Waiting, Clark Mahoney [best contemporary novels TXT] 📗

The lake was as calm and smooth as glass. I sat along the edge of the lake, waiting, alone, bored, and lonely.

I have been forgotten. Once, I was loved and used. Not anymore. I rest against a tree, forever by myself with no purpose, no use to anyone.

I was designed to be used. I am strong, sturdy, meant to be taken out onto the water, to challenge the waves. It has been so many nights since anyone has touched me. Bugs crawl across my surface. Lizards seek warmth on my curves. Birds rest along my edges. But humans take no notice of me. I go months without contact, forgetting what it means to exist. I feel useless, a waste of plastic, for most of my days. In the day, I absorb the sun’s rays, growing warmer and warmer as the sun rises in the sky. At night, I shiver in the coolness under the stars.

Shortly after the sun had come up above the trees on the far side of the lake, he walked with his journal and pens. He fed the fish a few pieces of bread, did some stretches, and then sat down at a table to write in his journal. I see this each morning. But, he walks right by me as if I were not there, not touching me, not taking me out onto the lake. I feel so sad.

The brown dog came down the hill hours later, he loping behind. The boy picked up pine cones, but did not touch me. He grabbed fallen branches but not me. My hopes had risen, only to be dashed to the ground, again. I heard his whistling, and knew that he was happy. I heard his voice, talking kindly to the dog, and wished it were me. He passed so close, his pants brushing up against my hard skin, but he didn’t even glance my way. When will it be my turn?

The night came, and I settled in for another evening alone, just the stars to keep me company, shining down on me from so far away, their warmth long scattered in the lengthy journey.

Then, I felt the earth rumble, a feeling I sense when he walks down the hill. Could this be it? Leaves crunched and pines crinkled under his weight. Step by step he made his way toward me. I suspected that he was going to sit out on the dock for awhile, and look at the stars. He does that some evenings, and I thought that tonight was another such night. But, no, he stopped right above me. I was leaning against a tree and felt his hand grab the oar, lift it, and then grip my handle. Could it be true? Was he going to do a night ride?

Oh, the pleasure of feeling the cool waters of the lake, so gentle, so still, as we paddled about from one side to the other. I felt the dust roll off in its wake. Underwater grass tickled my rigid belly, and branches scratched my yearning sides. Oh, how I longed for this moment for so many nights. Finally, it had come. We glided across shallows and depths, fish quietly resting for the evening below in the watery depths. It was such a memorable ride.

When he returned me to my resting spot beside the tree, I was emotionally exhausted. Happiness exploded from my every part and I knew that I was alive. After so many frustrating, lonely nights, I finally got to glide through the water.

As the water drops on my skin dried in the cool night shadows, I wondered how long it would be until the boy took me out on the lake again. How long would I wait? How long?

Publication Date: 12-17-2010

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