A(n American) Tragedy

This is my first time posting to this website so I hope I go about doing everything right. A quick thank you to whomever reads this and leaves their opinions, etc. - know that it will be greatly appreciated. This story pays homage to Theodore Dreiser's novel "An American Tragedy" (hence the title) as well as the real life incident that inspired the forementioned novel.

The sun hung high in the cloudless blue sky and the stifling heat of late July was sticky against the skin and heavy on the lungs when inhaled. Vera put her hand to her brow and shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun to inspect the waters of the Hudson River. The last campers were clambering out of their 420s and they groaned loudly as the heat they had avoided while out on the river finally caught up to them. A group of counselors were tying the dinghies to the docks, their bright blue EAST Sailing Academy shirts sticking to their perspiring skin as they finished up the last of their long day's work.

"Can we go get ice cream?"

Xavier was tugging on her shirt, his bright green eyes flashing with excitement at being able to satiate his dry throat and relieve himself from the heat with the creamy treat. Vera lowered her glance momentarily to eye her younger brother before returning it to the docks. "Yeah, I guess so. We'll probably have time to bike over once James comes back." She hadn't seen their older brother since the morning festivities and she was trying to determine whether or not she should be worried that he wasn't among the docking counselors.

Xavier let out a cheer and dashed away to the bike rack. The counselors tied the last dinghy to the dock, approaching sturdy ground as they fanned themselves with instruction sheets and chatted happily about the weekend. James wasn't among them.

Vera took a step forward and was about to ask a counselor who had ripped the sleeves off of her work shirt when she heard the sound of a motor gunning towards shore. James stood triumphant in the back of a speedboat steered by Ben, head of the park recreational activities. Her brother had one foot propped against the back seat of the boat. One hand was positioned in a tight grasp on his hip and the other was placed on top of his head, keeping his black fedora from blowing away into the currents of the river. His neon green sunglasses glinted under the glare of the sun and he didn't seem to mind the heat, as he was wearing his long black trench coat fully buttoned.

A few of the counselors looked back. "Ugh, it makes me sick to look at him," the girl with the ripped sleeves moaned. "I would die if I were out there in that much black."

The speedboat pulled up to the docks and James stepped out. He high-fived Ben and the counselor backed up and gunned off in the direction of the yacht club. James walked over to his sister; behind them Xavier was sitting on his bike, whining about leaving.

"Why are you dressed like that?"

James grinned as he tipped his fedora in greeting. "Pirate Day for the spoiled brats at the yacht club."

Vera could hear her parents muttering in the kitchen downstairs. "He just turned eleven. You remember how James was at his age." A cabinet shut and Vera could picture her mother leaning against the counter.

"Xavier's different from James. He's much more reserved." Her father was probably pouring himself a glass of Ginger Ale - he always drank Ginger Ale when he was in disagreement with his wife.

"That doesn't mean the girls in his class are reserved." A knife tapped against wood and Vera knew her mother was chopping up vegetables for their dinner. "Talk to him by the weekend. I don't think we should wait any longer."

Vera opened the door to her brother's room. James looked up from his desk, his feet propped up against his open window. His autotune, the best winter solstice gift he had ever asked for, rested in his lap. Mac open, Vera safely assumed her brother was attempting to record techno songs for his iPod again.

"Mom wants Dad to give Xavier the sex talk."

"Did the mail come?"

Vera raised her eyebrows. "No. Not yet."

James nodded, typing something on his keyboard. Vera waited another second. "Did you not hear what I said?"

James pressed a button on his Mac and shut the laptop. "How old is he now?"

Vera crossed her arms. "You should know."

"I don't pay attention to birthdays."

He had a point. She hadn't gotten a present from him in at least six years. "He turned eleven two weeks ago."

James stood, placing his precious autotune on the floor. He brushed past Vera and strode quickly to the back of the house; she followed him at almost the same pace. Xavier was sitting in his room, reclined on his bed with his Gameboy DS in hand.

"Since when did you turn eleven?"

Xavier's eyes grew wide as he titled his head in confusion. "I'm trying to beat Level 18. I can't talk now."

"Pause the game."

"Why?"

"Do it and I'll tell you."

Xavier pressed pause and the theme music quieted. James motioned towards the door and Xavier hopped off his bed, glancing from his sister to his brother and back with narrowed eyes. "Am I in trouble?"

"No." James slipped his arm around Xavier's shoulders and guided his brother towards the backyard. "Xavier, we need to have a talk about sex."

