Half an Inch of Water: Stories

Exposure

Benjamin Taylor’s fourteen-year-old daughter was basically insane. This was what Benjamin thought as he studied the clock in the kitchen. It was nearly four thirty in the morning. On a normal night, he would have been asleep, cracking an eye at his bedside clock and enjoying the idea of another half hour of sleep. Emma had gone out, she said, with her friends Cathy and Tanya, to a movie in town, driven by Cathy’s mother, she said, but Benjamin hadn’t been there when she’d been picked up. He’d had a strange feeling about it when she’d called him on his cell phone. He’d been down at the stables finishing up the last of the chores. He’d asked what she was going to do about dinner and she’d said not to worry. She was fourteen and, lately, was fond of telling him not to worry. Benjamin’s wife had left long ago. It had taken him six years to realize that he had been no good for her, in fact, bad for her; six years to understand that she had abandoned them as an act of survival, but still he was angry she’d gone. Now he sat and waited for his daughter. The cell phone she’d talked him into buying her went directly to her voicemail. He hated her outgoing message. She sounded like a kid trying to sound like an adult.

Three days ago at the grocery market, she had refused to get into the truck and ride home with him.

“Come on, Emma, I don’t have time for this foolishness.”

“I’ll find my own way.”

He was sitting behind the wheel, his door propped open with his foot, and she was standing at the open passenger window.

“What kind of way?” It wasn’t really a question, but he felt he’d stepped badly nonetheless, entering a negotiation with a child.

“A way.”

“Get in the truck.”

“No.”

A woman stared at them as she walked from her SUV to the grocery market door. He made brief eye contact and the woman shook her head. He didn’t know whether she was disapproving of his parenting or offering commiseration for having to deal with a recalcitrant teenager. Either way, he didn’t care. “Emma,” he said, feeling helpless saying it.

Emma gave him and the empty passenger seat a long look and in that moment he realized that he had little leverage. His stern issuance of her name was a bluff. Just what could he do if she walked away? But she didn’t walk away. For whatever reason, Benjamin wasn’t questioning, Emma climbed into the truck. They headed back out to the ranch together. There he would prepare dinner. That night there would be pork chops and rice and broccoli, and she would retire to her room and sit on her phone. But before that there was the ride home.

“Are you mad at me?” Benjamin asked.

“You always ask me that,” Emma said.

“I guess I do. Are you?”

“What do I always tell you?” She looked out the window at the Tasty Freeze, where she and every other teenager in Lander went at night and on weekends. It seemed like a throwback, but yet it wasn’t.

“What do I always say?” she asked.

“You know, I miss your mother, too,” he said, the words feeling stupid. He was already cringing at her response.

“Have you been watching talk shows again?” She laughed. “You don’t miss her. She’s not dead. She left us. And I can’t believe you sucked me into this dumb-ass conversation.”

Benjamin kept his eyes on the road. They rolled past the Target store on the edge of town and started up the hill before the descent into the valley.

A vehicle’s wheels stirred the gravel of the yard. By the time Benjamin was outside, the car was just bouncing taillights and Emma was ten steps from the door. He studied the back of the car.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Friends.”

“I won’t ask you if you know what time it is.”

“Good.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No.”

He stood in front of her on the porch. He thought better of asking to smell her breath, but he looked closely at her eyes.

“No,” she repeated.

He believed her or wanted to believe her. It came to the same thing, so he did not challenge her. He took a long breath.

“Well,” she said.

“Go on upstairs and get some sleep.”

“That’s it.”

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Right.”

That “right” pushed him over the edge. “Maybe you won’t need much rest.”

“What?”

“Since you won’t be going anywhere this weekend.”

“I’m supposed to go to Cathy’s on Sunday,” she said.

“Afraid not. Cathy won’t be having guests anyway. I talked to her mother.”

“You didn’t.”

