Witch Island (3 page)

Steve’s mother had had a nervous breakdown. All her life, she’d been a stay-at-home mom, taking care of the house and helping with the banking and bills. Feeling like her world crumbled, left with no job skills, relying on government assistance and minimum alimony payments from her husband, she turned to alcohol. The woman drank daily. A friend of hers was able to get her a job at a bank as a teller, but she lost the job after only working there for two weeks, having shown up late repeatedly. Then she lost the house, which she had received in the divorce.

Steve had called family in to help, but they could only stay for so long, and his mother was lost, the woman he knew gone.

After losing the house, Steve and his mom moved into a one-bedroom apartment above a Chinese restaurant. He slept on the couch in the living room, the same place his mother sat every day until she passed out and he carried her to her bedroom.

Welfare covered most of the rent and what little food his mother ate. Steve got an after-school job delivering pizza, refusing to become a dropout, knowing that path would lead to nowhere he wanted to end up. He took home the leftover pizza every night and used some of his earnings to help pay the bills, managing to put very little aside for himself.

One day, drunk off her ass, his mother fell down the stairs. She broke her hip, back and wrist. After her hospital stay, she was sent home and given a prescription for Oxycontin, falling in love with the drug within a week. Her low-life doctor kept prescribing her the stuff. Her lies about constant pain, plus a little extra cash, were all she needed to keep her high.

If all that wasn’t enough to push Steve over the edge, he hadn’t gotten into any of the colleges he’d applied to. His grades, thanks to his busy schedule, just weren’t good enough. He’d have to attend community college, and hopefully get his grades up so he could attend a four-year school. All his close friends were going away, except for Melinda, who was going to stay in town and join her sister’s salon. Without Darren around, he guessed he wouldn’t see her much, as they had very little in common, besides Darren. Steve hadn’t told his friends the truth about his situation, lying instead about his desire to stay home and work, save up, then go to school after he knew what he wanted to do with his life.

His girlfriend, Kelly, had dumped him about halfway through senior year. She had been the one good thing he had going, the reason he found life worth living. They had been together all through high school, but now that school was ending, she was heading off to college and wanted to “see what was out there.”
Yeah,
Steve thought,
see what other guys’ dicks taste like.

Though a complete bitch to him and everyone else, she had been his girlfriend and spent time with him. Sure, they did most of the stuff she wanted to do, but she always wanted him with her. When he didn’t get into college, he at least had her, thinking she was going to get a job and live in the area. But she had secretly applied to a school in Iowa, saying she did it just for fun, not thinking she would get accepted, but she did. She didn’t want to go away with her mind back home half of the time, and as part of her last year of high school, she wanted a clean break, to be a senior without any attachments or baggage.

Steve’s body felt heavy, as if the atmosphere were crushing him. He popped off the lid on the pill bottle and gazed inside at the tiny round spheres of medication. Didn’t his mother realize she had a son? He hadn’t left. He had stayed, and was always there for her. But the pain she felt was too great, he guessed. She chose the easy way to deal with shit. He and his mother could’ve been a strong team, used each other for support, to flourish.
Fuck his dad
, they’d say.

Steve shook his head, tears blurring his vision.
Fuck his mother too.

He brought the container to his lips, wondering how long it would be until his body was discovered. Would his mom even care?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
His mind screamed at him. His heart pounded. He upended the bottle. His mouth flooded with the highly addictive drug, tongue absorbing the awful, chalky taste of the pills. He cringed, ready to chew and swallow, when his cell phone rang.

Like a smack to his head, he saw the half-empty bottle of pills in his hand and wondered what the hell he was doing. He spat out the pills, making sure every last one had been ejected, then checked his phone and saw that Jim was calling.

He hit the green phone symbol and said, “Jim, hold on a sec,” then tossed the phone onto his bed and rushed to the bathroom. He cranked the cold water handle on the sink and shoved his mouth under the faucet. He rinsed, spit, rinsed, spit, repeating the process in OCD-like fashion. His gums ached from the cold water. His mind raced with uncertainty and elation. He wondered if a bit of the medicine had absorbed into his body, and if so, would he be okay? Even after rinsing, he still tasted the medication. He turned off the water, then opened the closet and withdrew the extra-large bottle of Winter Mint flavored mouthwash. He rinsed a few times with the harsh liquid, which seemed to do the trick.

Damn, how could he have been so stupid? He could’ve seriously messed himself up, or died. He grabbed onto the sides of the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. “You’re okay now.” He still worried that some of the medication had dissolved into him, but then convinced himself that wasn’t the case. He was just being a little paranoid. The pills had only been in his mouth for seconds, then he’d spit them all out.

He turned the faucet back on and splashed his face with cold water, then patted it dry with the hand towel hanging on the shower door. He went back over to the mirror and saw a foolish, pale-faced teenager who deserved better than what he was getting out of life.

He remembered Jim was on the phone and headed back to his room, his heart still racing. He needed a moment to calm himself and didn’t want to feel rushed about doing it, nor did he want to put on an act. He needed his emotions straightened out, not covered up for the sake of conversation. Picking up his cell phone, he saw that the timer was still counting and realized Jim was still waiting. He hit the red phone symbol and ended the call.

Steve sat on his bed and closed his eyes. He counted to ten, and took long, measured breaths. His room was still. He couldn’t believe what he had almost done. He wondered if his cell phone hadn’t rung, would he still have spit out the meds? He’d never know. The only thing that mattered now was that he
had
spit them out.

He had been in a dark place, but somehow he’d seen the light, and he wanted to live.

Chapter Three

Jim looked at his cell phone again, seeing if he was still connected, when he saw the flashing timer, indicating that the call had ended. He cleared the screen and dialed Steve’s number again.

