'Empty Nest' by Jonathan Beck

 

An audience has gathered on the banks of the river and crowded to the edge of the bridge, staring at the small inflatable with its figures in wetsuits and goggles and tanks and flashlights. The heavy rain threatens to thin the numbers, but umbrellas quickly spring open to anchor the viewers in place.

 

            Earlier, a lone jogger stops to gather her breath, panting with hands on hips by the sign that highlights the wildlife one might see amongst the reeds: herons, ducks, the occasional swan. It’s why her gaze lingers on the rushing water, searching, hoping. There! Her breath catches. An otter? The slick dark hair so much like fur, she thrills to think she’s being gifted this sighting. She unfastens the armband that keeps her phone secured to her arm, keen to capture proof of the moment, then stops as the shape in the water changes. It turns over, revealing a strip of coloured jacket. A small schoolbag is strapped to its back.

           

            Earlier still, and further upstream, Isabelle tears chunks of bread from uneaten lunchtime sandwiches. Standing on the steep embankment, she gently tosses the pieces towards the tall reeds, hoping to lure out the swans she knows live among them. She doesn't know that the swans are not there; that their nest has been abandoned; that rats had gotten to the eggs and now all that remains are meticulously arranged bulrushes and ruined eggshells. She edges closer. It’s starting to rain.