“Around midnight a weird thing happened. I became worried about my fourteen-year-old daughter. So I called the person she said was giving her a ride. Guess what? Apparently, Cathy told her I was driving tonight.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, I’m angry that you stayed out so late, but you’re being grounded for lying.”

Emma said nothing else, but stormed into the house and up the stairs. She did not slam her door and he knew that her failure to do so was meant to annoy him. Knowledge notwithstanding, it worked.

He sat at his kitchen table and tried to figure out not what he had done wrong but what he might do right. He decided he needed some time with his daughter, as simpleminded as that sounded, alone and away from their house. He would offer his corny attempt at some kind of remedy and she would laugh, but he would force the issue. He would make her go hiking with him. He would not go to work and he would drive her into the Winds and hike up to Burnt Lake. She would complain loudly at first and he didn’t look forward to hearing that, but then it would get better. She was his daughter, so of course he loved her, but he actually liked her. He imagined that somewhere inside her she felt the same toward him.

The next morning Emma walked into the kitchen to find the counter covered with sandwiches, water bottles, and fruit. Benjamin watched her as he mixed peanuts and chocolate chips in a plastic bag.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

“An outing,” Benjamin said.

She looked at the mix in the bag. “Not a hike.”

“Yep. I thought we’d go up to Burnt Lake. We used to go there a lot. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“We need some time alone and we can get some real privacy up there.”

“We have privacy here,” Emma said.

“You know what I mean. Besides, here you have the phone and your computer. Smoke signals. So, go get your hiking boots on.”

“You see, there’s a problem.”

Benjamin stared at her.

“No boots.”

“I know you have hiking boots,” he said.

“Yes, that’s true. But I don’t have hiking boots that fit. I’ve been doing this thing called growing, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Well, we’ll leave a little earlier and pick you up a pair at Lark’s.”

“Really, Dad?”

“Really.”

“You’re serious about this,” she said.

“I am indeed.”

Lark’s was a feed and tack shop that also had a large boot department. Most were ropers and Wellingtons and paddock boots, but there were some hiking boots as well. Emma hated all of them. “I can’t be seen in these things,” she said. “My feet look big enough as it is.”

“That’s because you have big feet,” Benjamin said. “Own it.”

“No.”

“It’s not a tough hike. Just some sneaker ones will do.”

She looked at the lightweight boots. “They’re worse.”

“You only have to wear them once.”

“That’s a waste of money,” she said.

Benjamin mock-stared at her. “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”

Emma’s shoulders sagged.

“Really, just once. Do the ones you have on fit?”

“I guess.”

“Then we’ll get those. Just humor your old man.”

She started to unlace the boots.

“What are you doing?” Benjamin asked.

“I’m not wearing these things out of here. No way.”

“Okay, okay.”

Benjamin bought the boots and they got back into the car. Emma fiddled with the radio. “My music,” she said. “Only my music.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

What the music came to was Emma cycling through the stations. There was a preponderance of religious chatter until she got up to 100 on the dial and there was only country music she detested and at the upper end were a couple of stations playing songs in Spanish. She went through twice. She tried to turn off the radio in disgust, but managed only to turn the volume to near zero. Spanish music played softly just above the hum of the engine.

“I hate this place,” she said.

“I know, honey. I’m sorry.”

“Mom’s in Seattle.”

“How do you know that?” Benjamin asked.

“She called.”

“I see.” He looked out the window at the view of the mountain.

“Have a good chat?”

“I guess.”

“Is that where she’s living now? I thought she was in Spokane.”

“Was.” Emma looked through the lunch pack her father had put together. “We talked about me visiting there.” She opened a bag of chips, offered some to Benjamin. After he declined, she said, “It’s been a year.”

“Goes by fast.”

“What else did you talk about?”

Emma looked out the window and said nothing.

“Remember when we used to come up here a lot?”

The girl nodded. “You tried to teach me to cast. I hated that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It made me feel like you wanted a son instead of a daughter.”

Benjamin swallowed hard. “I didn’t know that. I just wanted to share stuff with you.”

“I hated touching the fish.”

