her pushed back fingers at first, but slowly she felt the agony and her head turned to stare at her hand.

Her dull eyes were still empty of tears but her heart was drowning in a whole ocean of them as she stared at the wooden knife block, stared at the long black handles of her carving knifes. She watched as her hand reached out and pulled out the sharp paring knife, seeing the stainless steel glint from some unknown light reflection and she held the knife, turning it over in her hand to stare at all sides of it, her mind suddenly fixing on the gleaming weapon, her heart throbbing from the pain of her loss. She felt so empty, so lost as her hand turned the sharp paring knife over and over, and her eyes were only growing darker and blanker as she stared at the gleaming metal. Was it a knife like this that you used Robbie, she asked the silent room, or was it something else?

What had he been thinking when he had felt that first slice into his flesh and worse, why hadn’t he reached for her? Why had he felt so abandoned, so alone in the world that he had tried to seek a way out of it? What had she done that he no longer could trust her or Justin?

As her pain grew, she saw her husband’s face before her, and once more the unreasoning hatred welled up inside of her, spit formed at her mouth as she cursed loudly into the dark kitchen, her rage almost as terrible as the emptiness that filled her heart with its nothingness. How could she choose between the man she loved and those she had borne? Why did she now feel such anger towards Walt and worse, what was it that was hiding there that no one could see except for her boys? What had Robbie seen that had made him leave and then reach for the ultimate solution for his pain? What?

The knife didn’t look all that terrifying really as she turned it over in the flat of her hand. She knew how sharp it was without having to find out, because all of her knives were always sharp, Walt always saw to that, keeping everything in perfect working order so why hadn’t he been able to fix the problems that she had missed? Why hadn’t he been able to fix Robbie’s pain and anger? Why hadn’t he seen Justin’s own pain? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to handle all that, so why hadn’t he? What had he missed that he wasn’t supposed to miss? After all he was the head of the household, wasn’t it his responsibility to see that everything, like the knives, were taken care of properly?

Sharon slowly walked over to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table. She held the knife in her hand staring at it and turning it over, seeing how it sparkled in the darkness of the night and she wondered how it could look so clean, so bright when everything around her was cast into pitch darkness? Where did it get its light from she wondered as she continued to focus on it, to wonder what it was that had made Justin so unhappy as he grew older, what it was that had made Robbie run from the family, and what was it that made Walt so unreachable? What had happened that had passed her by and yet had claimed the life of her youngest, ruined the life of her eldest, and threatened her own relationship with the man she worshipped?

Had she done something, or maybe it was something that she should have done, but what? What could be so horrible that had made so many people so unhappy? Justin used to have the cutest smile, the way his little eyes would light up and the creases in his face would highlight his gleaming eyes as his mouth curled up into the largest grin you could ever see on a child, and yet ever since he turned 12 or 13 all that had gone. Oh he smiled and laughed since then, but it was never the same, never with such innocence or feeling. It was more forced now, and it became even more noticeable as he grew older and sitting there, feeling the cold steel on her arm as her hand moved the knife along the bare skin, she realized that Robbie too had stopped laughing, had stopping smiling.

She had seen him last year, the way he had suddenly jumped up after that final buzzer had sounded and they had won. The way his whole face had lit up just like it used to when he too had been a child and sitting here, she realized that it was maybe the first time she had seen him that happy, that ecstatic since he too had been 12 or 13. What changed for her boys when they reached that age she wondered as she watched the flat end of the paring knife slowly moving down her bare arm, moving towards her wrist and hand.

They used to be such a happy family really but then again, it hadn’t really been all that happy the last few years or so. If she were honest with herself, things had changed the time that Robbie had turned 12. The family outings had suddenly become less, Walt would go camping with Robbie instead, leaving the younger Justin at home until he too reached 12, then it was just her left at home. The family no longer went much of anywhere together, she was usually the one to stay behind and even the neighbourhood kids got to go on more outings with her family than she did and she didn’t understand it, couldn’t figure it out really. What had she done that had angered Walt so much that he didn’t want her company?

Justin was gone, Robbie had gone too in almost the same way really because he was lost to her as if he were dead too and the pain of her loss grew inside of her. The ripping pain in her heart was becoming too much and still though no tears would come to her eyes and it began to trouble her. Why couldn’t she cry, what evil had she done that her own conscience wouldn’t let her grieve the way a mother should grieve for her lost sons? Was it that she really had no heart but that couldn’t be right, the pain she was feeling surely wouldn’t be there if she was heartless, would it?

