A Matter of Unimportance

13. River

There was a creek running behind the family home on the reservation. It was wide and fast moving, but relatively shallow. Even though I'd never been to Grand Ronde, it was something my mother had showed me pictures of in a book once or twice. I knew it met up with the Rogue River eventually. I'd seen pictures of that one too, but it looked nothing like the Willamette, which was the only river I'd actually seen before in person. The Willamette was walled in by my city. The Rogue River was aptly named. It was free of the urban confines; rogue.

As my father and I walked along the creek silently, I couldn't help but notice how out of place I truly was. There was such heavy tree cover over head. There were bugs suspended in the air, buzzing. The damp ground was soaking into my posh boots. I hadn't thought to bring something different for my feet, and as I watched the light mud cake into the suede, I wanted to take them off entirely and walk barefoot. I wasn't sure exactly how Daniel would react to that. Would he see more of my mother in me? Or would he pretend to be amused before running back to his secret wife to revel in her juxtaposed normalcy?

"I was going to tell you," Daniel broke our silence.

It was a relief to hear him finally speak. After the initial awkward moment where we'd stared at eachother back at the house, he'd asked me to take a walk with him. Everyone in the home had watched us go with interest and I'd been looking forward to explanations. We'd walked for several minutes now, the house nearly invisible in the distance and I was beginning to worry he didn't actually know how to speak.

"When?" I asked. I tried not to sound amused, but I was tired. There was only so much a 16 year old half orphan could take. It's not as if I'd been raised to respect Daniel for his parental role or anything. This was all truly laughable in a twisted kind of way.

"I was going to," he repeated, the timeline of his thoughts remaining an untold mystery. "Before you found out at the very least, Benny."

"I would very much appreciate not being called that," I said, my eyebrows raised at him ever so slightly. "Is that what you've told them all to call me?"

"What do you want to be called?" He asked.

"Not that."

We walked a moment longer. I could only assume we were both contemplating eachother. Every few moments he'd glance at me, sizing me up from my curly head of hair to my muddy boots. I wondered desperately what was in his head. I imagined he was wondering the same about me.

"I didn't want to hurt Florence," he finally added, quietly.

"So you lied to her," I suggested. I put my hands in my pockets to avoid clenching my fists.

"I met Marta before I knew you existed," he attempted to explain. "I hadn't seen Florence for over a year. I didn't think I was ever going to see her again. We'd only been married a few months when I met you."

"Such a lovely way to start a marriage," I mused.

"It all moved too fast," he added. "Florence was so insistent about certain things and you were my son. I fully intended to leave Marta for the both of you. I swear I had pure intentions. I wanted to do right by my kid."

I laughed. I shouldn't have laughed. My mother had implored me to have empathy always. She'd begged me to give Daniel the benefit of the doubt more than once. I want to blame the fact that I was just a teenager in this moment, but truly it was because I'd just never liked Daniel that much. That was maybe my own fault.

"You maintained two seperate families in secret," I scoffed at him. "That wasn't doing right by anybody."

Daniel stopped walking and stared at the creek. His face had darkened. His hair fell into his eyes like he was attempting to hide behind it.