Chapter 10: Memory Cards

Five months ago

I didn't remember the last time we got out. Since the evening curfews started, Elise and I found ourselves staying in our apartment more and more. On an unseasonably warm Saturday morning, we snuck out to The Fort during the day, intending to organize some of our supplies, but by the time we got out there, we decided that the beautiful day could not be wasted.
Elise smiled at me. “You wanna take a walk?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
Holding hands, we walked down the hill, passing through an arch of leaning birch trees and down into a large meadow full of weeds and wildflowers. A narrow path led out of the field into a thick stand of trees, wound through the forest to a small creek.
A rickety-looking footbridge crossed the creek at the deepest but narrowest part. The water gurgled around smooth green rocks, through a thick bunch of reeds.
I stopped and stared down into the creek. I imagined that I could feel the cold of the early spring water.
“I think it will hold,” Elise said, inching across the bridge, staying on the outside edge to keep here weight on the heavy beams that spanned the water.
I held the railing tight, though it wobbled and shook. I didn't move.
“You okay.”
“Huh? Yeah, I'm great.”
“It will hold,” Elise said, bouncing on the beams. Something creaked. “See?”
I stepped up onto the beam, stood for a second and then stepped back down. “Yeah, looks safe.”
“That water isn't even that deep,” she said.
“I can't swim.” I smiled, embarrassed.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“No shit?”
“Are you trying to make this as difficult as possible?”
Elise smiled sweetly. “No. Hold on.” She inched back to my side of the creek, until she was standing close enough to slow dance. “Hold my hand.”
Without hesitation, I took her hand.
She stepped back, leading me out onto the bridge. I glanced down at the swirling water underneath me. It was crystal clear and I could easily see the bottom, ten feet below.
“I figured 'Don't look down' kind of went without saying. Duh.”
I laughed. “If I drown.”
“I won't let you drown, doofus. Besides, what were you doing when all the other kids were learning how to swim? Were you experimenting with inappropriate touching?”
“Games. Video games. I was a hardcore gamer.”
“I didn't know that. You don't play video games, now though.”
“Yeah, I quit.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. I just quit.”
“Sad.”
“Sad that I played video games?”
Elise shrugged, still holding my hands. “No, I just think its sad when people give up the things they love to do.”
“I guess.” Silence, but for the sound of water rushing. “I, uh, I was playing one night, I was maybe fifteen, just off in my own world and the phone rings, I didn't even hear it and then hours later, not sure even how much later, there's someone pounding at the door. I don't hear that either.”
“Did you get in trouble with your parents?”
“It's the cops. They knock on the window so hard, that it breaks. I heard that.”
“Did you get busted?”
“My parents had been in an accident, a truck hit their car.”
“Oh my God, Dave.”
“My, uh, my mother tried to call from the wreck. From in the wreck. She tried to call me and I didn't hear the phone ring. I was playing HALF-LIFE and I missed my mother calling from a car wreck. They both died on the way to the hospital. The paramedic told me later that my mother still had her cell phone in her hand.”
I stopped, let go of her hands. I rubbed my eyes. We had gotten halfway across the bridge. I took a deep breath, but it caught in my throat.
“I don't know what to say.”
“You don't have to say anything,” I said, shaking my head.
Elise took my chin and turned my face back up to her. She swept her hair back out of her face and then traced her scar with her index finger. “My Dad was a cop. A sheriff in Shipley, Indiana, where I'm from. People liked him. He was a good man and a good sheriff, but what he really could do was shoot. He never said he wanted a son, but I had a .22 in my hands as soon as I could hold one. I mean, he would play dollies and have tea parties, don't get me wrong, but he just loved to shoot. He never missed. Ever.”
“Is that why you're the poster child for the NRA?”
“Don't be jealous.”
“Before they changed the rules about that sort of thing, Dad used to drive the Sheriff's car around when he was off duty, not that you're ever off duty as a sheriff, but when he was just out and about. He would take me out for ice cream or maybe we would stop at the Outpost for an Icee.”
A shadow crossed Elise's face. A cloud passing over her head or a memory passing within. “One night we stopped to get an Icee. Cherry was my favorite. My Dad liked Grape. We were arguing about it. I was ten-years-old, sitting in the passenger seat of the sheriff's cruiser parked in front of the Outpost. Dad always called the gas station/convenience stores 'Stop and Robs'. On that night, he was right.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“The three guys robbing the place started shooting as soon as they saw the cruiser. The first bullets went through the passenger side window and hit me in the face.” Elise touched her scar. “Just grazed me, but my dad...they had just shot his only daughter. He was halfway out of the car, so none of it hit him, but...he was like a machine. He drew his pistol and fired three shots. Bang. Bang. Bang. The three of them dropped. Jimmy, the deputy, told me that the first two shots were a head shot and a heart shot.”
“Oh, shit,” I said, just so I could exhale.
“The third guy, though, hadn't been hit at all. He just fell down when the other two did. Playing possum. While Dad was calling it in on the radio, and holding a compress to my bleeding face, the other man walked up and shot him in the head. If I'd been watching, I could have done something. If he hadn't been talking care of me, he would have seen the man coming. If I had not been shot, he would not have missed. He never missed. I never miss. It's the least I can do.”
I wanted to tell her that it wasn't her fault. To tell her that her father was a responsible adult and that the knew the risks of his job and that he did the right thing protecting his daughter. I wanted to tell her all these things, but I didn't. Sometimes you have to carry your weight and it isn't someone else's place to try to absolve you of your sins, even if they aren't exactly your sins.
I hugged my wife and we both fought tears as long as we could. After a few minutes, she led me the rest of the way across the bridge. “See? I told you I wouldn't let your drown.”