William D. Hicks

Twist

The snow, which had fallen just a month before, had completely melted away. Tan clumps of sleeping grass graced the parkways of the streets.

As the boys passed Major Street, one threw a stick into the air. It hovered over a parcel of land owned by the town, then descended like an oddly shaped bird.

Kevin Hull watched it land. At ten years old he was just bumming around with his buddies. A gang of sorts-five mischievous boys walking down the street, being loud and obnoxious. The year was 1953. They were just boys with no malice in their hearts. To hang with your friends was a cool thing. An American pastime, childhood.

As the small group passed stores, Johnny Sanfrantello made lame remarks about them. A beauty parlor received “beauty before age.” To a local drug store he offered “an apple a day.” This was a regular game with the group. Johnny, at twelve, was the oldest boy, so he was the leader. The other boys ranged in age from nine to eleven years old. Johnny made important decisions about which games they played.

His favorite one was ledge. It entailed taking a rubber ball, standing behind a designated line, and throwing the ball against the ledge of the grammar school. If you hit the ball on the small angled top part of the ledge it bounced back without touching the ground. When you caught the ball, you earned ten points. You could also hit the lower ledge with the ball, and catch it to earn five points. The lower ledge was thicker and easier to hit, so it was worth less. When the ball hit the ground before making it past the designated point, didn’t hit the ledge at all, or wasn’t caught, no points were earned. The player would then get chided by his peers.

Some kids were horrible at the game. Especially the uncoordinated ones, and the ones who hated baseball. But all the boys went along with Johnny.

Other games such as “name the store.” Johnny dominated as well. Games like “dare,” around since the beginning of time, Johnny only liked to play once in awhile. Only when he got to make the dare. And he made them hard.

Walking down Main Street the boys spotted a new store. Completely blackened glass, except for a single gold “D” centered in its ebony heart, graced its main window. Nothing else about the store indicated what merchandise would be sold.

“D-dumb. That’s what it must stand for, cause if you go in you gotta be dumb.” Johnny laughed at his own lame joke.

The other boys laughed.

“No…it must mean deadly-nothing that goes in comes out alive.” Tony Pankow tossed a new white rubber ball in the air and caught it in his leather mitt.

“Maybe it means diseased.” Johnny grabbed Tony’s rubber ball midair, then tossed it high into the air. It bounced on a car and went rambling fast down the street.

“Damn, Johnny.” Tony went trotting after the ball.

“Dark-maybe only Negroes go in there.” Jimmy Summers held his nostrils closed.

Tony returned and was once again tossing the ball in the air. “What should we play now?”

Swinging his head from side to side Johnny took a quick look around, then went over and tried the door. It was locked. He rang the bell. “Ding dong bitch, I mean ding dong ditch.” He laughed as he and all the boys scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind.

A man in a t-shirt came out shaking his fist. He began to run to catch the boys, but when his cigarettes fell out of his pocket he stopped.

“Better lose that baby fat Jimmy, or Mr. DeMarco will catch you the next time.” Tony tossed the ball into the air out in front of himself and then ran and caught it.

Ten minutes later they had all arrived in the schoolyard. It was only two blocks south of Main Street and one block west. As usual, Jimmy took a long time to arrive even though he ran all the way. Jimmy didn’t fit in, not at all. But the boys felt sorry for him and let him hang around with them. It didn’t hurt that Jimmy’s mother made wonderful taffy, which she gave only to his friends. That solidified the little pack. Now, Jimmy panted like a hound dog after the hunt.

“Hey Johnny, did you see that creepy old Mr. DeMarco after you rang the bell?” Jimmy asked, breathless. He always liked to be included in the conversation. If that meant he had to butt in that was fine.

“Nah-was he a Negro?” Johnny asked, taking no offense at Jimmy’s change of topic. He was used to the ways of his pack.

“Probably,” Kevin said.

“No, but he must have been a hundred ten years old. His hair looked like steel wool. Long gray strands would break off if you touched them.”

“Are you pulling my leg Jimmy?” Johnny asked, ready to thump Jimmy if he were. Johnny was not too swift, but he was mean as a dog when he got riled. That was one reason why he had cronies who followed him around.

