It takes what seems like forever for Dad to get to us, and when he finally reaches us, the line snaps. Both Sam and I fall back in the water, losing our footing from the loss of the pull on the rod.
My head goes under water as my back finds the shallow pebbles and sand on the floor of the river. Sitting up, I come up out of the water in absolute hysterics, laughing so hard I almost pee myself. Sam sits up in the water, looking like a drowned rat, and wipes her sticky hair from her face. “What?” she challenges when she sees me laughing.
“You . . . look . . . hilarious.” I try to stand, but my foot slips from under me, and I’m dunked straight back in the water. The water floods my mouth because I’m laughing so hard, and I end up swallowing some. Spluttering and trying to spit out the water while still submerged is quite a feat.
Dad reaches in and grabs me, but like me, he’s got tears in his eyes from laughing so hard at our misfortune.
I’m guessing by the scowl on her face, and the lack-luster attempt to pull at the soaking clothes clinging to her body, Sam’s obviously irritated. Her eyebrows are knitted together and if I look hard enough, I’m sure she’s breathing fire from her anger.
Her gaze follows my body, and suddenly she bursts into laughter. “You look so bad,” she says while doubling over and trying to grab at her knees. “Oh my God. I like to bathe without sharing it with the fish.”
“You girls are making this trip the best one I’ve ever been on,” Dad says while scooping up both my and Sam’s rods which are now floating nearby. “The best!” Chuckling, Dad makes his way back to us, shaking his head he goes toward the river’s bank. “You coming?” he calls to both of us.
Sam turns to me, and rolls her eyes. “You’re gonna be laughing for a while, right?”
“Sure am.”
She shoves at my shoulder, making me step back, lose balance . . . again, and fall back into the water. But before I go down, I grab onto her t-shirt, and bring her with me. “Ugh,” she grumbles while trying to push back from me.
I lose it. Really lose it. Sam’s features are too funny not to laugh as hard as I do. “I have to pee.” I shoot up and start wading as fast as I can back toward the edge.
“Go ahead and pee. The fish do it, you can too,” Dad calls out as loud as he can.
Suddenly an image of fishing peeing makes me laugh even harder. “Yuck. I swallowed the water too.”
“You swallowed fish pee,” Sam chuckles. “Dakota swallowed fish pee. Dakota swallowed fish pee,” she sings while stomping up behind me and points at me, just like little kids do.
My laughing hasn’t stopped, and I try to run away from her but my sides are hurting badly. As I get out of the water, I run toward camp so I can pee, but my rolled-up shorts manage to slip from around my waist and bunch around my knees, making me collide with the ground. Face first.
At this stage I no longer need to pee. My face is covered in sand and dirt, I’m completely filthy and everyone, meaning an older gentleman who was walking down to the water, my Dad and my sister are all laughing at me.
“That has to be the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, lass,” the old man says to me in a rich Australian accent. He holds his hand out to help me up.
Waving it away, I merely sit on the damp ground, laughing my butt off. “Thank you, but I’ll get you dirty,” I say to him.
“Suit yourself. I thank you for providing my day’s entertainment.” He shrugs and keeps walking toward the water.
“You’re so funny.” Sam leans down, and tries to help me up. “Did you wet yourself?” She looks at me and slaps her hand to her head.
“Shotgun for the shower.”
When we get back to the campsite, Mom’s sitting on a folding chair, reading on her Kindle. She looks up and sees me, looks down then immediately looks back to me, doing a double-take. Her eyes are wide and her mouth pops open when she lifts her nose at me. “What happened to you?” Sam follows behind me and Mom’s gaze goes to Sam. “What on earth happened?” She then looks at Dad who’s got the bait bucket and the fishing rods minus the dinner we managed to lose. “I’ll get some towels.” Mom hesitantly steps away, but she turns over her shoulder to catch one last glimpse at us before going to get towels.
Sam and I spend the next hour trying to wash off all the muck of the river. Where we camped is further away from the campground’s utilities, more isolated, although there are other people who still camp here. At the campground’s center, there are communal showers where Sam and I wash our hair and the fishy smell off ourselves.
