To The River He Went

Limbs flailed as the little boy desperately tried to keep his head above the water. The sand bank had dropped unexpectedly and now his non-existent swimming skills were the only thing keeping him from drowning. 

The little boy cried out, panicked. Water splashing into his eyes, burning. His arms slapping the water. 

“Help me!” He said, gargling water in the process. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, as if the organ was trying to keep the boy afloat itself. As if the heart was saying “Look here! If i beat fast enough perhaps you won’t die”

“He-lp” 

The boy’s head dipped underneath the surface. He sucked in a breath almost automatically. Water rushed down his throat, gripping his lungs. He thrashed his arms around, kicking furiously. His head broke the surface and he coughed. Water spewing out. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Please” He cried. 

He just turned nine. And in defiance he snuck out of home and went to his favorite place; the river. Two kilometers away, a quick trip on the bike. 

Usually he would go with his older brother, Danny. Who looked identical to him, so much so, that the little boy already knew what he would look like when he grew up; Just like Danny. Brown hair, brown eyes that dipped slightly down at the ends. Nose with a straight bridge and a dimple on the right cheek only. 

But he was nine. And he was old enough to go to the river by himself. He no longer needed his 15 year old brother to supervise.

The sun blinded his eyes, as he tipped his head back. The water lapping at his chin. 

“Danny! Help!” He called out to his older brother, who at this very moment was playing video games two kilometers away. 

But it was no use. His body was sinking and his head eventually went under once again. 

He tried to hold his breath. His cheeks puffed out. But soon his burning lungs clouded his mind and forced him to inhale in the desperate hope there would be some air. 

Meanwhile another boy eight and three quarters as he would say, played on the top of a hill on the other side of the river. He was trying to build a fort and was in the middle of dragging a huge tree branch when he heard a sound behind him. He turned but saw nothing, no-one. The eight and three quarters year old boy once again turned to the large branch. His breath seesawing out of him. His hands now covered in splinters. Two feet away to his right was the fort which currently resembled a tree and one branch propped diagonally onto it. With all his might, he lifted the huge branch, then turned, facing the river and pushed. The branch landed heavily onto the trunk, wobbling. The boy furiously trying to keep it steady. Eventually he maneuvered it until it joined the other branch. His face was red, sweat beading on his nose. 

He was just about to go retrieve another log when he heard another noise. It sounded like a yell. This time when he turned around he saw the faint glimpse of..

huh? 

The boy squinted. He had taken off his glasses as they kept sliding down his sweaty nose. But this meant anything in the distance was blurry. 

He looked quickly around searching for his lens. 

And then he heard another shout. 

He abandoned his search and ran down the little hill towards the river. The closer he got,the more he could see. 

A boy his age was drowning. 

He reached the river, by then the person disappeared beneath the surface. 

The boy shook his hands, a nervous habit he had. He looked left and right, as if searching for an adult to tell him what to do. He shook his hands again. A flapping motion, as if his hands were wet and he was trying to dry them. 

He himself learned how to swim out of necessity. Other kids didn’t like those who were different. 

“What’s wrong with you Archie?!” The bullies would taunt. “Archie the retard!” They would shout. 

He flapped his hands again and then jumped in. 

The water was cold, and he inhaled sharply before swimming to the spot he last saw the person. The water was a reddish color, cloudy but still able to see through faintly. There was no current thankfully. And so Archie easily swam across and squinted. Scanning the water. There. 

He sucked in a breath, then dived down, waving his arms blindly. His hand brushed against something, an ankle? Wrist? He took hold and pulled. Lifting the boy towards the surface. His lungs strained. He kicked furiously and after a few beats of struggle managed to wrap his arms around the drowning boy’s waist. 

By now, he had released all his air and was fighting the urge to breath in. 

Finally, they burst through the surface. Cool air rushed down his throat. Filled his lungs. But the other boy had slipped, his head still underneath the surface. Archie now only had his arms hooked underneath the boy’s armpits. The boy was clearly asleep. Archie swam towards the shore, dragging the boy in tow. 

Finally they got to shore. Archie walked backwards, dragging the boy out of the water before dropping to his knees. 

The boy wasn’t moving, even when Archie slapped his cheek and yelled in his face. Despite being eight and three quarters Archie had witnessed this form of sleeping before. His parents would often do this, go into this deep sleep on the floor, on the couch, bent over the sink, lent against a wall. He often wondered why and as the years had gone by Archie, now suspected it may be due this medicine his parents would always have. His mamma said it was special adult cough syrup, and without it mamma and dad would be sick. 

