Blue Boy

   Blue Boy

Nathan’s mother looked up from the phone bill she was trying to decipher when he rushed down the stairs from his room, headed for the front door. It was early on a Monday morning, mid-summer, sky a pale aqua, empty of clouds. 

“Where you going so early?” his mother asked.  

“Bike ride,” he replied without looking at her.

“Where to?” she said.

“Just around, nowhere.” He wore the same jean cutoffs and black t-shirt he’d worn every day for several weeks. Ever since the divorce became final and his father vamoosed.

After Nathan jumped on his bike and rode off, his mother called their neighbor, Shannon, who lived two houses down.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Shannon. This is Nathan’s mom from down the street. You know Nathan, right?”

“Yeah, I know Nathan.” Shannon said.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Nathan’s mom said.  

  “Sure. What do you need?”

“Well, you know we’re divorced now, his dad and I. Since then, Nathan has been acting … weird. Won’t talk. Goes on bike rides early in the morning and comes back acting different … dreamy, like he’s high or something. Then shuts himself in his room. I’m afraid he might be getting into drugs.” Nathan’s mother felt her face redden.

“Nathan? I’d be surprised. He seems so … quiet. And smart. Why do you think it’s drugs?"

“A few days ago, I was cleaning his room and by his desk in the garbage I found some notes he’d written — something about blue. Blue is what he wrote. And he had written a name down. Ringo.”

“Blue?”

“Yes, blue. And Ringo. He’d also written the word waterfront. Could blue mean that dangerous drug — fentanyl? They call it blue don’t they? Addicts?”

“Yeah. But Nathan’s only … fifteen?”

“Fourteen. I’m worried he’s meeting this Ringo and getting fentanyl. He comes home really … changed. And then goes into his room and stays there most of the day. I’m worried about him.”

“So, what’s the favor? How can I help?” Shannon asked.

“I’ve seen you on your bike. Would you follow him some morning, see where he goes?” 

“Follow Nathan? On my bike?”

“Yes.”

Shannon paused, “Well, I guess I could. When?”

“I thought I’d call you the next time he goes, maybe tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, call me when he leaves. I’ll follow and see what he’s up to. But I’m not gonna get in any trouble.”

“Oh God no, no trouble, please. Thank you so much, Shannon. I think our divorce might have really hit him hard. His father leaving him alone. He has no … rudder.”

“I’m glad to help,” Shannon said. A sigh of relief came from Nathan’s mom.  

The next day, Tuesday, Nathan slept in. He didn’t come down for cereal until after ten and didn’t ride his bike that day. His mom texted Shannon, no ride today.

On Wednesday morning, Nathan’s mom was making coffee when she heard him go out the door around 7:00. Out the front window, she saw him ride off on his bike. She grabbed her phone and called Shannon.  

“He just left on his bike, heading west down the street,” Nathan’s mom said.

Shannon said okay, she would tail him, jumped on her bike and rode off, fast. Soon, she saw Nathan a block in front of her. She stayed back, following him toward downtown Portland. When he got to the Willamette River, Nathan headed south along the Eastbank Esplanade, riding as if he knew his destination. Shannon followed him, curious what he was up to. 

Near Hawthorne Bridge, Nathan stopped and locked his bike to a rack. He walked down a ramp to a dock on the river. A man was standing on the dock. He was tall and thin with curly dark hair, wore purple spandex shorts and a light blue shirt with sleeves cut off. 

Nathan slowly walked up. The man turned to him as if he knew him and gave him a fist bump. They talked for a minute. The man appeared to be trying to persuade Nathan of something. He had a backpack that sat on the dock. He opened it and Nathan leaned over and peered in the pack, then shook his head. The man said something and Nathan again shook his head. 

The man reached into a pocket of his pack and pulled out a small item and gave it to Nathan. Shannon couldn’t make out what it was and wished she had brought binocs. Nathan took it in hand and looked down at it for a moment, then put it in his mouth.

The man saluted Nathan. Then grabbed his pack, walked up the ramp, and headed down the riverfront path. Nathan stayed on the dock staring at the river and downtown Portland. Shannon watched him for several minutes, then rode her bike to work and called Nathan’s mom. 

“I followed him to the waterfront,” Shannon said. “He met some guy there on the dock.” “Was it this Ringo guy?” 

