After and Before: The Story of Hatley Chambers

By Glenn Seerup

Hatley Chambers is a young man trying to find his place in the world. Dreams of a career in photography and expectations of personal relationships crowd his thoughts when a horrendous and unexpected event changes his life forever. Two intertwined plots chronicle the aftermath of this event as well as the series of occurrences that led him to it.

Follow innocent young Hatley as he completes his education and heads out into the world with dreams of glory and a fulfilling life. Agonize with Hatley during the long process of picking up the pieces. Try to understand the sequences of events that can take a person on the ups and downs of life and the struggles they go through to cope with them. Force yourself to sympathize with somebody that you know you shouldn’t sympathize with.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glenn Seerup
• Release date: Oct 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370110896

Glenn Seerup

Glenn Seerup is a future New York Times bestselling author of Literary Fiction. It’s good to have goals. With over twenty-five years as an accomplished architect under his belt, Glenn has returned to his first passion, the written word. Successfully publishing his first novel in 2017 to rave reviews, a second novel, The Illuminating Occurrence of Maxine Porter, is due for release in the summer of 2019. A third project in the works will be the first of a three (or more) part series. While Glenn has travelled extensively through the United States, Europe, and Africa, and lived in various cities, he loves to write about life in the big city of Chicago – well, and Boston. Settled now in a sleepy beach town in northwest Indiana, Glenn devotes as much time as he can to his wife and two wonderful kids. Most of that time is spent driving to soccer practices, games, and tournaments. Somewhere in there, he still finds time for home remodeling, playing in adult soccer leagues, and watching the English Premiere League. Glenn likes soccer. As a young adult, “The Catcher in the Rye” solidified the love of Literature and the joy of a simple, beautifully written story. Glenn likes to include subtle references to the Salinger masterpiece into his own writing. See if you can spot them.

Book preview

Each individual drop of freezing rain was another reminder that I was finally free. I could choose to take cover or at least brush the water from my eyes. Instead I preferred to relish in the cold tendrils of rain water filtering through my hair, running down my scalp, across my cheeks, and winding behind my collar sending chills down the back of my neck. The clumps of slush continued to grow at the end of my long unruly hair. The eyes were still on me. Behind me I could feel them. I knew if I turned around I would still see them there, ever present, on the other side watching me, waiting for me to be gone, but I wouldn’t turn. Once I heard that wonderful clang of the large metal gate crashing shut, a sound which at one time crushed my spirit, I vowed not to let them see my face. Never again. Right or wrong, my time, wasted for all intents in this despicable place, completed. All my dreams from over the years suddenly attainable, yet still distant, at least now grew wings before me, ready to fly.

I didn’t care how long I had to stand there. All my belongings dry in the plastic bag under my arm, I could wait. Louis, if not prompt, was dependable. He might show up in ten minutes or two hours but I knew he’d come. My arms crossed tight against my chest for warmth, waiting. The blast of the horn of a freight train startled me as it came lumbering down the infinite parallel tentacles crossing the street in front of me. For a moment I weighed the idea of just breaking free and running for that train to see where it would take me. I didn’t do it. I don’t think that’s done much these days. As I stood, becoming entranced, the wheels passing over the intersection pounded out a steady beat. I began to tap my toes and sway to the rhythm. Knowing that they were still watching behind me, dreaming with my eyes closed, I stood in a night club with the bright colored lights flashing like bolts of lightning and the women dancing on the platforms. Oh the women. Sweat pouring down my face, one of the women across the room locks her eyes with mine. I smile and raise an eyebrow. Her eyes bore into mine and slowly she begins to move toward me as the steady beat hammers on. Closer. Weaving around the others, I sense her scent as she is almost close enough to touch. I reach to take her extended hand to pull her to me. Silence. The thrumming of the wheels abruptly stopped, startling me from the trance as the end of the train passed by. There was no caboose.

The gates ratcheted up and the car sat poised across the street. A maroon min-van loomed, as much as a mini-van can, wipers waving back and forth, hesitating, as if deciding if it should cross the tracks. I started to think it wouldn’t but slowly it rumbled across.

