The Perfect Rock for Skipping

The growl of a diesel engine echoed off the valley walls as the truck pulled up to the riverside trailing a cloud of tawny dust. Before the engine died, a boy charged out the haze and descended upon the riverbank with a slender rod in one fist, and a rusted can full of doomed earthworms in the other.

“I been practicing my cast all week, using that white bucket mom keeps in the shed,” the boy called over his shoulder. “Yesterday I got my lure in there like ten times, so I bet I catch about a hundred fish today. You wanna have a contest and see who can catch the biggest fish? I’m not gonna stop fishin’ till I get a trout that’s about three feet long. Hey dad,” he turned around, frowning, “how long is three feet?”

"Buddy," a man joined him at the water’s edge, "the whole purpose of coming to the river is to enjoy the peace and quiet."

“Kay. I’ll just put one of these worms on. Mom’s garden’s got the best ones. Look how fat they are, geez. I’m gonna get worm guts all over my hands.”

“You can rinse your hands off in the water before you cast.”

“Kay. How many fish are you gonna catch today?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We’ll see, I guess.”

"Did you see that?” The boy pointed, wide eyed, “That was a otter, I bet! It popped up right over there, did you see it?  Probably has a house around here somewhere, with babies and everything! We could find it. Dad?"

The man set his pole on the sand and fished in his back pocket. "Give me a second, here, Bud. I just got this text from work, and I need to answer it."

"He just popped up again!” The boy grabbed his father’s sleeve and pointed, “Look, right there, he —"

The boy’s voice was drowned out by high-pitched ringing. 

"Yeah, what is it? Tom, I told you, I’m taking the boy fishing today. He said what? Son of a —,” The man sighed. “Okay, listen. We’ll have to rewrite the entire proposal. Yeah, I said the entire thing. You’ll just have to tell Cindy that you’ll be working late this week."

"Dad, come on, if we don't hurry he’ll be long gone. I'm sure we can find him, he came up right over there!"

"Tom, just a sec.” The man held one hand over the receiver. “Why don't you go skip rocks, pal. I need a few minutes on the phone."

"But dad—"

"I said give me a minute! Damn. Go skip rocks. See if you can get one across the river."

The boy ambled to the water's edge, silent, as his father walked away, muttering. He bent and scooped a handful of rocks from the bank, frowned at the stones, growled, “I don’t know how to skip rocks,” then flung his handful at the water. Then another handful. And another. Then he kicked them, sending stones clattering toward a murky sleep. After a long, quiet moment, he picked up an agate, examined it, then reared back and hurled the rock across the water with a grunt. It arced, caught and held the sun for a fleeting moment, and then sunk to the bottom, beneath the reach of sunlight.

"That's not how you skip a rock."

The boy looked up at his father. "Will you show me?"

"Sure. Let’s get our poles set, first.”

The boy watched as his father pressed the point of the hook through the worm’s fragile skin, then sent the bait flying with a negligent flick of the wrist. After the worm had sunk, his father jammed the pole holder deep into the sand and set the wooden handle of the rod in its cup. The boy picked up his own pole and mimicked his father. The bait sailed across the blue-green surface and the line reflected the light like a spider’s web before sinking with a neat plop.

He grinned and looked up, smiling, but his father was combing the sandy ground with eyes and hands. 

“The first thing you've got to know is how to throw the rock,” his father said. “Instead of trying to throw it as far as you can, try to throw it low so it bounces when it hits the water, like this.”

His father leaned to the side, twisted his hips, and let the rock fly. It skipped off the surface of the water, once, twice, three times before it sank.

"Whoa!" The boy imitated the throw, but the rock only sunk with a contemptuous splash. His mouth twisted as he grabbed another rock, but the second was as uncooperative as the first.

"Throwing it harder won't make it skip, Bud, you've got to use some finesse. Here, watch me.”

The boy watched his father send another rock skipping with effortless grace, his eyes cataloguing every movement. He picked up another stone, set his feet, and twisted his body. The rock hovered for a heartbeat, then skipped once before sinking.

"I did it! Dad, see that? I did it!"

"You did, but that was only one bounce. You can do better than that. Try again.”

More rocks disappeared after similar, lackluster performances.

“Not bad, kid.”

“But mine don’t skip a whole bunch like yours do.”

