Mistrust

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “It’s not your fault, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” I put the potatoes on the stove and lean up against the kitchen counter.

  “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through whatever it is that happened.” She offers me a weak smile, and I can tell she wants to know exactly what has been said and done. “Unfortunately, it’s part of growing up. People will always find a way to disappoint us. However there are a rare few who’d rather lift us up than tear us down.”

  The words jumble around in my head then fall into place. It makes sense, and I’ll have to be a lot more careful as to who I allow to be part of my life. “It sucks, hey?”

  “It happens all the time. And don’t think it’s just when you’re a teenager. You have to be careful even as an adult. Even more vigilant when you have kids of your own. There are so many bad people out there, Dakota. You have to keep your eyes open all the time.”

  I groan with frustration. “It must be exhausting having to protect us all the time.”

  “You have no idea. Trying to keep you safe from not only obvious dangers, things like drugs, and sex. But also from lurking hazards too. How many times do your father and I turn on the news, or read the on-line paper to see teachers, doctors, people with power who are pedophiles or have been arrested for rape? There’s been a spate of assaults in the area and around the neighboring suburbs over the last about eight months or so. It’s terrifying for us to know we have two beautiful girls who could become victims. We just pray, every day, we’ve done enough to teach you and Sam how not to become targets.”

  My stomach tightens and a fine sheen of sweat starts to form on the back of my neck. The moisture trickles down my back. I’m fully aware I am a victim, I’ve been targeted and I’ll never be able to tell Mom the truth. “You and Dad have done a great job with us.” I lean over and give Mom a kiss on the cheek. “Sam’s super responsible, and I’m seeing my future for how it really is.”

  “Sam’s like an old lady in a fourteen-year-old body.” Mom laughs and I can’t help but laugh with her. She’s right, Sam’s wise beyond her years and she always has been. “Now she has a boyfriend, I have to make sure she’s not influenced into doing anything she’s not ready for.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Mom. Sam’s pretty smart. She won’t let Taylor pull any of that ‘if you love me’ crap.”

  “Oh God, I remember when I was in high school. I had a boyfriend, who I dumped, might I add, because of this crap. First it was, ‘if you love me you’ll let me touch you.’ Then it progressed to, ‘all the girls are doing it, you should too.’ Then it went to, ‘you must be frigid if you don’t want to have sex with me.’ When he called me ‘ice queen’ I dumped his ass. Told him I wasn’t going to let some guy pressure me into doing something I wasn’t ready for.”

  “You go, Mom. Good for you.” Mom had some serious balls to be able to do that. A couple of years ago I wouldn’t even want to have this conversation with her, but hearing it now, I know Mom’s tough and so strong.

  “Sex is great, Dakota, when it’s with someone you love.”

  The feeling in my face suddenly turns into an inferno. “Ahh, okay. This is now officially awkward.”

  Mom chuckles and rolls her eyes at me. “Good, I’ve successfully embarrassed you. I wouldn’t be doing my job as a mother if I can’t manage that every so often.” I laugh and hug Mom again. “Dad will be home soon. Do you want to give your sister a call and tell her to get her butt home, then have a quick shower?”

  “Sure.” I head over to the house phone, and dial Sam’s number. When she picks up I can hear classical music playing in the background, and I pull the phone away to check the number, “Sam?”

  “If you’re calling me to tell me to get home, Taylor’s mom is about to pull into our street.”

  “What are you listening to?”

  “Okay, I’ll see you soon,” she says, deflecting my question.

  “Bye.” I turn to Mom and tell her Sam’s only a few minutes away and go get in the shower. When I get out, I wrap a towel around my body and another around my hair and head straight to my room to get dressed. When I go out to the family room, Dad has his arms around Mom’s waist and is kissing her. “Sorry,” I mumble. I look down at the floor and back away. I hear Mom giggle like a schoolgirl and Dad chuckle.

  Knocking on Sam’s door, she yells for me to come in and when I enter her room I find her on her stomach with her legs up and entwined at the ankles while she flirts—I mean chats—on her phone. “I gotta go, Dakota’s here.” She listens for a moment and her face flames a brilliant crimson shade. “Yeah, me too.” She looks at me, and I smile at her. “I’ll see you when I get back. Bye.” She hangs up flips onto her back. “Oh my God, Dakota. I think I really, really like Taylor.” She hugs her pillow and squeals.

