Help, My Son
It was a calm winter’s day and I was taking my son to school via the New York River Park. We did not drive because I cannot afford a car and ever since his mum died, finances have been in the red. Our walk to school was a bonding experience that I had come to enjoy so we did not mind the distance. It is just that in winter, when it starts to snow and the river starts to get a bit faster, we feel the cold.
I still did not mind today because I had just discovered that there was a girl at school that he liked. He said her name was Stacy and that he wanted to marry her. Being only 12 obviously meant that he would not be marrying her so I told him to take it slow, introduce himself, and ask her to a movie. He thought this was a good idea but he wanted me to go with him, in case she rejected him. I did not want to say no but I knew this was something he should do alone. It seemed like something fun that would take his mind off his mother. We both still missed her everyday even though the terrorist attacks were two years ago. It was reaching the anniversary of her death in a few days so we were going to organize something special like a visit to her grave and then a trip to the zoo. He was looking forward to it and so was I.
We had decided to leave a little earlier this morning so we could sit on his favourite bench and watch the butterflies that hang around the trees that line the river at this time of year. It has become a bit of a tradition. Every Monday during winter, we sit and watch the world go by for just a quarter of an hour, but we really enjoy it so it makes the earlier wake up worth it. We sat down and he continued to talk about this Stacy girl, she was starting to sound just like his mother. She liked to ice-skate and she had blonde flowing hair with wonderful blue eyes. She also loves her art; apparently, Stacy drew a good picture of him. He showed me and I must admit, it was a damn fine picture. He let me keep it so I put it in my wallet right next to the picture of the whole family just before 9/11.
He jumped up and started running around after a little brown Chipmunk, leaping and bounding over the little shrubs that covered the ground. He was having a ball. Suddenly he fell over. He rolled into the river! The river at this time of year was flowing like a torrent because the snow was just beginning to melt a little towards the end of winter. I leapt off the bench and ran beside the river shouting at him to not panic and try to swim onto the banks of the river before he hit the eddies further down the river. He tried and he cried and he screamed but nothing he did was working. That was when I decided to jump in after him.
I threw myself into the icy cold water. Already I could feel the tiny spears of cold prickling my skin as I swam out to him. He was clinging to a rock right in the middle of the river. When I reached him, I held him tight then lifted him onto the rock. We both started to yell for help. People on the banks pulled their phones out and called emergency services but I knew they would be too late. All I could do was hold my son on top of that little rock and wait for help to arrive. We held onto that rock for dear life. A police car and an ambulance arrived but they said they could not reach us, we were too far out and the water was too fast. We would have to hang in there and wait. We stayed there for 15 minutes. It seemed like an eternity as the cold seeped through my heavy trench coat and into my bones. Finally, we heard the distant sound of a helicopter.
It swooped over us and for a moment, I was so relieved I almost let go of the rock. I could feel the drowsiness engulfing me like a big warm, wet blanket and I could not feel most of my legs or my feet. I knew I would have frostbite but I had to hang on.
The helicopter flew back and hovered right above where we were and a man began to leave the helicopter tethered to a basket. In my state of mind, he looked like an angel coming down to rescue us. I looked away because the wind was hurting my eyes now and it was distracting me from keeping my son on the rock. I looked over towards the banks of the river and I could see camera crews and a police line holding back onlookers. We were a show to these people.
The man from the helicopter came down and I shouted at him to take my son, please! Thankfully, he nodded and put my son in the basket first. Above the noise of the helicopter, I heard him say that he will come back for me. He was winched back up and as soon as I saw him pulled into the helicopter with my son, I knew I had done my job. The man on the cable swung himself out again and the drowsiness really started to close in on me. I saw him standing on the rock just above my face when I slipped into unconsciousness.
I woke up in hospital two days later. My son was in the bed next to me playing on his Gameboy with Aunty May sitting next to him. I tried to sit up to get a better look but I did not have the energy. The sounds of my struggles pulled their eyes to mine. I smiled at my son and he smiled back at me. Try as I might I could not hold them back. Warm, salty tears ran down my face and I shook with each breath. He came over. We hugged. I do not think I will ever let go.
By: Callum Gallagher
Photo: courtosy DeviantArt
