It was a small jetty, only long enough for one canoe to sidle up next to it. There were two bobbing barrels under the platform, lashed together with rope that had to be replaced every seven years. The tether was green with algae but it held fast. When she stood on the marina, it swayed with the waves slapping against the drums, but if she planted her feet apart she could keep her balance. Marley felt calm looking out on the water, watching the birds glide over the sun flecked ripples. She could gaze without even thinking about the effort to stay upright. The barrels cushioned her from most of the instability, and the planks kept the barrels moving in unison. 

 

But this summer was different. Her parents had split, and she was here with her mother and sister. Her brothers would come later with their dad. Marley slumped up the stairs with her suitcase, letting it thump against each step. She peeked in the room she had always slept in. Then she looked across the hall at the one her brothers usually took. It was empty. Without really knowing why she dragged her bag in and yanked it on the dresser. The view out the window was different. She didn't care.

 

Her mother was putting away food, and didn't yell for help. Marley didn't offer. She shrugged down toward the dock kicking small stones on the path. 

 

The platform was broken, maybe from a harsh winter storm. The two barrels were held together loosely with rope, but the severed boards left the drums bobbing separately. Marley watched and waited for a chance to leap onto the closer half of the pier. She pounced, her legs straddling the full width. It took all her concentration to keep from toppling into the water. She had no energy left for birdwatching.

Suddenly it felt important to stand on the other half too, so it would not feel left out. It careened with its own rhythm, and when she jumped across the gap between them she slipped on the wet wood. She stood up, concentrating on the task of keeping her equilibrium. But almost immediately she felt the irresistible need to go back to the other half, and she hopped again.

 

Sandpipers called overhead but she did not look up. 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Joy Feerrar

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