The Heirat River
Louis parks his car. He takes his hand off of the gear shift and sits immobile. His chest rises up and down very slowly from several deep breaths. He then grabs his key and turns it counterclockwise—halting the engine and abruptly stopping his radio’s broadcast of Elton John’s “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” in mid-word. He then takes his left hand and tries to open the driver’s side door. He fumbles with the handle, for his hands and the rest of his body was a miniature earthquake. Finally, his grip solidifies on the door handle. He pulls the latch to release himself in front of the grass-filled bank of the Heirat River.
Louis walks to the back of his red sports car and opens the trunk. He retrieves a large straw, coiled basket, closes his trunk door, and walks towards the river. He sits the basket as close to the brook as possible and pulls a large blanket out of it. Then he unfolds the blanket, lays it down on the edge of the brook. He then grabs four red bricks and puts them on the four corners on the blanket.
He lies down with his face overlooking the river. I’m very early, Louis thought to himself. He would be here alone for at least another hour. He decides to lie for a few minutes and stare at the river to pass the time away.
After staring at the river, Louis realizes that things are much different from when he first bought his picnic basket to come here in March five years ago. At that time, the water of the river was partially frozen. The water flowed, but slower than Louis and Kathleen could stroll by its side. They held hands and strolled leisurely to capture in the brook of the river, the river, and the purveying nature around them.
There were no fish, no ducks, no geese, frogs, or any animal visibly living in the frosted over waterfront. A small pocket of tadpoles were clumped together on the cusp of the river’s bank. The other sole decoration was the scattered rose bushes lining the border of the river. The flowers were not in full bloom. Instead, the roses were leaf-covered bulbs or closed-off rosebuds.
The more time Louis spent at the river, the more he began to realize the world around him. The scent of pine and wet quartz sprinted up his nostrils. His whole time there, he could hear the still water tapping the banks of the river and a large beaver gnashing and chopping at a fallen tree in the distance.
Louis opens his eyes and realizes that he was falling asleep while reminiscing about his last trip. He rubs his face and looks intently at the river to avoid another slip of daydreaming.
The river now looks completely different to Louis. The water chugs rapidly between the two edges of the river. The river is not thrashing, yet the current flows strongly enough to skip over small, dense pockets of limestone that poke out of the river. The water ripples apart and then rejoins into one continuous stream when the rocks are too large to graze over.
A paddling of ducks swims together nearly fifty yards away from where Louis sits. Two ducks are separated from the pack and swim adjacent to each other. Red and pink line the banks of the river. The rose bushes are in full bloom.
Across the river, a gray-haired couple sits on a bench with two rods. The man wears a khaki tan cap, a white turtle neck and red pants. He stands and picks up one of the rods. He whips his arm to the right and casts the fishing line forward. He waits for less than a minute, pumps and lifts the rod vertically, and begins to quickly churn the reel of the rod. He continues to reel and a plops out of the water and into the air. The woman jumps to her feet makes gestures resembling a clapping motion and hugs the man. She kisses him on the cheek.
Louis’ attention quickly shifts back to the water. He thought he saw the color of the river instantly change but then realizes the river is just carrying a group of fallen leaves from the large trees casting shadows on the far right edge of the river. Large waves of yellow, orange, and brown flowers pass through as the river current flows. The water moves more gently than before. Two red flowers tag along to the end of the colored procession.
Louis looks at his watch and realizes that he only has a few minutes before his friend arrives. He sits up from the blanket. He grabs the picnic basket and brings it closer to him. He reaches inside and pulls out four candles. He then takes out a pack of matches and lights each of the candles. He puts his hand back into the basket and takes out two plates, two napkins, two forks, two spoons, two knives, two flutes, and two bowls. He then takes out a thermos and pours his homemade cheddar and broccoli soup into the bowl. He reaches inside again and takes out a bottle of sparkling apple cider. He pours some in each of the two flutes.
He stands to look at the picnic that he prepared. He took a step to get a better look, and his knees slightly buckled. A pulse surges through his body, and the moisture on his hands begin to increase. He wipes the sweat from his palms, and kneels with his body directly facing the river.
On his first attempt to grab some river water, his right hand accidentally touches a bobbing bottle of Henriot that is stuck between two small rocks. On his second try of scooping, river water floods into his bare hands. The water does not have the thickness he expected it to have. There is little oil residue and few speckles of dirt. Instead, the Heirat is clear, thin and pure. He splashes the water onto his face. He pats his face and then begins to recite a quick prayer under his breath.
“Amen,” Louis concludes.
He stands, dries his hands on his black dress pants and sucks in all of the air that he can stuff into his lungs. His diaphragm and chest collapse as a long exhale leaves his body. He steps back over to his blanket. His knees don’t buckle.
He reaches his right hand into his pocket and feels his fingers touch a small, velvet-covered box. He grips the box tightly but lets it go when a pair of headlights enters his peripheral vision.
A car pulls up and slowly glides to a stop just before reaching the grassy, picnic area Louis set aside. The lights shut off, and the sound of the engine ceases to exist. The driver’s side door opens and the friend Louis has been waiting for steps out. She rests her hand on the hood of her car. It’s hot, yet she doesn’t take away her hand. She instead looks up at the peach sky to see the sun setting behind the riverfront.
Louis stands to greet Kathleen and also looks at the sky. His eyes meet hers and they both smile. He walks over to her, hugs her, and releases his arms from around her waist. They begin to walk and his hand clasps her hand. He grips tightly, and she squeezes. They walk toward the picnic blanket, and he looks at the now-calm river. The sun continues to set, yet the moons image becomes vivid in the sky.