Joe had always had been a bit feminine. Even his features were feminine. Vera couldn't stand listening to his girlish laugh and she cringed everytime she saw him sitting with his legs daintily crossed and his hands folded neatly on his knees. And the scarves. She would strangle him the next time he dared to pass the front door wearing a designer scarf.

"Vera! Where's James?"

Vera pushed the screen door open with her foot. "He's coming. Give him five minutes!"

Joe sighed and threw up his hands, leaning dramatically across the top of his silver Jaguar. The car was the love of his life - he had spent all summer working a low-pay job at a local coffee cafe in Pleasantville to pay it off. "We're going to be late!" he moaned, covering his eyes with his hands.

Vera didn't understand how anyone could be late to a restaurant that was only a five minute drive away - and she knew they weren't eating out. She really didn't think showing up early to sit behind the restaurant and smoke weed until the early hours of the morning was necessary.

James nudged past his sister and jumped down the porch steps. "No hat today?" James was wearing his black newsboy cap. "How can we get high in style if you have no style?"

Joe pried himself off the hood of his Jaguar and yanked a checkered beret out of his pocket. "I'm prepared." He yanked the hat onto his head and flung the door to his car open. "C'mon. The other guys are there already."

"Tell Mom and Dad I'm going out."

Vera glanced over her shoulder; her parents' shadows danced on the kitchen walls. "I think they know."

James waved as Joe gunned the car in reverse out of their driveway.

James rolled the joint back and forth in his hands, waiting for the smoke to stop curling and the flame to die down. Joe lay flat on his back next to him, his jacket rolled into a pillow under his head as he gazed up at the stars. The restaurant had closed two hours ago and their other friends had just departed; there was nothing left to do but wait for the final high to die and watch the sky.

"Let's go out to the river."

Joe raised his head. "Why? There's nothing interesting going on out there."

"I don't care." There wasn't much going on where they were at the current moment either. James stood and stumbled; he hadn't been on his feet in hours. "C'mon Joe. Don't make me break the window and hotwire your car."

Joe raced past him, his speed quick savor the few times he stumbled. "Let me unlock the doors!" The car beeped and the lights flashed.

James pressed his cheek against the cool window and shut his eyes. His head spun and his sinses pounded. Joe hummed softly. Their highs were beginning to wear off.

Haverstraw Bay was secluded from the lights of Croton's village stores, but the darkness of the river didn't bother James in the least. He was glad to be secluded from the sight of anyone that could see him; no one could stare too long in the dark. Reaching the end of the sand and the beginning of the bay, he flopped onto his back and clutched the ground beneath his hands. Above the stars twinkled like fireflies and the tide pushed softly back and forth against his feet.

"What's wrong?" Joe dropped down next to him. "You're too quiet."

"I'm always quiet."

"Never like this."

"I can't escape it." He exhaled; his chest felt like it was caving in on his heart. "I've been trying so hard to act like nothing's been going on and I don't know how long I can fake it."

"Did your family notice?"

"I don't think so. Xavier's too busy playing video games and my parents aren't really paying attention. Maybe Vera. Probably not. I can never tell with her."

"Have you heard?"

James' fingers ghosted his pocket. "Yes."

James heard Joe's breath catch in his throat. "Ah shit."

"I know."

"Are you coming with me or James?"

Xavier looked from his sister to his brother with raised eyebrows. His gaze lingered on James, who was slowly inching away from the pair.

"This isn't a hard decision, Xavier. You know you want to go with me." James gestured behind him. "I need to run into Zentina's. We can pick up fried zucchini for dinner."

Xavier grinned and ran after his brother. James took him by the hand and the two disappeared to buy groceries. Vera shut the door to the car and locked it. She fingered the letters in her hand; for some reason her mother hated running to the post office and always made her do the tedious task of mailing bills and such.

She pulled open the latch for Out of Town and deposited the mail. With no desire to wander around behind her brothers, she sat on the bench outside the post office to wait and observe the denizens of Croton. A few people wandered in and out of the CVS, checking over their receipts or talking on their cellular devices. Vera took out her cell phone. No one ever called her.

"Give me a hug!"

A boy and girl, probably around her age, had stumbled out of the CVS. The girl was shaking her head while trying to surpress laughter as she pushed against the boy, who, although he was rather lanky, was doing a good job at keeping a tight grasp on her.

"I need to go! My mom's parked around the corner!"

"Not without giving me a hug!"

The girl sighed and threw her arms around his waist; the boy grinned with triumph. Vera rolled her eyes; images of James and the ladies in his love life flooded her mind. Even at twenty, he still acted the same way this boy did.

"Excuse me. Where is the Croton Post Office?"

