Klee, Paul. Snake Path. Private Collection.

River Finder

by Cornelia Mars

i.

Jodi recognized the sign right away even though Dan was driving over a hundred clicks on the country highway. Riverview Motel. Her dad had stopped there last year on their way to summer camp. They had been lost and he had pulled a sharp turn onto the dirt road to ask for directions. She’d been wearing the same cut-offs but they had worn thin since; she could barely tell the difference between the fuzz of her thigh and the cottony weave of the denim. 

“I gotta piss,” Dan said and pulled the turn. The car skidded on the gravel and the air inside turned chalky. As soon as the car came to a stop the heat rose quickly. Jodi was thirsty and asked Jennifer, her best friend who was sitting next to her, if she had any water, gum, anything. What she really wanted was a Mr. Freeze, like she had had last year when she and her dad had gone inside for directions. The Mr. Freeze had turned to slush inside the tube by the time her dad had finished talking to the guy behind the counter. She liked sucking out the juice at the bottom, seeing two separate streams come up the edges, pulling at it until the plastic cut the sides of her mouth. But they weren’t going in this time. They were going to sit there until Dan came back. Jennifer offered her a cigarette, and when Jodi shook her head Jen passed it up front to Benj, Dan’s best friend, who was a few years older than them, but not much bigger. He had been born with a bad heart or something, Jen had told her once.

The hedge by the motel had been trimmed but there was no doubt that it was the same place. Jodi scanned the curlicue letters. Riverview Motel. The sign stuck in her eye like a grain of sand. At camp the year before, during the overnight hike, a girl in her group had told everyone how her parents had divorced. Or that’s how she had started the story anyway, but what came out after was something else entirely. The dad had told the mother he was taking their daughter fishing. He had packed up the car—fishing rods, sleeping bags, everything—then he had brought her to a motel instead. At the motel he had done worse things to her than he ever had before. That’s what she had said: Worse than before. It had been going on for years, she said, but this was the worst. He had kept her at the motel for two, maybe three days. She had lost count. The fishing rods never even left the trunk. Then he had brought her home and pretended that they had been camping the whole time. Jodi looked at the darkened windows of the motel and wondered if this was where he had taken her. For days. Dan came out and got back in the car and they continued up into the mountains.

ii.

The story about Martin’s stepdad had trickled in that winter in bits and parts, around the same time Jodi started hanging out with Jennifer. The stepdad had bought land up in the hills. The lot was big, mostly bush, but it was going to be cleared and when it was done they were going to build a mansion on it. The stepdad was some kind of businessman. He had money at any rate. The house had been planned with an architect. Of course they all had to see it, now that it was done. That didn’t need to be explained. Everyone was coming—Dan, Benj, Dan’s younger sister Jennifer and her best friend Jodi. Even the Doberman mutt had been primed to ride shotgun, but Dan had kicked him out at the last minute.

The house had been finished that summer but Dan and Benj—the only ones who could drive—had been stalling. They only made a plan once the hot tub had been installed, as if water was all the excuse they needed to make the trip up the hills. It was something to do. After that they only talked about visiting the house as if it was to try out the hot tub. But really it was a chance to bask in the unexpected good fortune of it all. Martin, in a mansion! They wanted to soak it up for themselves, to be proud. They wanted to make fun too, to make sure he didn’t forget where he came from. To make sure he knew he belonged on the concession roads, at the strip malls with the mechanic shops. No one had ever expected him, Martin, to live in a mansion. If this hadn’t happened, he would have been picking strawberries in the fields next to the Mexicans like he had every summer since he grew peach fuzz.

iii.

They drove up finally, sometime in July; past the corn fields, up the hills, into the mountains. Dan’s Cutlass struggled up the slopes. Something was burning, oil or gas, Jodi wasn’t sure, but nobody else seemed to notice. The wind in their faces kept them quiet. The windows stayed down even as the air got cooler because they couldn’t be rolled up unless you had both hands on either side of the pane. Jodi unstuck her legs from the vinyl upholstery and ran her hands down her thighs as if trying to brush off the goosebumps.

