Albatross

You can’t know what it‘s like to keep a real secret unless you have one and you’ve kept it for years. You want to tell it. You need to tell it. But you can’t. Because you’re afraid of what will happen to you. Or to your friends.

I have a secret. And I’m going to tell you. Because I recently realized something: the crazier a story is, even if it’s true, the less chance anyone will believe it.

More even than that, I can’t stand keeping it anymore.

I watched an old movie the other day; 2001 A Space Odyssey. In it the brilliant computer has to keep a huge secret, but keeping the secret is too much for the computer and it goes crazy. I’m not going crazy, but I’ll tell you it’s a heavy thing to keep a secret like this. And now I can tell you and nobody will care. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep better after so many years. Maybe it won’t catch me up suddenly anymore in the middle of an otherwise peaceful day. Reminding me that I’m not just like everyone else. That I’ve been a part of something awful. A huge lie. But I know you won’t believe it. Thank God.

I’ve changed all the names of people and places. Except my name.

So, here’s my secret.

It was several years ago. I was twelve and my family and some of our neighbors went to Trapper’s Point for the weekend. Trapper’s point is a recreation area at a place where the mountains meet the ocean. There’s a big river for boaters. There are mountains for hikers. And there’s a huge ‘campgrounds’ for beer swilling middle aged campers to park their campers on.

My best friend Charlie "Cash" Robbins came with my family. Cash and I go way back to first grade when I still lived in Lyndeborough. We’ve always been close. We like the same food. Same movies. We both loved paintball. Our parents get along and we each spent about half the summer at each other’s houses.

The Whites from up the street came, too. I knew Dave. Not too well, but well enough. I knew about all the trouble they’d had with their drunk of a father. I knew that Dave had gotten into a lot of trouble. And I knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t as bad as everyone thought. At school a lot of the kids were afraid of Dave. I think that’s because he knew they’d heard things about him and his family and some of them thought the Whites were trashy. All I knew was that if you messed with him you were going to wind up on your ass with his knee in your stomach and if you let him cheat off your homework he’d tell you a string of some of the grossest and funniest stories you ever heard. We hung out, but not much. Cash knew him better.

I also knew he was on something like parole and if he got into any trouble, even a little trouble they were going to put him in a “State Institution For Losers” is what he called it. It was a place up in Concord and he wouldn’t be able to see his mom or his little brother and sister until he was eighteen. Dave said he wasn’t scared of going to the Loser Institution, but that he was the man of his house and his mother wouldn’t know what to do without him. If you met her you’d believe him. Nice woman. But very quiet and very shy. She seemed to be willing to do what anybody told her, especially if it was a guy telling her.

None of us really knew Tim. The Fausts had moved in in the spring. They lived at the other end of the neighborhood. All we really knew about Tim was how much he loved video games. How did we know that? Because that was all he talked about.

I liked video games but not that much. And Cash’s parents never bought him any. “My dad says they’ll suck your brains out.” Cash would say if you asked. Then he’d stick out his tongue and cross his eyes and talking like a caveman, he’d say “Look, I played GTA today.” Then he’d make some stupid pig grunts or something and most people would laugh. I don’t know what Dave thought about video games. I’m pretty sure his mother couldn’t afford them.

Anyway, we’d all been at Trapper’s Point for a day and us kids were getting bored.

Cash and Dave and I were hanging out trying to decide what to do.

“Hey, how about let’s go check out those girls by the dock?” Cash pointed towards the river. Dave and I looked.

“Great idea,“ said Dave. “If you’re a pedophile.”

“What’s that?” Cash asked.

“A cradle robber, dumb-ass.” Dave poked him in the ribs and stood up. He looked away towards a group of sailboats out on the river.

“What’s a…” Cash started but Dave cut him off.

“I think the oldest one of those girls just got potty trained last week.” He didn’t turn around. “You into that?”

“Noooo…” said Cash a little unsure of what Dave really meant.

“I didn’t think so.”

Dave started walking toward the river. We followed.

