Erich

I remember this kid Erich
from Oregon.

He was friends with my cousin
and they lived in a small town out near the coast.
The town had one little store that sold
ice cream and other sundries, plus a school that
every kid seemed to attend (and there weren’t even that many kids around)
where the teachers were all referred to by their first names. Not
Mr. or Ms. so-and-so. But Bill. Or Janet. Or
Vince.

Anyway, what I remember
most about Erich
was that he had blonde hair and a nice, healthy face.
I also remember being at the beach with him—
now, the beach in Oregon is a lot different than the beach in
Florida or Massachusetts.
It’s foggy, with blackish sand. It almost feels
prehistoric.
He taught us how to skim-board, ride
the plane of water between the sand and your board.

Well, then a few years back
I asked my uncle what’s going on with Erich? Do you know?
Yes, he said. Erich had a very serious car accident.

Oh, I said. What happened?
He had a head on collision up in the mountains during a snowstorm, he said.
Then he went on to tell me how
Erich had developed Schizophrenia since the accident, and
some people thought the two might be related. No one knew that for sure
though.

Erich has had a tough life since then, my uncle said. He’s found it
hard to adjust to things.
He couldn’t hold down a job and his parents aren’t
the most adult of adults I’ve ever come across, so they don’t help much. I stopped
talking to the father altogether, he said.
I said, I see.

A few years went by.

I saw my uncle at Christmas.
They’d since moved from the coast and now lived in a little
neighborhood not far from downtown.

Have you heard anything about Erich? I said.

Yes, said my uncle. See, Erich—I told you he’s a schizophrenic, right?
Yes.
Well, see…Erich started thinking that someone wanted him to rob a bank.
He thought that someone was telling him to get a gun
and rob a bank
so that they could use the money to save someone
or something or other.
So, Erich got a gun and robbed a bank.
He took some twelve-thousand dollars, then sat outside on the curb
and waited for the police.

What did they do to him? I asked.

Well, they dropped the charges once they found out about his condition. And the money
was returned.

Then my uncle said, Remember when you guys went skim-boarding?
Yes, I said.

Erich could really
glide
on that black
sand.