  “I’m so happy for you.” I go and sit on her bed. “Now tell me why you were listening to classical music.”

  “Taylor’s Mom is into classical and opera music. He told me she plays it all day and night, and everywhere they go.”

  “Wow. Intense.”

  “You should meet her. She is really intense, and so proper. She’s nothing like Mom. Mom will have a joke and try to make us laugh, his Mom doesn’t even crack a smile.”

  “Lucky Taylor’s normal.”

  “Kinda normal. He likes classical musical too. Should’ve seen him in the car. He actually closed his eyes and was swaying his head back and forth as if he was in the orchestra.” She mimics what he was doing in the car. “At least he’s into music and not smoking and drinking. That would suck.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya. Mom wants you to take your shower.”

  “Okay.” She stands and gets her pajamas out of her drawer.

  “Hey, let’s try and make this trip extra special, okay?”

  Sam frowns and stops walking toward her door. “Why, is everything okay? Are Mom and Dad okay? What do you know? Are they alright?” She quickly becomes agitated.

  “Stop stressing; they’re fine. It’s just today when I was helping Mom with the car and dinner, I got the feeling she’s been stressing out about all of us. It’s like she was sad we’re growing up, and this might be one of the last camping trips we’ll ever go on all together. And you know how much Dad loves camping.”

  “Remember how he’d make us go fishing with him, and we’d end up soaking wet? Or how he’d make us collect sticks so we could start a fire and he’d try for an hour to rub two sticks together, only to end up using matches to finally start it? Or how we’d go with him to collect fruits and berries which we never ate because we never knew which were poisonous and which weren’t?”

  I nod my head and laugh, “Yeah, I think Mom wants to hold on to those kinds of memories for both her and Dad’s sakes. Maybe this camping trip, we can give that to them.”

  An easy smile graces Sam’s face and her eyes light up as she nods her head. “We’re getting older, and it’ll only be a matter of time before we’ve both left for college. You’re right, let’s have fun and give Mom and Dad their best camping trip yet.”

  “Dinner’s ready,” Mom calls out from the kitchen.

  Both Sam and I leave her room and head into the dining room where Mom asks us to set the table as she brings everything out.

  Dad’s sitting at the head of the table scanning through his tablet while Sam and I set up. “Do you need help?” he asks not taking his eyes off the tablet.

  “Um, no, we’ve got it,” I say when I peek over the tablet and see he’s researching weather conditions for the duration of our camping trip.

  Once we set up, Mom sits beside Dad and Sam and I are opposite each other. Sam next to Mom and me on my own. “How’s the weather looking?” I ask Dad once he’s gotten his dinner.

  “We might get rain one day, but the rest will be good.” He takes a forkful of his mash potato. “Hmm, good,” he says while shoveling more.

  “Dakota made it,” Mom replies with a sly wink to me.

&n
bsp; “Not really, I just peeled the potatoes, Mom did the rest.”

  “Hey Dad, can we go fishing?” Sam asks enthusiastically.

  Dads’ face lights up, a sparkle shines bright in his eyes while a wide, beaming smile lights up his handsome features. “You want to go fishing? You’re not toying with your old man’s heart here?”

  “Seriously. Dakota and I were discussing it. We even packed clothes and shoes that won’t matter if they get damaged. We want to go fishing with you, Dad.”

  Mom’s fork is frozen in mid-air as she flicks her eyes between Sam and myself. It takes a few seconds of staring at us before she finally finds her voice. “I haven’t packed the fishing gear.” She continues to stare at us disbelievingly.

  “I’ll pack it straight after dinner,” Dad happily chimes.

  It’s so obvious to me, and to Sam because she taps me under the table, how happy Dad is. And not only Dad, but Mom too.

  We eat dinner in a stream of excited chatter, mostly coming from our parents. But I can tell their enthusiasm comes from a place deep inside them. As we eat I cast my eyes over my family and know everything will work out okay.