“That’s because you’ve got to find the right rock. You want to find one that is round and flat. It's gotta be smooth on both sides," his father walked bent forward, palming some rocks and discarding others, before he whistled. "Oh, look at this one."

"Now this,” he pinched the rock between two fingers so the boy could examine it, “is a perfect rock for skipping. There aren't any imperfections to slow it down. It’ll skip off the top of the water like a champ." He dropped the rock on the boy’s open palm.

The boy turned the rock over and rubbed a thumb across the smooth, grey surface. He gripped the stone and reared back, but his father caught his arm at the wrist.

"Wait a minute, hang on. Don't throw this rock yet. This is a special one. Hang on to it till you learn to throw better. You don't waste a good rock on a bad throw. Here," his father reached down and plucked a rock at random, "practice on the junky ones until you get it right."

He dropped the rock into the boy’s other hand, then picked up a rock of his own and sent it dancing.

"But I want to—"

The bright chiming sound cut off their conversation, and his father held up one hand before pressing the phone to his ear. "Shit, hang on. What is it this time?" With a muttered curse, the man stomped back toward the truck, leaving the boy and the rock alone on the shore.

The boy watched the man walk away, then looked down at his hands, regarding first one rock then the other. His thumb slid once more across the smooth surface of the perfect rock before dropping it into his back pocket.

***

 


His mother turned on the bedroom lamp and dropped her laundry basket on the floor. “Did you brush your teeth?”

The boy pulled his pajama top over his head, climbed up on the bed and bounced once. “Yep. You wanna see?”

“I believe you. Get into bed, then. Did you have fun with your dad, today?”

He burrowed into the blankets until only his eyes and hair were visible, and scowled. “Yeah, but we didn’t catch any fish. I really wanted to catch some fish.”

“Well, that’s why they call it fishing and not catching, honey.” 

“I suppose so.”

She dropped a pair of crumpled socks into the basket and lifted his jeans off the floor, wincing as sand leaked out of the pockets. “Oh Daniel, look at all this!”

The boy smiled. “Those are my fishing pants.”

“I can see that.” She shook her head, hiding a smile, and turned out the pockets. “Wait a minute, what is this?” 

She held the unoffending stone up between two fingers and put one hand on her hip. “How many times have I asked you not to bring rocks into the house? You remember what happened last time?”

He nodded in mute shame, sinking a bit farther into his blankets. She hoisted the laundry basket, balancing it on one hip and sighing. “Well, this can go in the  garden, I suppose.”

The boy sat up and thrust out one hand, the other fisted in the blankets. “No, that’s the rock Daddy gave me! It’s the perfect rock for skipping, and he said I gotta practice so when we go fishing next time, I can get a whole bunch of skips, like he did.”

His mother’s expression softened. She opened her mouth, paused, then pinched her lips between her teeth before closing her eyes. “Alright, but no playing with this in the house, okay?”

“I won’t,” his outstretched fingers shook, “I promise.”

She placed the rock on his palm and his fingers closed around the stone. He examined it, then placed it on his bedside table between the baseball signed by his t-ball team, and a portrait of his mother and himself at the county fair. Her chin quivered as she watched him, but before he turned around for his bedtime kiss, her face was serene. 

“Sleep tight, baby, okay? Don’t forget to say your prayers.” She kissed him on the cheek and turned off the light.


***

 

The soccer ball bounced off the tips of the goalie’s fingers and hit the net. He froze for an instant, spine stiff in surprise, before he was swarmed by his teammates and the riotous cheers of supportive parents.

“You did it, Dan!”

“We won!”

He laughed as he wormed his way between his teammates toward the stands. The crowd was on their feet, coolers and folding chairs forgotten on the grass behind them, hands in the air. His mother jumped up and down, her yellow sundress caught in the breeze as she waved. Next to her, his father stood as well, but his eyes were cast down and his brow was furrowed as he pressed one hand over his ear and shouted into his phone.

The rock resting against the outside of the boy’s calf, tucked safely between his skin and the thick sock, felt suddenly heavy. 


***


The Principal leaned both hands on her desk and shook her head. “I hoped we wouldn’t have to have this conversation, Daniel. You said you were going to start putting more effort into your classes.”

Daniel shuffled his feet and stuffed his hands into his sweater pocket, looking up at her from beneath the shaggy hair, and said nothing. She pursed her lips and slid a piece of paper across her desk. “This says your grades have dropped. Again.”

