During the spring of my sophomore year of highschool, several remarkable things happened, changing my life, and the lives of Christopher Chambers and Gordon Lachance forever. An eventful time, some might say. But given the circumstances of today–the day I am writing this–I can only call it a good time, coated with the childhood sweetness that, on this eventful day, is gone.
It started with the arrest of Chambers senior, a man also known as the drunk as a skunk wife and kid beater of Castle Rock, Maine. Sheriff Lock arrested the bastard after the intoxicated fool punched Mary Lou Logan over at the diner, when she spilled his coffee onto the counter by mistake. Still being in his stupor, Mr. Chambers through an outrageous fit at his arrest, bloodying noses and blackening eyes of the local officers. This event took place on Main Street at two o' clock on a Tuesday afternoon. Naturally everyone knew about it by three, including all of the Chambers kids.
I never had envied Chris Chambers before, but on that day I was particularly glad not to be in his shoes. Cop punchers weren't taken lightly in that town, and neither were their sons, no matter how innocent. Let's just say none of us were surprised when Chris turned up at school the next day with a black eye. With his old man in jail, the only other explanation was that some patriotic citizen had taken it upon himself to deal out punishment on the criminal's offspring. Most likely one of those redneck truckers who hung out with Sheriff at the diner most weekday mornings. Yes, they seemed to have a knack for taking the law into their own hands.
And the Sheriff with a shiner himself, the law didn't care if a Chambers kid got knocked around a little. It was normal for them to look battered anyhow.
No, none of us were surprised when old Chambers got arrested. He'd always been a criminal. And there was little shock when it turned out he'd made some other stops that day, too, a man in Carlyle with a broken leg thanks to the capable driving of Mr. Chambers, and a woman's mailbox having been taken off the side of the road by what she called "a mad man driving a ford pickup". He was found guilty for all these things, and sentenced to seven years in Shawshank. No awe there.
But all of Castle Rock was flabbergasted when Mrs. Chambers disappeared. Just two days after her husband's trial and she was gone without a word to anyone. None of us understood it. She had two kids still living with her, and with her husband out of the way it seemed like she'd want to raise them, finally, in peace. Hell, with Eyeball moved out she didn't have to worry about getting hit ever again, and not a thing left to trouble her except the usual household pests; bills, laundry, and cooking. But she hauled out of there overnight, and was never heard from again.
There was little questioning, after that, about what should be done with the two Chambers minors. Most people expected they'd get shipped off to the children's home in Togus. After all, there were no relatives that anyone knew of, except Eyeball Chambers, and the Sheriff wasn't about to make a mistake like giving Eyeball a couple of kids. Yes, Togus would be the place for them then, and all would be right with the world once more. No one would miss a Chambers, after all.
But then something happened, something was discovered over at the county office that no one expected, least of all me. Having felt some grief for Chris all my life, I had my private mourning at his being abandoned by his mother and then prepared to leave him a figure of the past.
Wrong. It was twelve thirty on a Saturday afternoon. I lived with my Aunt Madeline, a mile or so from Castle Rock, and being out of the public eye, I was hula-hooping in the front yard, radio playing softly from the front porch. I was the hula-hooping champion, queen of the world. No one could go as fast or as long as I could and even though I was sixteen going on seventeen, even though I had a fairly decent reputation, I reveled in my hula hooping glory.
Not that I had ever competed or anything. I just knew. Knew that I had real talent with that hoop and knew that someday I'd have a show at Radio City Music Hall, where they'd beg me to hula hoop my heart out while the Supremes performed on risers behind me. I would have a red, sequin dress and red high heels, and thousands of people would buy tickets to see me perform. Suddenly I wasn't in Castle Rock, I was in New York City, wearing that red sequin dress and listening to the groovy beat behind me while I swung my hips...
"Excuse me, Miss Gnol," A deep masculine voice interrupted my fantasy. I gasped and the hoop fell to my ankles. Sheriff Lock stood in front of me in his khaki uniform, a stern, serious look on his face. "Is you aunt home, Miss?"