At the river’s edge we stood and watched the sailboats. It was a cloudy day and the wind was starting to rise. I remember those sailboats. Today, whenever I see a sailboat I can’t help but think back to a time when I didn’t know some things. I know I’m not that old and most adults still consider me a kid. But sailboats remind me of that day. And that day I changed forever. I didn’t want to change like that. I don’t know if I started acting different or what. All I know is that after that day things like happy little sailboats floating in the breeze over the pretty grayish river seemed to be from a different world. That was a world where I didn’t know things. I was about two hours from crossing forever into a new one.

We wanted to rent out one of the sailfish sailboats but those were $10 an hour and you needed an adult on board. Dave told the clerk he’d just turned eighteen and if he’d loan her $20 maybe they could hang out together after supper. She was probably at least 16 years old. And she was pretty. I was surprised that she seemed to actually take him seriously for about a second. Then she snapped her gum and told us “Get lost or rent something.”

So we rented a rowboat for $2 an hour.

We had to go back to our parents to get permission and money. That’s when Tim found out about us going. I don’t remember how. All I remember is how loud Tim whined and begged his mom to go with. I don’t even remember if he asked us if he could come.

Tim’s mother didn’t want him going. She was a fat whale. Sorry, but that’s what she was. And she could yell like a wild boar. But Tim won out and started running for the beach even before we did. She screamed after him.

“You boys better wear your goddamn life jackets! And take your lunch or you’ll starve! Here, Ben, take this to Timmy! Timmy…” She always mixed my name up with my older brother’s. But not after today she wouldn’t any more.

My father stopped us before we left. “You guys know to stay away from Slippery Rock, right?”

“We know, Dad.”

“We’re only going out on the river, anyway, Mr. Clark.” Dave was trying to be helpful but my dad just looked at him. I think he was trying to decide whether or not he’d need to call the Coast Guard if I went out with a kid like Dave.

“Be smart.” he called to us. He always says that, especially when he’s worried.

We all waved then we broke into a run for the row boat before the adults could say anything more.

Soon we were in the middle of the lake. Far enough away from the shore that everybody pretty much looked like ants.

Suddenly Tim stood up. He was standing near the front of the boat and he stood up so fast he made the boat rock violently.

“What the Hell!”

“You dumb fuckin…”

“Jesus Christ!”

Cash, Dave, and I all yelled at the same time.

Tim spun around shaking the boat even more. He grabbed the clasp on his PFD and unsnapped it.

“I’m going swimming!” He shouted.

“I’ll say you are, you asshole.” Cash, who was up front and to the side of Tim placed his foot on Tim’s butt and shoved. “You rock the boat, you go for a little swimmy-poo.” Tim hit the water with scream and a huge splash. He came up spouting water and curses. But Dave and Cash and I were too busy laughing to care.

Soon we were all in the water. I stuck close to the boat. Something about floating above a giant, yawning black mouth kind of creeps me out for some reason. It wasn’t long before we were all back in the boat.

We rowed all the way across the river and turned up against its flow. My dad warned us not to go with the river or else it would take forever to get back. We came to a little spot with a tree hanging out over the water with a rope tied to it. We got out on shore and played on the rope until Tim took a really long jump and came up screaming about having nearly killed himself on a rock hidden in the water.

We got back in the boat and headed out for the sailboats.

Rowing is hard work. We tried to follow the sailboats but they were too fast.

After a while we had to rest. The boat drifted with the current. We told stories about stupid people we knew, and lies about girls we wished we knew. And the boat drifted. It could have drifted anywhere. We hardly noticed when it made a little scratching noise and struck shore underneath a set of tall cliffs.

We all looked up.

“Hey, look,” said Cash. “It’s Slippery Rock.”

We all got out and pulled the boat up on the shore. The beach was a small sandy strip empty of people. By the looks of it, no one had been here for days.

Off to the left by a hundred yards or so a creek emptied out at the foot of the cliffs. The cliffs were easily 200 feet high and surrounded on the bottom by big, jagged rocks. The cliffs were covered in trees from the bottom, along the sides, to the top. All except the very top. There we could see what looked like a small clearing.