Inside his pocket, Daniel’s fingers found the cool, familiar shape of the rock. “I know, Mrs. Chen. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Daniel, be proactive. You’re on track to graduate…barely. But if this keeps up, you’re going to end up repeating your senior year. Is that what you want?”

“No, ma’am.”

Her shoulders dropped. “You’re a smart young man with so much potential. I just don’t want to see you waste it. If your grades don’t make a comeback, I’m going to have to call your mother. You understand?”

He bit his lower lip and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She returned his nod, straightened, and took a deep breath. “Alright, then. You can go back to class.”

Daniel let himself out of her office and strode down the hallway with his jaw clenched. He pulled the rock out of his pocket and turned it over and over in his hand.

 

***


“Baby, I’m so proud of you!”

Daniel wrapped his arms around his mother and closed his eyes for a moment. “Thanks, mom. Is Dad parking the car?”

She pulled away and straightened the cap on his head, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “His flight got delayed in Pittsburgh. He really wanted to be here. He’s heartbroken he missed this.”

Daniel swallowed and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. It’s not like it’s a Phd or anything.”

“You should be proud of yourself, honey,” she held his face between her hands long enough to force his eyes up, “your dad and I are. So proud.”

He nodded, kissed her cheek, and headed for his seat, letting himself be swallowed by the crowd. One of his friends slugged him on the shoulder as he edged through the press of graduates,  and when he took his seat, the girl next to him smiled. She had bright eyes and dimples.

“We made it,” she said.

“Yeah, we did.”

“It seems crazy that this is the last time we’ll ever be in school, you know? From now on it’s jobs and the real world and responsibility and all that. God, I don’t know if I’m ready. What are you going to do after graduation?”

Daniel reached inside his robe and pulled the rock from the pocket of his slacks. He cupped the stone in both hands and looked down at his lap, turning the familiar shape over and watching the light sparkle on  the tiny flecks of mica caught in its surface. “Go to work, I guess.”

Before she could answer, the music began.

 

***


His best man finished pinning the cufflink, and Daniel held his arm up to inspect the final touch.

“This is it, man,” his friend said, “you’re about to do it.”

Daniel took a deep breath and shook his sleeves out. “I know. I feel like I’m going to puke.”

Both men grinned, then turned at the sound of a knock on the door. “Come in.”

The door opened and his father stepped inside with a hesitant smile. “Hey Dan. You just about ready?”

His best man chucked him on the shoulder and said, “I’ll be out there. Good luck.”

Daniel watched him leave, then shook his father’s hand. “I think so, but it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“Nope, can’t back out now. Not that you’d want to.” His father laughed. “ You’re marrying up, you know.”

Daniel rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and shook his head as he took his seat. His father sat across from him, their knees almost touching. He leaned his elbows on his knees as his father fidgeted with his boutonniere.

“Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to give me marriage advice?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been the father of the groom before.”

“Yeah, well I’ve never been a groom before, and you and mom have been married for thirty years so you’re going to have to lead the way, pops.”

His father leaned back in his chair. “Just support each other and be honest, you know? Talk to each other. And, uh…” his eyes unfocused as he lifted them toward the plain tile ceiling, and his voice died away. He rubbed his hand across his freshly shaven jaw.

Daniel shifted in his seat and tugged at his pant legs.

“More than anything else,” his father said, finally, “don’t forget to be present. It’s easy to get distracted with life, and if you don’t take the time to really be there for her, you’ll grow apart. It might even happen so slowly you don’t realize you’re losing her.”

Daniel met his father’s eyes for a long moment, swallowed, and nodded. “Okay.”

His father pushed himself to his feet and tugged Daniel out of his chair. He put his hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezed, and opened the door.

“I’ll see you out there,” his father said.

Daniel stared at the closed door and pulled the rock out of his pocket without looking at it.

 

***


He paced the hallway, sweating, turning the rock over and over in his hands. He glanced up at the window as he passed the door, turned, and started the next lap. The stone’s smooth surface peeked between his fingers as it spun in time with the squeak of his shoes on the linoleum.

He spun at the sound of the turning door handle, clenching the rock in his hand until his knuckles turned white.

“Mr. Wallace? You can come in, now.”