"Yes sir," I turned crimson. "She's just inside. Come on in, sir." I moved stiffly with embarrassment as I led him into our old farm house. It was good sized, and felt welcoming. It was a little shabby (Aunt Madeline and I weren't the prime wealth of Castle Rock) and in the winter it could get drafty. But I grew up there and it was home.
As I walked down the narrow hallway that led to the kitchen, I glanced at photos on the wall. Me as an infant, me as a six year old, me as a fourteen year old, and then my parents. Both of them died, typically, in a car crash before I was two. I came to live with my great aunt Madeline, and grew up with her as a mother. I can't say I ever missed my parents as I never knew them. But I did wonder sometimes, what it felt like to have a mother and a father, and hell, maybe a kid sister or two.
The kitchen was bright and warm, the sunlight flooding through seven windows and brushing across the tabletop and stove, the chairs and the hard wood floor, and the yellow wall paper with the red cherries all over it. Aunt Madeline was digging through the fridge, her fanny high in the air, wearing ordinary Aunt Madeline garb; a wool skirt, a button down, sleeveless on this particular day, and boots. Shiny black rubber boots that she wore everywhere and replaced every one and a half years to the day.
"Mm." I cleared my throat. Aunt Madeline stood and turned around.
Seeing the sheriff lurking behind me she smiled her brightest. "Well hello there, Sheriff Lock. What can I do for you?"
"Well," The sheriff stepped into the kitchen, the light illuminating his grisly, mountain man features. "I've got some business to discuss with you, Madeline. Some pretty important business."
"Feel free to sit down, Sheriff, can I get you a coca cola?"
I smiled. One of our greater luxuries in life was the fridge that never ran empty of Coke. My uncle Bernie worked for the Coca Cola company, and every month he visited, bringing us cases of the stuff. We were both a little addicted to it, and I knew it made Aunt Madeline proud to offer cokes out to all of our company.
"That sounds nice, Madeline, thank you." The sheriff sat down at the table, the chair creaking under his broad frame.
Aunt Madeline whisked around the kitchen in her simple house wife mode. She'd picked this little trick up off of television. Her favorite show was Leave it to Beaver, and she claimed a woman could learn oodles by watching that Mrs. Cleaver lady.
"See how she always has Ward's dinner ready, Betsy?" She would ask me. "And see how he'll do whatever she asks? She's not as shallow as she seems."
It was an old TV show, the kind that ran in the fifties when I was a baby. But sometimes, late at night you could catch reruns.
Aunt Madeline sat down across from Sheriff Lock, passing him a coke. "Now what's this business all about, Sheriff Lock?"
I pressed against the kitchen wall, remaining silent. If I was quiet enough, I would be privy to this obviously important conversation. If I didn't move, maybe Aunt Madeline wouldn't...
"Betsy, could you excuse us please?" She smiled at me. I rolled my eyes as I walked out of the kitchen, pausing just outside the door to listen.
"Now Madeline, you're familiar with the uh, Chambers incident, correct?" Sheriff asked. Aunt Madeline must have nodded because he continued, "And you understand the predicament we're in. I sure don't want to send them kids up to Togus," He sounded very insincere. "But up until now we haven't had any other options."
"And what options do you have now, Sheriff?" Madeline asked, a sudden stiffness to her voice."
"You're kept it pretty well a secret, Maddie." Sheriff chuckled. "And I can't say I blame you at all. Hell, mot people up in Castle Rock would have kept it secret too." I shifted my weight from foot to foot, wondering what he was getting at. "But you and I both know the truth, and I guess you know what I'm saying..."
She might have, but I didn't. I nervously picked at a hangnail, still shifting my weight. I could picture Aunt Madeline's face, suddenly a little harsher, more serious. That line between her eyebrows becoming more apparent as she stared the Sheriff down.
"And you haven't been able to contact their mother at all?" She asked, voice going slightly flat.
"As far as we're concerned, she's gone. Maybe forever. And if that's the case, those two kids have got to go somewhere, Madeline."
"She might come back."
"It's doubtful." Sheriff sighed. "But if she did, I imagine she'd want full custody again."
"So basically..." She trailed off. I looked down at my finger, which was now bleeding. I had picked off the whole nail without knowing it. Sticking the finger in my mouth, I continued to stand there silently.
