Seth
By Marcelle Stoutjesdijk
It was the way he vanished. Dissolved, I might say. Like a sugar cube in hot water. A poor comparison as the unusually high water on the left must have been cold. February cold. A glimpse of the forest on the right side, in between a muddy path where he had just been walking ahead, swaying from left to right like only two-year-olds walk, shoulders hunched, stiff little legs, ignoring his mother's outstretched hand. I watch the footage, caught by the family car's Dash Cam, parked no more than a few meters from where he went into the water. I watch while swallowing my last sip of scalding tea, ready to be called in.
Later, sitting in the waiting room, I restart the video. With a tap of my knuckle, I knock into the spot. ‘There,’ I say. ‘There he goes.’ She, the mother, reaching for his tiny hand with unlacquered nails, misses. I imagine a chain bracelet too loose around her slender wrist. Brownish specks on the hem of her raincoat. I imagine her shouting his name, Seth, and recall the sensation of paper towels on my stomach, the cold gel, the grainy image of a still lake, a dark forest, its utter emptiness.
Now only lights. Blue and red coming from the parking lot. Reflecting on the path, the water. Then the mother stumbling from right to left, her hands clenched into fists, the man carrying her over his shoulders like a stubborn toddler, kicking, screaming, leading her away. She howls. The man cries. Water streaming from his pant legs. I take a new cup of tea, blow the steam forward, drink, burn my upper lip but decide to ignore it.
In the courtyard, the wind’s blowing wrong. Fountain water soaks my cheeks. At the edge, two cracked Moroccan tiles, diamond shaped, green-yellow and red. Moss surrounding the breaks. Maybe they'll find him, maybe he's alive. Whatever happens, it's a different day now, high water recedes, mud dries. I stroke my belly, thinking of all the missing children’s names, I stroke my belly and tell him his.
THE END
Author Bio: Marcelle Stoutjesdijk (1985) is a Dutch writer and student at the University of Amsterdam pursuing her Master's in Editing. Her fiction has appeared in various magazines, including Hollands Maandblad and Kluger Hans, and was recently featured on BBC Upload. Residing in Bristol for the past five years, she is currently focused on crafting a novella-in-flash.