Part 18 (1/2)
Sam, sensing the cleft, crossed his arms.
”But you know what would be the right thing to do,” Mark added.
He cast a dark look at Jill, and suddenly she found it impossible to censor herself. She nudged his arm-actually, batted it was more accurate-and stalked away from the group again.
”Look at it from Evelyn's perspective,” Mark said as he followed her. ”She's not going to have unlimited chances to do this trip.”
”And Sam is?”
”Sam only wants it because everyone else wants it.”
”Easy for you to say,” said Jill, ”you with your sure spot in the paddle boat.”
”Are you forgetting about last night? Someone puking in the tent?”
Jill stopped. ”What in G.o.d's name does that have to do with Sam giving up his seat?”
”He could stand to be punished,” Mark said.
”Sam drinking and Sam paddling Crystal have nothing to do with each other!”
”The seat is a privilege. When you screw up, you lose some privileges. But put that aside for now. Mostly what I'm saying is, I think it means a whole lot more to Evelyn than it does to Sam.”
”And I care about Evelyn because why again?”
”Grow up, Jill,” said Mark, lowering his voice. ”Be a parent for once. Say no to your kid. Its not going to kill him. In fact, a kid his age-”
”Stop,” Jill said, and she whipped around to face him. ”This has nothing to do with age. It has nothing to do with Sam. Its really all about you, Mark, or haven't you noticed?”
Mark looked skeptical, bemused. ”Want to educate me here? Because I'm missing something.”
”f.u.c.k you you.”
”Hasn't happened lately,” he remarked.
”Oh f.u.c.k you! f.u.c.k YOU! YOU! And don't tell me you don't know what I mean! You know exactly what I mean! You're so caught up in looking good to others, Mark! You've got to be the good parent all the time, be the generous soul and teach your kids to do the same! Make them give half their Christmas presents to the shelter or pledge half their allowance to the church! Jesus, Mark, don't you ever want to be selfish?” And don't tell me you don't know what I mean! You know exactly what I mean! You're so caught up in looking good to others, Mark! You've got to be the good parent all the time, be the generous soul and teach your kids to do the same! Make them give half their Christmas presents to the shelter or pledge half their allowance to the church! Jesus, Mark, don't you ever want to be selfish?”
”That's an interesting perspective on parenting.”
His calmness fueled her rage. Like he was above it all.
”I mean, it all comes back, doesn't it?” he went on. ”You give up something, and something else comes back to you? Isn't that what people call karma?”
”You don't believe in karma, Mark; you're a Mormon.”
Mark laughed.
”Laugh all you want. But I want you to know, I plan on enjoying myself a little more after this trip. You want to keep giving things up, fine. Give up alcohol. Give up skiing because your knee hurts. Why don't you give Evelyn your seat, if you think it means so much to her? Oh, because you didn't get drunk and therefore don't need to be punished?” She was rambling, and she hated rambling in an argument. Especially with her levelheaded husband.
”No,” said Mark patiently. ”Because kids ought to defer to adults. Its thoughtful. Its respectful. Its a nice thing to do. Now let's go back.”
”I'm not finished.”
Mark sighed. He took a nail clipper from his pocket and began to clip his nails. That did it. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the nail clipper and threw it as far as she could out into the river-a quick sparkle in the air, then gone forever.
But before she had a chance to enjoy any childish satisfaction, she looked over his shoulder and saw the rest of the group watching them. They all looked away quickly, but it was too late: they had seen everything; they had heard everything. Not only that, but as she stood there cringing about what she had revealed about herself and Mark and their marriage-as she stood there feeling just about as naked as she'd ever felt, she saw Sam walk over to Evelyn and begin gesturing.
Mark headed back. Jill wanted to dig a hole and bury herself. She knew she should go back and help load up, but she couldn't face anyone, and so she stood on the sand, alone, as everybody else started loading up the boats. They could cut her some slack right now, she felt. Because inside she was still livid. All she wanted on this trip was for her family to break their routine, to grow and have fun and see themselves as more capable than they might have thought, back in Salt Lake City.
Was that really too much to ask for?
After some time she saw JT heading toward her. Everybody else was in the boats. This is just too rich, she thought.
”I'm fine,” she told him.
”Sam can paddle Lava, if he wants,” he said.
”I littered.”
”Huh?”
”The nail clipper. I threw it in the river.”
”Oh. Well, it's not a huge deal.”
”I can go look for it. I can find it.”
”Actually, you probably can't. Don't worry about it.”
”Where's Sam?”
”Dixie's boat.”
”I'm really, really sorry you had to witness this,” she said.
”Oh,” said JT, ”I've seen worse.”
He probably had. But it didn't make her feel any better.
30.
Day Seven The Big Ones Miles 9398 It was was fun; there was no doubt about it: for all his chatter about appreciating the smaller moments on a river trip, JT couldn't deny that sometimes a thirty-second thrill in big water could trump everything else. fun; there was no doubt about it: for all his chatter about appreciating the smaller moments on a river trip, JT couldn't deny that sometimes a thirty-second thrill in big water could trump everything else.
Pus.h.i.+ng off above Granite Rapid, he hoisted himself into his boat, took his seat, and wiggled into place. The air was spiced with honey, and the sun was working its way down the cliffs. He shoved a stick of gum into his mouth, pulled a few strokes, then pivoted around to face downstream. He had Ruth and Lloyd safe in the back, with Amy up front gripping the dog.
Once his boat was out in the current, he stood to get a better view. Strong lateral waves boiled toward a steep wall on the opposite side, rebounding back on themselves. Farther down to the left, a smooth, dark hump of water bulged above an explosion of silvery backwash-the hole he wanted to avoid. His goal was to ride the laterals across, just far enough to avoid the hole but not so far as to slam up against the black wall on the other side. To this end, he picked out a focal point to aim for, and just before they dipped toward that first lateral, he dropped to his seat and grabbed his oars to steady his entry and whoosh whoosh, they scooted up and caught the surf, which seemed to hold them in one place, moving but not moving, except that anyone could see they were plowing toward the wall; and now he had to heave with his right arm, muscling everything from the core to turn the boat downstream-there was the hole on his left, fine, they were going to miss it, but the wall came looming forward and he shouted to Amy to keep her hands in the boat and he pulled and pushed on his oars, and they cruised on by the wall with only a couple of inches to spare.