“Nah,” Jimmy said a little intimidated. “Ask Billy, he saw it too.”

“He’s not fibbin’ Johnny,” Billy Hawkins said. “I seen the guy too. He looked real mean, like he might kill someone. Boy he was old. His front teeth was missing, and his nails were yellow as pee. Like a dead man, if you know what I mean. I ain’t kiddin’.”

Each let out a sigh of astonishment. All except Johnny.

“You’re such a liar Billy,” Johnny finally said.

“It’s true,” Billy and Jimmy replied in unison. Billy added, “Swear on my mother’s grave.” The other boys knew Billy’s mother wasn’t dead. They also knew what it meant when one of them used this retort. If it was a lie, the person who they swore upon was supposed to die. If you used your mother, it meant you were telling the truth.

“Okay,” Johnny said. “Let’s play ledge.” He bounced his rubber ball against the ledge and caught it.

“Yeah,” a couple of boys screamed out.

Kevin put his hands over his ears.

As they started playing, Johnny said, “Let’s make this game worth something.” It was not unusual for them to bet on games or points. Nothing too expensive, a few cents, or a piece of candy usually. “We’ll do it right. No sissy bets. Let’s bet for dares.”

“What do you mean?” Jimmy looked dumb since all the other boys seemed to understand.

“Well, let’s bet a dare-whoever loses has to do the dare,” Johnny said.

They would do it, he knew-he was the leader-they all followed him on blind faith, pure and simple, like they did with their parents.

“I think I need to go home.” Billy knew he was terrible at ledge.

“No way!” Johnny’s face went all twisted and mean. “Everyone has to play.”

All the boys tossed pennies to see who would go first. Johnny’s landed closest, then Kevin’s. The last three players were Tony, Jimmy and Billy.

Johnny got to throw the rubber ball until he didn’t score anymore, or until he missed catching it, which took a few minutes. The object was to reach one hundred points, so his scoring sixty points was exceedingly good. Especially since most were five pointers.

Now it was Kevin’s turn to throw. Since he was small for ten years old, and awkward, he didn’t throw the ball the correct way, underhanded. He pitched it overhand to get it to the ledge. It hit too hard. Shooting back in an arc so high and far that he had to run five feet behind it to catch it. But though he almost tripped over his own feet he caught the ball. Five points.

“Hey-I had to run to get that one-I should get ten points,” Kevin suggested, trying to persuade the other boys.

“It hit the lower ledge-five points,” Johnny said acting as referee. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I’m gonna win.”

“No way,” the three other boys said. Meaning Kevin lost and only got five points. Even Billy was on Johnny’s side-probably because Billy was just a little better at the game than Kevin. With ten points for the throw, Kevin might beat him. There was no way Billy wanted that, especially when the winner-Johnny of course-got to pick the dare.

Kevin understood these things, yet could not have verbalized them. He didn’t begrudge his friend for his denial of support.

The last time Johnny gave Billy a dare it was a difficult one. Billy had to steal a candy bar from the five-and-ten store. Although he hadn’t wanted to shoplift-he was stuck.

Back then everything seemed like it was going smoothly. Billy had walked into the place, the other kids watching from outside, and walked out with the bar stuck in his pocket, into the grayness of night. Mr. Clawson, the owner, came out running, grabbed him and shook him hard, finally calling Billy’s father to pick him up. Twenty-five whips was what Billy received. Along with two weeks grounding, he got no dessert for a month, which he couldn’t sit down for anyhow, and no allowance until he put two dollars in the church poor box. That was the worst part, Billy told them all, because he only got twenty-five cents a week so it took two whole months. No baseball cards, no movies that whole time. Nothing he lived for, just chores and school. Soda bottles he found at the schoolyard only grossed him a few cents. Enough for a few pieces of candy once in awhile, nothing more.

So he was not going to side with Kevin this time. Not if it meant the same ghastly punishment. Even if they were best friends, it wasn’t worth it.

Kevin got to throw one more time. A cool breeze rushed past him, chilling him to the bone. It was as if he could feel defeat in the air. He raised the ball, and threw it. Though it hit the ledge and shot off in a startling angle. Instead of catching it, his nose stopped its descent. His score remained five points.