It took Vera a few seconds to realize the voice was speaking to her. She looked up, eyeing the young girl that had approached her. She looked around James' age, with a letter clutched in her hand and a very shy smile on her lips. Vera had never seen her before.

"Behind you."

The girl turned. "Oh! How did I not notice that?"

"I have no idea."

"I'm not from the area." There was silence. "Thank you." She began to walk away but then stopped. "Where is the box for the town mail?"

"Open the door. It'll be to your right."

The girl disappeared. Vera shook her head. People.

"Alright. Tomorrow afternoon we're going to be racing the 420s, and even though Ben assigned you to my group don't expect any special treatment from me. It'll be too suspicious if I let you steer, so I'm going to let one of your friends do it. Okay?"

Xavier's face fell. "But Vera, I steer faster than everyone else!"

Vera held an exasperated sigh within her. She didn't know why he didn't understand what she was telling him. "I know. And it's really good that you can do that. But-"

"Did the mail come?"

Vera glanced up. James was half hanging out the frontdoor, his hand stuck in the mailbox. "It's right here." She smacked the top of the counter, where a cluster of envelopes, large and small, and a few of her father's fishing magazines obscured the granite. James tossed a few envelopes around listlessly and then plucked one of the smaller ones from the pile.

"Who did you get mail from?"

James stoped in the doorway, eyeing his sister. "No one you know. And maybe it's not for me at all."

Vera rolled her eyes. It wouldn't surprise her if it was for someone else. He had once allowed Joe to use their address as the place where his mail would be delivered. Joe's mother, being an alcoholic, used to go into fits of rage when she saw the occasional letter from Joe's father sitting in their mailbox. They had never been married, and he had shown no interest in his son until Joe was older, so animosty and large amounts of booze resulted in Joe's mother lighting fire to the feeble written attempts of starting a delayed father-son relationship.

She leaned through the doorway. "Are you getting Joe's mail again?"

A door down the hall opened, casting a glow against the wood floors. "Nope." It slammed shut, and the light was gone.

Joe fingered the paper, turning it over and over in his hands as his eyes scanned the words he had reread several times that day. James rested his head against his knees, his eyes watching the current lick the mess of sand and mud the town of Croton referred to as their "beach". It was low tide; the wall created out of rocks to keep unspected waders from getting caught underwater and dragged out to sea was visible, the sharp edges drying in the sunlight.

James straightened. "When's high tide?"

Joe threw a glance at the water. "I have no idea. You're the one who works at the sailing camp. Shouldn't you know?"

"It's Thursday morning." Three days. Perhaps...

"Okay. Thursday morning, then." Joe handed the paper back to James. "Anyway, I have no idea what you should do. It sounds like things are getting pretty desperate. I mean, you really only have two options."

"Tell my parents." James had already considered that one - it wasn't going to happen. If they found out, and didn't murder him, then they would never consider paying for his next two years at college. He needed their money to get as far away from them as he could.

"Or..." Joe turned his head to the side, his expression uncomfortable.

"That's not going to work at all." James shook the paper. "You read it. You know exactly why that won't work. Born-again Christians consider that probably one of the greatest moral sins any believer of their faith could commit."

"Well, yeah, but you'll just have to be forceful. You're the atheist anyway. Have you changed your stance on the issue since high school?"

"No." Not that it mattered much whether he had or hadn't - James assumed Joe had forgotten that he hadn't gone out of his way to make it known that he was an atheist in high school. It might have made for some very good debates, but friars didn't take kindly to giving him decent Theology grades if they knew he didn't believe in God, regardless of how good his papers for their classes might have been.

James stood. "I've got to get something. Do you think you can drop me off at the library?"

Joe rose with him. "Yeah, it'll be on my way. Besides, I've got to get home. My mom needs me to help her fill out her resume."

"She lost her job?"

"Unfortunately. She was giving out students' numbers to incoming families thinking they were her cell number and a group of parents complained about the mix up. It wouldn't have been that big a deal if she hadn't gotten in a fight with the president over it." Joe hung his head low. "I need to get out of here." While he didn't allude to it, James could tell that Joe was mulling over the thought of contacting his father. "I really, really need to."

"We both do."

Joe smiled softly. "You more than me."

Vera debated whether or not she should knock on her brother's door or just barge in. She didn't hear any noises coming from inside, so he probably wasn't working, wasting time, or doing anything that the sight of would scar her for life. Besides, he probably wouldn't have the deceny to knock her door if he needed to bother her with something.

She kicked it open. James was lying on the floor and Vera almost backed away when she realized he was holding a book in his outstreched hands and not doing anything out of the ordinary. "What are you reading?"