Going back to where we’ve set up camp, Mom’s prepared some lunch and has set up our small fold-away table. “Where’s Dad?” I’m half-expecting he’ll come out from behind a bush to try and scare us.
“He’s gone to have a shower, too,” Mom says. Sam and I sit at the small fold away bench seat and Mom hands us our plates. “No fish for dinner then.”
I can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Sorry, Mom.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Sam adds while she fixes herself a sandwich from the ingredients Mom’s set up on the table.
“I heard you had fun. And I saw how much fun you had when you returned. Looks like the fish didn’t want to be made into dinner.” Mom chuckles as she makes a sandwich for herself.
While we’re eating our lunch, Dad returns and saunters over to the table. He sits beside Mom, and leans over to kiss her temple. I watch their intimate exchange and it absolutely makes my heart sing. When Dad’s lips connect with Mom’s skin, she smiles and gives Dad a loving gaze. I honestly don’t think he’s even noticed what he’s done, but that delicate touch makes Mom so happy.
“This looks good,” Dad announces as he sits beside Mom and starts making himself a plate.
“Let me.” Mom takes the plate out of his hand and begins stacking an assortment of food on the dish.
Watching Dad’s shoulders vibrate from a huge sigh, I notice the look on his face. His eyes admire Mom and it’s so obvious to everyone how much love he has for her. There’s so much appreciation and tenderness radiating off him. It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen him in a long time. His affectionate beaming gaze takes Mom in. His respect for her shines as bright as the sun at noon in midsummer.
Dad looks over at me and smiles, then winks. He then looks to Sam who’s in her own little world as she reads a book while holding half her forgotten sandwich mid-air.
“Here you go,” Mom says and sets the plate in front of Dad.
“Thank you, darling.” He leans over and kisses her again. She turns to look at Dad and gives him a smile that I can only describe as magical. I can see raw emotion they have for each other, the deep and soul consuming connection they have.
Looking down at my food, my heart stutters as I realize I’ll never be lucky enough to share a connection as profound as the one my parents have.
Trying to push the sadness aside, I finish my food in silence and tune out the talking between Mom and Dad.
My faith was shattered the morning I awoke behind the bleachers with my dress torn and the knowledge something awful had happened to me.
I’ve been trying to hold on to my confidence that I’ll be able to overcome the darkness. But it’s moments like these that make me think that I’ll never be myself again. I am, and always will be, a broken version of the girl I once was.
The sound of raindrops splashing rhythmically on the tent nudges me from my sleep. Sam’s got her arm thrown over her face and her mouth open as she softly snores. I rub my eyes to wake me, but the warmth of my sleeping bag keeps me from getting up. Lying on my side, I carefully shift so I’m on my back. Looking up at the almost translucent tent, I watch the raindrops hit then roll down the steeple and to the ground.
There’s a beautiful peace in listening to rain fall. It’s natural and organic and although it’s usually depicted as cumbersome and draining, I find it rejuvenating and lively. There’s nothing more natural than smelling rain which has fallen on lush green grass.
Together they create a scent which is distinctive and wholesome. I love it.
“Is that rain?” Sam’s voice is gravelly and hoarse.
“It is. Isn’t it just gorgeous?”
“Nothing gorgeous about being in a tent with rain falling around us. Means we’re going to be stuck in here and can’t do much.”
“We can read.” I watch the life span of a drop. It falls at the top of the pitch, then rolls too quickly toward the edge, before disappearing over the rim. Smiling, I watch for more rain. “I love the sound of rain. How the drops all patter together and make a perfect sound.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Sam turn her head and give me a questionable look. “You on drugs? It makes me want to pee.”
“Only you, Sam. Only you.”
I catch her smiling broadly at me before she wiggles her arms out of the top of the sleeping bag. She unzips her bag and gets to her knees. “Seriously, I need to pee. And I’m hungry.” She unzips the tent and pops her head out. “Mom! Dad!” she hollers.