  We’ve been at the campground for three days, and it’s been fun and easy. As the days pass, I’m almost my normal self, as if that night had never happened. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed being in the woods.

  The first morning I smelled the dew on the large, overgrown leaves hanging low like a canopy over the tents and heard the sounds of the nearby creek, running softly along the water’s edge. I felt a rush of my childhood memories.

  The native sounds of the woods have had such a calming effect not only on me, but all of us. We’ve all woken early today, and Sam and I are dressed and ready to go fishing with Dad. Mom’s sitting on a large log by the small campfire which still has red embers burning, sipping on a cup of coffee.

  “Are you coming, Mom?” Sam asks.

  Mom shakes her head and then lets out a small yawn. “I’m a bit tired, I’m going to stay back and have a nap. Your father was snoring so loud last night I thought he’d attract every form of wildlife to our tents. It’s got to be the mating call of something dangerous.” I laugh and Mom looks at me. “I’m serious. Maybe a bear, or a coyote, or even a boar.”

  “I don’t think we’ll encounter any of those around here,” Dad says to Mom. His left hand is holding three fishing rods, and his right hand is holding a bucket with tackle. “Your Mom has always hated fishing. She’ll make any excuse possible not to come with us.”

  “I’ll cook them,” Mom adds with a smile. “After your dad cleans them.”

  I shiver at the thought of Dad having to descale and rip the poor fishes’ guts out. My face must show what I’m thinking because Mom laughs at me, and Dad looks at Mom then follows her gaze. He leans down, plants a kiss on Mom’s forehead then indicates for Sam and me to follow him. “Come on, girls,” he says, starting through the clearing. “We’ve got some fish to catch.”

  Sam and I both stand and look at each other. We’re silently telling each other this is what Dad wants, and we’re happy to do it if it makes him happy. Just these few days we’ve been out here has seen a positive shift in Dad. He’s shoulders aren’t as tense as they normally are, and he’s been laughing a lot too.

  “Come on,” I say to Sam as I bump my shoulder into hers playfully.

  “Watch it, or I’ll tell Dad you want to scale the fish.”

  I screw my nose and take a huge step away from her. Sam laughs at me while Dad looks over his shoulder at us. “Hurry up, you two,” he enthusiastically calls toward us.

  We walk about half a mile to where the stream is running fairly rapidly, and Dad sets the rods down, along with the bait. “Do you want me to bait the hook for you, or do you remember how to do it?” he asks opening the bait container and picking up a worm.

  Sam gags and shudders. I look at the plump worm wiggling around between Dad’s thumb and forefinger. “Yuck,” I moan giving Dad a look of pure disgust.

  “I’ll do it then.” Dad chuckles and shakes his head.

  No way. As revolting as it is to have worm guts on my hands, I’m going to prove to Dad that I can do it. “Hand it over, Mister,” I say assertively as I take the few steps to Dad.

  I stand over the worms, and the smell coming up from them makes me almost throw up in my mouth. “You look like you’re going to barf,” Sam laughs from a safe distance.

  “At least I’m not afraid of a little worm.” I lean down toward the bucket, dip my hand into the slimy mass of worms and grab one. Holding back the vomit, I look at Sam whose horrified features are frozen with complete disgust. “Just grab one,” I say as I take a step toward her. She recoils and shakes her head almost violently. “Go on.”

  Sam dry retches again and moves behind one of the large trees lining the river. “Go away,” she yells at me from behind the tree.

  “Come out, come out wherever you are,” I taunt as I creep toward her hiding spot.

  “Dakota, go away.” I can hear the mirth in her voice and see her head poke out from behind the wide tree. But I’ve managed to sneak up her, holding the squirming worm out in front of me. She pokes her head out again, and this time I’m so close I can almost touch her with the worm. She sees me, screams, then shoots off running from behind the tree.

  I give chase, the stupid worm wiggling around as I try and land it on her back. “It’s just a worm,” I laugh while chasing her.

  “Ewwww, go away.” She looks over her shoulder as she runs behind Dad and uses him as a shield. “Save me from the crazy person. I think an alien’s invaded her mind.”

