A giant water bug trapped in a pond dug out in the sand. Underground tunnels, names engraved on an Etch a Sketch beach. This is our life.
The buoy-dotted mooring line further out marking a boundary of something unknown. Contemplate the possibilities of anyone traversing the lake. Scrubby mountainside bringing the lake to rest, again and again, for ever and ever.
Learn the patterns of new kids. Their chocolate lab ranging all over the campground. We sleep overnight on the beach for the first and last time, their idea.
Step into littoral quicksand, crossing the Rubicon. Lake roaring but still, the liminal space between shore and dock. Personal Helicon. A singularity in time, aloneness. Gravity, the pull of mass to mass; breath, the pull of skin to core.
The mouth of terror and annihilation reins below the half-submerged ladder. Grope for the first rung, scamper wet up the steps. Stand shivering on the Kierkegaardian frontier of infinitude, skin meeting breeze, mind meeting sky. The Whitlock boys fight at the edge, a moment of acute struggle before fall.
In another universe Brian refuses to take his medication. Believes his son is being molested. Believes his German shepherd is possessed from eating poisoned food. Beats him with a baseball bat, leaves him in a dumpster. Kills his mother, too, in her own house. Believes she is a witch and casting spells. Uses a splitting maul, a meat cleaver, knives to her head and neck. Drags her down the stairs and onto the patio, leaves her for Spencer to find. Jeffery comes out of the basement suite, is arrested as a suspect, guns drawn.
Brian lights fires. Damages furniture. Tears off the banister, breaks the wine fridge glass and a mirror, smashes televisions. Tears window blinds, punctures holes in the wall with a broken golf club. Writes “I killed Barbie” on the living room wall. Stands off with the VPD for eight hours, screaming, swearing, taunting them, threatening to kill them and blow up the house. They shoot him in the arm with an Arwen gun, use tear gas.
But for now, we are just kids, and in my mind, this is the Osoyoos where everyone goes.