Another Pleasant Weekend

The car was packed early, but they were still not ready. The mother still had her food to wrap up and put into separate plastic tubs and bowls. With the cooler, they could take enough for more than just their small group. The father was checking the oil in the car port, taking time to change it and look over the distributor cap, windshield washer level, and other plugs and connections inside the hive of the hood. The boy was waiting for the phone he would carry with him to charge (he knew that it would be a very long trip). And the dog was anxious as it moved from the different parts of the front room. In all honesty, it was the only member of the family that seemed excited about the trip.

Let’s be clear about this: packed meant clothes, foldable tables and chairs, various toys that they may or not play with (beach balls, soccer balls, bats and gloves), maps, blankets, candles, flashlights, and all sorts of extras that they considered important for at least this one long weekend. The other things – food, electronics, car maintenance – were just a way of checking on all of their last-minute doubts and concerns. Even the dog was worried that its favourite toy might be left behind (Mr. Squeaky was clamped in its jaws, making an occasional noise as the dog trotted from room to room). But this could not last forever. They would have to go.

It was a strange start to things. The father was driving, and he remarked that he had never seen such a beautiful day on such a particular weekend. All the lights seemed to hit green as he made it to the exit for the highway. The mother took a look back at their neighbourhood as the father spoke, but she kept her thoughts to herself (she thought that there was no reason for her to say a word). The son was in the back seat, seat belted and deep into the music that he had saved for the day, not really hearing anything his father said (he also noticed the green lights). The dog had no real opinion at all on the situation, happily settling back with its toy and finding a way to get comfortable with its special blanket on the seat. It would be a very quiet two hours to the park.

Two hours… Why did they take such a long trip, even on the weekend? The boy did not ask why, but he wanted to say something. He could not think of a reason why this tradition was still being followed in his family (he was thirteen, so he had seen everything about his family that he ever wanted to learn). The mother was trying to smiling in the growing sunlight, adjusting her shades as the sun glowed in the dying cloud cover. She was also wondering about traditions, and why things could not remain the way they were. With the car radio humming through the morning news next to the wheel, the father had not need to speak of the questions that they were all considering (it still lingered). The dog, wiser than they knew, barked and was politely told to keep it down. If they had only understood…

The area was very quiet for the weekend ahead. No other cars were parked nearby, and the lake was quite calm with gentle lapping filling the air as they stepped out of the car. The father began to unpack, wondering if the reason why the place was so quiet was out of respect (they must have remembered; even with the memorial he could not look at, that must be the reason why it was so quiet). The mother, with her sunglasses still on, did not look in the direction of the site. There were plenty of tributes and images available for anyone who wanted to look online and find them. The boy was the last one out of the car, being yelled at by his father for being so tardy helping him with the cooler and food. The dog, satisfied that he would not be moving in the strange metal box for a while, jumped out ahead of the boy and went to the edge of the shore to watch the waves break and bark at some distant seagulls.

There was a meal, some jokes, and of course, the prayer. The father was the one who insisted on saying it when it was the same moment at the same time that they learned the terrible news (always late into the afternoon). The mother was always quiet when this moment came, keeping her head down and letting the words she knew so well fill the air and the quieter parts of her mind and heart. The boy was also very quiet, trying not to be too distracted by the notifications he had forgotten to turn off on his smartphone (there was no reason for them; why did he even set them?) The dog, tired after a day of chasing sticks and not catching birds or the occasional squirrel, slept through the whole thing. This seemed to be the right thing to do every year.

They were back on the highway when the boy finally could not hold it in anymore.

“Is nobody going to say it?”

His father’s eyes got as hard and dark as marbles as he tried to ignore his son.

“It’s been five years… She ain’t comin’ back! She ain’t…”

It was almost too perfect. The father pulled over in the dark, right onto the rough edge of the road, turned around and slapped his son very hard. The mother, still letting her son’s language seep in, held back her tears and did not interfere. The dog seemed indifferent to the violence. He just wanted to get out of the metal box and be surrounded by the scents and sights he knew.

“We don’t know. Don’t ever say that…ever. Not ever.”

They were about an hour away from home, with a few other vehicles at their tail. The father wondered how his son got so smart so young. The mother was still wearing sunglasses as the tears flowed in silence. The boy refused to cry, letting his anger and the music in his ears comfort him. And the dog wondered why humans refused to live a simple life. One less mouth to feed should have made their world easier, even if they did miss the other one’s scent.

The road ahead was clear.