Killdeer Dance

by Ronn Fryer

  Dazed and all but blinded by plaits of her drenched hair, Olivia conjectured that it was Tina, paddling with her free hand that was pulling her. But she didn’t have three hands. And what about Ramona and the tangled mess of life jackets? Someone else had to be helping, dragging them back toward shore.

  Shore?

  Waterlogged, depleted, the gears in her brain slipping, Olivia feebly tried to flutter-kick, only to bang her toes against mucky-gravel. Had they already reached the shore?

  She couldn’t see, couldn’t think straight; couldn’t focus. The river had completely drained her, sapped every last bit of her strength. If only her heart would stop racing – if only she could stop coughing, stop choking; catch her breath.

  Thoughts muddled. She needed to focus. What had she been trying to do? Something – something...

  Hands everywhere...voices...her stomach dragged onto the bank...oou, painful. Legs half in, half out. She was safe now, she no longer had to fight the river – saved.

  Delirious with relief, Olivia let the sand cradle her weary body even as the cold water felt exceedingly strange, swishing around freely in such a private place.

  Chapter 39 – Miss Gendered

  Olivia never actually passed out, at least she didn’t think so. It felt more like a dream-state, like she’d reentered this morning’s fog. Her mind had just seemed suspended, floating in a haze, as she was dragged, pushed, and shoved back to shore. Besides, she doubted anyone could possibly cough this much, unconscious.

  Gagging this hard, she wondered if it was still possible to drown, above the surface. Her lungs seemed to be filled with half of the damn river – the other half saturating whatever space not already full of tears from her coughing fit.

  Once she finally did try to open her eyes, her vision, blurry at best, was further hindered by more hair than she thought she possessed; and, what she assumed was a life jacket riding up past her chin. There were no hands about her face though. She was pretty sure about that. There couldn’t have been any hands in the world that weren’t already groping and prodding the rest of her body.

  Livvy......her inner voice called.

  The first thing that registered to Olivia with any sense of clarity was the feeling of sand – supporting, caressing her. The precious riverbank; she’d seriously feared never reaching it again.

  Laying facedown, her heart continued to pound as she retched, spitting generous portions of spring-fed water into the silt beneath her mouth. She tried lifting her head. Gasping – no, not yet, too soon. Resting her head back down, a reed poked her cheek. It might have pierced her skin but she wasn’t sure. It was hard to focus on anything beyond her desperate quest for air. Her ribs hurt. And, even as the heaving finally began to subside, fighting this hard to breathe tore at her throat.

  Livvy.....reach down.

  She felt Tina’s hand on the nape of her neck. Even without seeing her, she knew who it was. Through the sounds of her own gagging she recognized her friend’s voice – comforting, soothing. Its familiarity cutting through the myriad of feminine voices that overlapped, cluttering the air. And yet, she heard another voice, one from inside her own head.

  Reach down, pull them up.

  A moment later she felt herself being turned over. Someone was tugging on her shoulder. The incessant coughing had ceased. Although her breathing was far from normal, she was breathing – air, rich with life-giving oxygen. Her weary lungs, compressed against the sand, however, could certainly use some relief. Someone was turning her head. She didn’t resist. But the voice in her head cried out.

  Nooo!

  Olivia was now flat on her back, the sun glistening on her skin even as water dripped from her blouse. Soaked, it still protected her vanity down to her waist. Lower though.

  Livvvvvy!!!! Your shorts!

  Suddenly, as if someone had hit a mute button, the world grew instantly silent. Two seconds before, the shore was awash in chatter. Everyone seemed to be talking simultaneously. Now, nary a bird, cricket, or girl, chirped.

  As if yanked from a nightmare, Olivia bolted upright and forced her eyes open.

  She stared, incredulously at the drenched, unzipped shorts and torn panties, bunched about her ankles – the shocking image it revealed, instantly emblazoned in the sight of every single girl on the little riverside beach.

  Chapter 40 – Here’s Looking At You Kid

  Courtney and Nicole simultaneously blurted, “Oh my God!”