“Don’t know. The guy acted like he was waiting for Nathan and knew him. He had a backpack. The guy opened the pack and Nathan looked in it and shook his head. He didn’t want it, whatever it was. Then the guy offered him … a small piece of something.”

“Was it blue?” the mom asked.

“I couldn’t tell. Nathan took it and seemed to swallow it.”

“No! Oh no … ” Nathan’s mom’s heart sank. She tried not to cry.  

“Then the guy left. Nathan stayed there a while longer. I thought about going down and talking to him but was late for work so I left. Sorry, that’s all I saw. He might be into something, hard to say.”

“Oh shit, I was afraid of this,” the mom said. “If it hadn’t been for this damn divorce … he must be really depressed to try fentanyl. What do I do now?”

Shannon stayed quiet, unsure how to console the mom. 

“I better talk to him,” Nathan’s mom said. Her voice trembled, “Thank you, Shannon.”

“I’m sorry. Let me know how it goes,” Shannon said. “Good luck.”

Nathan walked in the door at noon, ravenous, and headed straight for the kitchen. He poured a heaping bowl of cereal and added milk and took it upstairs to his room. His mother watched him like a hawk but didn’t utter a word. As he went upstairs, he looked at her and smiled. 

“I’m hungry,” he said. His mom nodded, her face blank. 

After giving him ample time to eat his cereal, his mom climbed the stairs and knocked on his closed door. 

“Nathan? We need to talk. Can I come in? Please, honey.”

“Now? Why?” Nathan said.

“I’m worried about something,” she said.

“Oh great, what?” he said curtly. 

“You, dear. You seem really down since your father left. Has the divorce hurt you?”

After a pause, Nathan said, “Do we have to talk about this? I don’t want to.”

She came right out with it. “Are you on drugs, Nathan? Those blue pills, fentanyl? Or meth? Tell me the truth.”

“Jesus, stop it mother.” Nathan blurted. “Quit worrying. Let me handle it.”

“Handle what, honey?”

“Everything! Get off my back! I don’t wanna talk about it!” Nathan said, anger rising.  

“I just want to help you! Please!” Nathan’s mom bit her lip not to cry. 

“I’m not gonna talk! Leave me alone.” Nathan was now exasperated. 

“Where do you go when you ride your bike?”

“Mother, stop! It’s my business.”

She didn’t know what else to say. “Okay honey, can I take your cereal bowl down, if you’re finished?”

“No!”

That evening, Nathan’s mom called Shannon and asked if she could follow Nathan one more time, to see if she could learn more about what he was doing on the waterfront and who Ringo was. Shannon agreed.

The next morning, Nathan again slept in and stayed off his bike. Spent most of the day on his computer in his room. His mom called Shannon and let her know — no go today.

Nathan’s mom was up early Friday morning and watched her son slip out the front door and ride off on his bike. She alerted Shannon.

Same as before, Shannon followed Nathan to the river and watched as he again met with the man on the dock. They talked and the man pointed at his pack and at Nathan. Nathan stood still, looking down, shaking his head. The man then gave Nathan a small piece of something as he had done before. Nathan ate it.  

This time, instead of hanging on the dock, Nathan rode off down the Esplanade. The man stayed on the dock, looking at the river. Shannon watched him. He suddenly stepped to the edge of the dock and jumped in the river. Went completely under, then came up and shook his hair, whipping droplets into the sky. He swam to a ladder and climbed back on the dock.  

She locked her bike and walked down the ramp to the dock. She went over to where the man was standing.

“Excuse me,” Shannon said, “I’m looking for someone. A boy who hangs around here.”

“Is his name Nate?” the man said. 

“Yes, Nathan. Are you Ringo?” she said with an unwavering look, showing no fear. 

He grinned and said, “Good guess, how’d you know?”

“Nathan’s mom thinks he may be in trouble. Might be buying drugs down here.”

“Nate?” the man said, surprised. “No way. He’s a hip kid, too smart for that.”

“His mom is really worried. She saw he’d written down something about blue, and the name Ringo.” Shannon kept her eyes on Ringo’s face. 

“Really? Well, I’m Ringo.”

“She thinks he’s doing fentanyl. Those bad blue pills. You wouldn’t have any in your pack would you?” Shannon tensed and made a fist with her right hand in case he came at her.

Ringo looked back at her but was silent. He picked up his pack and dumped it on the dock. Out came sunscreen, a green swim cap, swim goggles, and a red life vest. 

