Story Climax:
Soon, we arrived at the stream. There was a small clearing looking out at the water that sparkled from the cast sunlight. As we got out of the truck and got the canoes ready, I started to feel a bit more relaxed. The birds were singing, the sun was warm on my shoulders, and the bugs weren’t even really bothering us.
The stream sat with open arms ahead of us. It felt like a glimpse of freedom, until I imagined my mother pushing me off the canoe into the water. She was laughing as the leeches dragged me under. I shook it out of my head. The forest that surrounded us was full of growth and life. Why couldn’t I take like the branches and make sure me and my mother’s relationship was okay? The trees knew a lot about forgiveness. They were forced, or maybe weren’t forced, to forgive every passerby that stepped on their roots and didn’t say sorry. They forgave the people who cut down their neighbors and friends. They forgave those who took their fruit. It was easy for them. Why wasn’t it easy for me to forgive my own mother for the things she didn’t know she was doing?
“Ready?” my mother asked. Before I gave a response, she put the canoe in the water. It was carrying all of our things, and soon it was to carry us. I smiled and made my way into the canoe, focusing on the hypnotizing sound of the water. As we took off, we both were quiet, observing the new world around us. After some time, I saw the stream begin to narrow.
“Alright, it gets tight through here, and the current is really strong. We won’t really have to do much with the paddles until we hit a corner.” my mother seemed to be warning me. The trees became shorter and tighter. Their leaves formed a compressed canopy above us. Vegetation blocked any exit from the stream. It looked like we were in the jungle.
I braced myself. We stopped paddling, but held tight onto our paddles as we felt the water take us captive into its current. At first it was fun. We hit corners and laughed as we prodded the wall of the stream and bumped back into the flow. I started to forget about my life away from this moment. I felt my grandmother’s smile inside my back pocket. I heard her laugh in the shadows of the trees. My mother’s face was bright and excited. She was in her element.
The trees grew tighter and thicker still. We were ducking as the stream took us farther and farther away from the world. My shoulder caressed a branch and I felt something heavy drop on me. I looked around, shocked by the feeling. Next to my feet, there was a spider the size of my face. Its strong, thick legs were stretched out, as if it was preparing to attack. I swallowed and tried not to show fear. The canoe was moving quickly. My mother’s back was turned away from me. I moved my feet out of view from the spider, attempting to forget it was there. As soon as I was starting to, I felt another one land on my thigh. It ran and jumped and I could almost hear it shriek with confusion.
“Mom!” I yelled as I shook my leg in fear. The canoe rocked and splashed. Then, we stopped abruptly. We were stuck. The impact against the corner of the stream shook the trees once more. Another spider dropped in front of me. We made eye contact and my heart dropped to my knees.
“Mom, I’m freaking out,” I sputtered.
“What is going on Maisy?” my mother said. She was annoyed with me. “We’re stuck, you have to help me.”
“Mom I can’t.” It was true. I couldn’t move. The spiders were too angry at me. They were swearing and sharpening their blades. They were taller than I was.
“Maisy!” My mother begged. She hadn’t even looked back at me. I noticed another new spider in the canoe with us. It inched closer to my toes that I was so carefully tucking out of the way.
“Mom, there’s spiders everywhere! They’re getting me. I’m freaking out.” I felt my eyes crack their knuckles as they prepared for tears.
“You’re being dramatic. I need your help.” My mother was using her paddle to try and create leverage to set us off again. I felt like I was suffocating. With every glance, I noticed a new spider creeping closer to me. My fear was overwhelming. My mother’s turned back was infuriating.
“Will you listen to me!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably. My mother twisted around quickly, her face stern. “You don’t even care about me! I’ve been scared and you don’t even care!” I sobbed. I was embarrassed but I couldn’t breathe. I felt helpless to the spiders, like they had their legs wrapped around my throat. “And you’re like this all of the time. You want the spiders to kill me!” My entire body was melting and limp. I was experiencing everything and nothing all at once.
“Maisy, what’s wrong?” my mother said. Her voice was small.
“There’s these big spiders in the canoe and I can’t get them,” I whimpered. My mother took her paddle and lifted each of the spiders out of the canoe one by one. They jumped back onto their branches with glee. “Thank you,” I mustered.
“Why did you say that?” my mother asked. The canoe was still and quiet against the mud of the stream. It was as if we were nestled against a bookend.
“Because you didn’t even turn around.” I couldn’t look at her. Not yet. “And it’s because Grandmother died.”
“What?”
“It’s because Grandmother died. You don’t want to help me clean her house. And you don’t love me anymore.” I was talking half nonsense, half what I believed to be the truth. My emotions were still heighted and frazzled.
“I don’t know what you mean,” My mother wasn’t ready to give up yet.
“You won’t help me clean her house! I loved her. I want to preserve her and her house. I love her house,” I felt like crying again. Even though I was talking about her, I felt so far from her. I couldn’t even feel her smile in my back pocket anymore. “I’m so sad.” I said. The sobbing began again. This time, I cried more than I have in my whole life. I recreated the feeling of my grandmother’s arms around me and sobbed it away, as if it was shower water running down my body.
“Maisy, I’m sorry,” My mother reached for my hand. She held it lightly, kindly. “I loved her too. She’s my mother. I don’t know how to process it.” She wasn’t looking straight at me. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Those were the words I knew, but wasn’t sure of. I squeezed her hand and wiped my face with my free arm. She was a daughter, too.