  Jennifer muttered, “She’s – she’s got a.........”

  Despite the horrendous jolt to her own emotions, Tina instinctively defended her friend, harshly redressing Jenny, “She’s right here!” Adding, “She’s not fucking Deaf!”

  “No...I mean. I mean, I didn’t mean...” Jennifer stammered, unable to align conflicting feelings of shock with her usual, innate compassion.

  Courtney uncharacteristically attempted to defend Jenny.

  She never got out a word.

  Unable to contain her scorn, Tina shot her a look capable of scaring a mannequin. To a large extent, however, it was ambivalent animosity. Although she wouldn’t thoroughly understand her emotions until a good deal later, Tina was upset with herself, for being upset with Olivia. And, if those feelings weren’t complicated enough, she was equally upset that her friend hadn’t confided in her. Had Livvy’s faith in their bond really been that shallow? Then again, with situations reversed...?

  Stacy, who, meanwhile, had been trying to get Ramona to stop shivering in spite of the bright sunshine; was temporarily dumbstruck, unable to utter a word. Like the others, she’d never once suspected. Had she the slightest clue, she would have tried to shield the little poet.

  Realizing how devastating this must be for Ramona, she turned to check the girl’s reaction. Oddly enough, there wasn’t any. The girl simply stared at the revelation between Olivia’s bare legs without expression – as if it just didn’t register.

  Tina, however, was totally focused on Olivia. Not about to let her friend suffer another minute of torment, she caught Stacy’s attention and pointed to the towel draped over the gunnels of the closest canoe. Acknowledging the obvious sense of urgency, Stacy, complied without hesitation.

  Stretching out the bright yellow terrycloth, Tina bent down and carefully placed it over the Livvy’s partially-naked torso.

  Glaring at both Courtney and Nicole, she blurted, “Excuse me....!”

  Nicole got the message instantly; the blonde, however, was a little slow on the uptake. Hardly in the mood to mince words, Tina all but spat out, “You want to give us a little privacy?”

  Courtney, finally getting the message, did not offer any objection. Even without the slightest notion of what-the-hell got into this little townie, the blonde really didn’t care to challenge her at this moment. With only a slight eye roll, she followed Nicole and side-stepped around the extended towel.

  Turning back to her friend lying prone on the bank, Tina softly voiced, “Sweetie, pull yourself together.”

  Olivia, embarrassed and humiliated beyond the endurance of any human heart, rolled back over on the sand and curled into the fetal position. With hands covering her face in shame, her chest convulsed as she lie there, quivering with silent tears.

  Chapter 41 – Quiet Reunion

  Back on the river, the entire mood of the trip changed drastically. Boisterous laughter and endless chatter was replaced with quiet comments, barely audible beyond the confines of each canoe. Some focused on how close they’d come to tragedy, fostering an endless series of rationalizations – what each girl did, or didn’t do. It was only a matter of time, however, until everything centered on the startling revelation they’d witnessed.

  Before anyone could get too ensconced in their banter, though, they had to reunite with Keisha. They did not go back for the cooler – if the river wanted it that badly it could have the damn thing! It wasn’t worth the risk.

  Conveniently, only a couple of beach bags had to be rearranged to fit Ramona into
Stacy’s canoe. The extra person was no problem, she was barely over a hundred pounds, soaking wet. Besides, they only had to navigate a short distance to meet up with Kiki, and a plethora of missing life jackets left plenty of extra room.

  Despite breaking a nail and scraping her inner arm, she’d managed to beach her canoe a few hundred yards beyond Horseshoe. As much as she desperately wanted to rejoin the girls, heading back upstream was obviously not an option. So, with no other choice, she’d dragged the craft onto the bank, secured it best she could, and tried jogging back to the other girls.

  The stretch of riverbank leading back to Horseshoe Bend, however, was nothing but obstacles. A modest little stream emerged from the far base of the High Bank’s sandy bluff; and, although its main flow meandered to the river, a second leg branched off – the combination of the two resembling a horseshoe of sorts.