“I didn’t know.”

He felt small and suddenly tired. “You probably won’t believe me, but I was always happy to have you as a daughter. I knew you were a girl when your mother told me she was pregnant.”

Emma ate a chip. “What did you bring to drink?”

“Water.”

She made a face.

He thought about apologizing, but didn’t.

Benjamin pulled the car off the road at the trailhead. “You know we can just go back home if you want.”

Emma opened the box and looked at her boots. “We’re here. Let’s just do this.”

“You make it sound like we’re on a mission.”

“Aren’t we?”

“Get your shoes on.” Benjamin stepped out and tightened his own laces while he waited.

Emma slammed the truck door and marched up the trail without him. He followed, caught up to her, and grabbed her arm.

“Hold on a sec,” he said. “I didn’t come up here to fight. I didn’t bring us up here for a forced march. If you’re that miserable, we can head down the mountain right now.” He looked up the trail. “I don’t know what you and your mother talked about. Just know that I’ll do whatever will make you happy. And safe, of course.”

“What if I want to move to Seattle and live with my mother?”

“Is that what she’s offering?”

“What if it’s what I want?”

“Of course I like having you with me. I want you with me, but I want you to be happy. Maybe you need your mother now. Or maybe you just need a break from me. I don’t know.” A deer bolted across the trail about thirty yards up. “I would understand that. Is that what she’s said, that you can come live with her?”

“Let’s hike,” Emma said.

They covered the first easy mile in good time, Emma leading the way. Benjamin stopped at a mound of scat that the girl had walked past. She turned and came back to him.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Not coyote,” he said. “Cougar, maybe. Pretty fresh.”

Emma looked up the trail through the aspens. “What do you think?”

“We’ve always had cats up here,” Benjamin said. “We can just head home if you want.”

“No, let’s go on.”

Benjamin looked at the mound of scat. The ground was bone-dry and was no good for a sign. He tried to make out what might have been a track. “I wish Doc Innis was with us. Cats are nocturnal. This scat is steaming.” He looked around.

“So?”

“Maybe I don’t want to go on.”

“Jesus, Dad.”

“Are you wearing any perfume?” he asked.

“What?”

“Perfume — are you wearing any?”

“No.”

“Are you having your period right now?”

“Dad!”

“Someone once told me that cats could be attracted to a menstruating woman.” He had also heard that that was a myth. Still. “Are you?”

“No. Why are you so nervous? You’re the one who always told me that the woods are safer than a mall.”

“I don’t know. You’re right. I guess I’m just overprotective of my little girl.”

“Give me a break.” Emma started again up the trail.

Benjamin followed.

They hiked another couple of miles. The trail became steep and Emma complained about her boots.

“I’m getting a blister on my heel, I think,” she said.

“Well, let’s stop. I’ve got some moleskin.” Benjamin dug into his knapsack. “We should eat our sandwiches anyway. You hungry?”

“A little.”

“Get that boot off. The other feel okay?”

“I think so.”

They heard a loud hiss. Both jumped.

“What was that?” Emma asked.

“I don’t know,” Benjamin said. They sat quietly for a few seconds. “Here, eat up. I’ll get your foot squared away and we’ll just head back to the car.”

“What was that sound, Dad?”

“Bear, maybe. Don’t worry, he’s not interested in us.” He put the moleskin on Emma’s heel. He put her sock back on and her boot, laced it up. He patted her foot. “Just like old times,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Nice view,” he said.

They finished their sandwiches.

“Dad?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I’m sorry I stayed out so late.”

“Okay. I’m over that.”

“About Mom.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re great,” she said.

“Okay.”

“But I’m a girl.”

Benjamin smiled at her. “I’m aware of this.”

“What if I want to live with Mom for a while?”

He looked off the edge of the trail at the valley below. “I’d like to say I’d be understanding, but I can’t. Your mother left us. She left you and I don’t trust her now to be responsible with you.”

“She’s changed.”