“You’re a swimmer?” Shannon said, relief in her voice. 

“A River Hugger,” Ringo said. “It’s an open water swim team, the River Huggers. We swim across the river and back every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning. I’ve been trying to get Nate to put on my vest and jump in the river. He’s afraid. Says he doesn’t know how to swim. I want to teach him but he don’t trust me.”

“Of course, I see now,” Shannon said. “I’m sorry to … think you might be a drug dealer. You don’t really act like one.”

“Drug dealers don’t swim,” Ringo said.

“But what was that piece of something you gave Nathan? He ate it.”

Ringo sighed, reached in a pocket of his pack, pulled out a small package of Big Red gum. 

“We both like Big Red,” Ringo said. “Want a piece?”

She laughed and nodded, “Sure.” 

He unwrapped it halfway and she took the stick it and popped it in her mouth. They stood together looking out at the river. She chewed slowly.

Ringo spoke, “Do you know what blue really means? What it means to Nate?”

Shannon shook her head. “Sadness? His parents just got divorced a month ago. It wasn’t good.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ringo said quietly. “He’s been coming down here a couple weeks.”

“It’s been hard on him,” Shannon said. 

“I can imagine. And I’m sure he is sad. But in this case, blue means the opposite of sad. It means peace. Comfort. Joy.”

She looked at him and he went on, “You ever hear of blue space? That’s what it means.”

“Blue space? You mean like green space? Parks and stuff?”

“Exactly,” he said. “I was telling Nate about blue space. This river is blue space, a natural park flowing right through the city. Blue means water. Water — like in a river, or lake, or oceans … or in tears. It has a therapeutic effect. Scientists have studied it. It can lower stress and anxiety. Helps people who are mentally challenged, too. Studies prove it. Blue space makes you feel better. It massages the heart, comforts the soul.” 

Ringo put his hand up to shade his eyes and nodded out toward the river. “I told Nate all about the benefits of blue. All you gotta do is be near it,” he said. “Getting in it is even better.”

“You’re saying water is good for you?” Shannon joked, “Who knew?” 

Ringo laughed, “Even just the sound of it can make a difference.”

“So, blue space is like a natural drug?” she said.

“Yeah,” Ringo nodded, “and I’m addicted to it! Hi, I’m Ringo and I’m a blue space addict.”

They were silent for a moment, taking in the peaceful scene.  

“Well, I’m late for work,” Shannon finally said. “Nice to meet you, Ringo. I’m Shannon.”

Ringo grinned, “Great talking with you, Shannon.” He gave her a fist bump and asked, “Are ya a swimmer, Shannon?”

“I can swim,” she said.

“You should join the River Huggers, come swim with us. Get into the blue!”

“Maybe I will,” she said, smiling as she headed up the ramp to her bike.  

From her office, Shannon called Nathan’s mom and related the whole story. About Ringo. The river swimmers. The life vest. Blue space. Big Red gum. 

“Oh my God, I’m so glad to hear this,” Nathan’s mom said. “Thank you so much, Shannon. But … I mean … isn’t the river polluted? Who would swim in it? Could he get sick?”

“No, no, the river is cleaned up now. People are in it every day during summer. Nate’s fine. Or will be fine. He just needs time.”

“I’m a terrible mother,” Nathan’s mom said. 

“C’mon, no you’re not. He’s lucky to have you,” Shannon said, trying to make her feel better. 

“He doesn’t know how to swim,” Nathan’s mom said, ashamed. “Neither of us do.”

“Well … never too late to learn.” 

Nathan’s mom waited until the next day to bring it up. Her son was in the kitchen opening a cupboard for a box of Lucky Charms when she spoke to him. 

“Will you do me a favor, honey?” she said. 

Nathan flinched and paused. “Like what?” 

“I need to tell you, Nathan, I’ve been so depressed since your father left us. I’m floundering. I have this … sinking feeling. I’ve lost all my confidence. I need to do something … for me … to feel better about myself.” She looked at Nathan. He stared out the kitchen window. 

She plunged on, “I’ve decided … I want to learn how to swim.” Nathan’s head spun to his mother, his eyes wide.

“Will you take swim lessons with me, Nathan?” his mother asked. 

Nathan blinked his eyes and didn’t say anything for a moment. His mom pursed her lips, forced herself to wait him out. Nathan finally turned to her, smiling, his eyes watery.

“Okay,” he said. “Can I get swim goggles?”