Archie had watched a lot of T.V whilst his parents were like this. Sometimes he would call over his neighbors who would poke at his parents’ neck and wrist before saying

“They all good Darl, just sleepin a tad” 

Often Bondi Rescue - a lifesaving TV series - was on the television. And when swimmers fell asleep in the water, there was one thing the lifeguards kept doing to wake them up. 

So Archie did what he saw. He started hitting the boy’s chest and pinching the boy’s nose before breathing into his mouth. 

“I’m giving you air” Said Archie. He did this twice. On the third he started to doubt what he was doing. Perhaps this wasn’t how they did it on Bondi Rescue? But finally on the third try, the boy woke up, sputtering and spewing. Archie lent back, grimacing. The boy hacked and coughed, leaning over to the side, water spilling onto the sand. 

Eventually, the boy opened his eyes and looked at Archie. 

“What happened?” 

Archie looked back at him. 

“You were sleeping” 

And then Archie got up and ran up the hill. He had to finish his fort and he didn’t want to be bullied.

The revived boy was stunned. His lungs hurt, and he wished his brother Danny was here to carry him back home. The bike ride home was long and it seemed harder to push the pedals than normal. He thought about the boy that rescued him, how he ran away so suddenly. He recognized the boy. It was the boy from school. Him and his friends used to throw him in the river as a prank. 

An oily feeling came over him. Guilt he realized. By the time he arrived back home, a mobile house painted cream, his clothes were only slightly damp. His parents and brother were all in the kitchen. His mother whirling a wooden spoon in a steamy pot on the stove. His father chopping carrots beside her. The steam fogging up his glasses. Danny looked up from his Nintendo DS - a new gadget he got for Christmas. 

“Where have you been?” 

The boy looked down at his clothes “At the river” 

His mother set down the spoon, hands on hips and turned to him. 

“Mathew! What did i say, always bring your brother” 

“I’m sorry” Mathew said looking away. He didn’t want to tell them about what had happened. The near drowning. The fact his lungs still burned. Nor did he mention the boy who saved him. 

He frowned at the floor. What was the boy’s name again? 

He muttered something about changing and went off to his room. 

“Dinner is going to be ready in 10!” His mother called after.

Mathew sat on the floor in his bedroom, staring at the little toy soldiers littered across the room. What was that boy’s name? 

He had school tomorrow perhaps he could find out. 

At the dinner table, the family held hands and prayed. Said thank-you to the lord and to each other. And when he picked up his fork, he realized he never got to say thank you to the boy who saved him. 

The bus ride to school usually is Mathew’s favorite time of day. His friends bounce around from one row to the next whilst the bus driver yells at them to sit still. Tony and Peter, his best friends always caused some sort of ruckus. 

The bus finally pulled up to the small school. And there, with a blue backpack was the boy. Mathew watched as the boy shouldered through the crowd, head down, heading for the big double doors into the school. 

“Hey! My dad said he would get me a Nintendo. Sooooon ” Said Tony behind him. 

“I want one!” Said Peter. 

“Okay kids!” Yelled the bus driver, the doors to the bus sliding open. 

It was school time. 

Mathew’s knees bounced underneath the desk. His eyes kept glancing to the boy who saved him who sat two rows to his left. He knew he needed to say thank you. Wanted to. His father always said the importance of showing your gratitude, your appreciation towards someone’s kind acts. And Mathew knew that this was one of those times his father would say: 

“Mathew, the lord hears those words of gratitude” 

What would his father think if he found out, him and his friends used to throw that boy into the river and laugh as he struggled to swim. 

Mathew never knew how scary it was, to nearly drown. He kicked his legs. His feet swaying back and forth. Shoes with red Velcro straps stared back at him. 

They hadn’t thrown that boy into the river since the start of the year. It’s not like they still do it. 

A harmless prank.

But those thoughts fell flatly. 

It was lunch time, when Mathew finally approached the boy. They were all outside, enjoying the few last moments of play before heading back inside for class. The boy was playing in the dirt, arranging rocks and pebbles in some sort of pattern Mathew couldn’t get. 

See, he is weird. Mathew thought. 

Immediately that oily feeling crawled through him again. 

“Hey” Mathew said. 

The boy looked up at him surprised. He had blond hair that stuck in multiple directions. And for some reason it annoyed Mathew. 

The boy didn’t say anything. Just looked down again. 

Mathew stomped the ground. 

“I said hi. I wanted to um -” 

“Mathew! What you doing get over there! We’re playing tag!” Peter called from across the playground. 