Tony’s turn yielded thirty points, while Jimmy got forty. Billy only got five points before he missed the ledge.

Johnny kept throwing the ball and catching it, throwing it and catching it. It looked like a tennis match. Back and forth-back and forth. The school building favored him by leaning out at a right angle, allowing him to hit its ledge. Sure it was an optical illusion of the fading light, but that was what it looked like-at least to a child. He made three ten pointers in a row, which was pretty astonishing. Even to Johnny. He seemed to sense the inevitable doom, which lurked just out of sight…waiting to claim his streak…so he made the final two throws five pointers. As if by magic, Johnny won the game within two rounds-it usually took at least three and sometimes four. He had never hit three ten pointers in a row. After the third one, Johnny wimped out and shot at the easier five-point ledge. Had Johnny tried-Kevin knew-he would have hit all ten pointers, or won a baseball throwing championship that day. The knowledge left him unsteady and scared. The wind seemed to blow the boys in a certain direction-forward, and wouldn’t allow them to turn back. Kevin sensed it-Johnny could have won with two broken hands and ten busted fingers.

Everyone congratulated Johnny. Except for Billy who was terrified what Johnny’s dare would be. This was the first time anyone had tied for the losing spot-him and Kevin. “Kevin and Billy!” Johnny exclaimed in excited tones. “You both lost so you both have to do the dare!”

“No way!” Billy yelled back, more from fear than to question Johnny’s authority. “The last time…”

“You’re such a wimp.” Jimmy cut him off. “Kevin’s not complaining.”

“No. We’ll play sudden death,” Tony said. “Whoever gets the most points on one ball wins. Loser does the dare.”

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed, still flying high from his amazing triumph. Had he not been he would have required both boys do the dare. His smile said it all: he was feeling good, even god forbid, generous.

Billy’s face registered terror at the sudden death prospect.

Kevin, sensing Billy’s heightening fear, made his first adult decision. “No way-I’ll do the dare. If you want you can make it doubly hard. I’m sure that’s okay by everyone.”

Everyone nodded approval.

Kevin noted Billy’s eyes saying, “Thanks, I owe you one.” A pang of guilt, like a slow rolling cloud passed over Billy’s features. Guilt, Kevin knew, for not supporting the earlier decision on his five-point throw. But Kevin didn’t begrudge him that.

“Okay,” Johnny said. “I will make it twice as hard.”

“Whatever,” Kevin replied, not actually believing Johnny would do it, but accepting his fate. A black wave of panic crept into his heart, but he shook it off as childish fear. Fear of the dark unknown.

“I dare you to sit on the train tracks,” Johnny said.

“That’s easy!” It was easy, but now that Kevin said it-he was sorry. Johnny’s face showed it was a mistake.

“I’m not through giving the dare yet,” Johnny said. “Sit on them until the train comes down the tunnel.”

“That’s too easy Johnny,” Jimmy moaned.

“You Dork!” Johnny snapped. “I’m still not done. Kevin, I’ll put you on the tracks with your back to the tunnel. You can’t move until I tell you to.”

“No way,” Billy yelled. “That’s too risky. Don’t do it Kevin.” An undulating tremor rose in Billy’s words. “Pick something else.”

“No way. Either Kevin does it or he’s out of the gang. It’s up to him.” Johnny put his arms together over his chest-a sign of power that meant “do it or suffer the consequences.”

Several minutes of quiet deliberation followed. Kevin decided to try it. Johnny would get nervous the moment he saw the train’s light at the back of the tunnel, then tell Kevin to move, giving him ample time to get off the tracks. “Okay, I’ll do it. When?” A couple days of preparation time would be nice.

“Now. Right now, before you chicken out,” Johnny said.

“But Kevin…what if…?”

“Billy,” Kevin cut him off, “I’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”

A half-hour later the boys walked to the tunnel site. Johnny positioned Kevin two yards from the tunnel mouth. Placing Kevin on the tracks-not on the metal rails-but on the gravel between two railway ties, with his legs crossed.

