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“He wasn’t supposed to be there. I mean, your son.”
Karen started crying. The sound was raw and painful, the kind that comes from years of buried anger.
“What are you saying?”
My hands gripped the edge of the table.
Barry continued. “Fifteen years ago, I got mixed up with some older boys,” he began. “I was 11. My mom worked all the time. I pretty much raised myself, and when you’re a kid alone that much, you find ways to stay busy.”
He paused, trying to steady his voice.
“The older boys liked picking on kids and getting them to do stupid things just for laughs. I wanted them to like me.”
I could hear Karen sniffling beside me, but I couldn’t look away from Barry.
“I pretty much raised myself.”
“One afternoon, they told me to meet them at the abandoned quarry outside town after classes,” he continued. “They wouldn’t say why. They just kept calling me a ‘chicken’ whenever I asked.”
“But that’s one place that all the kids have been warned to stay away from?” I interjected.
“Yeah. And I was terrified. I didn’t want to go alone.”
Barry hesitated.
“That’s when I saw him, your son. He kept to himself a lot at school. Kids gave him a hard time sometimes. I figured he wouldn’t say no if I asked him to come with me.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
“They wouldn’t say why.”
Karen covered her face.
“He thought I’d become his friend,” Barry whispered. “When I told him we had the same name, he smiled as if it meant something special.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“After school, we walked out to the quarry, and when we got there, the older boys were waiting. Three of them.”
His voice began to shake.
“They told us if we wanted to prove we were brave, we had to climb along the rocky edge above the water.”
Karen gasped.
“The older boys were waiting.”
“The ledge was narrow,” Barry said. “Loose gravel everywhere. One wrong step and you could fall straight into the quarry lake. I panicked.”
Barry closed his eyes.
“I took one look at that drop, and I ran. I didn’t even think. I just ran all the way home.”
“And my son?” I asked.
Barry’s voice cracked.
“He stayed.”
Karen sobbed harder.
“He probably thought he had to prove something,” Barry said, sadly.
“I just ran all the way home.”
My hands began to tremble. “What happened to him?”
“I didn’t know for years. The search started the next day,” Barry continued. “Police everywhere. Helicopters. People asking questions.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Karen cried.
Barry looked at her with guilt written all over his face.
“I was scared,” he said. “I thought they’d blame me. I kept telling myself maybe he’d make it home. But deep down, I knew something had gone wrong.”
“What happened to him?”
“When I turned 19, I ran into one of the older boys, now a man, at a gas station. He tried pretending he didn’t remember anything. But I shoved him against a wall and told him I wanted the truth. That’s when he finally admitted it.”
My heart pounded.
“He said your son slipped. The rocks gave out under his feet.”
Karen let out a broken cry.
“They panicked and ran,” Barry finished.
My chest felt hollow.
“That’s when he finally admitted it.”
Barry continued speaking.
“I lost control after that. All those years of guilt hit me at once. I started swinging at him. It was so bad that the police showed up. I got arrested. I spent the next several years in and out of prison.”
He exhaled slowly.
“While I was locked up, I met another inmate,” he continued. “It turned out he’d been one of the older boys at the quarry that day. He’d been carrying the same guilt for years. He started studying spirituality inside. Said he’d finally forgiven himself.”
My head snapped up.
“I lost control after that.”
Barry sighed. “Before he was released, he helped me face everything I’d been running from. When I got out, I started looking for work. That’s when I saw the name of your store.”
He glanced at me carefully.
“You knew it was mine?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I applied because I wanted to tell you the truth. I just didn’t know how.”
Karen looked at him through red eyes.
“You knew it was mine?”
“So you lied instead?” she accused.
“I tried to say it many times,” Barry said. “But when I got close, I froze. I’m sorry.”
No one spoke for a long time.
Finally, I pushed back from the table.
“I need some air.”
Then I walked out, and Barry must’ve left, cause he wasn’t around when I returned.
I barely slept that night.
Memories of my son haunted me. But Barry also featured. I thought about everything he’d told us.