When his father finally stopped walking, he stood on the edge of the bank and looked down at the moving, churning river. Daniel slowed a few feet from him and wondered why they couldn’t just step into the water near the river’s edge, to cool off. He was so hot. All he wanted to do was touch the water, flick some across his chest and on the back of his sweaty neck. While his father was distracted, Daniel sat on the dirt embankment and scooted down slowly. He was just a few feet from the water when the loose dirt gave way and he suddenly slid the rest of the way down and into the river. Daniel cried out, dragged away by the currents, pushed and pulled down the river by the quick-moving water. His head bobbed up and he saw his father running along the bank beside him, pointing and yelling something he couldn’t hear beyond the tumult of the river. Daniel’s raised arms reached and grabbed, unable to hold on to a rock or a branch as he moved too fast with the rushing currents, swallowing water as he tried to keep his head up, his knee slamming into something hard.

It seemed like forever, but the river had carried him greedily for just minutes. It wasn’t until the river narrowed and turned that the currents slowed. Daniel flailed and struggled to grab onto something when he was quickly plucked from the river by his father. He’d run ahead, beating the currents and waiting, half submerged, one hand clinging onto foliage by the side of the bank, the other reaching for him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to shore, his grip so tight it was almost as painful as Daniel’s throbbing knee. His father crouched over him, panting hard, a glint of fear in his eyes as he looked him over. Water dripped from Daniel’s hair and nose, and it was the first time he had ever seen his father scared, the one time he’d held on to him so tightly. It was only then that Daniel started to tremble and cry.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re safe now, yeah,” his father said, wrapping his shirt around him, wrapping his arm around him.

His father bought him a shave ice at Oshima’s on the way home, and told his mother there was a small accident at the river but didn’t explain in detail. Daniel had said he’d scraped his knee was all. It was his fault and he didn’t want his mother to worry, or to get mad at his father when they were a family again. It was the one secret Daniel ever had with his father, his finger marks on his forearm remaining for days until they faded away.

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