“Kevin, don’t do this. Please,” Billy pleaded. The sound of his begging was like an incessant buzzing bee.

“Let him be,” Tony said. Then he pushed Billy.

Kevin yelled, “Leave him be, or I’m not doing it.”

Johnny saw defiance on Kevin’s face. “Yeah, leave him alone Tony.”

The incident ended. Kevin seated on the train tracks, sensed the excited tension running through the group. No doubt, Johnny did also. Which made it important to Johnny. “You know, if I do this…,” Kevin saw his opportunity in this situation, so he let the idea of not completing the dare linger for a minute. “…then I’ll never have to do another dare. None.”

“No way,” Johnny said instantly. His face said that wasn’t true.

Just then the ground began to rumble. The 5:30 train would be five minutes early, making the 7:30 early as well.

“I won’t do it then,” Kevin said, getting to his feet.

At that moment Billy’s face changed from being screwed up tight to the calm, happy-go-lucky face Kevin knew well. An insupportable weight looked to have been lifted from his soul.

“Wimp,” said Tony. Johnny followed, then Jimmy. Their tone indicated disappointment, a sense of loss, an anticlimax, like the anticlimax at the end of a roller coaster ride.

Johnny knew that if Kevin didn’t follow through with the dare the other boys would lose the thrill. That would make them lose faith in him as their leader. Kevin knew it too. Since they all had to be home for dinner by 6 or 6:30 this would be the only time Kevin could attempt the dare that evening. After today, the dare would lose its excitement, because things did that the next day. It was like going to the ballpark and seeing a double header where your team won both games, then trying to retell it with the excitement you felt, the next day. Impossible.

“Okay,” Johnny said, seeming to understand all these things innately. “This is your last dare, as long as you don’t move until I tell you to.”

Though the boys grumbled about the concession, they talked animatedly about the dare.

“He’ll never stay,” Jimmy said.

“Yes I will.”

Billy turned ashen, his demeanor was that of a condemned man about to face the firing squad.

The train grew closer, rumbling along, making the steel tracks vibrate with energy. Kevin could feel it against his gym shoes. The tremors grew stronger and stronger. Pebbles laying on the ground nearby started doing little dances.

Johnny rushed over and pushed Kevin to his butt again. “There-wait for my signal.”

Kevin sat, stunned. His butt hit a large sharp stone upon landing. Stretching his legs out, he massaged the tender spot on his butt cheek.

The train’s horn blasted from down the tunnel. The sound floated to them, tumbling through the tunnel and somersaulting into their laps. Their excited words grew more hurried as they waited.

Adrenaline shot into Kevin’s system. His heart trip-hammered in his chest. The ground moved beneath him-he imagined a stampeding elephant charging toward him from behind. The recent butt bruise no longer throbbed-only his heart did-it was the apex of that roller coaster ride. The top hill, he knew. Soon the ride would be over. Nothing else existed; him and the train.

“Kevin, please,” Billy whined again, fear spilling over in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Kevin yelled, pulled from his world of utter excitement. His voice was nothing next to the train sounds coming from the tunnel.

The train hit its horn again. Its echo reverberated down the tunnel. Startled by it, Kevin jumped. At least he tried to. Still seated, instead he just kicked out.

“There it is…I see the lights,” Jimmy said excitedly. “It won’t be long now.”

“Please. It’s not safe,” Billy begged. His face was a mask of misery, of guilt. It was full of all those things Kevin saw in his parents’ faces-adult issues.

Kevin would not move. “No.” This was his moment, the time when all the boys learned to respect him, to even admire him. It might be the chance he needed to become popular, more so than Johnny.

“I see…see…see…them too.” Tony’ s words stuttered out like machine gun fire. His excitement bubbling into fear made his stutter worse.

“Cool,” Jimmy said, staring at the open mouth of the tunnel.

It wouldn’t be long now, Kevin knew. Johnny would tell him to move any time. Placing his hands flat on the ground, palm side down, he started to get ready. This would allow him to push himself to his feet quickly.

