"The Boy" by Christel and Eric McMackin

The book was old. The pages were yellow and dogeared, and the leather-bound cover was falling off, but he didn’t mind.  Making him read was his mom’s only way to keep him in the house. RJ was a bright and adventurous kid who wanted to explore.  And he could be impulsive.  Ever since he could walk, he’d slip away and get lost which terrified his mother.  After all, they say the streets of New York could kill you. She figured books would keep him safely occupied and give her a little peace of mind.  For a time, it did.  

Until that afternoon. 

She went to check on him in his room, but RJ and the book were gone. Her heart pounded as she snatched off her apron and turned off the stove and moved the dinner pots. She flagged a passing cop and sputtered those words that would make any mother’s heart sink.  “My son is missing.”  

For as long as he could remember, RJ loved the ocean.  He dreamed of wide-open spaces without the crowded streets, loud noises, and smells he was all too used to.  He longed for the solitude the ocean could bring; where all he could hear was waves and all he could smell was the salty spray.  As a city boy, the ocean fascinated him.  He devoured everything he could read about it, like Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and stories of swashbuckling pirates.  And now, the boy with the dirty blond hair wild on his head had discovered Melville’s Moby Dick.  It was instantly his favorite.  He kept reading it over and over, cover to cover.  

RJ didn’t know why he was always attracted to water. He could stand in the street in front of the fire hydrant all afternoon, but when he turned seven, he found his way to the Staten Island Ferry. He went there often. The cops brought him back at least three times and on the fourth told his mother they would notify his father of her neglect. Moby Dick was the adventure RJ craved. He told his mother he wanted to join the Navy and sail the seven seas. As long as he was in his room reading, he knew she would agree to anything just to not have to call on the police. But today he wasn’t going to stay in his room. Today was the day he would become a ferry captain and sail the waters near the Statue of Liberty, his quest. 

RJ had missed riding the ferry. He climbed aboard and felt the water in the air brush both cheeks as he headed to his familiar seaside bench. As RJ walked by, Captain Mike gave him a smile and a nod, and without uttering a word let RJ know he was happy to see him by snatching the cap from his head and tossing it back. The captain was an old seadog, with a low and gravelly voice from years of shouting orders and downing whiskey. His face was leathery and sunbeaten, his puffy cheeks wore a short white stubble and the pink badges left by the icy winds that gnawed on him over the years.  Despite his appearance, he was a truly kind man and had missed the boy’s presence on the boat.  

RJ pulled the bookmark out of page 220 and immediately engrossed himself in the adventures of Ishmael.  Hours he sat on that bench reading until Captain Mike announced to the passengers that the ferry was pulling in for the final stop of the day.  RJ’s time was up.

He saw a couple taking pictures, but for some reason the pregnant lady kept her eye on him.  Her husband gently touched her round tummy.  “Yuck” RJ thought. And that’s when it happened.  In a fit of inexplicable but long-building impulse, RJ dropped the book and climbed up on the railing.  He peaked his head over to see the white water splashing against the wall of the boat.  Without a moment of hesitation, he jumped. As he entered the water, he remembered he never learned to swim. 

The man had seen RJ jump.  Instinctively, he leapt from the seat he shared with his pregnant wife.  He darted to the edge, and seeing RJ sink under the waves, grabbed a life preserver attached to the rail.  Without a thought, he dove in after him.  His wife screamed.  “No!  You can’t swim!!” and hearing the commotion Captain Mike immediately swung the wheel hard over to turn the vessel around.  The pregnant woman ran to the rail shouting at Captain Mike to hurry as other passengers began to join in the chorus.  A crewman grabbed a rope and prepared to heave the lifeline to the two castaways.

RJ sank, the light fading from his sight as he gasped for air, sucking in only muddy water, his screams only bubbles.  His lungs burned as they filled with foam. RJ knew it was more than he bargained for.  The cold water shocked him like a bolt of lightning.  It embraced him, tugging him to the depths.  He struggled, flailing his arms and legs, but his efforts only got him a precious half gulp of air.  He yelled for help but seawater filled his mouth.  He could hear the shouts from the people on the ferry in between the muffled sloshing in his ears. RJ’s initial shock had turned to terror.

His head fell beneath the waves as he strained to hold his breath and kick. RJ’s strength was failing, and ultimately his hunger for air became too much to bear. His closest and most loved companion for his entire life was suddenly embracing him in a way he never expected; the sheer strength of her cold arms were overpowering.  RJ knew he was going to die in the place he had always longed to be.  The sea had her plans for him.  In horror, RJ thought of his mother and how she would feel.  

Suddenly RJ felt a hand snatch his left arm and yank him upward. He could feel the air as his head broke over the waves as his guardian angel, Bruce Michael Sean, pulled his arms over the life preserver.  

Captain Mike shut the engine and raced down the ladder to assist the crewmen pulling RJ’s limp body from the water. Bruce was nowhere to be found.  Captain Mike snatched RJ up and held him upside down as the seawater drained from his lungs.  “Come on chief!  Breathe!”  he exclaimed as he shook the boy as if imploring him to live.

RJ finally opened his eyes and gasped.  He devoured the air like a starving child at a feast.  He felt incredibly grateful to be alive and that he’d be coming home to his mother.  He realized the sea was a lot more than adventure.  As he looked up at Captain Mike’s face, he saw the old man drop a tear from his eye.  He put RJ on the deck and immediately looked again over the railing.  “No sign sir!” his shipmate said.  “Keep looking!!’ Captain Mike implored.  

With that, RJ looked up to see the young pregnant woman sobbing as she peered out into the water.  “Bruce!!!” she yelled.  “Where are you??!!”  RJ suddenly felt guilt overcome him, along with the sense of a debt to be repaid.

As the ferry pulled into the dock, two NYPD met them there.  One immediately pulled the young woman aside and with a hand on her back reassured her they would keep looking and not to give up hope yet.  “The whole department is out there looking for Bruce, Cindy.  He’s one of our own.”  “It was our day off,” she sobbed, “we were just enjoying the city.  Please find him.  Bruce can’t swim.”  Watching the scene, RJ was overwhelmed with the realization that one man had made a difference.  He knew then he would never set foot on a boat again, and instead, he’d put all his time and effort into being a police officer, like Bruce.  He was going to pay it forward.  He hoped one day he might be the one man who could make a difference for someone else.

RJ looked out to the harbor one more time, locking eyes with the monster who nearly killed him.  What was once his favorite place to be was now scarier than the haunted house on the boardwalk.  He shivered in fear and turned away as the other cop put his hand on his shoulder.  “Let’s get you home kid.  What’s your name anyway?”  RJ looked up at the officer with tears in his eyes and meekly said, “Robert Martin Brody, Junior.  My mom calls me Martin.”