Thanks, Louis. I said getting into the car taking great care to shield my face from the eyes at the gate. They were still there, weren’t they?

I’d say you look good, Hat, but you don’t. You sure you don’t want to go somewhere and get cleaned up first? I could sense Louis’ discomfort at our first meeting in several years. He couldn’t maintain his usual aura of self-confidence. Hopefully that would wear off in time. His strong personality and spur-of-the-moment tendencies made people think of him as confident and powerful but inside he questioned himself like anybody else. My presence here intimidated him. On the other hand, one call from me and he went out of his way to help. He was the only person I could think of that I knew would put himself out for me. He took the afternoon off of work to pick me up but had to be home in time for dinner. His wife, who I missed meeting by mere days, wasn’t supposed to know that he was helping me out. Having never met me, she understandably had concerns about my character.

We went straight to the storage center where all of my things had been taken – there wasn’t much. Jo had emptied my apartment and put everything in storage for me. It was a nice thing to do considering. The narrow door rattling open let in a sharp shaft of light illuminating the dust particles disturbed by the infusion of fresh air. A few pieces of furniture were piled in the back with a couple of duffle bags and some boxes of clothes stacked remarkably neatly in front. Sitting prominently displayed, atop the small, slightly cockeyed, home-made coffee table were three items. Purposefully placed on top of a sealed manila envelope, displayed almost museum-like, the ring lay on its side next to the empty ring box. Pausing, I froze, my eyes darting back and forth across the three items on the table. The painful memories of the ring instantly weighed me down but the envelope, that was too much. I should have expected this, but unprepared, I didn’t know how to react. Snapping back to reality, I stuffed the items into the table drawer to hide them from sight. I couldn’t deal with that yet. Trying to divert my thoughts, I began to absently peruse one of the boxes of kitchen ware, looking at nothing in specific.

Come on, Hat, grab what you need for tonight and let’s go get a drink. You’re staying with me tonight. Louis had been standing outside uncomfortably watching my torture.

What about your dinner? Your family?

I’ll figure that out later. You don’t have any other options. Do you? Throughout our relationship, I tried to maintain a certain emotional distance from Louis to avoid his conniving side, but always held great respect for his friendship, if that makes sense. We had sort of an unspoken rule all through college that we would always help out if there was a problem. I hadn’t told him, but I guess he could tell that I had no plans, no prospects, and no idea where to start. That was how our friendship worked. We never really discussed things. Real men don’t talk about their personal problems or some such macho creed. You just have to be there for a distraction. One of the first times I realized this was on a cool fall day in college only a few weeks after fate landed us as freshmen roommates at the dorm.

BEFORE (1)

What are you doing right now, this very instant? Louis flung open the door to our dorm room and stormed in. He was slightly flushed and out of breath. The manic look on his face betrayed his unhappiness though his mannerisms tried to hide it. His eyes darted around the room alighting on anything but me.

I’m going to bed. I responded adamantly. It was late Sunday night, I tried to get out of it all the while knowing that in the end it was futile. I’ve got a nine-o’clock tomorrow.

I know, idiot. I’m in that class. Come on, let’s go.

Where? It’s past midnight for chrissake.

For a walk. Just get your lazy ass up. I had been commanded. He left no choice but to obey. His impatience swelled as I slowly dug out my shoes and deliberately picked at the knots in the laces. I hoped that if I stalled long enough he would forget and leave without me. No such luck. When I finally finished with the laces and began the arduous search through the pockets of the five or six pairs of pants piled on the floor, he boiled over.

You’re pathetic. Meet me downstairs. The door shut and he was gone. At this point there was no choice but to go. The elevator door thwacked shut down the hall as I found my keys among the disaster area I called my desk. I paused before stepping out and, knowing the state of mind Louis was in, I pulled a dark, long-sleeve shirt on over my white tee. Always be prepared.