He saw sweat glistening on Billy’s forehead. The other boys were behind him now as the train got louder, obviously watching with anticipation as the vehicle grew closer. Billy stared at Kevin with sad and confused eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” Kevin said, trying to ease Billy’s fear. It sounded like a whisper, though he was shouting.

Getting ready to jump up and run from the tracks, Kevin tried repositioning his legs by pulling them toward himself. The left one came easily. The right one did not. His foot was jammed under the wooden tie of the tracks. He tried pulling, pushing, even untying his gym shoe to get it free. Then he tried again. His foot wouldn’t budge.

“Move,” Johnny screamed, over the roar of the train.

Kevin realized the error of his previous assumption, because Johnny hadn’t just waited until the very last moment. He had waited longer. Probably because Johnny wanted to make it good, being Kevin’s last dare and all. The train had to be about halfway through the tunnel to make this much rumbling and noise, Kevin knew. Much too close. Especially now that his damned foot was caught. He yanked at it, pulled. Nothing. Even tugged at the cloth. His nails ripping across the material made a tiny scratching sound. He could feel it more than hear it. The sound of the train-too close now-thundered in the air.

“Help! Help!” Kevin screamed. It came out, but was lost in the general din of the train. The other boys didn’t hear it, no one saw the exasperated look on his face, and he couldn’t point to his leg to explain. Desperately he tugged at his leg again trying to twist it free.

Billy turned to look at Kevin one last time.

Kevin yelled again, “Help me. I’m stuck.” He was going to die. Billy couldn’t hear him either-the knowledge made him sick, and weak inside. His stomach ached, his bladder hurt. He was only ten years old. Sweat poured down his face.

Kevin’s mouth moved, but nothing came out-Billy saw-so he moved over toward his friend. Kevin pointed to his right foot.

Billy ran over to the other boys, trying to gain some help. Any help. They didn’t respond so he ran back and tried to free his friend. The other boys watched in stunned disbelief as Billy tried to wrench Kevin’s foot free. Billy tried everything, twisting, turning, pulling the foot. Kevin’s pants ripped, giving the impression his foot was free. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t.

Finally, Billy tried pulling at the wood. Nothing worked. Kevin’s foot was wedged. Jammed tightly in place.

The train sounded close. Billy ran over to the others again. “Help me!” he screamed in their faces. Anything to break their silent trance. They stood rapt in shock. Billy ran back to Kevin. Spotting a piece of wood lying nearby, he grabbed it up, shoved it under the board where Kevin’s foot was lodged, and put all his weight onto it, trying to pry Kevin’s foot free. Nothing.

Billy, too afraid to see how close the train was, because if he saw he might freeze up, worked quickly. Pushing with all his might on the board again, using all his weight, might help move the lever. The force he exerted was tremendous, especially considering his age and size. Like a mother lifting a car off her trapped toddler, adrenaline made Billy strong.

Kevin cried in agony as his foot came loose, toes snapping like firecrackers from the force of Billy’s lever. No one heard them except Kevin. He didn’t care. His foot was free.

Kevin stood up, leaning away from that foot. Before he knew what was happening, Billy shoved him hard to the right. Then the train came crashing through, rushing by inches from Kevin’s prone body.

The train moved slow-for a train-due to the oppressive darkness of the tunnel. The train conductor didn’t see the boys who were situated just outside the tunnel. Coming from such darkness into such bright light was blinding. At the last moment he applied the brakes. Too late.

Billy Hawkins’ body was struck, throwing him two hundred feet from the accident scene. He was pronounced dead on arrival. Billy’s parents and friends attended the funeral, where the gang mourned the loss of a truly brave boy.

Kevin’s right foot had four broken bones. His parents never allowed him to see the other boys again after Billy’s funeral.

Later that year, the state paved a street across the tracks close to the same location as the fatal accident. Billy’s parents, with some of their loyal friends, lobbied the city to rename the street after their dead son. They never succeeded. Though their efforts did get Billy’s’ heroism into the local paper, the street remained Elm Street. Everyone thanked the newspaper for immortalizing Billy Hawkins. A true hero.