James tried to slip the book under his bed but Vera grabbed it. It was rather thick. "An American Tragedy." It immediately disinterested her and she dropped it on his bed. "That looks boring."

He grabbed it back and clutched it against his chest. "You wouldn't like it."

They looked at each other for a minute, and Vera could clearly read the What-do-you-want-and-why-did-you-invade-my-privacy? glare that James' eyes were currently shooting in her direction. Her brother was getting stranger and stranger every time he came home from college. It was getting to the point that Vera was going to ask her parents to stop sending him air fare so he could get home from Ohio - but it was currently the summer, so that idea wouldn't have been useful anyway. "I've decided to get a job working for the postal service."

James' glare deepened and Vera knew her brother had picked up on her sarcasm. "Anyway, since no one in this house but me seems to do anything with the mail, I've come to give this to you." She dropped the envelope on his bed. "Where's South Otselic, anyway?"

"What?"

"Where. Is. South. Ostelic." She tapped the envelope with her finger. "The return address. There's no name or street. Just South Ostelic, New York."

James' eyes literally bugged out of his head when he saw the envelope. "Did you open it?" He fumbled with it, running his hands over the seal repeatedly.

Vera backed into the doorway. "No..." She glanced over her shoulder. She could her the sounds of video game theme music in Xavier's room. "James, what's going on?"

"Nothing." He was sitting on his bed, his face calm. The envelope and book were still clutched in his grasp. "South Ostelic is upstate. Like, four or five hours, maybe. I've never been there. But I've heard it's really small, and not a lot goes on."

"Then why did you get a letter from a town you've never been to?"

"I met someone at that convention up in the Adirondacks I attended during Spring Break. You remember, the sailing convention where I had to get my certification renewed? Anyway, I met some people up there during the few days they actually let us sail and one of them decided to stay in touch with me."

"Oh." It was likely, but a bit strange. She couldn't picture her brother taking the time to sit around and actually write a letter to some random person upstate.

"Has Joe called?"

"I don't think so."

James pushed past her. "Close the door," he muttered, making his way for the privacy of the empty kitchen.

James stood on the front porch, hands shoved in the pockets of his trenchcoat. The night was a bit cold for early August, and the ocassional gentle breeze wasn't making anything better. He could hear the laughter of Xavier and his friends as they bounded down the stairs to the basement, teeming with excitement at the thought of actually being able to play with the Nintendo 64. James didn't care if they played with it so long as it wasn't broken when he came home. He wouldn't have anything else to entertain his friends with if it was.

His watch read 11:30. James looked up. A light was growing brighter along the dark road. He strode down the steps as Joe pulled into the driveway. His friend gazed mournfully from him behind the window of the Jaguar. James paused and placed his hand against the mirror of the passenger door, lowering his head in reverence.

He got in. "It's a real shame your mother's making you sell this car."

James couldn't tell if there were tears in Joe's eyes, but they seemed to be glistening. "Yeah. I wasted half of my fucking summer trying to pay it off, and-" He paused, gathering his emotions. "I mean, yeah, I guess she has to. We have no other way to pay the taxes if we don't."

"Have you heard from your dad yet?"

"No." The conversation died. Joe shifted into reverse.

James watched his house slowly disappear from view. He was waiting for the feeling of dread, or guilt, or nausea, or anything negative, to set in, but he just felt empty. He wasn't sure if it was good or not - in fact, he was almost positive it wasn't good that he felt so emotionless. Perhaps, in the end, it would be for the better.

"Thanks for taking me out on one more joyride before you have to sell it."

Joe smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"James is in a really good mood today."

Vera looked up from her sign-in sheet at Ben. Glancing past his shoulder, she observed James, trusty fedora and neo green sunglasses on, chasing after a group of younger campers. "Hm. I guess he had a good night." She wasn't even sure what time he had come home - now that she thought of it, she wasn't even sure what time he had left.

"We ready to set sail?"

Vera handed her clipboard to Ben. "Just about." She glanced over to the picnic table; her group of campers were sitting around, eagerly chatting. She picked up her bag and readied herself to head over to them.

"Do you remember that siren we heard about an hour ago?"

Vera turned around. One of the other counselors had run up to Ben, her face etched with anxiety. Ben looked at her with little interest. "Yeah, so?"

"We can't sail up near Haverstraw Bay. They found a body in the water."

Vera almost dropped her backpack. "What?" Ben was fully alert. "Vera, go tell the other counselors to settle their groups down and hold tight for a few minuets. Does anyone know what happened?"