The elevator opened on the first floor as Louis broke the seal on a fresh bottle of RC from the vending machine. He always drank RC because Pepsi and Coke are ‘too mainstream’. This was a bad sign. Caffeine affects Louis like it affects me – he’d be wired for the next four to six hours. I debated grabbing some caffeine for myself but decided I’d rather spend the night in an overtired haze. I followed him out the door into the incredibly clear night lit by the nearly full moon. As we crossed the courtyard, our neighbors from the dorm were just returning home from a night out. They had invited me to go but I reluctantly turned it down in favor of catching up on some sleep. How ironic.

Where are you two going? they asked, with a bewildered glance.

Out. Louis didn’t even break stride. Behind him I just shrugged my shoulders and wrinkled my forehead as if to say ‘I’m just along for the ride."

Okay, whatever. His voice, annoyed, trailed off.

Louis led me across town to the Liberal Arts building. This wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last time I entered this building after midnight. We went to the front door and to my surprise it was open. Inside we quietly made our way directly to the stairwell and up to the top floor. The door up there, old and warped, didn’t latch properly. It opened into a large room full of heavy machinery, the mechanical penthouse. We silently made our way, disturbing years’ worth of dust and wading through thick cobwebs, around to the back of the room.

What are we doing here? I finally asked because we seemed to be near the end of the line and I was still in the dark.

Quiet! We’re trying to find a way onto the roof. He said with disgust as if it should have been obvious to me.

Why?

Why not? I couldn’t think of why not so, defeated, I nodded acceptance. Armed now with a clearly defined goal and intent, I was determined to help out. We spotted another door at the far end but it was locked tight and looked like it hadn’t been used in years. Sensing defeat we slowly started back when I noticed a small stream of light – moonlight? – cutting across the floor. Following it back to a row of rusted shelves I motioned to Louis to help me slide the bookcase over. Trying to make as little noise as possible, it took all our strength to move the fully stocked bookcase about one foot. Brushing away the dense array of cobwebs I uncovered a dusty, partially painted window. With both of us pulling, we finally scraped up the bottom sash with a loud creak. It crashed open slamming against the top of the frame showering us with pieces of peeling cracked paint. Freezing at the echoing madness cutting through the still building, we tried hard to suppress laughter and avoided making eye contact sure that somebody would come bounding up the stairs at any moment. Nobody did. With the window now open wide enough to fit through, I grabbed some cans from the shelf to place under it to keep it from falling. One at a time we eased ourselves out of the penthouse and onto the roof.

Louis immediately ventured toward the edge, stopped, and sat down cross-legged. With a hiss, he opened his RC bottle and took a long swig. After a little exploration, I joined him sitting near the edge.

Isn’t it beautiful? What an unbelievable night. All those suckers walking around down there and the saps locked up in their houses sleeping, look at what they’re missing. We’re on top of the world. We could see the Quad from there – our dorm building rose inky black with a few sparse windows lit up. As we looked one more light blinked off. It was peaceful, and a little empowering, up here. After a few quiet minutes, I broke the silence.

So what’s this all about? Janie?"

Oh Janie…we decided that it’s not going to work out. Big sigh.

You only went out, what, three times? It can’t be that bad.

No. It’s no big deal. I was just looking for a reason for an adventure. I smiled and shook my head in amazement.

Asshole. We sat, mostly in silence, lost in our own thoughts and the magic of the quiet, moonlit night for about a half an hour. Times like these make me wonder about what college is really about. Does it really matter that I know the difference between a Doric, Ionic, or Corinthian column? Will anyone ever care that I got a B on my Art History Mid-term? Am I learning anything that I will ever use in life? I think that it’s really about this night. It’s about making friends that you will have for the rest of your life. About learning the boundaries of what you can and can’t do. Being free to make your own decisions and learning that you are responsible for dealing with the consequences of your actions. If not for Louis’ persistence I would have been sleeping then and would have missed out on the magic of that night.

I was totally relaxed and in a state of karmic bliss when Louis nudged me to go. Quietly we made our way back the way we came. In the morning, I remember feeling more refreshed than if I had had a full night of sleep.