Kevin went on to become a successful real estate broker. A short time after the accident, Kevin’s parents moved away from his roots to a large suburb of Los Angeles. It was easier than dealing with all the looks from their neighbors. And seeing the sorrow in Billy’s parents’ faces, after having lost their only child.

There was only one person who seemed not to blame Kevin. Billy’s best friend at the time, Beth Sierra. Over the last twenty-five years they remained in contact-writing back and forth. Kevin had grown closer to her than to some of his so-called good friends.

“Twenty-five years have passed. If pressed I can remember parts, but others are blurred. The events have faded in my mind,” he said in answer to her question about how much of the incident he remembered, this on the anniversary of Billy’s death. “It’s almost as if my mind has obliterated details of that day long ago. Like the memories are blurred beneath years of new, sometimes good and sometimes bad experiences, but never any as terrible as I feel that day was. Everything in my life changed from then on.”

“I’m sure it did. You were lucky, you moved away. I heard it all. People said the most awful things. Still, I’m curious about the changes. Were any of them good? I mean, I guess I know about some of them, at least some of the bad ones, but what about the good ones?”

“Sure good things happened to me. I grew up after all. It was a better fate than Billy.”

“Stop that. Don’t go blaming yourself.”

“You’re right. I doubt Billy would have wanted me to. It’s just that today makes me sad.”

“Me too. But don’t blame yourself. Let’s just talk about the good changes in your life since then.”

“Sure. Well, for instance I believe that I never truly liked adventure before that train almost hit me. At least not like I learned to love it. You know this is the first time we’ve really talked about it, which kind of makes me realize how influential that accident truly was.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that somehow after Billy died I changed. I mean I always liked carnivals and a little bit of excitement.”

“All kids do.”

“True. But after we moved away I started liking Chinese food.”

“As you get older you start to enjoy things you didn’t,” Beth said.

“That’s true too. But I always hated Chinese. I remember the first time I ate it and liked it. I can’t remember why, but my father had brought some leftover Chinese home from the office. Mother knew better than to serve it to me. I wouldn’t eat it.”

“Picky, picky.”

“Sure was. But for some reason, the next Saturday my mother was out doing the laundry, I think our washer was on the blink, and I had just gotten home from baseball practice at the high school. I was famished. So I dug in the fridge. Low and behold there was the Chinese. I passed it up three times before the smell prompted me to open it. For some reason, even though I always hated the smell, it was intoxicating to me.”

“Intoxicating?” Beth questioned. “Really?”

“Yeah it’s a strong word, but it’s the right one. I ate the food and it was the most delicious stuff I ever tasted. In the middle of it my Mom arrived home. She saw me eating it and stared. Finally she said, ‘You’re eating Moo Shu pork, do you know that?’ I said, ‘Yes. I guess my tastes changed.’ It just floored her to think I would now eat Chinese. And it wasn’t just that I ate it once in awhile, it became a craving of mine. “Then in the middle of sophomore year, all of a sudden, I became left-handed.”

“That’s impossible. You’re kidding me. Right?”

“Nope. I’m not. It really was weird. One day I wrote right-handed, the next day I wrote left. I never told anyone that but you Beth. But it’s the God’s truth. That was really weird.”

“I bet. You know what, I think Billy was left-handed too.”

“You’re right he was. I remember Jimmy used to tease him about being stupid because of it.”

“You were saying that you got into adventure. How so?”

“Well, I began taking up sports just for the sheer excitement of them. Like water skiing and snow skiing. Not cross-country, but the fast windy downhill type. Always, I searched for windier, steeper courses. Hell, I had hated sports in grammar school, but as I grew older I became addicted to that adrenaline rush. Anything. Once a sport lost its excitement I stopped doing it. Flying and hang gliding became boring after awhile. Too easy, not enough chance of failure.”

“Failure? You wanted to fail at flying?” Beth asked astonished. “You mean you wanted to die?”

“No. And no I didn’t have suicidal thoughts because of what happened to Billy. It was more like other sports held more chance of getting that high. Flying and hang gliding were too easy. With a mountain, or water beneath me I couldn’t always tell where the next tree or wave would be. So I became adventure addicted-I even tried bungee jumping when it first came out if that tells you anything.”

