eureka [h.s.]

soothe

The air fluttered around me, signaling nightfall. The day had been hot, and it remained well over ninety as the sun faded. I laid back and tried to enjoy the new breeze without tipping the kayak, laying my paddle across my freckled stomach. The river was taking it easy on me today, giving in to my wading and enabling me to cruise gently along. Luckily this allowed more exploring around the turns that were usually all whitewater, and I'd found caves I doubt even my uncle has seen.

    But now it was getting dark, and I was getting worried. My phone is capable of getting a bar or two if I climb up the hills bending around the water, but calling my uncle seemed unnerving after the words he left me with.

    "I wish you'd just left with your mother."

    My uncle, who seemed humorous and care-free when I first came to stay at his river shack, isn't a godawful man, but he has become a bit of a bummer as the summer has gone on. Plus his name is Rickard. But my mother needed to get to the city, and Eureka is my home; Rickard's unfortunate personality is a small price to stay.

    Remembering the way back is a complete impossibility, so I continued downstream in hopes of finding a landing near camp. I let one leg graze the river as I began paddling through the still water, which proved to be such a feat that I was forced to sit up and work my already tired shoulders. Just when I pondered if I'd have to power paddle forever, white water came into view. I came in hard, turning the kayak sharply to follow the harsh bend. The river accepted me into the waves and I relaxed my paddle.

    As the water moved me smoothly, it was nearly ethereal in the way it collected the little boat lap after lap, pushing further through the current. A serene feeling encompassed me, the only comparison being when the car pulls to a stop after a long trip. Everything feels nice and sure and clear. The Kings River Outfitters logo faded with the expiring light, and everything became green, green, green. The water seemed to be the only thing of importance, and it drew my gaze, making all my thoughts so delightfully simple.

    Just as I felt myself drifting, something caused my head to snap forward and the wonderful feeling to creep away. The water forced the kayak to nudge against the rocks, what I'd been in search for from the beginning. Surrounding me was water shallow enough that I could see the shapes of small rocks in the darkness, and I stepped out to drag the kayak further into the rocks. The same dreamy feeling was over me again as soon as I laid my eyes on the little beach, and a strange excitement filled my chest.

    Trees greener than I'd ever seen towered, hiding part of the lowly lit moon. The humidity calmed, and my breaths came easier. All that was heard was the breeze through the trees, the water somehow not making a sound anymore. I felt safer than ever before, and drawn to an assembly of stones near a large sycamore. I was weightless, my feet floating across the sand. One of the large grey stones made to be very comfortable to set my back against.

    My head lolled, vision fuzzed, in complete serenity. It was an unmoving scene, the water had stilled after I left it and the greenery stood immobile. The air became heavy on my eyelids, until I finally fell victim to the haze and began to sleep.

    For the first time in a long time, it felt good to be awake. Darkness clouded my vision, the lack of moonlight leaving me blind. Everything was a temperature that felt like nothing, a dense yet empty air.

    Finally, there was a sound.

    The slow mushing of damp sand was approaching my limp physique, and I forced my heavy head to face a strange figure. It was a boy! Not just any boy, but the very one from the gallery in town. Boys are normally a very frightening thing, however he seemed safe, harmless. My lips opened a milimeter or two, eyes widened, and back regained structure. The weight was leaving me, but the niceness of the beach stayed. I kept eye contact with the boy, or what I thought was eye contact as I could barely make out anything but the wildness of his hair and the lanky legs wobbling from swerving hips.

    Are you okay?

    Am I okay? Am I? Is okay something you could use to describe my emotions in this very moment? Where was this question coming from?

    "Are you okay?" this time the question came through in surround sound, echoeing through my bones and it was from the shining lips of the harmless gallery boy. He had moved closer, catiously hovering, blinking, breathing.

    Swallowing, I dipped my chin as a yes. There is no immediate threat to me at the moment, why wouldn't I be okay? In an attempt to reclaim my motor skills, I rolled my neck, stiffening my shoulders and releasing them again. I felt his eyes on me as my forearms struggled to push me forward, legs following close behind. When my legs were crouched beneath me, he had his hands out just enough so that I could recognize the opportunity for support, but wasn't obligated to accept it.

We rose together, making me realize he'd crouched closer when I was struggling. "Is there someone here with you?"

My haze was stolen from me as I was confronted with the question of what he was doing here. Am I really safe? "I know where I'm going, my uncle is just upstream," was all I could come up with to sound less vulnerable.

His head fell back slightly, chin rising, eyes hardening. "King's River Outfitters?" When I replied with another silent nod, the gallery boy's jaw set, and he took a step back. "Could you not tell him I was here? I'm not messing with anything but he got angry last time he saw me taking pictures down here."

"Yeah he does that sometimes, like it's sacred land until he needs to make a profit off of it. I gotcha," it was like I needed to separate myself from anything the pretty boy might dislike. I guess sometimes strangers' opinions matter more than people you know because there's that possibility that they could be someone wonderful.

And he was.