The Between Years

on in that place, and I don't care to be told that I'm crazy. Frankly, crazier things have happened in that house.

    He scooped up the Spiderman costume, the toy wrestlers, and stuffed animals and handed them to me. Should he have simply thrown them out? Ordinarily I would say so, but I understand his reason for studying them first. They were real; not part of my imagination, and I think I needed something like that to leave my mind in peace. After what I'd seen, I needed it.

    Then he set the broom down. “I think that's enough for one day.”

    Judging by the way he moved I could see that the work had exhausted him. I offered to come and help him in any way I could, but he told me I had enough to worry about. Deep down I suppose I did. I hadn't realized the whirlwind my life had become until he said so. Sometimes we need permission to take a break from the rigors of life. Granted, that might have also been his way of advising me to steer clear of the rest of the family, which was fine by me.

    Once the ordeal with police and reporters died down, the remnants of the house were finally torn down. And it wasn't just the house's charm that made the demolition a shame; the history had to mean something to someone. I mean, that house had stood during the time of Beethoven, the Civil War and Lincoln assassination, the Titanic's sinking and Two World Wars. Walls that had stood the test of time were destroyed in two simple phases.

    Now that historic house is no more than a giant hole in the ground. The tool shed still stands at the back of the driveway, and a much older wooden garage stand at the back of the yard. No doubt, it's a real eyesore for the people who live behind it! A charming wooden swing still stands near the driveway.

    I knew that the place was just bricks and mortar, but the place must have sustained itself on something. A cosmic blast like that explosion needed ammunition, after all. Randy had been enslaved by the place, or maybe something within the place enslaved him. I can never be sure. But what I can be sure of was that it changed the man I knew. Still, whatever happened in that house was his concern, I decided. I will have to live without answers, but I know that it's better than living with constant pain.

CHAPTER 34
    I took three weeks off from work after the explosion. The union's contract calls for less than that, but this was no ordinary circumstance. Besides, my department head understood that I was going through more hell than anyone had a right to. But I had no arrangements to make, and the only other inconvenience I suffered was at the hands of police and reporters. I was a victim of my own intellect and conscience, which would chew me up during my time off.

    When I returned to work, I worried what everyone would think, from my colleagues to my superiors and my students. After all, the incident had made news all over Ontario and Western New York, and everyone I knew seemed anxious to hear the scoop first hand. Not that I would grant them the satisfaction mind you, but the pressure was there just the same. What vultures.

    But I received no looks when I stepped out of my car in the campus parking lot. My colleagues made the usual small talk in the department faculty lounge that they always had-which was usually some pretentious banter that I couldn't be bothered with anyway. Still, I had my classes to consider.

    My students were far too respectful and too, far too sensitive to bring up that topic. I slinked into the lecture hall and was met by a band of warmth, smiles and all the reason in the world to believe I would receive no judgment from them. Of course, the time I'd had away from school had been desperately needed, and I wouldn't have been able to return to work without it.

    The time I had to myself during my leave was mostly spent reading. And I mean, day and night. I never thought I would ever catch up on all the reading that I've always wanted to do, but that made a believer out of me. And I actually could concentrate on the lines and words this time. Every time I became immersed in a story, I felt my muscles relax and no doubt my blood pressure dropped. As with Kenny's death, the silence in my house was unbearable, but I learned to live with it by switching on the radio, or leaving the television on even when I was in the other room.

    Sometimes I get the urge to put the house up for sale and I've even consulted real estate agencies a time or two. Where would I go? Back to St.