Risk

Walk in the Park

It wasn’t until the drive home that Holly thought about Mrs. Bennett again, and then what she thought was, it’s almost over. Jason will handle most of it from here, and I probably won’t have to talk to her again. This made her feel lighter somehow, and she even sang a song with the boys in the car on the way home like they used to.

After dinner, they were eager to get out for their walk, so they all got their shoes on. This took about a half hour of arguing over which pair to wear: not flip flops; yes, sandals are okay; if you’re going to wear sneakers you need socks; no, you can’t wear your soccer shin pads or they’ll be dirty on game night. The dog had to sit watching all this, holding his leash in his mouth and wagging impatiently. It was finally warm enough to go without jackets in the early evening, which felt good.

Ryan and David ran along the path ahead with sticks they had found and pretended to be power robots or something, their lightheartedness a thing of beauty. She wanted to be right there with them, just right in the moment the way kids are. The dog bounced along beside her and sniffed out various tufts and tree roots. The boys were playing close to the riverbank and Holly was about to tell them to stick to the path when David started yelling.

“Mommy!” he yelled, jumping up and down. “I think I sawed a fish looking out at me.”

“Keep back from the edge,” she said. “You can see him from the path. You know the rules.”

“Mom, where do the fish go in winter?” asked Ryan. He tapped his stick against the sidewalk and looked up at her as if she had all the answers in the world.

“I don’t think they go anywhere,” she said, looking out at the darkly flowing river. “I think they just stay under the ice and keep very still in the dark near the bottom. When spring comes they start moving around again and look for food.” She thought of what it must be like for the fish, something still warm at the core, but trapped in an ice prison for months on end.

“Huh,” said Ryan.

Just then they noticed a man coming toward them, walking a dog, and Ryan and David ran over to meet him and pet his dog. Holly followed after them, keeping a tight hold on Chester’s leash just in case.

“That’s a really nice dog, mister,” said Ryan, kneeling down with his brother and petting the excited animal. “What kind is he?”

“He’s a border collie,” said the man. “Full of energy, as always.” He looked up at Holly as she approached. “Is that your Mommy?”

“Yes,” said David, looking up at her. “Our Daddy died,” he added.

“Shut up, stupid,” said Ryan, looking over at his mom, old enough to know the things they didn’t talk about. Holly looked down at the little dog, her smile frozen on her face.

“I’m sorry,” said the man, looking at her. “Was this recent?” 

“August,” she said without looking up at him. “It happened last August.”