"So basically, they go to Togus," He told her. "Unless, as their great cousin and only surviving relative, you Madeline, take them in."
It started with the arrest of Chambers senior, a man also known as the drunk as a skunk wife and kid beater of Castle Rock, Maine. Sheriff Lock arrested the bastard after the intoxicated fool punched Mary Lou Logan over at the diner, when she spilled his coffee onto the counter by mistake. Still being in his stupor, Mr. Chambers through an outrageous fit at his arrest, bloodying noses and blackening eyes of the local officers. This event took place on Main Street at two o' clock on a Tuesday afternoon. Naturally everyone knew about it by three, including all of the Chambers kids.
I never had envied Chris Chambers before, but on that day I was particularly glad not to be in his shoes. Cop punchers weren't taken lightly in that town, and neither were their sons, no matter how innocent. Let's just say none of us were surprised when Chris turned up at school the next day with a black eye. With his old man in jail, the only other explanation was that some patriotic citizen had taken it upon himself to deal out punishment on the criminal's offspring. Most likely one of those redneck truckers who hung out with Sheriff at the diner most weekday mornings. Yes, they seemed to have a knack for taking the law into their own hands.
And the Sheriff with a shiner himself, the law didn't care if a Chambers kid got knocked around a little. It was normal for them to look battered anyhow.
No, none of us were surprised when old Chambers got arrested. He'd always been a criminal. And there was little shock when it turned out he'd made some other stops that day, too, a man in Carlyle with a broken leg thanks to the capable driving of Mr. Chambers, and a woman's mailbox having been taken off the side of the road by what she called "a mad man driving a ford pickup". He was found guilty for all these things, and sentenced to seven years in Shawshank. No awe there.
But all of Castle Rock was flabbergasted when Mrs. Chambers disappeared. Just two days after her husband's trial and she was gone without a word to anyone. None of us understood it. She had two kids still living with her, and with her husband out of the way it seemed like she'd want to raise them, finally, in peace. Hell, with Eyeball moved out she didn't have to worry about getting hit ever again, and not a thing left to trouble her except the usual household pests; bills, laundry, and cooking. But she hauled out of there overnight, and was never heard from again.
There was little questioning, after that, about what should be done with the two Chambers minors. Most people expected they'd get shipped off to the children's home in Togus. After all, there were no relatives that anyone knew of, except Eyeball Chambers, and the Sheriff wasn't about to make a mistake like giving Eyeball a couple of kids. Yes, Togus would be the place for them then, and all would be right with the world once more. No one would miss a Chambers, after all.
But then something happened, something was discovered over at the county office that no one expected, least of all me. Having felt some grief for Chris all my life, I had my private mourning at his being abandoned by his mother and then prepared to leave him a figure of the past.
Wrong. It was twelve thirty on a Saturday afternoon. I lived with my Aunt Madeline, a mile or so from Castle Rock, and being out of the public eye, I was hula-hooping in the front yard, radio playing softly from the front porch. I was the hula-hooping champion, queen of the world. No one could go as fast or as long as I could and even though I was sixteen going on seventeen, even though I had a fairly decent reputation, I reveled in my hula hooping glory.
Not that I had ever competed or anything. I just knew. Knew that I had real talent with that hoop and knew that someday I'd have a show at Radio City Music Hall, where they'd beg me to hula hoop my heart out while the Supremes performed on risers behind me. I would have a red, sequin dress and red high heels, and thousands of people would buy tickets to see me perform. Suddenly I wasn't in Castle Rock, I was in New York City, wearing that red sequin dress and listening to the groovy beat behind me while I swung my hips...
"Excuse me, Miss Gnol," A deep masculine voice interrupted my fantasy. I gasped and the hoop fell to my ankles. Sheriff Lock stood in front of me in his khaki uniform, a stern, serious look on his face. "Is you aunt home, Miss?"
"Yes sir," I turned crimson. "She's just inside. Come on in, sir." I moved stiffly with embarrassment as I led him into our old farm house. It was good sized, and felt welcoming. It was a little shabby (Aunt Madeline and I weren't the prime wealth of Castle Rock) and in the winter it could get drafty. But I grew up there and it was home.