  Despite years of erosion, a small triangle of land still remained between the river and the two tributaries. The resulting low area between it and the towering high-banks was marshy and scattered with overlapping logs, as if some giants had been playing Pick-Up Sticks. To complicate things, the entire perimeter of little island fell off into steep embankments where poison ivy and picker bushes flourished. It may have been the perfect haven for marauding raccoons, but a disaster for a girl in florescent flip-flops sporting cute little plastic flowers.

  Deciding that this area was simply impassable, Keisha began walking back when she spotted the girls paddling past her, heading toward her canoe. Her legs were already a mess, and although slow careful steps were the best way to avoid additional scratches, her gait hastened until she was bounding like a fawn reuniting with its mother. She made her way back just as the bow of Stacy’s canoe cut into the shoreline.

  “Oh my God!” Kiki blurted, “I was so worried, is everyone all right?”

  “Everyone’s fine,” Stacy answered, even as her subdued tone suggested otherwise.

  With only a quick stutter-step, mistaking a sprig of wild strawberry for poison ivy, Keisha rushed over and engulfed Ramona in an unrestrained hug. “I was so scared!” she exclaimed, “I could see you struggling, but I couldn’t do anything!”

  Emotionally unable to reciprocate, Ramona quietly accepted the prolonged hug, simply saying, “I’m okay.”

  As Keisha continued to gush, Stacy dug her paddle firmly into the sandy muck. Stabilizing their canoe, she instructed Nicole to step out. Nikki, assuming that she was just going to help Ramona onto the bank, obeyed without question, bracing herself on the aluminum gunnels. When Stacy told her to go with Keisha, however, she turned back to her future roommate like a scolded puppy, unable to comprehend why it was being punished.

  Stacy, however, had been studying their silent passenger. In spite of whatever the French girl said, it was obvious she was a long way from okay. The poor thing had just experienced back to back traumatic incidents; the second, although completely different in nature, still nonetheless harrowing. Nothing quite as vulnerable as an unprotected heart.

  Observing Ramona’s vacant stare, Stacy was convinced the girl was in shock and totally incapable of handling a barrage of questions. Keisha, of course, had no way of knowing. Even so, naiveté can be just as devastating as malice.

  Ramona made no comment about the new arrangements. She simply scooted up to the front of the canoe as directed. Nicole, doing her best to subdue her pouty expression, set her feet into the sand and shoved them off. She knew Stacy better than anyone; knew exactly why she’d made the switch, even agreed with it, but that did not mean she had to like it.

  As if offering an apology, the current easily pulled the craft into the main flow of the river. ‘Yeah right,’ Nicole silently addressed the river. ‘Now you want to be our friend!’

  Chapter 42 – A Rose By Any Other Name

  For the next twenty minutes Stacy paddled without a word, giving Ramona plenty of time to stare at the moving water. It definitely would have been easier with Nicole up front, but the girl who rarely, until now, let her ponytail unravel, was capable of controlling the canoe by herself. Ramona held her paddle, cradling it like a security blanket, although she was yet to actually dip it into the river. As they neared the clearing where a towering metal powerline hugged the bank, however, Stacy finally broke the silence.

  “Sweetie, I could use a little help here. Would you paddle us to the right?”

  At this spot, one of the deepest of the river, the undercurrent created a large eddy. Reading the river, Stacy could have opted to hug the opposite shoreline where the shallow water offered only a slight current. That tactic would have avoided getting spun in a circle; efficient navigation, however, wasn’t her main concern. Ramona had been silent long enough. Too much introspection wasn’t necessarily a good thing and this was a perfect opportunity to get her to open up.

  Although the river was quite deep close to the steep bank, the surface was relatively calm. The location offered no apparent danger, seemingly an excellent place for a little heart-to-heart. Steering through the eddy wouldn’t be very tricky, but all the same, it’s tactile. Hands tasked countering swirling water, might help disrupt the girl’s swirling thoughts. Any form of catharsis was worth a try.

