Retribution

1 

The first thing that Paul noticed was that the park was curiously empty for a summer Sunday afternoon. He had thought the park would be filled with kids and their parents enjoying the day. Instead he found the park empty; the swings looked abandoned, the slide looked forlorn. Sam, on the other hand, thought it was great. To Samantha, an empty park just meant that there was more room for her to run around without bumping into anybody. 

Paul sat on a bench and read the opening story in a collection of sci-fi short stories that he had bought from Deb's Used Books over in Bloomsdale. He had always liked that little book store, but he didn't know how much longer Deb Jacobsen would be able to keep it open in the age of Amazon and e-books. 

He read while Sam climbed over the jungle gym, her hair flailing in the light breeze as she flitted here and there. Even without any other kids to play with, she seemed to have a great time, her laughter filling the warm afternoon air. She slid down the big red slide three times in a row, squealing with delight as she picked up speed near the bottom. In truth the red slide had always worried Paul; he thought that kids came sliding off the bottom a bit too quick, but his five year-old daughter loved it. 

When Sam moved to the monkey bars he put the book down on the bench and watched as she tried to cross from one end of the bars to the other. She made it halfway across before she lost her grip and fell to the ground. She stood up quickly and wiped the dirt from the knees of her pants, staring up at the bars above her. 

"Almost made it," Paul said as he stood up. "I was always terrible on the monkey bars." 

He walked over to where she stood, leaned down and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. 

"You all right, little monkey?" he asked. 

Sam laughed. 

"If I was a monkey I would have a tail," she said. 

She bent her upper body around so that she could see her backside. 

"Nope, no tail," she said with a giggle. 

"Of course you don't have a tail," Paul said. "We had the doctor remove it before we brought you home from the hospital." 

She gave him a look that he was familiar with, a look that said, Dad, you're crazy. 

"Will you push me on the swings, Daddy?" she asked. 

"Sure thing, chicken wing." 

Paul followed his daughter over to the swings, and she climbed up on one of them as he moved behind her. 

"Are you ready?" he asked. 

"Mm-hmm," she sounded, nodding her head vigorously. 

Paul placed both of his hand in the small of her back (right where he tail used to be, he thought to himself with an inner smile) and pushed her forward. He stepped out of the way as gravity brought her back, and then gave her another push. After a few more pushes, after she had built up a little steam, he stopped pushing. 

"Try to keep yourself going," he said. 

Sam still had trouble swinging herself, and it was a source of frustration for a girl who liked to think that she could do anything. 

"Remember to bring your legs in when you're coming back, and to kick them out as you start to go forward." 

At first she struggled to follow his instructions, and she started to lose momentum. Then she fell into the rhythm of it, and she was successfully swinging under her own power for the first time in her young life.