As I walked down the narrow hallway that led to the kitchen, I glanced at photos on the wall. Me as an infant, me as a six year old, me as a fourteen year old, and then my parents. Both of them died, typically, in a car crash before I was two. I came to live with my great aunt Madeline, and grew up with her as a mother. I can't say I ever missed my parents as I never knew them. But I did wonder sometimes, what it felt like to have a mother and a father, and hell, maybe a kid sister or two.
The kitchen was bright and warm, the sunlight flooding through seven windows and brushing across the tabletop and stove, the chairs and the hard wood floor, and the yellow wall paper with the red cherries all over it. Aunt Madeline was digging through the fridge, her fanny high in the air, wearing ordinary Aunt Madeline garb; a wool skirt, a button down, sleeveless on this particular day, and boots. Shiny black rubber boots that she wore everywhere and replaced every one and a half years to the day.
"Mm." I cleared my throat. Aunt Madeline stood and turned around.
Seeing the sheriff lurking behind me she smiled her brightest. "Well hello there, Sheriff Lock. What can I do for you?"
"Well," The sheriff stepped into the kitchen, the light illuminating his grisly, mountain man features. "I've got some business to discuss with you, Madeline. Some pretty important business."
"Feel free to sit down, Sheriff, can I get you a coca cola?"
I smiled. One of our greater luxuries in life was the fridge that never ran empty of Coke. My uncle Bernie worked for the Coca Cola company, and every month he visited, bringing us cases of the stuff. We were both a little addicted to it, and I knew it made Aunt Madeline proud to offer cokes out to all of our company.
"That sounds nice, Madeline, thank you." The sheriff sat down at the table, the chair creaking under his broad frame.
Aunt Madeline whisked around the kitchen in her simple house wife mode. She'd picked this little trick up off of television. Her favorite show was Leave it to Beaver, and she claimed a woman could learn oodles by watching that Mrs. Cleaver lady.
"See how she always has Ward's dinner ready, Betsy?" She would ask me. "And see how he'll do whatever she asks? She's not as shallow as she seems."
It was an old TV show, the kind that ran in the fifties when I was a baby. But sometimes, late at night you could catch reruns.
Aunt Madeline sat down across from Sheriff Lock, passing him a coke. "Now what's this business all about, Sheriff Lock?"
I pressed against the kitchen wall, remaining silent. If I was quiet enough, I would be privy to this obviously important conversation. If I didn't move, maybe Aunt Madeline wouldn't...
"Betsy, could you excuse us please?" She smiled at me. I rolled my eyes as I walked out of the kitchen, pausing just outside the door to listen.
"Now Madeline, you're familiar with the uh, Chambers incident, correct?" Sheriff asked. Aunt Madeline must have nodded because he continued, "And you understand the predicament we're in. I sure don't want to send them kids up to Togus," He sounded very insincere. "But up until now we haven't had any other options."
"And what options do you have now, Sheriff?" Madeline asked, a sudden stiffness to her voice."
"You're kept it pretty well a secret, Maddie." Sheriff chuckled. "And I can't say I blame you at all. Hell, mot people up in Castle Rock would have kept it secret too." I shifted my weight from foot to foot, wondering what he was getting at. "But you and I both know the truth, and I guess you know what I'm saying..."
She might have, but I didn't. I nervously picked at a hangnail, still shifting my weight. I could picture Aunt Madeline's face, suddenly a little harsher, more serious. That line between her eyebrows becoming more apparent as she stared the Sheriff down.
"And you haven't been able to contact their mother at all?" She asked, voice going slightly flat.
"As far as we're concerned, she's gone. Maybe forever. And if that's the case, those two kids have got to go somewhere, Madeline."
"She might come back."
"It's doubtful." Sheriff sighed. "But if she did, I imagine she'd want full custody again."
"So basically..." She trailed off. I looked down at my finger, which was now bleeding. I had picked off the whole nail without knowing it. Sticking the finger in my mouth, I continued to stand there silently.
"So basically, they go to Togus," He told her. "Unless, as their great cousin and only surviving relative, you Madeline, take them in."