“Right.” Benjamin felt small. He felt sick. This wasn’t the father he wanted to be, but he could find nothing else. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Right.”

“You’re my responsibility. I have custody of you. If she wants to all of a sudden play mommy to you, then let her prove herself to the court.”

“I can go if I want.”

“No, you can’t. It’s that simple.”

Emma stepped away quickly down the slope. Benjamin moved to follow, but he landed on a round rock. What started as a skid escalated into a knee-buckling cartwheel off the side of the trail. Emma was scrambling down behind him even before he stopped rolling.

“Dad, are you all right?”

He tried to sit up, but fell back onto the slope. He knew he’d done something terrible to his right leg. His ankle was sprained, dislocated, or maybe even broken. He had to slow himself down to assess the damage. His heart was racing. His first concern was for his panicking daughter. “I’m okay,” he said. “Really. I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Daddy,” Emma said.

He could hear in her voice that she was seeing something he had not seen yet. He looked down to see that his foot was cast off to the side at a strange angle, almost ninety degrees to his leg.

“Fuck,” Benjamin said, not so much out of pain as out of anger. “Sorry.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“I think it’s about to start hurting,” he said, realizing that adrenaline was ruling the moment. “Let’s get me up on the trail before it does.”

Benjamin pushed and Emma pulled and they clumsily managed to get him up the hill. His ankle was erupting in pain now. He screamed.

“Is it broken?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

Her hands hovered over his boot.

“No, leave the boot on. I think that’s the thing to do.” He reached down and felt it. It was painful to touch. “It’s dislocated, that’s certain.”

“What do we do?”

He hated hearing his child so frightened. “First thing is to relax,” he said. “I’m not going to die.” All he could think was that they were at least four miles from the car. “Let’s see if I can stand.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Help me up.”

She did. He tried to put a little weight on his left foot, but it wasn’t there at all. His foot flopped like a fish.

“You’re going to have to drive down the mountain to get help,” he said.

“What?”

“I can’t walk four miles and you can’t carry me.”

It was then that they saw the cat on the other side of the arroyo.

“Dad, is that a cougar?”

Benjamin didn’t answer.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby, it’s a cougar. Don’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking.”

Benjamin watched the animal disappear into the brush. The cougar looked to weigh about a hundred pounds, but still looked thin. He saw this as a bad sign. If the cat was hungry there was no telling what it might do. He couldn’t let his daughter head down that trail. She was so terrified, she might break into a run at any second and so trigger the cougar’s chase instinct.

“When can I panic?” she asked.

“Find me two sturdy sticks about two feet long,” he said. “Let’s make your old man some splints. Let’s get me mobile.”

“How big?”

“Strong sticks. An inch in diameter. Straight as possible.”

She stood and looked around.

“Stay in sight,” he said. “There should be a couple close by.”

While Emma searched for the sticks, Benjamin tried to straighten out his ankle. He couldn’t do it. It hurt too much. He felt like a wimp.

Emma returned with four possible splints. “What about these?” she asked.

He chose two. “These should work. Okay, now I need you to do something.”

“What?”

“You’re going to have to pull my foot out so I can set the splints. Just pull it. I’m going to scream, but keep pulling until it seems straight.”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“You’ve got to do it. It will be all right. I’ll be screaming because your dad’s a big baby. Let’s do it now.”

She grabbed his foot and let go when he winced.

“Grab it,” he said.

She did.

“On three pull hard and fast.” He counted and she pulled. Benjamin tried not to scream and so made a noise that actually sounded worse. He broke into a sweat and he might have passed out for a second. The sky was too bright for his eyes for a few seconds. He collected himself. “Good, that’s good.”

“Good? Are you kidding me? Your leg is broken.” Emma was shaking, her hands still floating over the injury.

“It’s okay, baby.” He sat up. He took off his shirt and belt. “Here, tear the sleeves off of this.”