Mathew ignored him. 

“I wanted to say thanks for helping me the other day” 

The boy nodded his head, still looking down. 

Mathew threw his hands up.

“You hear me? I said thank you” 

The boy still didn’t look up.

With a sigh, Mathew walked away. 

The river looked different to him. The water looked scary, cloudy rather than exciting. He chewed his thumbnail. It all happened so fast. He felt betrayed. All his life he swam in this river. His brother carrying him on his back in the deep end. Or he would wear those little floats that wrapped around his arms. Which he would pretend to be big biceps. His eyes trailed up the hill on the other side and was immediately surprised. 

There, at the top, was the boy. He was dragging a massive branch. 

Mathew shook his head. 

Weirdo. 

Mathew picked his bike from the ground and rode away. 

There was a little bridge that stretched over the river, it only took Mathew fifteen minutes to cross the bridge and ride over to where he saw the boy. He was out of breath by the time he peddled up the hill. But sure enough, the boy was still there. It looked like he was building a fort. 

“Hi!” Mathew called. 

The boy looked up, searched left and right before seeing him. He frowned. Then looked back down, and continued dragging the log. 

Mathew climbed off his bike and let it fall to the ground. 

“Can you not hear me or something?” 

He was getting frustrated now. All he wanted to do was tell him thank-you. But the boy didn’t seem to listen.

Mathew stormed over. 

“Why won’t you say anything?” 

Again, the boy didn’t answer. A few silent moments went by. Mathew watched the boy try and drag the log over to the fort which reminded him of a miniature pyramid. 

“Can i help?”

The boy looked up, opened his mouth like he was about to say something and closed it, before simply nodding. 

So that’s what Mathew did. 

For the next few hours, they dragged logs and arranged them around this tree trunk to build a fort. The boy would point at what logs he wanted and together they would carry it over to the newly built fort. Finally when the sun was setting, Mathew tried again. 

“Why are you building a fort?”

To his surprise, the boy answered. 

“It’s my new home”

“Home?” Mathew frowned “What about your parents?” 

“They aren’t nice to live with” The boy said. 

Mathew didn’t know what to say to that. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Archie” 

“I’m Mathew” 

The boy didn’t say anything. It seemed he only spoke when asked a question. 

“Um okay, I’m going to go. It’s dinner time soon” 

The boy didn’t answer, simply started clear out the rocks and leaves in the fort with his hands. 

Mathew frowned. “Are you sleeping here?”

Archie nodded. 

“Why?” 

“Because i don’t like living with my parents” 

“But you can’t sleep here! It will be cold, and what will you have for dinner?” 

Archie shrugged “I’m not hungry and i like the quiet” 

Baffled, Mathew said “did you want to have come over to mine then?” Archie shook his head. 

It seemed he had made up his mind. 

“Okay” Mathew finally said and turned around walking back to his bike. 

As he rode home in silence, Mathew wondered about the boy named Archie who saved him from drowning and slept in a fort in the woods. 

And when he pulled up to his home, the sun already set, his father’s words came to mind, 

“Actions speak louder than words son, words alone aren’t enough” 

Mathew didn’t go to school the next day. Instead he pretended he was sick. His mother tsked, placing the back of her hand on his forehead. 

“You don’t seem to have a fever….” 

But Mathew would cough and sniffle, hoping that would convince her. 

She finally sighed “okay well I’ll need to go to work, get a few things and come back… tell my boss your unwell. I’ll be back in an hour max, you stay here okay? Stay in bed” 

Mathew nodded. It was 10 past eight in the morning, and his father already left for work an hour ago, dropping Danny off at school early. 

His mother seemed hesitant to leave him alone at home. 

“Stay here yes?” 

“Yeah Mom of course” 

When he heard the car’s tires crunch down the dirt driveway, Mathew leaped out of bed.

The ride to the river was ten times harder with the huge backpack he carried. As he crossed the bridge to the other side and sped up the hill, he was rethinking his decision. He had to be quick, he only had an hour. 

When Mathew went back later that day, Archie was there. He was drawing in one of the spider man books Mathew had left that morning. 

“Hi” 

Archie looked up and waved. Then lifted the book he was reading, pointed to the pillow and blankets Mathew had left, the packet of chips and crackers and then the lantern. 

Archie looked at Mathew again and pointed to him. 

Mathew smiled. 

“I wanted to thank you..for saving me from drowning. I’m sorry my friends and I used to throw you in the river” 

Archie looked at him silently, and then he picked up another crayon, lifted it and handed it to him. 

Mathew smiled.