Benj saw the house first, peeking through a stand of trees. At the end of the dirt road they came up to a wide glistening driveway. Newly paved, water beading off the surface as if it had just rained. At the top of the driveway there was a yellow sports car suspended on the sharp slope. The color was so bright it blinded them as they drove up.

“That’s the Porsche! Jesus look at it,” Benj said, twisting his head around to look at it as they passed. The air was thick as if it was going to rain any second, and in the distance she could hear the clouds rumble.

Martin came out before they had a chance to ring the bell, scratching his chest. He had been watching them. “You made it. Long drive?” Martin had a way of speaking with his mouth mostly closed, half smiling so that he always looked amused. Dan patted Martin on the back.

“Nice fucking place man!” Benj said and craned his neck to look up at the chandelier dangling from the second floor. Martin chuckled, “Not bad eh?” They walked into the kitchen first, to a glossy marble counter piled high with bags of chips, pop, and muffins in plastic tins with blue frosting, the kind you get at kids parties. “Let me show you around,” Martin said.

In the living room there was a white couch and a table with an empty vase on it. Nobody was home, Martin explained. There was a fireplace with fake logs that lit up red. Martin showed them how to do it with the flick of a button. There were black-out curtains controlled by remote. At first everyone paid solemn attention to these details. Then, as they progressed through the house, they loosened up. Jennifer started elbowing Jodi and rolling her eyes. Benj tapped his foot, as if to say “that’s enough.” Then they let Martin pretend to be embarrassed: “Okay okay almost done” he said, as if he was performing some duty his mom had put him up to. But they knew he was proud—yes, visibly glowing—slapping his hand down on railings and window frames as if he’d built the house himself. As if he’d done anything more than just move in. Dan held out the longest, then he let go.

“Hot shit now eh? Bet the chicks would like this bed eh Martin? Bet the chicks dig the fireplace, right?”

“What chicks?” Jodi said, and she hadn’t meant it as a joke, but they all laughed, relieved to see him cut down, just a bit, but not have to do it first.

“Oh snap!” Dan said, pretending to hold his gut. Little Jode, so cocky all of a sudden. She knew Martin would never say anything back to her, she was too new, too young.

“Okay where’s that fucking hot tub?” Dan asked.

“Through the kitchen,” Martin said. “If you need to change, there’s a washroom there,” Martin pointed to a door off the kitchen, but nobody moved. Everyone was already wearing their swimsuits. “Hey we came ready man,” Dan said and pulled open the sliding door.

iv.

The backyard was bare. Nothing had been planted, the sod hadn’t been delivered, Martin explained. A large deck had been constructed and with the curve of the hill it stood out like a dock on a shore. Beyond the cleared lot you could see down the wooded ranges but there was no inkling of the ski town they had passed through, although she knew it was only five minutes away. The stink of bitumen from the new driveway mingled with the smell of bush that rolled down the hill, pungent like someone sleeping off a fever.

Martin walked up to the dials of the hot tub: two lights flashed red on the panel. “Almost ready,” he said. Everyone was quiet. They didn’t know what to do with the view, with the size of the hot tub, standing there half naked, cold now, with the sun behind the clouds. They could have brought more people had they known. Martin pulled the towel he had around his neck and flung it onto the deck. Even with thick limbs he moved quietly, like an animal. The panel beeped. “Okay it’s ready,” Martin said and got in. His red swim trunks ballooned briefly as he lowered himself into the water. Martin’s curls went limp and slick down his neck as he nodded for the others to get in. They got in.

Jodi had never noticed how dark Martin’s hair was before. She had never seen him anywhere but in Dan’s living room. Dopey Martin who wore button downs when everyone else wore t-shirts. Cheapo Martin who smoked half a cigarette and saved the rest for later. Clown Martin who never seemed interested in anything except how many gears there were on a semi. The jets came on and the roar made everyone quiet. He didn’t stare straight at her, but she could feel him watching. His eyes were hooded and unblinking, like a snake’s. The bubbles foamed up the surface, hiding everyone’s body except the heads. Jodi was relieved, feeling how her bathing suit, too small for her really, gave way to her body in the water. She felt a foot against her leg but couldn’t tell who it was. The foot withdrew. A mistake.

