Section
Four- The Innocent Awakens Guilty
The rain poured down to the concrete as the sun
descended into other parts of the world. The moon rose slowly into the sky,
its eerie shine illuminating the night. It was a quiet night, so quiet that
the only sounds were the heavy falling of the large raindrops. The campus of
Bridgewater State was calm in an eerie sort of way, the students hiding from
the rain in their dorms, making the campus look deserted.
The large brick dorms flanked almost every corner of the campus,
leaving the middle, or heart of the campus, to the classroom buildings and
cafeterias. Each dorm was adorned with a maroon wooden sign with gold
lettering, proudly exclaiming the date the buildings were erected. Wood
Hall, the latest building to be added to the campus, had two wooden benches
outside its door, one on each side of the large set of stairs leading to the
door. The benches, locked into the concrete in 1993 after several of the
fraternities took turns making their pledges steal them during “rush”,
were empty, the rain having scared the students into rooms. The raindrops
slammed onto the bench, landing on accumulated puddles that poured down the
legs of the bench, darkening the underbelly of the bench, normally blocked
by the bench and untouched by the rain. To quote the cliché, “it was
raining cats and dogs.”
Lights were on in a majority of the rooms, but many were only visible
behind curtains and blinds. In the bottom floor of Wood Dormitory, Tommy
Hill sat on his sofa and counted a thick stack of twenty-dollar bills. When
the final bill was counted, and totaled at five thousand, Tommy rose and
shook hands with a small Latino man named Hector. Hector, his eyes wide and
alert at the paranoia and stress of his impending drive home with six lbs.
of marijuana in his backpack, thanked Tommy and left the room quickly. Tommy
sat back in his favorite chair, and old and green chair that was truly
beyond description. It was green leather over a white plastic frame. It
looked like something out of the Star Trek command center, the 1970’s
version of furniture of the future. He loved that chair, sometimes falling
asleep in it while watching television and never finding the desire to go to
his bed. It was also a fun chair to have sex in, as he discovered and
re-discovered countless times.
He stood up from the chair, relishing the crack of his back and the
blissful stretch that shook his body. Tommy walked over to his bed and
reached underneath, brushing by the red, white and blue quilt his
grandmother had made for him three Christmas gatherings ago. Take
good care of the quilt cause it took Gramma ten weeks to make it. That
was what his mother had said when he opened the box and revealed the
comforter sized quilt of patriotism. In truth, Tommy loved the quilt and
couldn’t imagine sleeping in any bed without it wrapped around his large
body.
Under the bed, Tommy laid his hand upon the familiar cold metal of
his safe. He withdrew the safe and carried it with him over to the chair. He
opened it, staring at the money that lay inside. It was hard to believe that
he only had one hundred dollars, a gift from his father, in his pocket when
he arrived in the dorms for the beginning of his college experience. He
quickly realized that college was a good time, especially if you had the
money to spend. That was the last time he remembered only having a hundred
dollars to his name. Since then, he usually carried at least five hundred in
his pocket, at all times, and was in the process of counting the accumulated
two hundred thousand he kept in the safe. He had a safe at his mother’s
house that had one hundred and fifty thousand, but that was strictly for
emergencies. There really was no reason to count the money, he knew how much
was there, always knew how much he had in the safe, but old habits die hard,
and he was meticulous.
There was another reason he was counting the money: boredom. He was
very bored. Pierre hadn’t been in class today, but that wasn’t unusual.
They were seniors, and seniors only went to the important classes. But, it
was troubling Tommy that Pierre hadn’t been at lunch, and hadn’t
answered his cell phone or room phone. Tommy wondered if Pierre had found
out about Sara’s infidelity, and he was stepping out for a few days to
deal with the trauma. If that was the case, Tommy understood, but he wished
he could have given Pierre a bit of smoke to help take his mind off things.
He closed the safe, locking it, and returned it to under the bed. Fuck
it! Tommy left his room, walking to the elevator, headed to Pierre’s
room.
He stood outside Pierre’s door, listening to the silence inside. He
knocked and waited for the reply. He knocked again, once more receiving no
reply. He turned to walk away and suddenly a horrible image flooded his
mind. It was the image of Pierre hanging from a noose in the middle of the
room. In the image, Pierre’s neck was purple from bruising; distorted to a
left angle, was frighteningly realistic and possible. He pounded on the
door, actually feeling that the image was real and letting it increase his
paranoia.
A door opened on the other end of the long hallway, and a short and
skinny girl emerged from her room. She walked down the hallway, staring
intently at Tommy. He knew who she was, and she, along with everyone else in
the school, knew who Tommy was. He was known to most as “the nicest
guy,” but those who didn’t recognize him for that, recognized him for
being the campus dealer. The girl walking down the hall, Cynthia was her
name, knew him as a nice guy and best friend to Pierre, her R.A. floor
partner.
Cynthia stood by the door, looking at Tommy as he began to sweat and
explain his reason for pounding on the door. She quickly understood, and
immediately opened the door, with a quick knock.
“You have to wait here for a minute, while I make sure he is there,
before I let you inside. Okay?”
Tommy nodded, moving away from the door to allow for Cynthia to pass.
She entered the room, only stepping inside a foot or two, before turning
around and walking out.
“All set. Take it easy.”
