Skipping Stones
His record was six. Granted, that was on a clear day when the surface was like glass. This time, however, there was just enough of a breeze to send a barely perceptible, gentle roll along the water’s surface. The best he could manage today was three, and it certainly wasn’t from a lack of trying. He had been out there so long, in fact, that he no longer noticed the burning numbness as the lactic acid built up in his forearm. He just stood there, tossing stone after stone, watching them skip across the lake until they disappeared in the murky water.
“It’s getting dark,” a voice called from behind him.
“I know.”
“How long are you going to stand there and throw rocks?”
“Until I figure it out,” he replied shortly.
“Figure what out, man?”
“Life.”
With an audible sigh, his brother turned and went back inside. There was no arguing with him when he was like this. He was stubborn, just like their mother, God rest her soul. When he got something on his mind there was no distracting him until he figured it out. That in and of itself wasn’t so much the problem. The problem was the fact that sometimes it took him a little longer to realize that there was something he should be thinking about in the first place. Right now, he had a lot to think about. So there he stood, at the end of his brother’s dock, ignoring the pain and the cold mist that enshrouded the lake when the sun went down, throwing stones until he figured it out.
Finally, when his arm literally could throw no more, he turned and went inside. The house was dark, with the exception of one small lamp, which sat on the end table next to the worn sofa, and the dying embers of the fire, which he revived by adding a couple of logs from the hearth. His brother, sister-in-law and his nephew had all long since gone to sleep. Bear was the only one still up.
Bear, appropriately named, was a canine behemoth. His brother had gotten the enormous, brown Newfoundland
Obediently the dog followed him to the dry bar, where Colin poured himself a scotch, and then back to the couch where Colin sat. Never fully understanding that he literally was the size of a small bear, the dog climbed up on the couch, plopped his head in Colin’s lap, and let out an audible sigh.
“I know pal. I know,” Colin said as he rubbed Bear’s head. “I know. I’m working on it.” Bear grumbled. Clearly he was not working on it fast enough for the dog’s liking. “Well, what do you suggest, then?”
Bear raised his head and looked up at Colin with his large, deep brown eyes. Colin smiled and rubbed the dog’s ears. “Buddy, the sad puppy dog eyes aren't going to work.” With another grumble Bear laid his head back down. Colin sipped at his scotch and stared at the fire. He was nearly lulled to sleep by the combined sound of the crackling fire and Bear’s snoring in his lap when he heard a small voice.
“Uncle Colin?”
Startled, he turned his head to see his nephew, all of six, come walking around the corner of the sofa. He was wearing a set of blue, full length pajamas with little red airplanes on them. Colin had given them to him for Christmas.
“Hey little man! What are you doing up?”
Mitchell climbed into the oversized chair opposite the sofa and curled up in the blanket he had dragged with him from his room. He ignored his uncle’s query and instead addressed the dog. “Hi Bear.”
Bear niether opened his eyes nor raised his head. Instead, he thumped his trunk of a tail excitedly against the worn leather of the sofa’s arm cushion. Mitchell smiled. Almost as if the dog could sense his joy, he leaped from the couch in one movement and trotted around the coffee table to climb into the chair with Mitchell. There really wasn’t enough room for the two of them, and Bear’s back end rested on the arm of the chair while his tail dangled over the side. Mitchell didn’t mind. Colin looked at them and smiled.
“Uncle Colin, are you sad?”
Colin was startled by the boy’s question, and perhaps startled himself with his honest answer. “Yeah, buddy, a little bit.”
“How come?”
That was the million dollar question. “I, I really don’t know, bud. If I knew why I was sad, then I would try to fix it.”
Mitchell thought for a moment. “Can’t you just be happy?”
Colin smiled. Oh, how he longed to once again ponder the world with the simplicity of a child’s mind. “I’m trying, Mitch. I am. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.” Upon completing his sentence, Colin lifted his glass to his lips to take a sip of scotch. He nearly spit it out when Mitchell spoke again.
“You need a good woman.”
“What did you just say?” Colin asked with surprise as he wiped his lips.
“Dad tells mom that all the time. He says he’s happy because he has a good woman. So, maybe you need one too.”
“I think you should go back to bed, there, sport.”
“Ok,” the child replied as he squeezed himself out from under Bear’s mass and ran over to give his uncle a hug. “I love you Uncle Colin.”
Colin hugged the boy tightly and kissed him on the top of his head. “I love you too pal.”
As the child climbed the stairs to go back to his bedroom, Bear looked at Colin and cocked his head. “Go on, mutt face.” Colin could have sworn that the dog smiled as it ran by and bounded up the stairs after Mitchell. Colin couldn’t help but laugh. His laughter subsided quickly, however, as he pondered the boy’s words. Colin stood and walked over to the sliding doors that led to the deck and the lake beyond. Cast by the dim light behind him, his reflection stared back at him from the glass.
“Why are you sad?” he asked himself. “Because you’re an idiot, that’s why,” he replied, answering his own question. He took another sip of scotch before stepping outside into the cold, night air. The sky was clear, and reminded him of why he and his brother had bought the cabin in the first place. The stars were luminous, and the crescent moon glowed brilliantly. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? You can’t even be fucking happy here?” He said angrily and aloud. As he did, he hurled the empty glass out over the water and watched it sparkle in the moonlight until it plunged into the darkened water.
Colin stood there for a few minutes, just watching his breath dissipate in chilly air. Thinking about Mitchell’s words made him chuckle. So simple was the notion: be happy. Just. Be. Happy. “Why not?” Colin asked himself. Then he thought about the rest of the boy’s words. He didn’t need a good woman, although that would be nice. No, there was something much deeper he was missing.
The shudder that ran through his body told him it was time to go inside, but he wasn’t ready. Ignoring the cold, he walked down the steps and to the end of the dock, where he sat and dangled his legs over the edge. The waves lapped at the pylons below him and had caused the concrete poles to be covered in slimy greenness, its composition being something on which Colin did not care to speculate. Aside from the sound of the water, it was quiet. Peacefully quiet. Colin closed his eyes and had nearly dozed off when it hit him with blinding clarity.
“Son of a bitch,” he remarked as he opened his eyes, wide awake. “That’s it!” Colin leaped to his feet and ran back to the Cabin. As quietly as he could, he gathered his things from the first floor guest room and stealthily climbed the stairs to Mitchell’s room. Luckily the boy was a sound sleeper and didn’t stir when Colin whispered for Bear. The dog grumbled and reluctantly abandoned the comfortable warmth of the child’s bed and followed his master back downstairs.
Colin led Bear out to the Jeep were the enormous canine climbed up into the blanket-covered back seat and laid down. Soon they were rolling, and Colin could not erase the smile from his face. Bear growled once or twice to voice his displeasure at being awoken and back in the car, but Colin ignored him. He had somewhere to go, and he wasn’t wasting another minute.
His brother never noticed the note that he had left until he sat down at the breakfast bar with his coffee. He was up alone, in that he didn’t want to wake Kaleigh. Mitchell would be up soon enough. He found the message when he set his mug down on the counter, reached forward, and opened the folded piece of paper. He grinned broadly when he read the words his brother had written. Leaving the note lying open on the counter, he went outside and deeply inhaled the crisp, morning air. “I knew you would, little brother. You just needed a little time.”
Curiosity got the better of Mitchell when he came downstairs to find his uncle and Bear missing, his father outside, and nothing on the counter but a piece of paper. He opened it, read the words, and shrugged his shoulders. Easily distracted, Mitchell set the paper back down and went to watch TV.
The note read, simply, “I figured it out.”
© J.J. Goodman 2013. All rights reserved.