At times, Jim had felt bad for the kid. Steve’s mother was a wreck, and everyone knew it. His long-time girlfriend, Kelly—too long as far as Jim was concerned—was a total bitch that no one liked and had broken up with him. Along with everything else, Steve wasn’t going to college, which was something Jim knew he wanted to do. Jim had seen a thin envelope from Cornell University on the kitchen counter at Steve’s house just before the start of the school year. Thin envelopes usually meant rejection. Jim couldn’t be sure, but he guessed his friend hadn’t been accepted anywhere, and was too embarrassed to say anything, which was stupid, because Steve’s friends cared and would understand.

Anyway, for the immediate future, as in tonight, Jim worried that Steve would try and back out of the party, hence the reason he was calling. An evening away from his house, his mother, his job, would do Steve some good.
 

“Yeah,” Steve said, answering his phone. “Sorry, accidentally hit the
end call
button.”

“You’re still coming tonight, right?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Oddly, Steve sounded upbeat—no, excited. Jim couldn’t help but smile. His friend had been distant lately, quiet, and kept to himself more than usual. He wanted to be there for Steve, like Steve had been there for him when his brother died.

“Good to hear,” Jim said. “High school is over. Tonight, nothing else matters. Nothing. Got it?”

“I actually think I do.”

“Screw yesterday and tomorrow. We’re living for today only, for one awesome night, if that makes sense?”

“It definitely does,” Steve said. “You know, you’re right. I mean, really. Fuck tomorrow. We aren’t guaranteed there will be one. Tonight is all that matters. Good friends, booze and my right hand.”

Jim laughed. It had been a long time since Steve sounded happy, revved up and ready to go.

“See you at 7 p.m., then?”

“Sure.”

“Later.”

“Bye.”

Jim hung up the phone, and called Gwen.

“Hey, babe,” she said.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Just dropped off my grandmother at her friend’s house. It’s card night. Now I’m off to Shay’s to meet her and Melinda. Oh, and guess who else has decided to join us tonight?”
 

“Who?”
 

“Julie, Melinda’s cousin.”
 

“Julie?” Jim asked. “As in the Julie who came to Shay’s cookout last summer? As in the Julie who was hot for Steve, and if it wasn’t for that bitch, Kelly, might’ve hooked up with him?”

“Yup.”

“Perfect.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Gwen asked.

“That maybe her and Steve could pick up right where they left off the last time they were together, except now he’s a free man? Yes, that’s what I’m thinking.”

“Great minds.”

“Great minds,” Jim agreed.

“Love you.”

“Love you too. See you tonight.”

Jim hung up, and not a second later, his mom poked her head into his room. She stood in the doorway. “Big plans for tonight?”

“Just a little get-together with the gang,” Jim said, sliding his cell into his pants pocket.

“Do you know what today is?”

Jim sighed. “Yes. How could I forget? I think about him every day.” He turned and took a seat on his bed. His mother walked into the room.

“I know it’s hard. We all miss him. Did you make it over to his grave yet?”

A chill ran down Jim’s spine every time his mother or father said the word “grave” when referring to his brother. It had been five years, and although he was accepting of the fact, it still bothered him to think about Greg’s rotting corpse lying six feet underground. He hated visiting his brother on the day of his death, preferring to visit on Greg’s birthday, a celebrated occasion. But his parents didn’t see it that way.

“Not yet,” he said, “but I’ll stop by on my way over to Gwen’s.”

“Do you want to accompany your father and me? We’re heading over there as soon as he gets home.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ve got some things I need to do. I’ll go later.”

“Okay. I’ll see you afterward, then.” She rubbed his head, turned and walked out, closing the door behind her.

He still couldn’t fully comprehend that his brother was dead. For some reason, he felt he’d get to see him again, yet he wasn’t sure how he felt about the afterlife. He guessed the details weren’t important, just that when the time came, all would be okay again. As time went on, the pain dulled, but at the same time, the longing to see his brother grew. Death was just plain weird.

On top of it being the five-year anniversary of his brother’s drowning, which took place just off the shores of Witch Island, his friends had planned an outing there.

The original idea came from Paul, and after a quick okay from Jim, the destination for their graduation party was set. The island was the perfect place to get away from everyone. There were a lot of parties going on—at people’s houses, up in Black Rock Mountain—but Jim’s friends wanted a small gathering just for themselves, close friends and a place the police wouldn’t think to show up.

Of course no one, not even Jim, had realized that the last day of school fell on the anniversary of his brother’s passing. Everyone had cleared their schedules, including Steve who hadn’t had a night off in months. Jim couldn’t change the date, and truth be told, he didn’t want to. Greg would want him to go, have fun and get over his fear of the place. His brother would’ve been extremely disappointed in him if he backed out and ruined everyone’s fun, or went and didn’t have a good time himself.

Still, he felt a great uneasiness creep into his bones. He was going to be heading to the place where his brother had died, the infamous Witch Island, a supposedly cursed place.

He hadn’t been there when his brother had drowned, but he’d heard the story from Greg’s friends, the people who had been present.

After a night of binge drinking, Greg and a few friends went down to the lake for a midnight swim. The moon was full, casting a soft glow over the water. Greg was a fantastic swimmer, and whether it was because he was drunk or just wanted to show off, he felt the need to impress a girl he was with. He swam out to Witch Island, his friends hooting and hollering, teasing that the witch would get him. Everyone was having a good time. They were able to watch Greg swim out, but eventually they lost sight of him, the moon’s illumination only supplying so much light. Greg was supposed to yell back when he reached the island, but he never did, nor did he return.