Event in Progress

Chapter Twenty-Four

The town where it had all happened was only a forty-five minute drive away from the park. As she moved through traffic, Christine noticed Sean withdrawing more and more into himself. The story he had told had been revealing and it explained a lot about his oddities. She had already figured out about his fits of insomnia-the ever present dark circles beneath his eyes were sort of a giveaway-and she had known that it must have taken a lot out of Sean to tell her everything he had said.

Christine felt a bit of fury rise inside her as she drove. It was anger toward the people who had done such cruel things to Sean, even though they had only been children at the time. It was no excuse. They hadn't realized what they had done to the child would affect the man, but that was no excuse either.

He had told her of the chant. Christine knew that Aaron and Matt wouldn't remember that chant today. It was a cruel thing they had done, but it hadn't really meant much to them either. It had been a diversion for them. And it had destroyed Sean McKnight. She would have put money on it that they probably didn't even remember his name anymore, but Sean would always remember who they were.

Christine was most upset because she could see the kind of man that Sean was beneath all the pain. He was a nice, gentle man. He had a heart of gold and a personality that was naturally friendly, open, and boisterous. It had been crushed under the weight of this travesty but it was still there. And she knew that while Sean skirted the issue adeptly, he must have been far closer to suicide than he ever let on.

Christine wished she could go back in time. She wished she could have been Megan. She wouldn't have blown her nose on his love letter. If he had addressed it to her, she would have checked "Yes" and Sean's world would have gone on fine. But that's not what happened.

As they travelled, Sean said nothing. Under normal circumstances, Christine would have had the radio on. But these weren't normal circumstances. They moved across the prairie away from the mountains and there was only the dull moan of the wind against the front of the car to break the silence.

"Turn here." Sean's voice was cracked, his throat dry.

Christine nodded and did so, moving onto a back road. They drove for another ten minutes before she caught sight of the houses that made up the small town.

"Turn right."

The car moved past the only stoplight in the small town and Christine followed Sean's instructions once more. They pulled to a stop in front of a small white house.

Sean looked at it and frowned. "This was my old house," he said. His eyes moved from the right to the left. "I remember my mom's birdfeeder-it's still there. And I remember that lattice too."

He dropped his gaze. "Oh well. The school is a block that way and Matt's house was two blocks this way."

"Which way do you want to go?"

"Let's go to the school," Sean replied. "I don't want to see Matt's house."
"Okay," Christine said. She turned back onto the street, catching sight of someone looking through the windows of the house at them. They probably thought she was a lost tourist and that was fine with her.

She pulled to a stop in front of the school. "There's the playground," Sean said, pointing even thought it was obvious where the playground was. "I remember that tree too!" His voice had found some excitement. "James once brought a bullet to school. I think it was a .22 shell, but I really don't know. Anyway, he used a rock to break it open on that stump. Then he set the gunpowder of fire."

Sean laughed. It was a genuinely pleasant memory, despite the fact that it horrified Christine as she imagined one of the kids getting maimed or killed when the rock slipped and hit the firing pin. Thankfully, that only happened in her imagination. The kids in the past were safe enough from that threat.

"They've changed the school." Sean said that in such a different tone that it threw her off. "They must have remodeled it or something. That wing's completely different. But I recognize this one."

He dropped his gaze. Christine saw something she didn't like in his expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he lied.

"Okay." Even though she knew it was a lie, she wasn't going to press him. Instead she surveyed the playground herself. It looked like every other playground in every other elementary school. Nothing much to speak of. A slide, the wooden fort that Sean had talked about, the small tennis court over in the corner, the swing sets that looked so small now that Christine had grown. It was hard to believe such violence had occurred here in the past.

"Christine?"

She turned back to him. "What is it?"

"I'm scared."

"We don't have to stay here," she said sympathetically.

"Thank you. I want to go back now. Please. Let's go back now."

She nodded and they climbed in the car. Sean was breathing heavily now, sweat on his forehead. His eyes were grimaced shut, and he hissed something through his clenched jaw. Christine wasn't sure she caught it, but it sounded like he had said: "Don't make me."

It wasn't until the town was at their back and out of sight that Sean began to ease up. But it wasn't until they were back into the city that Sean told her what had happened.