Mystery in the Mist novel (Chap. 11)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

Troy waited patiently for Dad to open up. His father was very quiet. The boy knew this had to be discussed before they prepared for bedtime. He must have forgotten about the two bottles of beer in the fridge. 

            Not even one for the road? Usually Dad needed it, especially after anything as unsettling as the glow in the forest. One beer might have helped calm his nerves.

            Father and son spoke for a long time about what they had seen. They discussed other hurtful things too. About Dad’s drinking and how it affected his lonely son.

It was as if each had a boil needing to be lanced.

            “You might not realize it Troy,” Dad had said. “I miss your mom terribly. Do you think I like the way I have become? Hitting the bottle regularly and every day getting so mixed up inside. I'm so sorry for what it's done to you. I love you so much, son.”

            Troy didn't know what else to say besides, “It's okay, Dad. I understand a lot more now. I love you more than ever, too.”

Father and son cried for a long time in each other’s arms.

But, there was still a missing piece of the puzzle regarding the mail package. Dad still held back something.

            Later, Troy lay on his bed thinking about their conversation. Because he couldn't sleep, he remained fully dressed. Many thoughts blinked and scooted like fireflies. Dad talked about Mom a lot and promised to be a better father.

“I’ll work hard to get back to the way I used to be,” he said earlier.

“Cheerful and clean-shaven too,” Troy added.

            “Your mom used to light up any room with her smile. And what an excellent cook she was.” Dad’s tears fell freely as he spoke lovingly of his wife. Troy also remembered the good meals Mom used to cook.

            JC was all but forgotten. Dad was kind enough not to discuss his son’s imaginary friend. Or, tease Troy about talking to himself.

            “Is it normal, Dad, to make up an imaginary friend?” Troy had asked. Were his chums at school right about him being a little weird? 

            “You are normal, Troy. To you JC was a good friend, and I'm glad the memory is still there. I was a little jealous, at first. To think you spent more time talking to JC than me. It was difficult to deal with.” His father looked at him with such sadness. “There’s more to this story than you realize,” he whispered.

            Troy didn’t quite know what his dad meant. At least for now his father’s answers to numerous questions opened the door of understanding. The boy knew he was getting his dad back. They were talking again, just like before.

            Troy's tired eyes allowed him to slip into a dream. He was climbing up a hill that was so steep. And began to fall backwards.

            “Dad,” he called out. Somehow he knew he had to climb that hill by himself. He just had to, no matter what.

            His legs were getting tired and his arms felt like two bags of concrete. As he lay sweating in bed his hair became quite drenched. Troy was so warm. His mouth was parched and he could barely speak.

            Words were nothing more than a mumble. He tried to turn, to go back. But something seemed to be pressing against him, pushing him forward.

            "Troy," a voice whispered in his ear. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

            “Dad! Help me. I have to know. What happened? The accident? Where’s Mom?” Troy cried into the darkness.

            Then that familiar voice again, "I'm here. Right beside you," it said. "I'll tell you about it later, Troy. When there's time."

            Troy immediately felt at ease as he lay in his bed. His dream was so real, as if the past was reliving itself. The pain he felt in the hospital was awful. His whole body began to ache in the remembering. 

            Suddenly he knew Dad was inside the room.

            Troy felt warm arms surround him. It was Father Bear, because he didn't have a mother. His dad was both father and mother now. And Troy understood pain his father also felt.

            They held tightly to each other.

            Troy never wanted to let go.

            Where was Mom? His mind asked, already knowing the answer. Yet he had to ask. It was the only way to flush throbbing from the back of his head. In spite of the discomfort, his eyes tried to focus.

            Everything was fuzzy.

            He began to remember everything. Slowly at first, then unraveling, like layers of onion peeled and tossed aside.

            Sights, sounds and feelings flooded through his senses. He saw the 'head-on' collision in his mind. It was like a movie, in slow motion. He was crashing into the windshield, then forced back. The car buckled in agony amid the noise and screaming. 

            He lay on top of his mother and someone else. Oh-my-gosh! He remembered. It was JC, his twin brother, who lay in a dead heap between bent and bleeding bodies.

            Troy tasted their blood. Salty and splashing in long reddish streaks across his chest. The shock of memory lifted him from his bed as if hit by lightning.

            A blinding pain, like nothing he had ever felt before. It wound its way through his being like a sharp spear. And found its way to his heart.

