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Camping was a family tradition. We had been doing it ever since my wife and I were in college, and decided not to stop after Carly's adoption. It was on our first camping trip with her that she first called me mama, months after Mariana had gotten the title of mom. Johnny wasn't so keen on it, when he came along. He was, however, willing to compromise. Camping trips were fine, as long as we could make a trip down to the beach every once in a while.
When we moved for Mariana's new job, Carly confided in me that she was sad we wouldn't be camping anymore. From that moment onwards, looking for a campsite near our new home became one of my top priorities.
Upon telling my family the nearest campsite was a ten hour drive away from home, Johnny lightheartedly suggested we simply drop the tradition. Carly shrugged it off, but I could see it in her and Mariana's demeanor that the idea saddened them. That is why I came up the idea of making the woods just outside of town our new campsite.
–I mean, there must be a reason why no one has done that yet...—Mariana argued, a crease between her eyebrows.— Might be a protected area, Dina.
–Not officially—I retorted, looking at the scarce information available online.—It just says local authorities advise against it. Something about people disappearing into the river. All we have to do is find a nice spot away from it and we'll be fine.
Mariana's gaze oscilatted from side to side, in the maner that I knew meant she was quite literally weighing the pros and cons of the idea.
–It's worth a very careful shot...—she ended up agreeing.
A slow smile spread across my face.
–And if push comes to shove, you are a great swimmer.
A smile bloomed across Mariana's face, with a glimmer in her eyes to match. She caught the exact running gag I was pulling, originated in our honeymoon. It worked at softening her up.
By the time Mariana finally got a break, I thought I had read up on everything that there was to know about those woods. The day we were headed out for the trip, I was overcome with a desire to stop the car and go back inside. I am, however, prideful, as well as stubborn and stupid. The feeling was shaken off, left behind with the stress of work and school.
It was a good drive there. Johnny mostly slept through it, which meant he would not get restless and cranky. It was a relief for Carly, who could read the whole way there. Mariana and I softly sang along to the radio. It felt idyllic. The calm before the storm. A storm we were steadily moving towards.
Upon arrival, we didn't even walk near the river. According to the map, it was miles north to where we were going. Johnny and I were on tent duty. Carly and Mariana gathered supplies make fire. To appease my wife's concerns about wildlife, we brought canned food.
This trip was, arguably, even more fun than usual. The point of camping is feeling one with nature. This time, it felt even more like it, as we were staying in an actual forest. Even Johnny seemed to be actively enjoying the experience.
It's bittersweet to know how wonderful that weekend was. It remained that way until after we packed our bags to go.
I was certain I knew exactly where we were. After walking an hour in the direction we had come from, we began hearing water. I froze, reaching into my bad to check the map. It was nowhere to be found.
–Hey, Mar-
–I hear something!—Carly exclaimed.
–It's the river!—Johnny concluded with equal excitement.
Before my wife and I could even exchange a look, the children ran off. In a second they were out of sight.
–Careful!—Mariana advised, quickening her pace to catch up.
The words were barely out of her mouth when we heard a shrill scream, and then Carly calling out for her brother. My wife and I ran over to where they were.
The river was much closer than it sounded. Carly was by the edge of it, reaching for her brother with wide eyes, her features creased and tense with horror. Down in the water, Johnny splashed around in a panic, just out of reach.
Mariana had already dropped her backpack and her shoes, jumping into the water after our son.
Then, they were submerged. There was a moment of silence. It stretched out. I reached out into the water, fully aware I couldn't also jump in and leave my daughter alone.
–Johnny!—I called out, my voice shrill.—Mariana!
Maybe if I yelled out loud enough, the univer would know how much I loved them and give them back.
I could hear my daughter sobbing behind me. Just when I thought it was hopeless, a hand grasped mine. I pulled the boy out of the water and into my arms. He cried and shivered, but relief washed over me that he was still conscious. With my eyes, I frankly searched for signs of my wife. Carly crawled over with snot down her face, wrapping herself around us. The water continued flowing, undisturbed.
For a moment, I set aside my panic to comfort the crying children. As I pulled away to properly look at them, blue eyes greeted me, instead of my son's shade of brown. I crawled backwards. My chest actually physically hurt as I attempted to get any words out.
–I-I-You- Who are you? Where's Johnny?—I reached back into the water, fantically splashing around.—Johnny! Mariana!
No more hands came to grasp mine. Carly left her place near the boy to come pull me back.
–Mama!—she called, crying less than before.—Mama, stop, it's okay, Johnny's here! Johnny's safe! He's safe, mama.
I actually did pull back, sitting by the side of the water. My daughter hugged me, rubbing my back in comfort like I did to her after a nightmare. The speed at which everything had gone awry made my head spin.
–We're gonna find mom—Carly assured me.
All I could do was nod. The boy came to us as well. I suppressed nausea. The need to recoil. Instead, I wrapped my arms tighter around my daughter. Maybe if we remained very still, he would go away.
Whoever decided children don't lie, didn't think it through. Whether they intend on it or not, lying comes with the territory of not knowing anything about life.
After the arrival of police, I insisted on driving myself and the children home. The two hour drive was silent. Carly curled up in the seat next to me. It was her first time riding shotgun. For whatever reason, my stomach churned at the thought of leaving her in the backseat with the boy.
Although I do not hold it against her, Carly lied to me that day. We did not find Mariana. Neither did the cops. They also refused to allow me anywhere near the search site.
When they showed up at my door, a week later, I opened a little too eagerly.
–Are you here to take the boy? I'm sure his family misses him very much.
The words left my mouth before the door was entirely open. My head was spinning, exhausted from the sleepless nights. Wondering where was my son. My wife. Who was this child. I knew not to leave him alone with my daughter.
The policewoman frowned deeply.
–Do you mean your son, ma'am?
I did not. After a few breaths of staring at one another blankly, she spoke again.
–I came to tell you we're closing the investigation on your wife's disappearance... And, with all due respect, after all that had happened, I think it would benefit you to seek some help.
–...Help?—I echoed.
–Therapy, ma'am. For yourself and your children—she said, handing me a card with a phone number.
My stomach twisted differently than before. Tales of people diagnosed with mental health issues, whose kids got taken away on the wake of such, ran through my head. Mariana's parents, blaming me her disappearance, like they had blamed me for everything. Ready to take custody of Carly and... This boy. Although this time they were right, and I was to blame, I couldn't lose the family I had left. Would they realize something was off with the boy, or would they leave Carly unprotected? No one else seemed to be able to handle this but me.
–Thank you—I said dryly.—Good day.
The door was closed before she could respond. I did not call the number. On the contrary, I lived in fear of a social worker visit for months. There was also a shame there. At being viewed as animalistic. The mother bird who rejected her child because it fell from the nest. In response, I suppressed the feelings. About Mariana's death, and the boy too. The social worker never came, and the boy never left.
They are both grown up now, with kids of their own. Carly and who I learned to also call Johnny, like one does to someone who has a name that hurts to pronounce. Over time, I convinced myself I had just been in shock. That this had always been my son. His eyes even looked the same shade of brown they always had, instead of the blue I saw that day.
That has been my reality for the past twenty five years. Until today. I have been ill for a while. It's getting terminal. I need a liver transplant. Without much hope for compatibility, my doctor tested my children. Johnny's exam came out perfectly matching me. The doctor said it was strange. That most biological children don't even show such a degree of compatibility to their parents. Whatever came out of the river, I don't think it knew my son was supposed to be adopted.