Storymania - For Richey by Tessak O'neill

For Richey
Tessak O'neill

Somewhere in the middle of the night, lights streamed across the icy
pavement, brakes screeched, and an unavoidable crash of two metal
monsters ensued. Their demise was decided at the turning bend, about
which Richey had always been warned. It curved tightly towards a
lonely red barn. From the passenger seat a friend’s life was spared.
“Richey, wake up. Please, buddy. Come on.”
Furiously shaking the lifeless body, the old familiar Yankee’s hat fell
from the lifeless boy’s head.
The friend from the passenger seat cried out, “Someone help, anyone.
We need help!”
* * *
Who would have called them at this late hour? Footsteps raced frantically
through the house looking for an answer on what to do next. Soon
sobbing could be heard from under the door. There were muf?ed voices
laced with worry and a mother’s tears for her oldest son.
“What’s going on, Momma? Is something wrong? Momma, Richey isn’t
in his bed. Where is he, Momma?” Ben uttered these words with a hint
of uncertainty as a shiver of the cold world outside his bed tingled up his
spine.
“Hush, Benson, you’ll upset your Momma. You have to stay here and
take care of your sister. Make sure she doesn’t wake up.”
For a few minutes Ben’s world was left silent, but his head was spinning
in a world of loud questions. What was wrong? Who had called?
And where was Richey?
“I wish they had told me more,” Ben whispered to himself with sorrow.
“Told you what? Where are Momma and Poppa?” The voice of a
sleepy eyed girl with curly blonde hair startled Ben. She leaned with
anticipation on her big brother’s leg.
“Why are you up so late?”
“I had a bad dream.”
“Come on back to bed, and I’ll lay in there with you.”
Scared inside, Ben wanted to cry out of confusion, but he knew being
strong for his sister was what mattered now. The children soon put
worry aside and fell asleep together.
* * *
Awakened by the bright sun streaming through his bedroom windows,
Ben struggled to decide if he wanted to get out of his comfortable bed
and embrace a new day. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his 11-yearold
body. As part of his morning ritual, he put on the sweat stained
Yankee’s hat that now always hung from his bedpost. As he walked out
of his room, he stumbled over his bags packed the previous night for
summer at the farmhouse.
From the other room, he heard his mom and sister talking and heard
the familiar turns of the Sunday paper that his father always read.
“Look who ?nally woke up!” Ben’s little sister chirped, as her frizzy
curls bounced with enthusiasm.
“Glad you decided to join us, Benson. Did you sleep well?” He noticed
his mother was making a steamy plate of puffy pancakes. He saw the
date on the paper; could it really have only been four months since the
accident?
“Those look great Mom, thanks.” Ben sat in his chair and began to
devour the pancakes as he tried to fully wake up.
“So, sweetie, what are you planning to do ?rst when we get to the
farm today? The ?rst day of summer should start with a bang, don’t you
think, dear?” Ben’s mother looked at her husband with care as he set
aside the newspaper to look into his son’s eyes; this look always seemed
to make Ben feel nervous.
“We could go ?shing, which would be fun. Or swimming at the lake?”
The mention of ?shing, which had been a tradition of the boys and
their father on the ?rst day of summer, brought vivid memories into
Ben’s head. All those summers he spent with Dad and Richey; talking
and laughing and waiting for a ?sh to bite on their lines. They could connect
there together in ways that they never connected anywhere else.
“Well, dad, I was going to try to ?nish my book and…”
Ben was interrupted by his mom, “Fishing and swimming sounds wonderful,
don’t you think? All of us spending time together like we used
to.”
Everyone around Ben seemed to have moved on after Richey’s death.
Ben just wished that it would be easier for him, easier to face what his
life was now like without his big brother, Richey. Going to the farm
would only make things harder for Ben. Things for Ben and Richey had
been closer the summer before. The six-year age gap did not seem to
matter at the farm. Playing ball, staying up late at the shed, and telling
ghost stories around a camp?re -- things just wouldn’t be the same.