            Troy could no longer contain the dam of emotions he kept bottled up. Sobbing uncontrollably he curled up on the bed into a tight ball. The accident was like reruns from an old movie.

“Dad!” he called. “Oh, Dad. Where are you?”  

            He used up all his energies to try and control thoughts that frightened.

            But they kept coming against Troy, like battering rams. Now that he remembered everything, he wished he could forget again. To turn back the clock and be that little baby boy from so long ago.

            It was just awful. His mother was dead. His twin brother was also dead --- killed in that car crash. Now there were only two left in the family.

            And he understood how JC came into his imagination. JC was the link to his past. He was John Charles, his twin; he too of blond hair and blue eyes. He was his big brother, who always worried and looked after Troy, born only minutes earlier.   

            JC had been given a new name by Troy. John Charles, the strong one, afraid of nothing gone --- but forever remaining in Troy's subconscious. Yes, JC will always be with him.

            It must have been his father's idea to hide the fact Troy had a twin brother. Knowing he too had been killed might have affected the recovery of his only remaining family member.

            Dad said Mom felt no pain, since it was over so quickly. And lying in a hospital bed, even fighting for his own life, may have been the reason why Troy couldn’t go to the funeral.

            The first one was to be Mom’s. The second one was for JC. Now Troy understood why the police came the second time. John Charles, who had been fighting for his own life in the same room as Troy, died a few days later.

            It was he who called out in the darkness of their hospital room for Troy to be brave. It was his encouragement helping Troy overcome his terrifying fears. 

            Troy would never forget them. No matter how sad it made him feel. “Mom. JC. I love you,” his tortured lips cried out. His wounded heart flooded with special memories.

            A picnic, birthday parties, going to church and wrestling with his brother John-Charles was like building a card castle of memories. And Troy promised to never forget them.             

Troy still had Dad. He felt those strong arms wrapping themselves tightly around his shoulders once again. Troy was comfortable and at peace with himself, cradled in his father's lap.

            “You're going to be alright son,” his father sobbed.

They provided meaning to the boy’s future. His heart began to mend, all of it. And every kilogram in his body rallied, like a soldier on a mission. He must never give up. He must be like a boxer getting off the mat and re-entering the fight, again and again.

            Mom and John Charles would wish him to behave with bravery and strength. And he would.

            When Troy finally opened his eyes, he looked up. Through misty eyes, he was certain he saw his brother raise both arms in a triumphant cheer. Mom was beside him, smiling. She moved her hand to his face and Troy was sure he felt a familiar tickle under his chin.

            “Love you son.” Then she was gone.   

            Troy slowly closed his eyes, now fully rested in his father's arms. His dad brushed a hand through Troy's hair and gently squeezed his shoulder.

            “Time to get dressed --- we have to go and see something.” Not just a statement of words, but a command. Dad was in charge again, and his words welcomed by a boy who had just completed a difficult journey.

Troy wiped away the last of his salty tears, not feeling shamed.   

            The boy got up and prepared for the difficult trip he knew was ahead of him.

            “We have to get to the river,” his father said. “I've got the fishing poles in the car. I promised you a fishing trip and now we're going. I don't care how late it is. Rain or shine,” he added.

            “But first, we're going to the graveyard. I want you to see where your mother and brother are resting.” Then Dad showed Troy several photos developed at Carsand Mosher’s. There were different angles of one large gravestone.

A mother and son lay close to each other.

            The inscription read:

 

            "Love For a Wife and Mother, Son and Brother"

            "Love From a Husband and Son, Father and Brother"

 

            “This is that package you were wondering about,” Dad said. “I was going to show you this picture when it was time. Now is the right time.” 

            Troy nodded with understanding. Sleepiness and sadness disappeared from his eyes. He raced his father downstairs.

            Nighttime was more like a blanket of diamonds. The rain and snow had stopped. Still, a father and son prepared properly for the journey. Hats, jackets, insulated boots even warm mitts were needed.

            And of course, they carried fishing rods.

            A few sandwiches, hot chocolate and some surprise treats Dad had prepared.

            Troy noticed the freshness in his father's face. His eyes were clear and he had just shaved. “No more drinking,” his smile promised. Troy knew in his heart Dad meant every word.

            A determined father and son drove from the campground and headed to the graveyard. They had some special “Goodbyes” to pass on.

            Troy could not see any glowing from the 'place' right now.

But he knew it would be waiting for them.