Summer Water
18 May 2011 Leave a Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: abuse, country, father, girl, hell, help, high school, lakes, life, living, love, mother, parents, peace, son, sunburn, trees, water
In the summer Roy though about two things– water and Emily. Sometimes, well, more often than not he thought about the two together. It was something he dreamed about in the evenings when his father was sitting in the over sized, rotting easy chair in the living room–drinking usually. His mother, of course, would be cowering in the kitchen or in the bathroom, crying quietly not wishing to disturb his father again.
These moments had become distant to him as he thought of Emily’s curves flowing into the water of the lake in his backyard. His mother’s sobs would drown with the water and his father’s yelling would become a far away echo that ended up just blending in to the scene he created. The yells would transform into the harsh waves that the winds would create. Emily would be silent, as she usually was but instead of looking away from him, she would stare directly into Roy’s eyes, pleading for him to come join her.
He wouldn’t, of course, he would just tell her that he wanted to admire her beauty from where he was sitting, which would be under a large, old pine tree. With that, Emily would smile and mischievously disappear under water. She would stay so long that he’d wonder if she was okay and eventually, usually with a small tickle of fear in his stomach, would go to the water’s edge while her name fell from his sunburned lips. There would be no response causing him to not think about how it actually hadn’t been that long and how Emily was on the swim team, he’d jump in to rescue her only to find her rushing back to the surface with a smile on her lips accompanied by musical laughter.
“Emily!” he’d say, “What in the hell are you doing? I thought you were dying!” Her smile would not fade, but choose to change into a seductive form as she would wrap her arms around his shoulders, “I could never die, not with you around Roy.” She’d go in for a kiss, her soft pale lips wanting to touch his rough, sunburned ones, but Roy would not have it. He would push her away, one arm extending to grab hers, the other reaching across and allowing his hand to fly towards her cheek.
The moment his palm meets her cheek, though, he jumps. The scenery disappears and the sound from the slap isn’t within his room, but in the dining area. His mother, he can hear her crying, begging for mercy, begging to not die. His father is saying nothing, allowing his fists and steel booted feet to do all the talking. Roy goes to his bed and allows himself to fall, wishing, dreaming, hoping, praying that he never becomes his father, that someday he could be brave, and as he hears his mother’s crying and screams becoming faint and being replaced with gurgling sounds…he prays that today will not be the day she dies and that he does not become his father.
He’d just have to stay away from Emily.