AFTER (2)

I stayed with Louis’ family for about a week at their home in South Boston. That was all his wife would allow. It was bad for the kids, so she said. She didn’t allow me to talk to them. These were the rules. She kept me as the big secret living in the basement. A friend of a friend of Louis owned a local diner in the neighborhood and he was able to get me a dishwashing job there. I still had to go through the formality of applying and interviewing. Surprisingly I only fleetingly paused at the question on the application Have you ever committed a felony? I guess I could plan on getting used to that. The manager cocked his head and raised his eyebrows at me as he read down the application but didn’t ask any questions or make any comments. Maybe he just didn’t want to know.

Trying not to spend more time than necessary in Louis’ basement, I passed the majority of my time not working wandering the streets and far too little time trying to find an apartment. I hated shoveling diner crap in a sleazy grease pit, greeted every day by the friendly toothless waitress Move your ass, its pilin’ up., but it brought me a little money and I really needed to focus on a place to live.

I stopped to check on a few ‘for rent’ signs near the diner but my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t want to live, work, or set foot in this neighborhood any more than I had to. I kept telling myself that I couldn’t stay there long and living elsewhere would be the first step. Then a new job. Not that I had any foreseeable options. I could still hope.

Thursday, a beautiful day, and my week’s worth of good graces at Louis’ was almost up. Waking up early and getting desperate, I stopped to look at two places near the diner. One was already taken and the other too expensive. Discouraged and feeling the tremors of panic winding their way through my body and deep into the pit of my stomach, I started aimlessly walking. Down the street, any street, turning at random, following nothing in specific except my whims. Street merchants, homeless beggars looking only slightly worse off than me, fast food restaurants, currency exchanges, pawn shops, all became a blur of shadows as I followed the lines of the sidewalk. Avoiding the shadows, clinging to the sun’s rays, eyes closed to what I didn’t choose to see, I simply kept moving forward. Down Broadway, Across Berkeley, up Newbury with all of the Boutiques, fancy cars, and the aroma of coffee hanging in the air. All these people with their shopping bags and fancy coats. What makes them better than me? What makes them so happy? Or are they?

Crossing the Mass. Ave. bridge I paused to look at the few sailboats lazily meandering about on the Charles. One passed close and the man aboard looked up and waved. He didn’t know any better. Down through MIT where everyone is always in a hurry, too busy to look up and enjoy the beauty they have around them. Willing myself to choose a seemingly random path through the streets of Cambridge, deep down I knew where I would end up. It wasn’t planned but I knew it would happen. The chain coffee shop on the corner first caught my attention, snapping me out of my haze. The old coffee shop was gone now, succumbed to the fate of progress and mass production. I continued down the street finally stopping in front of the crumbling stone steps, flanked by the rusted railings with just hints of the black paint which once adorned them. I made my way up the stairs. The doorbells all exactly how they used to be but none of the names were the same. Hesitating only slightly, I rang the bell anyway. A pause. The third floor window slowly creaked open.

Who’s that? Yelled an unfriendly, unfamiliar voice.

Nobody. Sorry. Backing down the stairs, I felt the emptiness with an exclamation as the window slammed shut. Slowly continuing down the sidewalk, the realization crushed in on me like the slam of that window. Everything was different now. People. Attitudes. Me. I had to start over. I had to re-learn everything. Completely in a daze, I walked right into a ladder. The large man on the ladder scowled, then hesitated with a look of puzzled recognition. I remembered this man from before. Collecting my thoughts, I stood before him for I don’t know how long.

You all right buddy? He said suddenly standing in front of me at the base of the ladder. He wore an old plaid shirt and a well-worn fedora.

No. I don’t think so. Then after a confused pause, I’m looking for an apartment.

Ha. I got a couple available if you want to take a look. I followed him up the stairs. He seemed proud of himself. The door opened and a blast of odor woke up the memories which had been shoved back to the depths of my consciousness. When he asked for my information so he could run a credit check, it confirmed in my mind that I had been here before. Back then I turned down this apartment. This time I found it acceptable. The first time I had just graduated from RISD and moved to Boston to start my adult life. Now I needed to re-start it.