  They made it through the whirlpool without any trouble. The bank they hugged was high, predominantly composed of clay, with icy spring-water trickling down in multiple rivulets. A couple dozen yards farther downstream, however, the clay gave way to bluffs of sandy loam. There, Stacy pointed out numerous silver-dollar sized holes in the cliff side.

  “Barn Swallows,” she explained, taking on the role of impromptu tour guide. “Or maybe I should say, Cliff Swallows.”

  Ramona looked up at the little colony of holes, but didn’t comment.

  A small two-toned, grayish bird glided over the surface of the river, then swooped, almost directly overhead. As it flit back up to its little tunnel in the sand Stacy pointed, asking, “There! Do you see it?” Evidently, a question was going to be the only way to get the girl talking.

  “Yeah,” Ramona offered just above a whisper.

  Resorting to the obvious, Stacy asked, “What do you think they’re eating?”

  The girl pulled a clump of nearly dry hair from her eyes and pursed her lips. Bugs, insects, gnats, she mused – any little flying thing, although she hoped it wasn’t dragonflies. She liked dragonflies, they were a frequent image in her poetry. Although she hadn’t considered getting a tattoo before, Tina’s idea was intriguing. Certainly better than thinking of them squished up in some bird’s belly. She started to share her thoughts, wanted to, but her words remained captive deep inside her own personal tunnels.

  “Wish they’d eat some of these damn deerflies,” Stacy grumbled, resorting to answering her own question. “Are they biting you?”

  “One did.......a while back,” Ramona managed.

  As if on cue, one landed, and Stacy slapped her arm. “Little bitches!”

  Although the girl was facing forward, slightly askew from Stacy’s direct line of sight, it seemed Ramona may have actually smiled.

  Quietly agreeing, she uttered, “Ah, oui, bitches, peu de femelles sans cœur, comme sort qui attaque un cœur pas protégés.” (“Ah, yes, bitches, little bitches without a heart, like fate that attacks a heart not protected.")

  Despite sitting behind the girl, and not understanding a word of French, Stacy instinctively returned the perceived smile. At least the girl was speaking. Fearing that a better time might be excruciatingly slow in coming, Stacy threw caution to the wind. Hardly a therapist – she was, despite the brief time she’d known the girl, a pretty damned good friend.

  Rather than try contriving any lame transition, Stacy stopped paddling and figuratively dove in. “It sure was brave of Olivia.”

  Ramona stared straight ahead, again speechless.

  Words, she knew so many, conversant in two languages – why was it suddenly so hard to speak? Of course Olivia was brave, unbelievably so! The pretty forest girl had just sav
ed her life! The very truth echoed through her brain: I’m alive now, this very minute, because she risked her own life!

  Ramona wanted desperately to turn around and declare, ‘I owe her everything, because she was fearless!’ One simple pronoun, however, stuck in her throat, derailing her response.

  Along the shore, the upper boughs of a sycamore swayed with the wind. Another cliff swallow swooped swiftly overhead. A lone cloud drifted aimlessly in the sky. And, as the world continued – seemingly unconcerned, Ramona scoured her own perceptions.

  She wasn’t blind, her eyes hadn’t lied. As Olivia lay there, naked from the waist down, she’d seen the same thing every other girl saw.

  In French Elle – Il shared only one letter – so very stupid! English seemed much more realistic. The difference between she – he, was but one letter. It was hardly the nuances of the two languages, however, that tore so cruelly at her heart.

  Chapter 43 - Girlfriend

  Although Stacy had intentionally lagged behind, it hadn’t taken much time to catch up with the other girls once Ramona started paddling. The yellow Rebel, however, was going to take a whole lot longer. Where Ramona needed a little privacy, Olivia seemed to require complete isolation. Even if she wasn’t sure which direction to start, Livvy was seriously considered walking home. Stumbling three or four miles through unknown woodland had to be preferable to facing the girls again. Given a choice she may have opted for another shot from Bobby.

  Paddling what must have been at least three miles beyond Horseshoe, Tina couldn’t stand another minute of silence. In her head, she’d run through every possible way to address the situation. Okay, enough, she decided.

  “It doesn’t matter y’know.”