“Come on,” said Tim. “Let’s go!” He started into the woods then stopped and turned around. “Come on!”

I wanted to go of course. But not that bad. We all knew anyone caught up there was in a world of trouble. Over the years a few people had fallen from the cliffs and the park rangers took trespassing seriously. Most people didn’t come from this side though. On the other side of the cliff was another trail leading up. That trail had been closed. Or at least that’s what I’d heard. From this side there didn’t look like any way up.

We stood there in silence, each of us thinking.

“I don’t know, guys,” said Dave. “I’m totally fucked if I so much as flick a booger at someone.”

“We don’t have to go all the way to the top,” said Cash.

“There probably isn’t even a path up there from this side.” I said. Somehow this came out as encouraging. I didn’t mean it that way.

“So, we go as far as we can and turn back,” said Tim. “We’ll be back in no time.”

“Yeah,” agreed Cash.

“Whatever,” said Dave. “Let’s go.”

As we started into the woods fat drops of rain started to fall one by one.

The way up was easy. There was a little path through the woods that we found almost immediately. About 100 feet from the top we came to a chain link fence. There was a huge sign warning about no trespassing and of all sorts of prosecutions if you tried to go to the other side. There were trees all around and there didn’t seem to be any way through or over it. The fence turned a corner to the left. Tim went around looking for a way through.

The rain was steadier now and we were starting to get wet for real.

I was all set to turn around when Tim found a spot where the fence had been clipped at the bottom.

“Wonderfuckingfull,” said Dave. “Let’s get this over with.”

So we went.

I think there are probably lots of times in people’s lives when they wish they could get in a time machine and go back and make just one little change. For the rest of my life I’ll wish I’d just turned around and walked back down. Instead we all went through the fence.

There was no one at the top.

The cliffs were amazing. I could see all the way across the river easily to the park on the other side. The sailboats had all gone in and there was lightning in the distance. The sky darkened and sheets of rain blocked out whole sections of the horizon. The rain was coming our way.

The perch we sat on was narrow. Only a few rocks wide. Those were wet. And slippery.

Tim was hopping around shouting. The rest of us sat and looked out. After a while Dave told Tim to shut up.

“Shut up.” Those were the last words anybody ever spoke to Tim Faust.

“Let’s go.” Dave muttered, standing up. It had been cool, but it was time to go. We headed for the fence but Tim stayed behind, standing on a boulder near the edge of the cliff.

“Hey, guys.” He called to us. “Watch thi…” We heard a shout of what sounded like surprise. A short scream. Then nothing.

“Jesus, what an idiot,” said Dave, continuing on. The three of us continued into the woods.

We hadn’t gone far when Cash stopped and looked back. “Uh, I’m…I’m going to check.”

“Fine.” I said. “We’ll wait for you at the bottom.”

But once we got to the fence we stopped and waited. We didn’t have to wait for long. When we heard the sounds Cash was making coming back we didn’t need to hear what he was going to say.

“He fell. He’s dead.” He more cried it than said it. “The mother fucker fell!”

It had taken us about 20 minutes to get up the cliff. I think it took two to get down. As we ran lightning exploded and thunder crashed around us. And the rain began to fall in drenching waves.

We got to the bottom and ran for the spot where Tim had fallen. We found him at the foot of the cliff, laying halfway on a rock that sat beside the bank of a deep stream flowing past the cliffs and into the river.

Dave got there first. “Holy Shit! He’s STILL ALIVE!”

He was. He was breathing in short, rapid, dog-like pants.

What I’m about to tell you is disgusting. But I have to tell you so you know why we did what we did. You don’t have to agree. You probably won’t. But you have to know why.

See, he might have been breathing, but he shouldn’t have been. His skull was split…really split open from his nose all the way to the back of his head. That little brain in the back of the main brain was hanging out, smashed like jello. His eyes stared unblinking and unseeing into the pounding rain. Tim was making his own little river, but his was of blood. It poured out all over the rock, washing down its side and into the raging creek. He’d hit the top of the rock. His back was snapped in half.

