It had been a Good Life

It had been a good life, until that fateful day. That odious little boy had changed their lives forever. They would never see their friends again, never feel the breath of laughter again, and they would never be missed.

Oh sure, everyone would think about them for awhile, the way people often do. She could just hear them talking about her and her family in hushed, conspiratorial voices. "Well of course they had to move away"...."how dreadful"....well I heard"...."no that's not true, this is what happened"....on and on and on. After a few months had gone by and some new scandal arose, then we would just fade into the past.

It had all happened so quickly, a split second. I remember my first thought was "what happened?" Seemingly, out of nowhere, action began to explode around me. People running into the backyard, sirens blaring louder and louder. "Why were they here?" Then I just stood there, dazed. My legs felt wobbly, I could barely stand on them. Slowly they buckled and I was on the ground, just sitting and staring blankly.

One of our neighbors came over to help me. A tall, slim, quiet woman, Jean was her name. The only contact we had before this day was exchanging hellos in the morning as we got into our cars. Firmly with both hands, Jean held my arm by the elbow, picking me up and leading me to one of the chairs. Then, realizing that was not the best place for me to be at the moment she changed directions heading toward the open sliding glass door into our cool, shadowy living room. The bustle of activity outside now seemed miles away.

I began replaying the events in my mind, slowly, not to miss a single instance. Kevin, our seven year old, and Michael, the ten year old boy from next door had been playing outside. In the yard barely ten feet from where I was now sitting.

It sounds horrible to say about a ten year old, but I never really cared for Michael much, he was an odd child. He always had a defiant air about him. Whenever our eyes met, he had a look on his face that said, 'I dare you.' His parents were peculiar too. They both kept to themselves, as if they wanted no contact with the outside world. Odd looks....as if they thought someone was constantly watching them. I couldn't put my finger on it really, just a strange niggling in my head.

There weren't any other children on our street near Kevin's age, so I begrudgingly let them play together on the rare occurrence Michael's' parents let him come out. I don't know why Kevin wanted to hang around with Michael really; he almost always came inside upset, sometimes teary eyed. When I asked what was wrong, he would shrug his shoulders and say "it's boy-stuff, Mom."

"What kind of boy-stuff? It can't be fun if you're upset every time you play together."

"Michael says when I'm older then I'll understand the games better." Kevin said on one occasion. So I let it go.

Dan, my husband, would say I worry too much. "They're just boys; they'll work it out in their own way."

"I'm sorry Dan, but the boy is just plain weird. I'm afraid Kevin's starting to act withdrawn now too."

That afternoon was different, I couldn't make out the words, but I heard shouting, yelling, crying. "This is it", I said out loud. "No more Michael", as I marched through the house heading towards the backyard. Those words haunt me now, "No more Michael", "no more Michael."

As I neared the sliding glass door leading to the backyard, there was no more shouting, yelling, crying. It was eerily still. I stepped out into the bright sunlight. One boy standing and holding a small shiny object in his hand while staring blankly at the other boy lying on the ground, lifeless.

"Michael said it was just boy-stuff", Kevin said, tears streaming down his face. He lifted the shiny object that was still in his own small hand. It was clearer now, I could make it out. He raised his arm and said "see." That's when I started screaming. My screaming must have startled Kevin back into reality and he dropped the gun.

That was three months ago to the day. Dan and I have drifted apart now. I'm sure we will file for divorce. Neither of us has the energy to take the first step. Separately we go to see Kevin every week. He is withdrawn. He doesn't eat much. He hardly looks at me or speaks. When he does speak he says the same thing over and over, "it's just boy-stuff."

It had been a good life until that fateful day. That odious little boy had changed our lives forever.