Confluence - 11. Before and After the Wedding

The chief of police, after investigating the fire at the Winnepesaukee Paper Mill, concluded that it was accidental, caused by the superheating of bleach. He dismissed the Aikens’ suggestions of arson.

The chief of police was a good friend of Elias Woodworth.

********************************

The night before the wedding, Owen appeared at Layne’s door. “I guess this is the last time,” he said.

Layne slumped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. He shook his head.

Owen knelt next to him. “Please forgive me. I have to. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I have to.”

“I know,” Layne said quietly.

“Are you angry with me?”

Layne’s chest was heaving. He brought his hands down. “Yes.”

“But not enough to do anything about it?” Layne’s eyes flashed and his expression hardened. Owen continued, “I guess this will all seem like a dream in a while.”

“A dream?” Layne stood. He grabbed Owen’s arms and lifted him onto the bed. “Does this feel like a dream?” He kissed him and roughly took off Owen’s clothes, then his own. He flipped Owen over, face down onto the bed.

He said, “This is no dream, sir. No wife can give you this. I want you to feel this and remember it, because you most certainly did not dream me fucking you.” He held Owen’s hands behind his back with one hand and quickly greased his cock with the other, then grasped Owen’s neck. Owen stifled his cries in the bedding.

With a growl Layne shot his seed deep inside Owen. Panting, he held still. “Paulie?” he said. Owen remained face down. “Paulie, I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?” He turned Owen over.

Owen’s semen was smeared across the sheet and his stomach. As Layne stared, Owen said, “Those rivers always seem to flood together.” Then he pulled Layne’s head down and kissed him.

*******************

Through the open doors of the church Layne watched the sunset wedding. Jim Schaefer stood next to Owen. The organist played “River of Life.” As the vows began, Layne turned away and walked to a tavern.

Several hours and many whiskeys later, the barman told him to go home.

Layne said, “I don’t have a home. Not any more. You know, the human heart is like a river. You can try to dam it up, but water will find a way around, or over, or under. You can’t stop it. If you try to, you’ll probably cause a castastrofee. Homes all floshed away in the flue. Flood.”

The barman took Layne’s glass away. “It’s time, doctor. Time to go home.”

“I’m trying to remember one of the Psalms. You know, the one that starts ‘By the beavers of Babylon’? Rivers of Babylon. You know the one I mean? I’m trying to remember it.”

“I’ve heard it,” the barman said. “I can’t remember it.”

“I’ve been sitting here trying to remember it. How did it go? I shall have to pharapraze.

“By the lonely river

I sat down and wept

Remembering our sweet home.

Those who held you captive

Made you sing our song

For their own idle pleasure.

How can I sing it now

When I have no home?

If I should forget you,

May my hand lose its skill.

If I should forget you,

May my voice fall silent forever.”

At last the barman persuaded Layne to leave. Arriving at his quarters, the doctor managed to close the door behind him and to topple fully clothed onto the bed before he lost consciousness.

*********************

Layne awoke under water, somewhere out in the ocean. His head was a foundering ship with bilge sloshing back and forth. Men were trapped, yelling loudly, begging for help. He was soaked with stinking brine. But his mouth was so dry. The light was painfully bright. Someone was shaking him, saying something. What was he saying?

“Win, wake up! You have to help me!”

“Water,” Layne rasped.

Owen brought a glass of water near Layne’s lips. Layne aimed for it, missed. Owen managed to get some into Layne’s mouth, spilled the rest.

“Win, I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’ve ruined everything.”

“Get out of the boat and start swimming for shore,” Layne muttered. He opened his eyes, but that didn’t go so well, and he shut them again.

“What? Win, it’s me, Paulie.”

“I know that.”

“We’re not in a boat.”

Layne squeezed one eye open. “Oh. Right.”

Owen paced the room and gestured extravagantly. “What am I going to do, Win? I’ve ruined my life. I’ve ruined Ellie’s life.”

“Mine’s not in very good shape either, Polliwog.”

“My stomach is killing me. Please, Win, tell me what to do.”

“Hold on a minute.” With some effort, Layne sat up, then waited for his brain to catch up with his head. “Where’s the fire? What happened?”

“What happened!?” Owen shouted. Layne winced. “I got married, that’s what happened! Last night was a disaster!”

“You and me both, sir,” Layne murmured.

“There Ellie was, expecting me to perform, to consummate! And I didn’t feel anything. I kissed her and -- nothing. I had to take myself in hand and close my eyes and think about you, and I was too rough and I hurt Ellie, not that she was really expecting to enjoy the whole thing, but she didn’t even yell at me. She just cried. We ended up in a sort of polite silence.”

“Probably not the worst wedding night anyone has endured,” Layne said.

“I can’t do it, Win. I can’t live like this. I’d be better off dead. She’d be better off if I were dead. You’d be better off if I were dead.”

“Now, hold on, Paulie. Stop right there. We need to think about this. A little later. I’m not at my best at the moment.”

“There’s nothing to think about.” Owen’s wild gesticulations stopped. He sat still on the bed. “I know what I have to do.”

“Slow down, Paulie. Don’t jump to contusions. Conclusions. Things will look better in the morning.”

“It is morning, Win,” Owen said sadly. He stood. “No point in waiting. I know what I have to do.” He strode to the door and left.

Layne dressed as quickly as his uncooperative fingers allowed, then attempted to run after him. But his run was more of a hobble, and Owen was out of sight by the time Layne reached the front door.

Turning back inside, he saw Mrs. Ogilvy at her desk. “I’ve sent messages cancelling your appointments today, Doctor,” she said. “All but two had cancelled already anyway. Now how about if I get you some coffee?”

*************************

Layne didn’t know where to look. Owen wasn’t in his shop; Layne glimpsed Ellie in there, busily running things, directing Jim Schaefer and Jordan. He called on Mrs. Owen, but she had not seen her son. He made his way to the Falls, where he sat and threw pebbles into the water. He wandered the outskirts of town.

When he returned, afternoon shadows were lengthening. The sky was clear and the street was dry and dusty. Layne saw a small crowd gathered outside Owen’s Pharmacy. He pushed through and saw Jim Schaefer holding a wad of wet clothing -- Owen’s clothes. Ellie had sunk onto a bench, hand at her forehead. Beside her, holding her hand, was Mrs. Ogilvy. At the sight of Dr. Layne, the old woman jumped up and stepped to him.

“Oh, Doctor Layne,” she cried, “he’s gone.”

Layne’s knees buckled. He leaned forward on his hands, panting.

“I saw him, Doctor,” Schaefer said. “I saw his body washing down the river. His head was stove in. He must have slipped in the river and hit his head on the rocks. I snagged his clothes but the body got away from me. The water was too fast.”

“He always was so clumsy,” Ellie sobbed.

“He left this note for you, Doctor Layne.” Mrs. Ogilvy handed him a small envelope.

Layne opened it. Inside was written: “I’ll see you on the other side.” Below the words was a simple line drawing of a polliwog.

“I never thought -- I never thought he would really -- Oh, God. I will be closing my practice, Mrs. Ogilvy,” the doctor said. He stood, panting, and turned away, staggering at first, then walking fast, then running.

“Doctor! Wait!” Mrs. Ogilvy exchanged a look with Jim Schaefer, then started off in pursuit. “I was afraid this was going to happen,” she muttered.