BEFORE (2)

I think I always knew it wasn’t right between us but I’m not sure why I never did anything about it until…well. You always hear stories about the fantastic ways people meet their soul mates. The day I first met Jo was entirely unmemorable and years later I had to be reminded of when we actually did first meet. I had no way of knowing that one year later Jo and I would start dating and our relationship would continue on… well… for a long time. That day, early on in my freshman year at RISD, is more memorable to me because of Louis. I was just learning about his subtle ways of manipulating people and understanding how to keep him from getting me in trouble. That day, I sat alone in the dining hall eating. Louis and Robert, as they always did, came up to join me.

What’s that shit all over you, Robert? Chili?

Didn’t you hear the crash? He did it again. Ever want to know the special of the day, check his clothes. Louis, as always, spoke for Robert.

It wasn’t my fault.

It’s never your fault.

How come it only happens to you?

Bad luck?

Klutz. This was a fairly common conversation theme in the dining hall, usually followed by stories about Bertha. Bertha was the dining hall lady that seemed to have it in for Robert – she always lurked nearby and was the first one there with a mop after a spill. Bertha was not her real name of course. None of us really knew her name. A large woman, mid to late fifties, with her hair in a bun and a permanent scowl formed among her jowls, she presented an intimidating presence to green college freshmen. Robert always pinned the blame for his spills on her. The way she always appeared as soon as he entered the lunchroom unnerved him. I used to wonder if there was some sadistic evil presence in her and she did it on purpose so she could go home and brag about it to her family. She was a lifer here and I tried not to think about how many students she had seen come and go and how many precious student minds she had played her games with.

So what do you have planned tonight Hat. Asked Louis.

Um. If you recall, we’ve got a somewhat major mid-term exam tomorrow so I believe that I will be hunkering down and getting familiar with a certain Art History book tonight.

I know that, Dumbass, Robert and I are having a cram session and thought you might like to join us. We could all benefit from a little group therapy.

Yeah. Added Robert.

You know, as tempting as that is, the last time I attended one of your cram sessions, I recall far more farting, belching, and story-telling than studying. In fact, I seem to remember a hot game of euchre breaking out in the middle of the enlightenment. I need this grade so I’m going to place myself in seclusion tonight.

Where are you going? Asked Robert. Louis looked pathetically at him.

You really think he’s going to tell us? They looked at me expectantly. I just smiled. It was then that our table began to fill in.

Louis and I developed this habit of sitting at the dinner table for about two hours every evening – it was kind of our goof-off time. We made a lot of friends down there. We went down early, grabbed a table and just sat there while other people came, ate, left, and were replaced by the late-coming crowd. I called it the revolving door of cafeteria tables. Inevitably Louis and I were the last to leave as well. That day, however, we’d had enough silly banter so finally Louis and I passed the silent ‘time to go’ look and gathered our trays to get up.

As we approached the door on our way out, I heard my name called. Turning to look, I was mortified to see none other than a blonde girl who Louis had introduced me to days earlier and I couldn’t remember her name. She beckoned me over. She sat at a table near the door with another girl I didn’t know. I looked back for Louis – I needed to find out her name – but he kept walking seemingly oblivious to what was happening behind him. The light in my head went on and my fears were confirmed when he reached the door, turned ever so slightly, and stole a glance back. I could see the corner of a smirk in the shadow of his profile for the brief moment that he turned. He was gone. Damn him. There was nothing left to do but coolly stroll over.

Hi. How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. Careful not to let her know about the name thing.

"I’ve been good. This is my friend Jo.

Hi Jo, nice to meet you. Jo nodded hello with a perfunctory smile then turned her head to look out the window as if something wildly interesting were happening out there.

I need to ask you something. Began the girl with no name. "I’m going with some friends to see the Nads get destroyed by Worcester tomorrow night and I heard