I know you probably expect me to tell you how the three of us started crying and throwing up and stuff like you see in the movies. But we didn’t. Instead I just remember a feeling of cold numbness like I’d been hit in the head with a rock. Bad shit had happened and I we knew it was likely to get even worse.

I don’t know how long we stared but Cash was the first to snap out of it. “Come on!” He said “We’ve got to get him into the boat!” He reached down to grab Tim. But I stopped him.

“Wait!” I shouted. “We have to get the boat up here. We move a guy hurt this bad too much and he’ll die for sure.” It was a miracle he was alive at all. Thunder roared nearby.

“I’m so fucked.”

“What?” Cash and I spoke at the same time. It was Dave. From the sound of his voice it sounded like he was crying. Maybe he was. We couldn’t tell from the rain. But we looked at him and we could see it in his eyes. Then we understood. He was fucked. Suddenly it was like Dave had fallen, too. Dave and his mother. And his little brother and sister.

I was numb. Suddenly I couldn’t move. My mind was racing. There had to be a way out of this! But there wasn’t. I looked out over the stream and back to Tim laying on his rock. If only he’d fallen just a little farther over...if he’d hit the bank and rolled into the stream...

“Yeah,” Dave agreed, surprising me because I didn’t realize I’d spoken. “Just a little farther over.”

“Come on.” I said. “We gotta get the boat.”

“Yeah,” said Dave, “Let’s go.”

We started out but Cash stayed behind. “I’ll stay with him. You guys…you guys go on ahead.”

It didn’t make sense. The boat was heavy and we needed all of us to move it. But we saw the look on Cash’s face and didn’t argue.

The whole time we were gone Dave kept muttering to himself, “I am soooo fucked.” It wasn’t self pity. It was just a fact.

It took us about 15 minutes to pull the boat up. When we got back Cash was staring out beyond where the stream entered the river to where the river emptied into the ocean itself. “He slipped off.” That’s all he said. He didn’t even look at us.

Dave and I ran to the rock Tim had been laying on. I looked at the rock and the creek bank. There was no way he just slipped off. Dave and I looked at each other. We were thinking the same thing. In the creek, and out where it met the river, there was no trace of Tim’s body.

With the rain coming like a waterfall the rock was nearly washed clean. The sand on the creek bank, too. It was as if Tim had never really been there. Except his broken glasses. I reached down and picked them up from the base of the rock. I slipped them into my pocket without even thinking. There was no sign of Tim in the little creek. Between the current and riptide he must have already been washed out.

We went back to Cash who was still looking out to sea.

We got in the boat and headed back. The trip was going to take us about 20 minutes. Maybe longer because the wind was really whipping and the rain made it hard to see. We talked for about 2 minutes then threw our life jackets into the water. We didn’t talk for the rest of the trip.

By the time we reached the shore and stepped out of the boat I realized that I was a changed person. Forever. All of ours were.

No one doubted our story. That must have been because we didn’t tell any lies. We’d gone rowing around. We’d chased sailboats. And we’d found that rope and that hidden rock. And Tim had gone under water and never come back up.

Looking back we were incredibly lucky. The storm that blew up lasted for two days. The wind and rain made the dredging operation pretty much useless. And they started out looking too far upriver from where he really went in. We told them about the tree with the rope. And the submerged rock. For some reason that’s where they thought he’d gone under.

We knew if they found him they would probably start wondering. His injuries were too bad to be explained by hitting an underwater rock.

We never talked about it again. Not once.

I don’t know if what we did was right or wrong, but about two years later Dave’s father got out of prison and went home. Or tried to. The rumor went that after a couple of days Dave came home and found his mom with a black eye. That night his father left the house screaming with his own black eye and never returned. He was arrested 6 months later and charged with strangling the woman he was living with. I think about that a lot.

---

Sometimes I wonder if Tim’s remains will wash up somewhere and I’ll be found out.

But that’s not what keeps me up at night. He was still breathing the last time I saw him. He was alive.

That’s what keeps me awake..

So now that I’ve told you, maybe I’ll be able to sleep better.

Maybe not.

LHC New Boston, NH 2008-2009