  Dad’s chuckling as he threads the worm onto his hook. He looks at me, trying to get Sam with the worm, then turns and looks at Sam who’s bouncing from foot to foot attempting to avoid me. “Let’s catch some fish.” Dad stands and Sam leaps back, out of my reach.

  “Yuck,” she says as she eyeballs me and what I’m holding between my fingers. Cautiously she casts her gaze down to my feet, then up my body.

  I’m laughing so hard, I don’t think I can chase after her anymore. “I won’t get you.”

  She eyes me suspiciously, but decides to move toward me. “You sure?”

  This makes me laugh even harder, to the point I double over and grab my knee with my worm-free hand to balance. “I’m sure,” I manage to get out between gales of laughter.

  “Good.” Sam walks past me, narrows her eyes and taps the side of her nose. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Bennett.”

  “I’m going fishing, who needs their hook baited?” Dad offers one last time. He’s got those plastic pants on, and his fisherman’s hat. It looks a cross between a beanie and a large bucket hat. It’s bright and swirly with many colors and lots of lures hooked into it.

  “Nice hat,” I say to him heading over to the rods. He gives me a smile which quickly turns into a snarl when he realizes I was being sarcastic. “Here, I’ll do Sam’s rod.” I pick up the hook, and spear the worm. Its guts come out and the worm instantly dies. I look to Sam, whose nose is scrunched up while she’s watching me.

  “Thanks,” she says when I give her the rod. Sam goes and stands at the water’s edge, careful not to get too close.

  I place my rod down once I’ve got the hook ready, take my shoes and socks off then pick my rod up and go stand in the water. I wade until I’m almost knee-deep. Dad’s walked even further, the water coming to below his waist. Looking back at Sam, she’s standing on the coarse sand, looking bored. She’s cast her line, but considering how shallow the water is there, she’ll be lucky to catch a tadpole let alone a fish. And Dad has always been a responsible fisherman, if the fish aren’t of a certain length, then he tosses them back in.

  “Hey,” I call out to Sam. Looking forward, I notice Dad turn to see what’s happening. Then I turn to look over in Sam’s direction again. “Hey!” This time she looks over to me and gives me a half-wave. “Come out.” I beckon her over.

  “Shoes.” She points t
o her feet.

  “I have some too, they’re over there.” Directing her to where my shoes are.

  Sam scrubs her free hand over her face, and from this distance I see her smile. “Hang on.” She walks over to where my shoes are, and takes hers off then starts toward me. It takes her a few seconds to come out, and when she does she stands about ten feet from me. “This better?”

  I cast my gaze over to Dad who’s in his element. He’s waded further down the river and he looks like a man who’s at peace with his surroundings. “This trip isn’t about us remember, it’s about him.” I pointedly look over to Dad. “And Mom.”

  “I know.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s just fishing is so boring. I haven’t been a buzz kill at all for the past three days, but fishing . . .” She shudders and screws her mouth up. “Ugh.” She casts her line and cocks it against her hip. “I’m trying not to think about this.” She wiggles her rod.

  We stand in the water for what seems like forever with our rods remaining sturdy in our hands. “Just a nibble,” Sam huffs. “Anything.”

  Smiling at her I listen to the sound of the water running down stream. It’s serene out here, nothing but the flapping of birds wings while some of them fly in flocks overhead. Everything is calm, peaceful.

  “Oh my God!” Sam yells. I look over to her and see her rod is bent while she tries to pull it back with both her hands. “Holy crap. This thing is huge.” The rod arches even further, and if it keeps going it looks as if it’s going to snap while she’s holding it.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Dad starts making his way toward her, but he’s too far out to help her. “I’m on it,” I call as I wade through the knee-deep water to get to her. “I didn’t think we’d catch anything this close to the water’s edge.”

  “You haven’t caught anything,” she growls toward me. “I have.”

  I laugh while helping her with the rod. The fish is desperately attempting to get away, and we’re both just as desperate to pull it back. “Dad,” I call as I one-handedly help Sam. Dad’s still wading toward us, but the water is causing resistance around him, slowing him down.