“It tells me you’re crazy,” Beth laughed.

“Maybe I am. It is almost like my drug of choice you know. I have friends who do cocaine, I have friends who drink heavily, and I have friends who pick up new sex partners nightly. That’s their thing. I don’t do any of that, but I do go wild for on-the-edge experiences. One time I even tried walking on a tight rope, just for fun.”

“That’s fun?”

“For me it was. I almost made it too, but slipped.”

“There was a net, right?”

“Nope. That was part of the thrill. No net. But I was lucky, I caught the rope.”

“You were lucky.”

“Yeah, it’s almost as if I couldn’t die. Especially considering all the amazing things I’ve tried. Like I was not fated to die just yet. So that’s part of what has changed.”

“Only part?” Beth asked.

“Well, a few other things happened.”

“Like what?”

“I was deathly allergic to penicillin as a kid. After a night of studying like crazy, I took this exam in college. Well I finished it, but I passed out. Pneumonia, they told me later. The doctors didn’t have a medical history on me and injected me with penicillin. Instead of a terrible reaction, it actually saved my life. It could have been a fluke or something I guess.”

“That’s true. Truth is stranger than fiction sometimes.”

“Yes. My interests changed in high school.”

“You told me, you became interested in sports.”

“That and I began to hate English, which I had always wanted to go into. For all my childhood I remember wanting to be a college professor.”

“A noble cause.”

“Yes I know it is. And you’re great at it.”

“Thanks.”

“But in college I turned to business. Something I had never been interested in before. I even took classes in Accounting.”

“So? Kids change.”

“They do. But I had always hated math before, even stunk at it. Yet I found that I got better and better at it. And science too. I had liked English and history as a kid, but as I got older I became more proficient at science and math. Weird, huh?”

“Kind of. Most kids who like the humanities don’t do well in the sciences, and vice versa. At least from my experience. Not that you couldn’t have liked both. But you said you did better than you expected.”

“I did. I got better in science and worse in history. Of course, who really cares about the Renaissance?” Kevin teased, knowing she taught history.

“That is strange. But not from a guy who turned lef-handed,” Beth teased back.

“I guess I deserved that bit of ribbing. One other thing has changed since Billy died.”

Some kids screamed in the background. Beth said, “Hold on Kevin.” Then she moved the phone from her mouth, but Kevin heard her talking to her kids anyhow. The words were muffled but discernible, “Go play outside kids. I’m trying to have a conversation on the phone now. Your father said to come inside it was going to rain? Okay, stay in, but go up to your room and play there.” There was a rustling sound, “Sorry Kevin.”

“No problem. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No. I’ve got a while before dinner. Go on. You were saying there was one other change since Billy. What was it?”

“I met a girl. I mean a woman.”

“Oh, that’s great. What’s her name?”

“It’s Rose.”

“How’d you meet?”

“That’s the odd part. We met in a country and western bar. I’d always hated country music as a kid, until well, until I was about eleven years old. A friend of mine, actually just an acquaintance named Jack, suggested we meet there. While I loved the music, I usually avoided going to these bars because most of them were dives. Yet, for some reason I agreed to meet him there.”

“You must have been bored that night.”

“Probably,” Kevin said. But that wasn’t it. Dives stank of stale beer and played music that was too tinny. That night was no different. But he was different. He found himself toe tapping and singing songs.

Rose came up to him and said, “Hi cutie.” She was too bold for him. He saw instantly that they had nothing in common. She dressed in skintight pants, and wore an open shirt revealing hefty cleavage. But from the moment she approached, he couldn’t stop staring at her. Her raw sexuality hooked him, he told himself. But there was more. Much more.

The spaghetti straps over her naked shoulders made him tremble with desire, something he had never done before. And she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. In fact, Sarah Thomas had been more so, and he had dumped her after two dates. Still Rose attracted him like no other, she had an ease about her. The feelings of knowing her from before, some other time, a time that never existed, struck him. He had never believed in love at first sight, but she had changed all that.

Rose was crude, saying “Let’s get out of this dump,” after only saying hello. He normally would have refused, liking to get to know the women he slept with beforehand. This time, he had gone with Rose. Some feeling of rightness had pervaded everything, so he had done it. That in itself was unlike him, taking a chance like that.