The drive to the farm had certainly not broken with tradition; Momma
and Poppa quarreled about directions. Ben simply sat in his seat hoping
he could fall asleep. The sharp stop of the car woke Ben, and the scent
of pine wafted and tickled Ben’s nose as he stretched and reached for his
pack.
Seeing the farmhouse after the winter months was always so odd, each
piece of furniture covered like ghosts with the soft white sheets. He
knew the drill and headed around the house to open windows and let the
house breathe. Ben then dragged his bags into his room, as he hardly
dared to look at the empty twin bed next to his.
He headed out to the comfy porch swing in the back and opened
Gulliver’s Travels, uncreased the page and began to read where he had
left off. Behind him he heard his mother’s shoes clicking on the wooden
planks of the ?oor in the kitchen; she was headed his way.
“Ben, your father and sister would really like you to join them at the
lake. I know you might not want to, but I’d really like you to go. It’s
important, sweetheart. I know things are hard. They’re hard for all of us.
I miss him, too. And I know you’re sad Ben; I know that certain way you
act when you get in this mood. As much as I love that you enjoy reading,
I want you to get out there.” His mother preached to Ben, but he tried to
ignore her words.
“Come on, do I really have to? I just got to the best part in my book.
I’m not sad. Please just leave me alone. It’s only been four months,” Ben
protested.
“Young man, you will go with them to the lake. And there is no way
you’re taking that book.” She paused and collected herself, “I don’t want
to be mean sweetheart, but I know what is best for my boy. Let me have
some time to make our annual ?rst night dinner. I’m making all your
favorites.”
“Fine, I’ll go. I guess it couldn’t hurt; maybe it’ll be fun.” Ben turned
towards the door to catch up with his Dad and sister.
Gleaming sun shone across the lake blinding Ben at ?rst and making
him wince and shield his eyes. He pulled the Yankees hat down over his
face to protect his eyes. He watched his sister run towards the welcoming
water. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw the rope swing. Something
about it scared him and excited him at the same time.
He tried ignoring the beautiful water, but he couldn’t help but look
out towards the swing. He saw his sister ?ail around as she jumped
off the dock into the cold water. Ben was nervous; he wasn’t sure if he
was ready. The water was deep, and he never had the guts to jump like
Richey loved to do. Despite his fear, he was pulled almost like a magnetic
force to the lake. He knew he should at least test the water.
The crisp grass crunched under his sensitive bare feet as he climbed
the hill to the old rope swing. As he reached for the rope, he tried to
reassure himself: I can do it; I have seen everyone else do it. I can do it;
Richey would be proud.
Gripping the rope, he closed his eyes, swung forward into the air and
let go to be consumed by the cold lake water. When Ben reached the air
again, he was so excited! Never had he felt so accomplished. He swam
over to his sister and father who were equally impressed with his jump.
This feeling made Ben think that things were coming together and might
be okay.
The day at the lake had been so much fun: swimming and diving with
his sister and then starting a long game of Marco Polo with Dad. Ben was
happy; happier than he had been in awhile. When his father and sister
went back to help with dinner, Ben headed for his favorite place on the
farm property.
“You have a watch, right Ben? Be home at 7:30 sharp for dinner. That
gives you half an hour.”
Ben raced off towards the old shed. His footsteps stomped through
the tall grass cutting his ankles as he ran along the familiar path. He
could see the shed where the boys, who at home sometimes seemed like
they were barely brothers, were best friends. He reached the sight of
their hideout; Richey had shown it to Ben when Richey thought Ben was
old enough. They would spend all day exploring and playing in the shed.
Stretching his legs so he could step on top of the picnic table, Ben
hopped up onto the tin roof of the shed, sat down and gazed at the summer
skyline. He rested his head on his arms and inhaled the familiar
scent of the farm. Ben closed his eyes and thought about the day: swimming,
exploring, and practicing new dives. He had done so much on this
?rst day of summer, and he began to think of how just last summer his
brother had been with them.