“This is awesome man!” Dan smiled at Martin, softened by the water.

“Yeah pretty sweet,” Jennifer said, not joking this time, not making fun. The heat and the bubbles made everyone slow. Jodi felt her legs go limp. She stretched them out so they floated up towards the surface. Jennifer giggled. “You could swim in here,” she said, and turned on her stomach. They played that way in the local pool sometimes when they were alone. They called it ‘dead man.’ It was as if, for a moment, they had forgotten about the boys. Jodi pushed her head down under the water, to see how deep she could go. She bumped against a leg, an arm, and came up the other side. She was slippery like an eel.

Dan reached out over the deck and pulled out a cigarette from the pack rolled into the sleeve of his t-shirt. He lit it and slid back into the water. Benj turned around to grab a can of pop. Jodi slipped back under the water, squeezed her eyes shut to the bubbles, and stretched out her arms trying to feel her way under water, to the other side. Instead of the rim of the seat she felt a leg and then a hand. It slid around her neck, the fingers circled into a tight grip. She thought for a moment that the hand was to push her away from the leg, but no. The hand pushed her head deeper down and towards something. She opened her eyes and saw the red of Martin’s shorts. She panicked thinking now everyone would make fun of her. What are you diving down there for Jode? We had no idea Jode hehe. She tried to shift over, but the hand was keeping her down, moving her closer, pushing her head into his crotch. She twisted trying to get free, but the hand only tightened. She needed to breathe. She didn’t dare claw, not yet. She kicked her legs—once, twice—hard. The hand released. She was up.

She rubbed the water out of her eyes. Dan’s head was leaned back, looking up at the sky. He was still smoking the same cigarette. She had only been under less than five seconds maybe but was surprised to see things—everyone there—unchanged. No one had noticed. Benj and Jennifer were inspecting the dials, trying to change the jets. Jodi shimmied back to her spot across from Martin. Her ears hurt. Martin turned to Benj and spoke. “It’s the one on the left,” he said. It wasn’t clear what he was talking about.

It must have been a mistake. He wanted to hurt her. He couldn’t help himself. He would have done worse. They were friends and he had restrained himself. The others didn’t know. They pretended not to know. She was just a kid; what would he want with her? Jodi tugged at the strap of her one-piece which was cutting into her shoulder. She looked at the pattern with the big flowers. Silly. It was a stupid kid’s suit, the same one she’d worn last year. How old had she been then at camp? For a moment she couldn’t remember and felt desperate to remember who—what —she had been. Twelve maybe.

Martin spread his arms out around the rim of the hot tub. They were planting cedars next week, he said. He had invited everyone like a good friend. He had put out towels, bought food. He had shown them the hot tub and then she had splashed around like a brat. She had said that thing about the chicks, insulting him. Nothing had happened. He had pretended to take her fishing. It was the kind of thing you could misinterpret real easy, under water. It was the kind of thing you’d forget after a week and remember thirty years later. It hadn’t been the first time.

v.

On their way home they drove past the same gas station by the motel. Coming from the other direction, in the late afternoon, it looked different. Maybe this wasn’t the same place she had stopped at with her dad after all. Maybe the motel was a chain where truck drivers and lost dads stopped. He had kept her there for days. Maybe they all had that name, Riverview, even though there were no rivers around and nothing was free to run the way it was supposed to, not even water. She saw herself in the corner of the side mirror but didn’t recognize her face. Her eyes were puffy and red, and the hair down her back was dark, still slick with hot tub water. Maybe this was just another version of her. Maybe this is how it was going to be from now on. But then she saw it, in the side mirror. It was only a quick flash of steel blue. The river. It had been there all along but by the time she turned around to get a better look, it was gone.

Cornelia Mars is a Swedish-Canadian writer and graduate of Concordia University’s English literature and creative writing program. She was a mentee in the Quebec Writers’ Federation non-fiction program in 2023 and is working on a memoir. She lives north of Montreal.