“Hello?”

“Oops sorry. I guess I was just remembering how we met.”

“You old romantic.”

“Well, we’re planning on getting married next month. Valentine’s Day. Hope you and Dave can make it. That’s why I called in fact. And of course to catch up.”

“We’ll try. Make sure to send an invite though.”

“We will.”

Life went on. Rose and Kevin conceived a son, William. They started him in high school the same year that Rose found the nodule on her breast. It was the couple’s thirteenth anniversary.

Rose, the woman Kevin loved with his entire soul, died two short years after chemotherapy started. They cremated her.

With Rose’s parents unreachable in Europe for another week, Kevin postponed her funeral until they returned. That entire week his eyes remained fused with tears. Every morning he almost had to pry the eyelids from his face to open them.

The last hauntingly familiar thing he found out about Rose’s family was they had lived in the same small neighborhood he had for a time. The one where Beth now resided. His family had already moved when Rose’s landed. Eventually she moved away from them. Yet she had such fond memories she insisted upon having her ashes interred there.

The funeral took Kevin back there. To where Rose’s family resided now. To where he had lived so many years ago.

Deja vu kept occurring while driving into the area. He knew what was around almost every corner, remembered things he hadn’t remembered in years, and got confused when some major aspect had changed. Many had. His old house no longer stood on Pine Street. Instead, a three-story townhouse of red brick occupied the land. Many stores had come and gone in the years since his last visit.

His old friend Jimmy Summers still lived there. Beth had told him that some time before. Jimmy attended Rose’s funeral as a sign of respect for Kevin. That was what he believed at least.

The day after the funeral, Kevin dropped off William at Beth’s house. For some reason, one he did not understand, he needed to be alone. When he finally decided to revisit the graveyard he made a crazy wrong turn, getting himself completely lost. Lost in a town he had once known from alleyway to alleyway. He recognized something finally. Something from the past. Like he was a child again, running home with his friends, Johnny, Tony, Jimmy and Billy. Playing games and stupid pranks.

Memories flooded his mind as he drove-he came to an intersection that was totally familiar, yet somehow alien. The ghastly looking railroad crossing hadn’t been there before, his child brain was sure. It hadn’t existed in the past. The cavernous train tunnel resembled the giant mouth of a stone man-open and ready to eat him alive. As the bar descended, bells started ringing-warning him of an impending train-connecting his past with his present. Kevin daydreamed back. Back to that fateful day when his life had been changed. When Billy’s life had ended. Submerged in his brain, Kevin understood.

“You killed Billy, Kevin. Do you know that?” A voice inside his head asked. The voice of time, indescribably old, was correct of course.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Kevin said.

This location, where two boys’ lives went askew, his and Billy’s, seemed to radiate a heat. He envisioned the accident-Billy working hard to remove the train tie, using all his might-then the train, loud and angry. His mind swirled with thoughts-Kevin understood what had happened. This was his destiny-as it should have been all those years before.

This place held the cards to so many lives.

The voice spoke again, “It was not your fault. Yet the choice you made, your offer to take Billy’s place, changed what finally happened. Do you understand that?”

“I guess I do. But I was just trying to protect Billy. Really.” The roar of the train in the tunnel reminded Kevin of that previous day-but there was no escape today-it sounded like a snoring giant awakening, his starving stomach screaming for food…almost as if the giant would gobble Kevin up alive. Closer-hungrier-closer-angrier-the train rumbling its approach.

“I guess I screwed everything up. Didn’t I?” Kevin knew what his whole life had been-he had lived out Billy’s dreams, his hopes…his fate. His life. Experiencing Billy’s needs, loving Billy’s wife. Things Billy would have done had he not died. Rose was Billy’s woman all along.

“I think you understand what happened. You lived for Billy, but you must die when he was to die. Do you understand that as well?”

“Why?”

“Fate is mutable, but some things must occur.”

The words seeped into Kevin’s mind. And he thought he understood. Billy would have died. Today.

Content

William D. Hicks
Twist