Her eyes felt heavy and her mind was tired. Maybe all this living was just beyond her; maybe it was time for her too, just as it had come to Justin? She shivered a little as a cold draft came across her heart and she realized that she was sitting in the chair that Robbie used to always claim as his. God how she missed him, the way he could look at you and you would know what he was thinking, or how he could just put his hand lightly on her shoulder and she would feel his love, but now that was all gone, all lost to her just as was Justin’s smile and warm laugh. How could she go on with life if all she had left was memories of her boys?

She looked down at her hands, saw the dark handled knife in one hand, the gleaming metal blade resting against her wrist on the other hand. Her eyes focused on it, wondering if perhaps death really was better than living, if all this pain would magically disappear if she just altered the way the knife lay and then she applied just some pressure, would it all end then? Would she finally be at peace or not? Maybe she would then be able to once more see Justin, the real Justin who used to run and play with a reckless grin all over his face or was he lost to her forever?

Sharon knew that she believed in God and in heaven too but was it real or was it just some fairy tale? Here she was now, knowing that one son was gone from her and the other also lost, in some ways his loss even more devastating than Justin’s. How could he feel so hopeless and so full of pain that embracing death had seemed a solution? Her eyes glanced back down to the knife, the edge tilted a bit towards her wrist and she wondered if Robbie had thought like this before he had made that first cut? Had he felt any pain when he had done it or did the pain vanish the instant he had made up his mind to seek death?

“Why don’t you ask him?”

The voice startled her and she felt her hand shake as she turned around to see who it was that was speaking to her. She couldn’t see anyone in the darkness and yet really the room wasn’t all that dark, the light from the open windows making everything visible. The stars and moon were out tonight casting the kitchen into a semi darkness illuminated by a soft pale glow and yet no one was there, no stranger, but she had heard the voice. It was a strange voice she thought as she tried to calm her fears, to find out who had intruded on her privacy but as she turned and twisted around in the chair, all she could hear was her own panting breath and the echo of the words that had been spoken. She tried to recognize the voice hoping it was a neighbours voice or something but she couldn’t recognize it, is was an older sounding voice that was filled with a softness and tenderness that took away the sting of its suddenness. Strange how that felt too even as she continued to look for the source of the strange voice because as terrifying as it was to hear a strange voice in a place no voice should be she really didn’t feel all that terrified.

“Who is there? Is someone there?”

No one answered her as she felt the fear rising up inside of her. Someone had spoken to her, she couldn’t be imaging that, it was too clear, to well spoken to have been her imagination and yet there was no one there. Her heart was beating loudly as she stared around the room for several minutes, feeling the panic inside but no figure came out of the shadows to assault her, no person came from out from the dark doorways to confront her and finally her head turned back to the table, and she saw the knife in her hand. She had it tilted still but it no longer rested on her flesh, it was hovering above her trembling wrist when she once more heard the words and her eyes were no longer blank and lifeless.

Why shouldn’t she ask him? He was still her son even if he were different, he was still her boy and now she knew why she felt such anger, such hatred at her husband, not because of anything she had done, but because he had robbed her of her boys. She let the knife fall to the kitchen table, her face no longer etched with fear as she stood up and walked into the living room, pulling out the phonebook, turning the pages towards the G’s in the white pages. Walt may be her husband and he might be the father of her boys, but she was Robbie’s mother, that was just as important as she found the listing and picked up the phone, her fingers trembling as she pushed the buttons.

She could hear the ringing of the phone as she felt her anger subsiding a little, as she realized that how could she grief for Justin if she didn’t try to make it right with Robbie. She had to know, had to understand what it was that had made him do what he had tried to do, because without knowing why she wouldn’t be able to know why Justin had gone to him and not come to her. He knew that Robbie wasn’t there, and as she waited for someone to pick up the phone on the other end, she realized that Justin had sought out death in his own way.

Maybe he hadn’t sought it out like his big brother had, but he had seized the opportunity when it came to him and she needed to know why, she had to find out and the only one who could tell her was Robbie. He might not want to but he must, she had to make him understand that she needed to know, because if it were her fault, then maybe she could make it right with at least Robbie. If it were someone else’s fault, then she knew she would have to see to it that they received what they deserved. Her hand trembled because deep down inside, she knew who was at fault. She knew but she was still afraid, still scared even as she heard the worried voice answering the phone.

“Abner, that you Abner? Are you okay; is everything fine at the Shul? Abner?”

It shook her a little as she heard the concern in the older voice that had answered, and yet even in that concern she could hear the love inside of each word, and as she heard it, she wondered if she had ever sounded like that when calling Walt or had he ever really felt that way about her? Her heart was pounding as she gripped the telephone handset and spoke in a shaking voice.

“No, I am sorry, uh… this is Sharon Fisher, I am Robbie’s mother…”