Stingray

Written for HeartOfGold's contest, "Picture This!" A child confront's life's difficult truths on a trip to the Albuquerque Aquarium, as seen through her mother's eyes.

"Mommy, is this one of those things that killed that Animal Planet guy?"

I freeze. Two thoughts crash on me at once. One was I thought you didn't know about that. The other, no, sweet baby, don't make me explain mortality to you now.

The first thought gives way immediately in the face of contrary evidence. Lila obviously has heard, somewhere, about that jackass Steve Irwin getting himself stingrayed to death last year.

Sorry. I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. It's just sometimes it's really s****y, being a parent. Trying so hard to carefully sequence your child's exposure to the hard facts of life, knowing you'll never really succeed but trying anyway. Knowing that knowledge can never be taken back.

Lila turns away from the tank, looking at me for an answer. The ray drifts smoothly past, behind her wide reflection in the curved aquarium glass.

Inside, I sigh.

"Yes, sweetheart, I think so. Come on, let's go see what else there is to see."

I hold out my hand, but she turns back to the tank. She scoots a step or two to the right, to catch up with the ray. What are you thinking, baby? Won't you let me help you with this?

Actually, a lot of times it's s****y being a parent. Most of the time I know what Lila's thinking. I know her better than she knows herself. But then there's times like this when I haven't a clue, and no amount of wishing will magically put me inside her head. I hate the helplessness of knowing that I've got all this stuff figured out already, that if only I could let her borrow my perspective for just a second, I could help her understand.

But I can't.

I sigh again, outside this time, watching Lila stare into the daiquiri-blue water. Processing. Figuring it out the hard way.

Am I sorry we came? I mean, this is Albuquerque, for god's sake. Who puts an aquarium in the middle of the desert and stocks it with stingrays? S**t.

We should have just stayed at Grandma's and played in the back yard. Only, I know that's a lie. I don't really mean that. She has to find out eventually, and at least here it's quiet. At least here she can take some time to process it. At least this isn't some damn TV show, confronting her with the ugly reality of death before blasting her with a commercial for yummy plastic breakfast cereal.

Ok, most of the time it's s****y being a parent, grabbing hold of every stupid rationalization you can think of to help yourself feel like a less terrible parent.

The ray swims off, around a bend in the tank, disappearing from view. Its lethal tail barb vanishes from sight, and just as quickly, Lila turns away and runs over to me.

She doesn't say anything, but grabs my hand and drags me along. We go down a dark, wide tunnel , opening into a high-ceilinged concrete cave. The wall opposite us is floor to ceiling glass, a giant tank filled with more rays, sharks, and other fishes. The feeling of being underwater is palpable, and I catch myself holding my breath.

Lila releases my hand and runs to the wall. Fearless. Her palms make a soft slap on the glass as she stops herself.

I'm dying to ask her. Who told you about Steve Irwin? What do you think about it? Do you understand what "dead" really means? I stay quiet, watching my daughter watching the fish.  She stays oddly quiet, too.

When she has seen everything--twice--Lila tells me she's ready to go. I've scarcely seen anything, though.  I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop.  We wander back out to the parking lot, and hop in the rental car. I know it's not really over, but I feel relieved to leave the killer rays behind.  We merge onto the I-40 to head back to my in-laws' place. "I wonder what Grandma's made for lunch?" I ask.

Lila shrugs. She's looking out the passenger window. We take the off-ramp to I-25, and I freeze again. Short miles--short minutes--away, we'll exit onto Gibson Boulevard and into Grandma's neighborhood. Only, there's a dusty old cemetery, right there at the exit. The loop-around swings right past it, this dilapidated grove of white crosses and headstones sticking up out of the brown dirt. I contemplate trying to find a different way back, but no. This isn't my city. The freeways are easy, but the surface streets are a maze.

Lila's still gazing out her window when we take the exit. She can't possibly not see the cemetery. I grit my teeth, afraid she's going to ask me if Steve Irwin is buried there because the stingrays at the aquarium killed him. Kid logic.

But she doesn't say anything, and when the graveyard is safely hidden in the rear-view mirror my jaw relaxes.

We drive past the airport, and stop at the light by Grandma's street, waiting to turn left.

"Mommy?" Lila says.

"Yes, honey?" Here it comes.

"I don't want to swim in the ocean because if a stingray stinged me I would die and you would be sad. I don't want you to be sad, Mommy."

"Thank you, sweetheart." I give her a smile, reaching over to stroke her hair as the light turns green. Sometimes being a parent isn't s****y at all.

----

Steve Irwin: [ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steve_Irwin ]

Albuquerque Aquarium: [ http://www.cabq.gov/biopark/aquarium/ ]

San Jose Cemetery: [ http://www.bing.com/maps/default.aspx?v=2&FORM=LMLTCC&cp=35.05901~-106.64074&style=r&lvl=15&tilt=-90&dir=0&alt=-1000&phx=0&phy=0&phscl=1&encType=1 ]

Author's Note

All the usual types of comments on the writing are greatly appreciated. But I'm particularly interested in how people who don't have kids feel about it. As a parent, this scene works for me. What I don't know is whether I've captured that emotion well for people who haven't lived it yet for themselves.

Reviews

[Tim H]

The grammar and style of the piece demonstrates a writing ability beyond my accomplishments.

I have kids so I can't even give the critique you seek.

Having hit that bump as a parent, you describe the feeling very well. I don't know if s****y captures the way I felt at those moments, For me I wanted to be papa bear and protect them from everything! Damn it! But then the reality seeps in, they saw the crash site as we drove to the airport. I felt inadequate, and defeated. I hope this helps.
Tim

[Fire Mage Andrea]

""Mommy, is this one of those things that killed that Animal Planet guy?" I like how it starts with the child asking an awkward question, and the adult having to work out how to respond.
There's a good opposites thing going on with the child being fearless and the adult being fearful.
"because if a stingray stinged me..." An older character wouldn't be able to get away with the "stinged" typo in this sentence, but a child can because that's how they speak anyway so you've made it realistic. Great stuff.

[Requs]

Reading this maes me feel like I hide in poerty stoping myself from writing a full blown story. But since I can't write very well its the best I got I guess.

Keep up the perfection

[Rowanna]

I couldn't find any spelling or grammar mistakes and I thought it was good. I'm sorry, I'm not very good at reviews but I hope I gave you enough points.

[Greg Close]

As a parent, I identify all too readily with this. Not only because I've been to the ABQ aquarium, but because the interchange between child and parent, both in thought and statement, is so close to home. The prose is absolutely fantastic - well thought out and fully realized. Such a smooth read. There are a lot of good up and coming on their way writers on this site, but you are clearly there already. Fantastic read. And I mean that sincerely. Thanks.

[Lauren Marie]

A great write. Through this story, I now have a better perspective of what it it to be a parent.

Thank you for entering my contest!

~Lauren