“I’ve checked the weather forecast. You girls will have to pack up your tent. It looks like it’s here to stay, and it isn’t going to shift,” Dad says. There’s a crack in the tent from where Sam’s stuck her head out, and Dad’s made a makeshift covering over the entrance of our tent so we can get out and not be rained on.
“Dad, I gotta go to the bathroom,” Sam whines while crossing her legs and moving her butt from side to side.
“Here you go, I’ve got a couple of umbrellas.”
Sam tiptoes out and squeals when the water that was gathering on the lip of the tent falls on her head and runs down her back. Smiling at her ‘girliness,’ I get up and start packing.
“Here,” Dad says handing me an extra umbrella once I’ve packed the inside of the tent.
“I already have one.” I hold the umbrella out to show him, clearly confused because the umbrella is large.
“For your sister.”
I take the umbrella and stand to the side waiting for Sam to return as Dad continues taking things to the car with Mom. “Great trip,” Mom mumbles on her return to the campsite. Sam comes back, holding her tiny umbrella over her head. “Your father got you a bigger umbrella.” Mom indicates to the one I’m holding.
“Thank you.” Sam takes it, opens it, and stands beside me. Mom and Dad make a few more trips to the car, packing up the last of our belongings. “Let’s go.” Sam and I walk toward the car and move to get in. Sam rounds the back of the car and stops before she enters. “Crap,” she says.
“What?” I call out from the dry and cozy interior of the car.
“Dad?” Sam calls as he gets into the driver’s side.
“What is it?”
“You might want to see this.”
Dad gets out of the car, without an umbrella and rounds the car. “Oh, for God’s sake,” he yells, exasperated.
Sam looks at me through the open door, her eyes widen and she moves away from Dad. I shake my head at her and wave her to get in. She slides in and closes the door. “What is it?” I ask and Mom turns in her seat to see what’s happening.
“We have a flat tire.”
“Of course we do,” Mom responds by rolling her eyes and huffing. “Our relaxing trip is turning into a nightmare.” She gets out of the car and goes to stand by Dad.
“What should we do?” Sam asks.
“We can’t stay in here while Dad jacks the car up, so we gotta get out.”
We both get out, taking our umbrellas with us, and go stand behind our soaking wet parents. “Great,” Dad groans. “The spare is in the back.” Oh no. “Under all of our things.” Double oh no. “And we’re on mud, so jacking the car up here will be almost impossible.” Triple oh no. Mom looks at us and shakes her head. Then she calms Dad by placing her hand on his back. We all remain silent, not really saying anything. No one wants to make the situation any worse than it is. “Well, I better get this done. Though I’ll have to get it on a firmer surface first.” He looks over at Mom.
“Back in the car,” Mom calls.
We all get in the car, and Dad starts driving very slowly toward the closest paved surface, which turns out to be a painfully quiet ten minutes. The windshield wipers are going crazy, and the rain keeps pelting down. As we carefully pull onto a flat surface, Dad turns the car off and takes a deep breath before turning to address us all. “Sorry, ladies, but you’re all going to have to get out and help.”
Sam nudges me and clenches her jaw tightly together. “What?” I mouth to her. She eyes the packed trunk and juts her chin toward the back. “Huh?” I mouth again.
She rolls her eyes at me and steps toward the open rear door. “We’ll offload everything, Dad.” She turns and motions for me to come over.
“That’s what you meant. You should’ve just said.” We start offloading everything, while Mom holds one of the large umbrellas over everything we’re stacking. Dad helps too, making it even quicker.
“Sorry, ladies. I know how crappy it’s been for you,” Dad apologizes and suddenly my heart rips into two.
“I’ve had fun,” I say. “Especially when we went fishing.”
“That was not fun,” Sam huffs. “Except when you wet yourself. I wish I’d taken a photo of that,” she chuckles and goes to stand under the protection of the umbrella.
“You’re already wet, Sam, why bother?” I point to the umbrella and roll my eyes.
Dad’s getting the tire and the jack out and then starts changing the flat. I go to stand behind him and watch as he gets on his back, and carefully places the jack under the car. “Why are you being so precise?” I ask.