He swallowed, almost choked, and brought both fists to his sides. “Is…is she…”

The nurse smiled. “Your wife and child are just fine, Mr. Wallace. It was touch and go for a while, but she’s strong and she pulled through.” 

Daniel caught himself before his knees gave out, then dropped the rock into his pocket and followed the nurse. She held the door open and said, “Please come in and meet your son.” 


***


His wife placed the red-ribboned gift on the table and blew a loose lock of hair out of her eyes. “I don’t see why you’re so edgy.”

“It’s just that he was never around, Jen.” Daniel said. “You know how many birthdays he missed when I was young? Games and events and...and since Hiro was born, he’s been here more than he’s been at home.”

His wife put her hands on her hips. “Then shouldn’t you be grateful that Hiro is getting something you didn’t get? He’s lucky to have his grandfather in his life, Dan.”

Daniel ran his hands through his hair before pulling the punch bowl out of fridge and closing the door with his hip. “I am happy, it’s just…” he set the bowl on the table, scooting appetizers out of the way,  “why couldn’t he have been there for my birthdays?”

She wrapped her arms around him and he leaned his cheek on her head. When she snuggled against him  her body pressed the rock in his pocket hard against his leg.

The doorbell rang.


***

 

“Dad, are these stupid fishes ever gonna bite?”

Morning sun sliced through breaks in the clouds and cut the tops off the mountains. Daniel set his coffee cup down on the stump and stood, shading his eyes, to peer across the water. Jewel colored dragonflies buzzed in and out of the sunbeams, glowing like fairies, but the fishing poles were still. “We have to wait and see, pal.”

“But I wanna catch one.”

“Me, too.”

The boy sighed and dug in the sand with the tip of his stick, squinting. “This is boring.”

“Why don’t you build a sandcastle?”

“I already built two, dad.”

Daniel looked down. Two crude lumps of sand sat side-by-side with stick-and-leaf flags planted in their tops, and little armies of broken twigs in neat lines between.

“So you did. There are other fun things to do at the river while you wait for the fish to bite, though.”

“Like what?”

“We could see who can skip a rock the most times.”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Okay.”

They scoured the river bank for suitable rocks, gathering their ammunition in sweaty fists before making their way to the bank. Waterstriders danced away to take shelter in the lee of boulders, and the air was full of the scent of mud, rotting moss, and pine.

“You want the rock to stay low,” Daniel said, then took his son’s small hand and positioned the brown stone, “and hold it like this.”

He watched the boy’s little fingers maneuver until the rock fit neatly into his hand. He set his feet, glared at the blue-green surface of the water, then sent his little skipper flying. The boy’s shoulders dropped, and his mouth twisted into an unhappy line.

“It didn’t even skip one time.”

“Here, watch me,” Daniel said. “Bring your arm out to the side, like this.”

The boy mirrored him.

“Now when you throw, step forward and twist your hips and then--” Daniel flicked his wrist and the rock bounced off the surface of the water.

The boy set his jaw and threw his rock. “Mine don’t skip a whole bunch like yours does.”

“Don’t worry, bud,” he squeezed his son’s shoulder, “it just takes practice and a good rock.”

Hearing his own words, Daniel stopped, straightened, and stood still, his eyes unfocused and far away as his son threw several more rocks.

“It’s not working. I’m no good at skipping rocks. Can we just go home? Can we? Dad?”

Daniel swallowed and looked down at his son. He touched the boys cheek with gentle fingers, then cleared his throat.  “Why don’t we give it another try, eh?” He dug into his back pocket. The rock waited for him there, where it always waited, smooth and warm from his body heat.

“See this rock?  It’s smooth and flat and round, which makes it a perfect rock for skipping. And it’s not too big, either. Here, want to try it?”

The boy hesitated, then took the rock and stared down at its smooth surface, turning it over in his small hands, testing the weight and feel of the thing. 

Daniel watched with his fists clenched at his sides, silent, until his son said, “Okay.”

The boy set his feet, shifted the rock in his hands, and scowled at the water. He took a deep breath, reached back, and threw with all the strength in his small body.

The rock sailed above the water, spinning, then danced across the reflection of the sky in a staccato rhythm. It skipped once, twice, five times before running out of momentum and sinking beneath the surface just shy of the opposite bank. The current pulled at the little ripples left behind until each was smoothed into mirror stillness,  erasing all trace of its passing.