I bet Richey would have loved it here tonight, Ben thought. He closed
his eyes and thought about his brother. Richey was what Ben felt he
could never be. Richey was everyone’s favorite. Ben’s throat felt tense
and full.
I’m not sure if I’m ready to grow up; at least I don’t see how it is possible
without you around to look up to, Ben thought as if Richey were beside
him.
Ben knew it was getting late, so he rushed off to make it home in time
for dinner. He knew it would be a mistake to make his Momma angry
since she had spent all afternoon making the grand meal to kick off the
summer.
Back at the house an aroma wafted into Ben’s nose that made him
hungry.
“Everyone come into the dining room. Dinner is on the table.” As
Momma called her family to dinner she asked Ben’s father, “Honey, would
you like to say anything before we pray and begin to eat?”
It was a tradition for Poppa to pray before the family could eat, so
Ben’s father cleared his throat and stood at the head of the table.
“Tonight I think we should ?rst thank the Lord for this food, and thank
Him for giving us your dear Mother who prepared it for us to enjoy. I
thank the Lord for having all of you; all of you with me to share in this
meal and I am glad for that. Most of all…” Ben could tell something
was tugging at his fathers’ heart as he paused and cleared his throat
in search for the right words. “I want this dinner to be remembered
in honor of our dear boy, Richey. Though he is not with us now at our
table, he is always with us in our hearts. So, in the Lord’s name, please
bless this meal and our family. Amen.”
A slow tear trickled from Momma’s eye as she rubbed her husband’s
arm and motioned to her children that they could begin to eat. The
dinner ?lled the family’s stomachs with joy and happiness. Even though
they were thankful for this feast, their father’s speech had touched them
all. After dinner, the children went to watch TV, and Poppa helped his
wife with the dishes.
Awhile later Momma came into the living room, “Do you know what
time it is? Off to bed you two. Your father and I let the time slip away
from us. Go on, you sweet things.” The children whined at the order and
dragged their feet reluctantly towards their separate rooms.
That night Ben dreamt about Richey. In Ben’s dream, Richey was alive.
Ben, I have never seen you like this. You are really starting to become a
young man. The warm voice of his brother made Ben tingle in his sleep.
You know they are really proud, Benny. But you had mom worried, and
Mom doesn’t get shaken easily. You shouldn’t have been sad about all this
for so long. You know I’m always with you whenever you need me.
In the dream, Ben responded: I wanted to be just like you, Richey; I
wanted to try out for the diving team, to make the Junior Varsity baseball
team as a freshman, to have everyone be just as proud of me when I get
good grades like you did. I wanted to be just like you. Why did you have
to leave? Why, Richey? Why? We all need you Richey, without you it’s
hard to be normal anymore.
Even in such a deep sleep, tears crept up into the frustrated boy’s
eyelids. I don’t think I’m strong enough Richey.
In his dream, Ben ran towards Richey embracing the body of his shattered
brother. In his sleep Ben clenched his pillow in an embrace.
Do all those things Ben, you have to. If it means something to you, you
should go for it. Not just for them, but for you. It shouldn’t always be
about others. If you do it for yourself, then it should be worthwhile to
the people who love you.
The hooting of an owl suddenly awakened Ben. He was sweating even
though he had kicked off all his covers and a cool breeze was coming
through the wide-open window. As he awoke, he began to cry, not really
knowing why. He gazed around the room of the two boys; they had
spent every summer of their lives at this house. Together they had made
memories that would last a lifetime. He could see the beat up chair
in the corner where Richey had told anxious little Ben stories of the
magical and mysterious. He could feel Richey’s presence when he sat in
the window seat. He remembered how he had always pretended to be
asleep, so he could watch his big brother gaze out at the stars. The tears
wouldn’t stop.
He reached for Richy’s faded blue Yankees hat and examined it; as Ben
was holding it, he felt comforted by the feeling that his brother was right
there with him. Ben placed the hat on his head and adjusted the size
a little bit and laid down again, hoping to fall asleep. Before he did, he
silently promised, I can do it Richey, and I’ll do it for me.