Maybe a Deer
by Michael Czyzniejewski
The Amber Alert will be live soon, then someone鈥檚 going to spot my car in the lot, call it in, then every cop in the state will be on me. I want to walk the trail with Gavin one more time, stop at that bench overlooking the meadow, maybe see a deer. Last time we came, we saw a deer, or only I did, because Gavin slept on walks, why I started taking him. That was a year ago and now Gavin doesn鈥檛 take naps anymore. Today he will see the meadow. He might see deer. He鈥檒l also see the cops in the parking lot鈥攗nless they storm up the trail and find us there. Either way, I鈥檒l get to the meadow before they get to us. That鈥檚 what I want, to see that meadow, with Gavin. And maybe see a deer.
We stop to change Gavin at the trailhead bathroom, worth the three minutes. At the pavilion, a pretty jogger contorts into impossible positions, one leg up behind her ear, then the other, then the splits鈥攕he is boneless. I catch myself staring鈥擨鈥檓 not going to make the meadow at this rate.
A guy, sixtyish and five feet in shoes, appears. He鈥檚 got a camera dangling from his neck and he鈥檚 in a vest, the kind with the pockets, with matching cargo shorts. He鈥檚 messing with lenses but stops when he sees the stretching jogger. She鈥檚 splayed on the bricks, her legs in a V, her forehead pressed to the ground. The photographer moves too close, stops between the jogger鈥檚 ankles, and says, in the sincerest voice: 鈥淓xcuse me, would you be interested in some fitness photography?鈥
The woman doesn鈥檛 flinch. She can鈥檛 see him and she鈥檚 wearing ear buds.
The man says it again, louder, 鈥淲ould you like some fitness photography?鈥
The woman lifts her head and is startled backwards, into a defensive position. 鈥淲hat the fuck?鈥 she yells, the old guy right on top of her.
The guy takes a step back and points to his ear. The woman reaches into a pocket, turns off her music.
鈥淚 said, 鈥榃ould you like some fitness photography?鈥欌
The woman pushes herself to her feet, never taking her eyes off the guy. 鈥淲hat?鈥
鈥淚 said, 鈥榃ould you be interested in some 鈥.鈥欌
鈥淚 know what you said,鈥 the jogger says. 鈥淣o, I don鈥檛 want any fitness photography. Whatever the fuck that is.鈥
I should really be heading down the trail if I鈥檓 going to make the meadow. I can鈥檛 move. Then a happy moment I鈥檒l think of later, when happy moments are rare: The pretty jogger woman looks at me, cracks a grin, and rolls her eyes; I send her a nod.
The guy tries to give her his card, says if she changes her mind, just call. The woman refuses, says she doesn鈥檛 have pockets (which we know is a lie). The man says, 鈥淥key-dokey鈥 and heads to the parking lot.
The man does not ask me if I want any fitness photography.
The woman smiles at me once more, then at Gavin, then disappears down the trail. With Gavin, I am a confidante. If it鈥檚 just me, she probably thinks I鈥檓 there with the creep, the assistant fitness photographer. Gavin makes me harmless. If she only knew.
My phone buzzes unnaturally loudly and it鈥檚 the Amber Alert, the one announcing me and Gavin. I look up and see the photographer still in the parking lot, checking his phone. Then he looks around and spots my car. Then he looks down at his phone again. Then he looks back at me. He dials a number and puts his phone to his ear.
I double-time it down the trail toward the meadow. Gavin is laughing and gripping his little tray like he鈥檚 on a roller coaster, bobbing up and down, side to side. At this pace, I think I might overtake the jogger, but that鈥檚 ridiculous鈥攕he鈥檚 so fast, already so far ahead.
I鈥檓 almost to the meadow when I hear the sirens, faint. They鈥檙e so far away, but there are so many. I double-double-time, as fast as I can go.
I鈥檓 rounding the bend by the clearing when I see the doe, and alongside it, a baby, grazing in the meadow. The baby鈥檚 spotted and can barely walk and is so precious. I crouch next to Gavin, point them out, but just as he looks up, the sirens grow so loud, the deer hop into the brush.
鈥淒id you see?鈥 I say. I am panting, out of breath.
Gavin stares into the meadow. He says, 鈥淏ig doggies!鈥
鈥淵eah, big doggies,鈥 I pull Gavin out of the stroller. We sit on the bench and Gavin twists himself around me, settling against my chest awkwardly. I hold him tight, then snap some photos of us, maybe the last there鈥檒l ever be.