The Drowning Child

23

Shannon Fuller sat in her living room, the same three words on a loop running through her head: rest in peace. It had been short-lived for Aaron, and here she was again, in a fresh hell. She couldn’t imagine who would want to hurt him. Maybe something happened at the dance – a fight, or maybe it was just an accident. Aaron was a sweet boy. She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to deliberately hurt him.

But then, she figured most mothers would think the same way. She had a sudden thought that turned her stomach – most children know their abusers. She pushed the thought away, but a whole stream of names came into her head – the names of people who knew her, who knew Aaron.

She stood up and walked down the hallway to Seth’s door. She knocked.

‘Enter!’ he said.

She walked in, but stopped, hovering in the doorway. She looked at his sweet face. She didn’t want to say anything.

‘They’re taking my baby out of the ground, Seth...’ She started to cry.

‘What?’ he said. ‘What?’ He stood up.

‘There was a bruise on Aaron’s back,’ said Shannon. ‘He may have been injured before he drowned. Or... maybe he was drowned... deliberately.’

Seth started to shake. ‘What?’

Shannon nodded, sobbed harder. Seth went to her, put his arms around her. ‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘Who would do that?’

‘I don’t know,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Why do they think that?’ said Seth.

‘Clyde... Clyde saw the bruise when he was embalming him. Apparently, a bruise won’t always show up right away, so that’s why the Medical Examiner didn’t see it. She’s going to do another autopsy.’

‘But why didn’t Clyde say anything to us?’ said Seth.

‘Would you say that to a grieving family?’ said Shannon. ‘She pulled back from him. ‘You’re shaking,’ she said. ‘You’re white as a sheet. Sit down.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Seth. ‘You’re the one...’ He trailed off, struggled to catch his breath.

Shannon gripped his arms, and guided him to the bed, sat him down. ‘Are you OK?’ she said.

‘I... don’t know why someone would do that to Aaron,’ he said. ‘He was only a boy, only a little boy.’

Seth fell sideways on the bed, clutching his chest.

‘Seth!’ said Shannon. ‘Seth! Oh my God.’

Sweat poured down his face. Shannon ran into the living room, came back with a brown paper bag. She sat him up, held the bag to his mouth.

‘Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,’ said Shannon. ‘Come on, deep breaths.’

Seth did as she said, and before long, his breathing was back under control.

‘Thank God,’ said Shannon. ‘Thank God. Was it just the shock?’

She looked into his eyes, and saw fear.

Shannon frowned. ‘Is there something else, Seth?’

‘No...’

‘You’re making me nervous, sweetheart,’ said Shannon. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No,’ said Seth. ‘No – I swear to God. I’m just... freaked out. I...’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, I was here that night too. I was so close, and... I couldn’t help.’

Shannon looked at him. ‘Seth, I know you weren’t here that night.’

Seth went very still.

‘I was here alone,’ said Shannon. ‘I was drinking. I drank a lot, and I was worried about how drunk I was and I went to your room to let you know to watch out for me. I opened your door. Your room was empty. Your bed was cold.’

Seth still didn’t move. ‘I...’

‘Where were you that night?’ said Shannon.

Seth stared away from her. ‘Why didn’t you say anything before?’

‘It didn’t matter where you were,’ said Shannon. ‘Until now.’