G. Wright - Broken Things

He had a fairly full itinerary. He’d have to really push to get in everything that he intended to do. Before they’d left, he’d made a list on a sheet of notebook paper, which inadvertently he’d left behind. Still, he could remember most of it.

Obviously he’d demanded a campsite with a river. They told him he couldn’t swim in it, but they’d packed his swimming trunks anyway. They probably expected him to splash at the bank like some little kid, but he knew they had no intention of watching him the entire time. He stuck his fingers in the water, the heat of the summer sun didn’t seem to warm it at all. He’d have to just dive in later. There were supposed to be fish in the river too, and his father had packed a fishing pole. He suspected that his father hadn’t been fishing in a hundred years and possibly wouldn’t be doing much teaching.

He looked up at the surrounding mountains. He bet that he could climb up one fairly easily. They weren’t that steep. How far could he see from on top? He intended to find out. His parents told him that there’d be trails to walk too, and it had looked like there was one near the campsite, but probably only to other spots along the river. Farther upstream he could see where it turned around a bend, and what looked like possibly a beaver dam. Josh added that to his mental list of things to at least check out.

He also hadn’t seen any wildlife either. There were supposed to be a lot of deer up here, and even bears and wolves. Not that he wanted to get too close to one of those, but it would be something to talk about when he got back.

How would it be to not go back at all?

David and Carol Norton watched Josh dart off, Carol opening her mouth and raising a hand but just slightly as if to call him back, her brows furrowed with concern, but her husband placed a hand on her arm and shook his head slightly.

“He’ll be fine,” he said, “Help me unload.”

“Do you think we brought him enough?”

“Yes, he’s good. We brought more than he’ll ever need. ” He opened the back hatch of the SUV to reveal bags and boxes packed in tight, filling every inch of available space with as many comforts of home as possible. They unpacked methodically, setting everything up as they went along, placing everything around the campsite as though permanently staking their part of the wilderness. David set up the tent, only occasionally calling his wife over for help. Carol kept busy with the food, setting the coolers in the shade and rummaging through them, making sure they hadn’t forgot anything. They were packed with sandwich meat, bread, chips, and a host of processed cakes and donuts that the boy liked.

“I wish we hadn’t packed so much junk food,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” David said, “Let him enjoy his last few days.”

Carol covered her mouth, fighting down the tears. She turned away from her husband, staring at the trees, staring at nothing, until she got herself under control.

“Carol, don’t. We talked about this. You know it’s for the best.”

“What if he suffers?”

“He won’t, he’s shutting down. He will only last a few more days.” As these words brought Carol dangerously close to tears, David quickly added, “We’re doing this for him. It’s what he wants.”

Carol glanced toward the river. She couldn’t see Josh, but could pick out the sounds of splashing in the creek. “You’re sure about this?”

“Absolutely. We’re making his last few days fun. We don’t have the money to fix him, and we don’t want him broken for parts. This way he gets to spend his final days having a good time.”

“Won’t he be scared?”

“Josh? No, he doesn’t get scared.”

They filled the tent with bags of clothing and toys, and set up a single sleeping bag. The tent could easily sleep a family of three, but the pile of bags would make it impossible to do so. Carol entered the tent, gently going down on her knees, looking over everything.

“It doesn’t look right,” she said, “I don’t think we brought enough.”

David poked his head in. “It’s fine,” he assured her, “He’s got everything he needs. He’s got plenty of food, water, toys, clothes. He’s going to have a great time.”

“I don’t know,” she said, and then stopped, the words catching in her throat.

“Stop,” he said, “Are you having second thoughts?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. With resolve she opened them and shook her head. “No.”

“Do you want to say goodbye?”

“No. I don’t think I can.”

He nodded, glancing at the river. “I agree. Come on, we’d better go.”

He extended his hand, and she let him help her from the tent. The day seemed to heat up faster now as the afternoon went by. David returned to the car but didn’t get in, instead watching as his wife walked over to the table and pulled out a sandwich and soda, then arranged chips in a neat stack off to the side. She then wrapped it securely with plastic wrap, shooing the flies away.

She stood there for a minute surveying the camp, wiping the crumbs from her hands on her jeans. “Well,” she said, “I guess that’s it.”

“That’s it,” he repeated, “Everything’s set.”

“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”

“He’s thrilled,” he replied, “It’s been all he’s talked about since his accident. We’ve prepared him as best we can. He’s going to be okay. If we leave now we can be home in time for supper. I’ll take you out, if you want.”

She nodded and forced a smile. “I’d like that.”

Over by the river Josh blissfully threw rocks into the water. He’d managed a few skips but nothing spectacular. He’d seen his father skip a stone half way across a park lake once, each skip becoming smaller and smaller until too rapid to count, the stone seeming to glide along the surface.

On the other side of the water the trees and brush grew thick, and he expected that it was probably full of snakes. He would have to cross later to explore and find out. He hadn’t seen many snakes, once in a zoo, and another time one in the garden behind his home. That one had been little.

He’d been away from his parents for a while now. It felt a little peculiar to play by the river for so long without his mother checking on him every five minutes. Being twelve, he was big enough to do just about anything he wanted, but she still saw him as a little kid. But he’d never been little, always twelve. He’d been built to be this age, and that could never change. That didn’t seem to matter to her though. If she wasn’t checking on him then maybe he needed to check on her. It would do her good to know that he was okay.

Josh hopped up from the bank of the river and made his way back to the camp. Miraculously everything looked complete as though it had sprung whole from the ground. When they’d arrived there had only been nature, and now it looked as though a piece of civilization had moved in. Food waited for him on the table, even though the sandwich still had the crust on it. He’d make his mother cut it off before he’d eat it, but she’d gotten him the right chips at least.

His parents sat in the car, window rolled down. His mother looked upset, shaking her head and crying. He could hear her but not what she said. His father consoled her, his voice sounding a bit impatient. She probably wanted to go home. Dad would settle it though. They were all set up. No way would they leave.

For a moment he let himself get distracted, ripping off the plastic wrap and throwing it in the general direction of the fire pit. He scarfed the chips and looked around for more. He found the rest tucked away in a grocery bag. He pulled out a handful and shoved them into his mouth. The campsite looked great and even had a fire pit. Maybe they’ll let me roast marshmallows before dinner , he thought. That wasn’t very likely though. Parents always expected you to eat what they wanted you to first, getting you too full to eat the good stuff. Maybe they’d at least let him start the fire. His father had a special technique for fires. He used a ton of newspaper and lighter fluid. When the match hit it, it would create a small fireball.