MARIEL

12'Karma'

On a dark, rainy evening, on August 17th, 1976, Todd Caravan had watched his younger brother die and, if he remembered correctly, it had been his father's fault.

He had been five and his little brother, Will, had been two. Patricia Caravan had left for the evening to participate in a church fundraiser and, of course, had given the charge to her husband, Jacob Caravan. Not long after the car had left the old farm driveway, Jacob had begun drinking from a secret stash of alcohol he had pulled from under the cushion of the living room couch. Even at such a young age, he had known that bottles of alcohol were his mother's anger switch, and he watched his father hungrily drink that bottle of whiskey like it was the last liquid he would ever drink.

Then, Jacob had made macaroni and cheese. He had been mumbling to himself. Repeatedly, Jacob would stir the pot, look up at the ceiling and mumble, and stir the pot again. Todd could not understand what he was saying, but he had felt uncomfortable and somewhat frightened.

Will and Todd had sat eating their macaroni and cheese with their father, watching him curiously as he drank his whiskey and flipped quickly through his old black Bible. He had fumbled for his glasses with shaking hands, put them on, and then bent close to read the pages. Just as he had done while stirring dinner, he would sit up abruptly, look up at the ceiling, and mumble inaudible words.

After dinner, when Jacob was sufficiently inebriated, he had instructed Todd to go to bed and to take his little brother with him. Grabbing Will's hand, Todd had walked steadily down the dark hallway with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He had not known why the unease was there, but it had made him shiver even in the warm night.

Not long after he had secured Will in his bed and Todd had drifted to sleep in his, Jacob had aggressively entered the room. Screaming from the sudden entrance, Todd had sat upright with wide eyes to see his father standing in the doorway, shadowed by the darkness of the room and the brightness of the hallway light. Todd wanted to feel relief after he saw that it was simply his father, but no relief came to him.

"Forgot to bathe Will," he mumbled drunkenly, swaying from side to side.

Sleepily, he watched as Jacob retrieved his younger brother and took him from the room. Todd had heard water running from the bathroom across the hall. He heard the soft mumbling of his father yet again, and Todd listened for several minutes before he closed his eyes again.

He awoke again, unsure of the time. Sitting up, he had glanced towards Will's bed but it was still vacant. Todd looked across the hall and saw that the bathroom light was still on, but he no longer heard running water. Instead, he heard soft, muffled sobs.

Quickly, he slid from his bed and approached the bathroom. Todd heard the sobs and stopped just outside the bathroom doorway. It was a small bathroom, and the sink was the first object he saw. Cautiously, he peeked around the corner.

Jacob sat leaning against the toilet, knees up, a beer in hand, and he was crying. His face was wet from tears and mucus dangled from his nose as he struggled to get air. Todd inched sideways a little more to look further into the bathroom and his eyes widened at the sight he saw.

Will lay at Jacob's side, naked, wet, and motionless.

Todd remembered running back to his room and climbing under the covers, shaking violently in his bed. He had remained in that position for what seemed like endless time, before he heard footsteps in the house and the heart-wrenching cries of his mother. Todd, himself, had begun to cry as he sat alone in the dark room next to his dead brother's bed.

The paramedics and the police had come. He listened to their footsteps and their questions for what felt like hours. Patricia had eventually come to his room and clasped him in her arms. He remembered how her warm tears as struck his face, and he had tasted them as she held him close to her chest.

The constant phone calls and the bags under his mother's lifeless eyes destroyed and scared him. He remembered hearing Patricia mumble into the phone about an investigation, but neither parent ever disclosed to him what that meant. At the time, all he knew was that 'his father had fallen asleep and Will had drowned in the bathtub'.

At least, that's what they said. There had been no mention of alcohol or negligence. Simply... a mistake.

But after the funeral, Jacob Caravan had told him some very odd things, things he had not understood at that age. As they stood hand in hand at the gravesite, Jacob had said softly, "Do you know what karma means?"

He shook his head.

Jacob continued. "It means that when you do something shitty, something shitty happens to you."

Todd had stared up at his father and asked, "Did you do something bad, Daddy?"

Jacob closed his eyes. "If an angel tells you to do something, is it bad?"

Todd was silent.

"I guess it can still be karma if you don't want to do it," Jacob whispered. Then, he had suddenly knelt before Todd. "Daddy did do something bad. I went behind your momma's back and did things with another lady that I shouldn't've."

Todd blinked.

"Can't even call her a lady. She was a vile woman... asked for it wherever she could. I was driving my truck when I met her and did the bad things." Jacob nodded towards the gravesite. "That's why that happened, boy, because daddy went against God and betrayed your mom. That is karma, Todd. Remember that."

Jacob had seemed taller when he stood up and fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette. His hands shook as he flicked the lighter and lit the cigarette. He exhaled and, as the smoke drifted lazily in the air, he said, "There's something evil in our lineage, Todd. There has to be."

Todd's head had shot up.

"Yeah. Yep. There has to be. Otherwise, this horrible karma shit wouldn't happen in every generation. Remember how you always asked about your grandpa? He shot himself. I watched him do it too. Did it with a shotgun, so I remember seeing his head blow apart like fuckin' watermelon and splatter my bedroom wall."

Jacob was rambling now, staring at Will's grave, and had not even noticed that Todd had begun to cry.

"Yeah, there's something evil in our lineage, Todd. You gotta break that cycle, boy." Jacob squeezed his hand tightly and began to sob. "Please break the cycle."

Years later, long after his mother had finally divorced Jacob, Todd had felt that karma reach its ugly claws towards him after he heard the doctor tell him that his premature daughter Esther had died. It brought him back to the accident he had caused... the nine deaths that could have been avoidable. But then, miraculously, Esther had lived with no explanation from the hospital staff, who had been just as incredulous as Todd.

And he had never told Mary. She had no clue Esther had 'died'.

He thought he had, perhaps, escaped this karma that Jacob had said was upon the Caravan family, that perhaps God had allowed him a second chance to 'break the cycle'.

But now today, on the freezing February 2018 Saturday, Todd sat in the emergency waiting room yet again with that same guilt in his mind. He held Mary as she cried in his arms, waiting with a quick-beating heart to find out if his son, Hawk Caravan, would make this round of Caravan Karma: 'When you do something shitty, something shitty happens to you'.

Todd stroked Mary's hair and glanced at his phone. Esther had said she was en route with Mariel, who he could only imagine was suffering as much as Todd was at the news of Fr. Jerome's critical condition. He knew nothing more than that, but had seen Fr. Jerome's bloody body rushed down the hall right before he had seen his son speedily wheeled in the same direction.

Todd had already contacted Patricia, who also said she was on her way. That dear woman. The most supportive, loving woman he had ever known. He closed his eyes and pulled Mary closer to him.

"Where is Esther?" Mary said through her tears.

"She just texted. Said she is almost here." He leaned his chin against the top of her head. "I love you."

She did not respond; merely buried her face further into his chest as they both waited for the door to open... be it their daughter Esther to join them, or the hospital staff to tell them that their son had not made it.