Read Online 1 The Bank of the River by Michael Richan - Free Book Online

because he seemed better, not
always talking about Little Tony and the theories. He actually seemed at peace.
I remember John and I talking about how maybe things would get back to some
kind of normal routine, as normal as they can get when you’ve had such a major
loss. But it didn’t last long. Something hit him physically. I think it was all
the stress that had built up during the whole thing, just took its toll on his
body. He went from being perfectly fine and able to get around, to being unable
to get out of bed, in a matter of weeks. That’s when we would visit him, try to
keep him company, keep his spirits up. We went over many times. But it got so I
couldn’t set foot in that damned house – it was just so oppressive. Towards the
end I couldn’t stand to breathe the air, I didn’t want it in me. I know how strange
that must sound.”
    “I’ve had
the same feeling,” Steven assured her. “I know what you mean.”
    “So I don’t
know if that helps. That’s what happened to Ben. He developed those crazy ideas,
but in my heart I know he wasn’t crazy, just grief stricken. People do strange
things when they’re in that much despair. But that wasn’t what killed him.
Something else killed him. That house.”
    “Killed
him?” Steven asked.
    “That’s
right. Killed him. There was something there he just couldn’t see anymore,
couldn’t stand to look at. That’s why he cut out his eyes. He wasn’t crazy. He
was driven to that. I got a taste of it whenever I was there. You know what I’m
talking about.”
    “Yes, I
think I do,” Steven replied.

Chapter Nine
     
     
     
    Steven
arrived back late at his father’s house, thinking they would pack up and head
back over to his house for the second trance. But upon arriving at Roy’s house,
Steven could tell it wasn’t going to happen.
    “I’m
exhausted, there’s no way,” Roy said. “I think I just need to get a good
night’s sleep and we’ll tackle it tomorrow night. But I insist that you sleep
here tonight, Stevie. You shouldn’t go back into that house. At least not
alone. Here you’ll be safe, and we’ll both be able to recharge our batteries.
Tomorrow we can come back at it, stronger.”
    This made
sense to Steven and he agreed. He was concerned about his father’s health
already, and felt going back to the house tonight for another dose of what
happened the night before was pushing it. If the ghosts had been there for fifteen
years they would last for another night.
    Steven found
himself in the room he grew up in, a room his mother had turned into a guest
room years ago. But Steven still remembered the bunk bed he shared with Bernie,
the walls that held posters, and the closet that had given them both
nightmares. Funny how the things that scare us are so universal, he
thought.
    The last
time Steven had stayed in the guest room had been the days between his mother’s
passing and the funeral. Those had been strange days. In some ways, Claire’s
passing had been a relief, but viewing it as such immediately brought guilt.
Both his and Bernie’s relationship with their mother had been strained at best.
She was always the disciplinarian; Roy never got the chance to fill that role.
When both Steven and Bernie left for college and stopped attending church, she
was like a harpy, forever trying to get them to repent and go. They tried to
handle her gently, hoping she’d eventually accept the fact that neither of them
had any interest in religion or following her advice in that regard. When she
didn’t get the message, it became easier to just distance themselves from her. Bernie
used geography and Steven used work: Bernie moved to San Antonio, and Steven
was too busy to be around, no time for the Jesus lectures. They rarely visited.
    Of course,
this came at a price. They were both distant from Roy, too. Steven realized
he’d learned more about Roy in the past few days than he knew from his entire
life before. He wondered what Bernie would