The counselor shrugged. "It'll be on the news later. They're airlifting the body to Hudson Valley Hospital Center within minutes."

"Ugh, why there? That's a horrible hospital."

"I don't really think it matters. The person's dead."

Ben looked over. "Vera. Counselors. Now."

Vera jumped at the mention of her name. "Right. Sorry." She strode quickly over to her brother, who was in the middle of lifting one of the girls above his head. "James, put her down. Now."

James gave Vera an inquistive stare as he settled the camper back down. "What's wrong with you?"

Vera gestured towards Ben. "Help me tell the other counselors we need to sit tight. They found a body in the water five minutes upriver."

James blanched. "Shit."

The counselors huddled around the T.V. inside the sailing academy office as Ben fiddled with the dial, trying to find the news channel. Vera had her eyes on the clock. Three minutes until the four o'clock news broadcast.

James leaned against the wall behind her, his eyes on the ceiling. He strived hard to keep his pulse at a normal level. His ears caught the sound of the news report beginning, but his mind was blank against the noise and it didn't register.

His eyes focused on the T.V. when the local reporter flashed on, standing in front of the bay that was only a few feet from where they were all gathered. The reporter began her introduction with a retelling of how a man walking his dog had spotted a body caught in the rock wall that surrounded the bay and immediately called authorities, who had tried their best to revive the corpse which they soon learned had been dead for at least seven hours before the discovery.

"Throughout the day we have been receiving calls from authorities upstate and locals in the area who have helped to identify the body as that of twenty year-old Cheyenne Monroe. Authorities have stated that she left her home in South Otselic, New York, two weeks ago, telling her parents that she was going to spend time with a cousin in Poughkeepsie. Instead she came down here, to Croton, and was staying at a local inn where the innkeeper said she saw the young woman mostly in her room, occasionally using the phone to call her parents or going on quick walks to town throughout the day. The innkeeper did not see her leave last night, nor did she recall seeing any suspcious people lingering around the inn. There was no one else around Haverstraw Bay when her body was found with apparent blunt force trauma to her head."

A picture of of the inn flashed onscreen. Police officers walked in and out of the building as guests stood outside, looking at the crew with confusion. The reporter came back into focus.

"Authorities are continuing this investigation and urge that anyone who had seen Cheyenne around Croton within the last two weeks to please come forward with any information about where she was or if she was with anyone as quickly as possibly."

A picture of Cheyenne flashed on screen. Vera shrieked.

"Oh my God. Oh. My. God." She turned, her eyes wide, and tugged on James' shirtsleeve. "I saw her. I saw her." she whispered to her brother, trying to shrug off the puzzled looks a few of the counselors were giving her. James didn't respond. Vera looked back at the television. It was the girl from outside the post office.

James waited and soon felt a pair of eyes staring him down, but he refused to turn and instead focused his eyes on the television. In his pocket he felt his phone vibrate - it was Joe. His instinct told him it was.

"Thank you." The anchorwoman gave a sad smile at the camera. "We have just received more information regarding this horrific tragedy. Authorities are claiming that death was not accidental based on an unmailed letter they have recently discovered among Cheyenne's belongs. The young woman was apparently pleading with an unknown identified male in the area to please hear her out and consider her feelings in what she described as 'the difficult situation'. She states that she did not understand why he wouldn't respond to her letters and just tell his parents that she was, according to her letter and a report from the Hudson Valley Hospital Center, four months pregnant."

A gasp issued from the counselors surrounding the T.V. "But they don't know who she was writing it to?" one of the girls asked as the anchorwoman again urged any villagers who had seen Cheyenne around to come forward. "How can they have found out all of that and not have any idea who the letter was for?"

Ben shrugged. "She probably obviously didn't need to put a name on it. It sounds like she wrote the guy so many other letters that it wasn't necessary." He shook his head. "Sick bastard. He must have drowned her or tossed the body in the river. Disgusting."

Soft chatter resumed around the office. "James." Vera grabbed her brother's arm, trying to stop shaking. "James."

James shrugged her off and strode outside. Vera stumbled after him, trying to fight off the numbness that was slowly taking over her body. She didn't want to believe it, or even consider the possiblity, but...four months - April, when the sailing convention was held. South Otselic. The letters.

He walked straight to the dock and stood at the edge, his eyes on the water. Vera stopped behind him. She waited. He didn't say anything. Instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a batch of letters.

Vera let out a low groan of horror as tears began to fall from her eyes. "How could you?"

James looked back at her, his face blank. He shrugged. "She left no indication who it was." He tore the letters in halves and then quaters, releasing them into the river below.

Fin.