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Plip…………plip……plip-plip.

“Hey, dad, it’s Amber. You know, your best-best girl in the whole wide world?” Tears fell from the corners of her eyes. “Only, I haven’t been the best in a long time, have I?”

She reached down to the shore, selected another flat rock, and sent it skimming over the river.

Plip……sploosh!

Amber lowered herself to the ground, resting on her knees as she looked out at the ripples from her throw.

“I’m so sorry, daddy.

“I know those words mean nothing coming from me. I’ve said them so much in the past decade, and I always went right back to doing whatever I was apologizing for. It’s become so automatic for me – ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ – almost like saying ‘How are you?’ when I walk past someone, even though I don’t actually care how that person is feeling.

“Whatever. I’m rambling.

“I just… I can’t believe I’m finally clean – I recently celebrated my six-month anniversary, by the way – and you’re not here to see me. Then again, if you hadn’t died, would I have gotten any help? I guess there’s that, right?

“Oh, what the fuck am I saying? You shouldn’t have had to die for me to wake up and get better! I mean, I’m happy to finally be free from the meth and the oxy and the booze, truly I am, but now that you’re gone does it even fucking matter? I’ve got no one anymore, daddy. You were the only one who gave a shit. You always tried to help me, gave me a hot meal and a warm bed when I slunk home, never looked down on me. And now…” The tears flowed freely, her lower lip quivering.

“Now, you’re gone,” she whispered.

Minutes passed. She gave a sudden jerk and looked around, confused, as if she’d forgotten where she was. Her eyes took in the muddy banks of the Crow River; a smile – there and gone again – twitched across her face.
“You remember how much time we spent here when I was a little girl?” she asked as her fingers picked through the dirt, searching for the flattest stones as she spoke. “How many hours did we walk up and down the shoreline, looking for the best throwing rocks, seeing how many skips we could get?”

She took one from the pile.

Sploosh!

“We’d walk and throw and talk and laugh, then when our arms were sore you’d pack me up in that old shitbox station wagon you drove. Remember that thing? Booger green, fake-wood paneling? Not quite that boat of a car from the Chevy Chase movie, but close. I’d sit in front with you – hell, sometimes you’d even let me climb onto your lap and steer the damned thing – and then we’d go to the Prairie House for breakfast. So many years ago now, but I can still remember our orders: you’d get the scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast, and coffee; I’d get one of those massive cinnamon rolls, a sausage patty that was as big as the plate it came on, and a glass of chocolate milk. Those were the days,” she said, rising from her kneeling position and knifing her arm forward in one fluid motion.

Plip…………plip…plip-plip.

“I can’t believe we didn’t dam this river with all the rocks we threw over the years. I heard they drained this thing awhile back to clean out some of the crap on the river bottom. I meant to come up here and check it out, to see if they were still under all that water, but, well, you know…”

Plip…plip.

Amber dragged her sleeves across her eyes and took a deep breath. Her nose crinkled when the smell hit her. “Was this river always so dirty? I don’t remember the water being brown when I was a kid. Shit looks like Willy Wonka’s chocolate river.” She started pacing back and forth, scuffing her shoes over the rocks, always on the lookout for a would-be projectile, adding it to the others.

“I don’t know why I came back here, dad. It’s like I thought I’d pull up and you’d be standing here, just waiting to wrap me up in a bear hug when you saw the new me. But I’m here and you’re gone.”

She stomped back to the small pile of rocks she’d collected, gathered them up, and cocked her arm back to launch them all into the river… then stopped. Her arm fell to her side. “No. No, that’s not fair. I have no right to be mad. You didn’t do anything wrong; I’m the one who fucked up. Who am I to be angry that I can’t talk to you in person anymore?

“But, I also don’t believe you’re not here. I may not be able to see you, but I know you’re with me. I feel it. You can’t spend as much time here as we did and not leave an imprint on this place.”

Amber opened her fist and selected a half-dozen of the best stones. An idea had formed, and she nodded her head in the affirmative as she squared up to the river.

“I’ve got some stuff to say, daddy, and I need you to hear it. What I’m gonna tell you isn’t coming from the drugged-out liar I was before you died. This is coming from your best-best girl in the whole wide world. You hear me? ‘Cause I’m about to get rid of some trash I’ve been lugging around for far too long. Gonna make this damned river even dirtier than it already is.”

She took one rock in her right hand.

“I’m sorry I did drugs all those years, and that you had to watch your only daughter slip further and further into darkness, choosing the next high over spending time with you.”

Plip……plip……plip.

“I’m sorry for stealing from you and others to support my habits: the cash, the credit cards, the items I pawned, like your granddad’s wristwatch and mama’s wedding ring. Anything I could get my hands on so I could buy my next fix.”

Plip-plip……plip.

“I’m sorry for the hell I put you through: the sleepless nights, the worry, for wasting your time and energy and money, promising to go to rehab and then blowing it off time and time again.”

Plip…………plip……plip-plip-plip.

Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry I was so fucked up that I didn’t even go to your funeral. I wanted to – I really, really did – but I was a mess, and I was embarrassed, and I couldn’t face you in the state I was in, even if your eyes were closed. They’d have had to bury the both of us if I’d come because I’d have died seeing you like that, or thinking you could possibly see me.”

Plip……plip-plip-plip-plip.

“But most of all, I’m sorry for not telling you what a great dad you were, or expressing how much I loved you while I had the chance. You did the best you could for me your whole life, and it should have been enough. I need you to know that, dad. This was all my fault, and mine alone. There was nothing else you could have done.”

Plip……plip.

Amber had one rock left. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, turning the stone over and over in her hand.

“Six months doesn’t seem like a lot of time, but I’ve never even been clean for six days since this all started. I know the people I’ve hurt would never believe it, maybe not even you, but I say this with one-hundred-percent certainty: I will never put another substance in my body. I’m gonna keep going to group. I’m working hard to save money for a place of my own so I can get out of that halfway house. When I get further along I may even go back to school. You believe that, daddy? Your girl, a college graduate? It could happen.”

She kept fidgeting with the rock, searching for the perfect grip while her thoughts wound down.

“Yeah, it could happen. No, it will happen. You always told me I could do anything I put my mind to. I never believed you, but these past six months have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. If I can get sober and hold down a job and have an actual bank account with money in it, yeah, I can fuckin’ do anything.”

Amber brought the rock to her lips and lightly kissed it.

“I promise, daddy. I promise this is only the beginning, and I’m gonna make a difference in this world, and your death will have been for something, and your girl will be the best again. I promise,” she said with vehemence before crouching, rearing back, and sending the rock on its way.

Plip…………plip………plip……plip-plip-plip-plip.

“Seven skips. Lucky number seven seems like the perfect way to go out. C’mon, daddy. Let’s go get some breakfast.”

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BIO:

Andrew (Twitter: @MuchAdoAboutNil) lives in Minnesota with his wife and kids. A computer programmer by day and a voracious reader by night, he is a lifelong introvert who only finds his voice while writing. His work has appeared in Punk Noir Magazine, Trash Cat Lit, Urban Pigs Press, and Shotgun Honey.