She walked away, leaving Tommy standing outside the room, peering
inside. He walked in and saw Pierre lying in his bed, sleeping. He went to
the phone next to the bed and picked up the receiver. Tommy cast a quick
glance to his friend sleeping on the bed. Pierre was the epitome of the
expression, “out like a light”. His mouth was open, and drool had dried
on his chin. His hair was running rampant, and looked as if it needed to be
cut three weeks ago. Tommy dialed the number for Chessman’s Pizza, the
only place he knew that had a barbecue chicken pizza that wasn’t gross. He
turned his back to Pierre, hoping that his pale appearance was due to the
light and not a severe sickness.
Tommy noticed that Pierre was smiling about, but dismissed it as the
Pizza place answered the phone.
“Can I get a large bar-b-q chicken, delivered to….”
Tommy let his thoughts drift to Sara and how she had cheated on
Pierre, as he mechanically ordered the pizza. He finished, hanging the phone
up, and looking out the window. New England had slowly crept into winter,
and it got darker earlier every night. It was only five thirty-seven, and it
was already pitch black outside. It was a Wednesday night, and Tommy had a
certain errand he ran every Wednesday night, and this Wednesday night was
no exception. He had to drive to Brockton to a house he lovingly referred to
as “the Crack Shack’, to pick up his drugs for the weekend.
Usually he traveled alone for the pick-ups, but the last time he had
gone to the “shack,” he got the feeling that the people in the house
were sizing him up. He watched their eyes, because the eyes never lie; it
isn't possible. They had the look of men that were contemplating an action.
They were obviously consumed with greed, everyone in the ‘business” was.
It was the nature of the beast. But these men seemed to spend it quicker
than they earned it. It was entirely possible that they were trying to
decide if they could take Tommy’s money as easily as possible. Tommy was
no slouch at 6’1 and a solid 235 lbs., but sometimes men got crazy ideas
that led to bad decisions. It wasn’t all the men that he was worried
about; it was one in particular. The new guy that had been living in the
house for the last month or so, looking like a free loader but talking like
Pablo Escobar. He was trouble, and he made it obvious that he neither liked
nor respected Tommy. The last time he picked up, he got the feeling that
“Pablo’, or Freddy, which was his real name, was really taking a look at
Tommy, trying to decide if he was packing any weapons and if he was at all
cautious of his surroundings. Tommy was always cautious, but he never
brought a weapon, never felt that he needed one, until now. But, he didn’t
want to get a gun. Instead, he would be extra cautious, and he would enlist
the aid of his good sized and faithful friend, Pierre.
He broke his gaze from the window and turned to face the sleeping
Pierre, dreading having to wake him to ask if he would accompany him for the
favor. He turned and started to walk to the other side of the room, when he
noticed that Pierre was not only awake, but sitting on the side of the bed,
staring at Tommy like he didn’t recognize him. Tommy stepped back,
intensely startled from the despondent and blank look on his friend’s
face. He had known Pierre for years and had never seen that look before.
Tommy looked at his friend, frozen in fear for the moment, and then
walked to the comfortable recliner on the other side of the room. The side
that was farther away two seconds before.
“How are you feeling, buddy?”
Pierre looked at Tommy, as if he had never seen him before, and then
the look was gone. For a moment, his face was vacant and pale, but then, the
color returned, somewhat, and he began to show signs of recognition.
“Hey, what’s up? Have you been waiting long? Are we late for
class?”
Tommy laughed. Does he really
think it’s Wednesday day? Tommy sighed, trying to hold back his laugh.
He didn’t need to make Pierre upset with him, especially when he needed to
ask for a favor. He stood, went to the fridge and removed two beers. He
opened both, using the index fingers of both hands, and passed one to
Pierre. Pierre took the beer, and let in hang in his right arm absently, as
his left hand rubbed his forehead.
“You missed class. It was about, oh, seven hours ago.”
Pierre looked confused, and that troubled Tommy. As long as he had
known Pierre, he had admired how his friend had always been in charge of
himself. He controlled his emotions, kept his life in order, and never lost
his temper. Seeing him this disoriented made Tommy more than a little
curious.
Tommy stared at Pierre as he moved slowly off the corner of the bed
and took a look behind the desk for the alarm clock he had knocked onto the
floor when it refused to be silenced earlier this morning.
Finally, he found the alarm clock, and placed it back
on the desk. Pierre looked at the time, then confirmed it with his
wristwatch.
“Is it really six fifteen?”
“Really is. Did you sleep all day?”
Pierre cracked the beer, and took a long swallow. He smiled.
“I guess I must have. Oh well. I must have needed the rest. Have
you talked to Sara? She’s gonna be pissed that I blew her off all day”
Tommy felt the impeding dread in his stomach when Pierre asked about
Sara. Sara, oh yeah, I saw her. She
took some random guy home last night and fucked him. But, I think she might
still act mad that you didn’t call her today!
“Haven’t seen her. Are you hungry?”
“I should be. Christ, I slept for eighteen hours. Let me grab a
quick shower, then we can eat the pizza."
Pierre stood, both his knees popping loudly when he made the motion,
and walked to his closet. He opened the door, grabbed a towel and walked to
the door.
Tommy turned around in the chair and faced his friend.
“Hey, when you get back, I have a favor to ask you.”
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
|