Benjamin positioned the sticks on either side of his ankle and secured them midcalf with his belt. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Let me have a sleeve.” He wrapped a sleeve tight around his ankle and foot. Just touching it made him want to vomit. To handle the pain he thought about Emma’s fear. He tied the second sleeve above his knee.

“Is that it?” Emma asked.

“Help me up.”

Benjamin got onto his good leg. The only good thing was that the break, if it was a break, was not compound. There was no blood. But there was plenty of pain. It quickly became clear that Emma was not going to be able to support him. “I need some bigger sticks,” he said. “Crutches.”

The snarl of the cougar sounded in the arroyo again.

“He’s still here,” Emma said.

“Big sticks.” Stay on task, he told himself. “Focus,” he said out loud. “Focus.” He scanned the ground above him. “There!” He pointed.

Emma found the limb. “This one?”

“Yes, and find another like it. With a Y, just like this one.”

She did, but it was a couple of inches shorter. Benjamin put the short crutch on his good side. He felt his way down the hill, keeping himself in front of Emma. He told her that if he fell he didn’t want to take her out with him. And he did fall. Twice.

“Daddy, this isn’t working,” Emma said.

“We’ll be on ground that’s less steep soon. And we’ll be off this hard stuff, too.” The ground did level off a little, and under the canopy of trees, away from the exposed edge of the trail, the floor was more a mat of plant matter.

“See,” he said. “Easy-peasy.”

“I hate that expression.”

“Noted.”

“How is it?” she asked.

“Hurts like hell.” Benjamin was sweating crazily. His T-shirt was drenched and he was starting to feel cold. He wondered if he would notice himself becoming disoriented if he started to suffer from hypothermia.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” Emma said.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he told her. “It’s your old man who has to grow up. I’m sorry.”

Father and daughter stopped together on the trail. The cougar was not fifteen yards in front of them, facing them, sitting like a dog.

“So much for easy-peasy,” Benjamin said.

The cat growled.

“What do we do?” Emma asked.

“We don’t run, I know that,” he said. He almost laughed as he considered his ankle. He was sorry to see that the animal was thin. That meant that it was probably hungry. But that was all he could see. The lion was backlit and so there was no face to see. That made it worse, Benjamin thought.

“Dad?”

“How loud can you scream?” Benjamin asked.

“What?”

“I want you to scream as loud as you can while we walk forward, slowly forward. I’m going to scream, too, so don’t be startled by how loud your old man can get.”

“Really?”

“Now start screaming.” And they did. Emma screamed, her voice child-high and shrill. Benjamin put a little weight on his left leg and reacted to the pain, yelled at the lion. They clung to each other and made as much noise as possible. After three small dragging steps the cougar had seen and heard enough; it ran off the trail and up the mountain.

Emma started to cry and laugh at the same time.

Benjamin started to buckle.

The girl tried to catch him and then he caught himself. “I’m okay,” he told her. “Let’s keep this train moving before our friend decides to come back.”

“You’re shivering.”

“Let’s go. At least it’s downhill, right?”

It took them three hours to make it to the car, looking over their shoulders the whole way. Benjamin was scared to death, much of him numb. He felt he was barely lucid. His shivering was out of control. He was suffering from exposure or he was in shock. Maybe he had hit his head in the fall without knowing it and had sustained a concussion.

“You’re going to have to drive,” he told his daughter.

“I’m fourteen.”

“I know and so I know you can do this.”

He had Emma move the passenger seat all the way back. He had to be in the front to help her, to calm her, if he could. He got into the car, pushed away his crutches, and Emma closed the door. She fell in behind the wheel. She started the car and looked at her father.

“Thank god I bought an automatic,” he said.

“What do I do?”

“You know what to do. First, turn up the heat.”

She did.

“Now you move it to D and go.”

“Just like that?”

“Go slow,” he said. “Go slow.”

Emma moved ahead.

“Good,” Benjamin said. “Slow.” He closed his eyes. He was starting to drift. “You can do this, sweetie.”

“Daddy?”

“I’m fine. Daddy’s fine. Just drive.”