The Shoreline Redemption

Chapter 3
Chapter 3

Jonathan was in a fizzy euphoria. Soon he’ll be a man again, and he could hardly wait. Buoyant with anticipation, he turned over and over again in his head the message his fellow gang member Jax had sent him the night before:

“Nice job! Operation was a big success, with your info, we took out all the police guards before they could interfere. Just one final operation and we’ll be ready to leave Shoreline. When it’s done, rejoin us at HQ. We’ve got your reversal treatment ready, and the boss has a big reward for you!”

Once he got his manhood back, and saved up enough money, Jonathan fantasized about leaving the gang and moving to some far off place. There, he could live off his loot and perhaps pick up a musical instrument. He had taken a shine to the violin, and had checked out every recording he could find in the public library, playing them over and over again in his room.

Drifting down the school hallway on a cloud of ecstasy, he very nearly missed Roger. The boy was leaning against his locker and staring down at the ground. To Jonathan’s surprise, his face was bathed with tears, and there was a disheveled and wild look about him.

“What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked.

“My dad got shot…”

“What?!”

“His squad was out last night trying to hunt down a drug smuggling gang…”

It was as if a lightning bolt struck Jonathan’s head.

“Your dad is a cop?”

“Yes. Both my parents are cops. Didn’t you know?”

Jonathan swallowed hard. “Will he be okay?” he said.

“The doctors said it’s fifty-fifty…”

Caught off-balance, Jonathan felt a growing sense of unease seep into him. It wasn’t his fault, was it? I mean, how could he possibly have known? Besides, it wasn’t like he pulled the trigger right?

Roger had to leave halfway thru the school day to go to the hospital, and he did not return over the next few days. Jonathan’s thoughts careened off one another like bumper cars. He struggled with what he had always believed, that if he wanted to survive and get ahead, he needed to watch out for himself first. And right now, there was nothing more important to him than getting his manhood back, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted.

Later that week, while still wrestling with his inner discomfort, he received another text from Jax:

“Final operation set for tomorrow night. Thanks for the coordinates on the cops. Good news – we got a batch of new automatic assault rifles. This time we’ll pump them so full of bullets they’ll never bother us again.”

A chill shot down Jonathan’s spine. Was Roger’s mum on duty tomorrow night? He realized he didn’t even know her name. Surely not – she’s got to be looking after her husband right? But what if…?

Jonathan tried to calm himself. Even if the worst happened, he reasoned, Roger still had other family members – grandparents, aunts, uncles. He’ll be just fine. Why should he be so worried about that kid? In a couple days, he’ll be gone from Shoreline, and the boy will be quickly forgotten, just another insignificant footnote in his life.

He burrowed back under his blanket, tossing and turning, dueling with himself. As he drifted into a fitful sleep, the chorus of the Brahms lullaby surged thru him again, dislodging a long suppressed memory he thought he had walled off and buried deep away.

He was back in his childhood home, hiding in his room as his parents yelled at each other. There was smashing glass, shouts of pain, then the deadly bark of gunshots. And then sirens, the body bag, blood everywhere, that eerie look in Dad’s eyes, the social worker telling him everything was going to be “just fine”…

Jonathan shot bolt upright on his bed, tears streaming down his face, his pajamas drenched with sweat. Clenching his fists, he leapt to his feet, plunged into his closet and seized his phone.

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The summer rain drummed the surface of the swimming pool. Metal spoons scrapped the sides of bowls as Jonathan and Roger finished the remainder of the ice cream. They were sitting in their swim trunks along the side of a long plastic table, scattered with plates of Roger’s birthday cake, and sheltered by a red striped tarpaulin. All the other kids had left as soon as they could.

“I guess that it really was a dumb idea to have a pool party.” Roger grumbled.

“Sometimes, things don’t turn out the way you hope.” Jonathan replied. “You’ve got to make the most of what you get.”

They sat together in a companionable silence, watching the rain come down in horizontal sheets.

“So your dad finally went back to work?” Jonathan asked.

“Yes, though he’s super upset that he missed out on all the action.”

“Action?”

“Didn’t you hear? That drug gang they had been pursuing for months somehow walked straight into a trap. All the members were either caught or killed. Mum told me it was very strange, as if someone had deliberately guided them to their doom. Anyway, it’s the biggest win for the police in years, and everyone got medals or promotions, expect for him.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

The wind slung around a pair of plastic chairs and tumbled them into corners. Torrents of water ran down the side of the tarpaulin and splattered on the concrete ground.

“Miss Olga told me that she’s never seen anyone pick up the violin as quickly as you.” Roger said.

“Oh? Why did she mention that?”

“She said that if you keep improving at this rate, you might be good enough to play a duet with me at the Christmas recital.”

“I think the right question is whether you will be good enough to play a duet with me at the Christmas recital.”

“Oh yeah?” Roger gave him a roguish smirk. “You know, sometimes you can be so annoying. And, you still haven’t given me my birthday present. Did you forget to bring it?”

“Ah… yes.” Jonathan reached into his swim bag, pulled out an envelope and pushed it over.

“What’s this?” Roger ripped the envelope open to find a pale blue card with a grinning cartoon shark. Scrawled in a looping handwriting were the words “Happy Birthday Brother!”

With a pealing shriek, Roger shot out of his chair like a rocket and glommed himself onto Jonathan.

“ARRGH! You get off of me!” Jonathan gave the over-excited boy a shove, causing him to stumble backward and fall with a huge splash into the pool. After a while, Roger resurfaced, spluttering and giggling. “The water’s warm! You coming in too?”

Jonathan hesitated. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this would be an acceptable thing for a grown man to do. Then he glanced down at himself, and with a wistful shrug, sprinted towards Roger, yelling “Geronimo!” as he cannonballed into the water.

Bursts of laughter erupted from the pool, fluent and fluid like a stream, echoing off the walls, interlacing with the shimmering rain, and rippling outward like a crazy animated collage of richness, lightness, silkiness, and gaiety.