“There are certain spots you need to put the jack so it holds the car up and doesn’t damage anything. Look here.” He points.
I squat down and look to see at what Dad’s pointing to. “Oh yeah, I see it.” It’s a small flat surface about half way under the back passenger door. “Now what are you doing?” Dad’s moved and has started loosening the bolts on the rims. “Why don’t you do that when the car’s up?”
“Here, come help.” He moves to the side so I can get in there. “What you want to do is loosen them. Don’t take the bolts off completely. You need the friction of the ground to keep the tire steady so you can loosen the bolts. But it’s slippery so you may not be able to do it.”
Pushing down on the tire iron I try and get the bolts to move. But they’re not budging. “Man, these are on tight.”
“They’re usually put on with a machine, which means they’re tighter than if done by hand. Stand and try to put your knee into it, use all your weight to get it done.”
Standing I do what Dad says, but I can’t make them budge at all. “I can’t,” I say in frustration.
Dad stands and gently grabs me by the shoulders. “Yes, Dakota, you can. These are pretty shit conditions to learn in, but when you get a car of your own and you’re out and you get a flat tire, at least I’ll be confident in knowing you can change the damn thing.” He smiles at me and lets go of my shoulders. “Now, use your entire weight and push down on it. Remember to keep a strong grip on the tire iron.”
Swallowing hard I wipe the rain from my face, and I try again. The conditions are really bad, making everything slippery. But I keep trying, and as the moments pass on, I become more exasperated with myself because I can’t get the darn thing to shift. “I’m not giving up,” I mumble to myself. With my knee hurting from the cold, hard steel and my shoulder suffering, I grumble out loud.
I look to Dad who’s kneeling back on his hunches, water dripping down his face, his entire body soaking wet. He’s got his eyebrows lifted as he watches me struggle to get this damn thing done. He doesn’t move to help me, instead he asks, “Want me to do it?”
I look at his posture and scrub my hand over my face again. Mom and Sam are huddled together under the large umbrella, and although I know if Dad does it we’ll be out of here sooner, I also resolve in myself that I’m not a damn weakling and I can do this
.
“No, I’ve got it,” I say looking back at the stupid flat tire.
“You’ve tried getting your knee into it, now you’ll need to stand on it.” I look to Dad, puzzled by what he’s said. How do I stand on it, without losing my balance and hurting myself? Dad can clearly see that I’m considering this. Obviously he wants me to work it out.
“Help her,” Mom calls.
“No, I can do this, Mom.” Puzzling the problem, I come up with what I think is a solution. I open the back passenger door, and find somewhere I can grip so I don’t slip off the tire iron. Then I stand on the firm steel bar, and push down with all my weight. The bar shifts, and I jump off with so much pride. “Yes,” I shout to myself.
Looking over at my Dad, he has his arms crossed in front of his chest, smiling at me. “Just loosen them, don’t take them off completely,” he instructs me.
“Okay.” It seems like forever, like hours have passed before I finish with the nuts. Some of them I can get my knee and back into it and they’re loose. Others, I need to stand on the iron to get them to budge.
“Now that they’re loose, we need to jack it up further. This way, when the tire is clear of the ground, you can undo the bolts the rest of the way by hand and then take the tire off. Be careful though, the tire is heavy.”
“Heavy-schmevy. I can do this.” I flippantly flick my hand in Dad’s direction.
Dad puts his hands up in surrender and steps back. “Off you go, you’re strong.”
Smiling, I start jacking the car up. Oh my goodness, my shoulders are protesting in pain, I’m breathing heavily as I’m jacking the car up, and every time I think I’m getting somewhere I look at the car and it feels as if the car hasn’t budged. “Damn it,” I grumble, but I don’t give up. I keep going, because I need to prove to myself that I’m strong and I can do this.
I stand and straighten my back and stretch my arms out in front of me, trying to relieve the burn in them so I can motivate myself further. “Keep going, Dakota,” Sam calls from behind me and claps. This spurs me on, because I also know my sister’s encouraging me to do this. She’s not protesting at the fact that I’m taking forever and Dad would’ve had this done an hour ago.
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