Branden Edwards

My name is Branden. Branden Edwards. I am six feet tall and have blonde hair. My car is registered in Oregon. I frequent a local pub to savor the taste of a dark ale. I work in an independently owned coffee shop. These are only a few details about me. These are the things anyone could notice upon running into me. But it would take more than a glance to absorb my storied past and really, truly, grasp who Branden Edwards is. Let me tell you a story.

When I first moved to Oregon, it wasn’t to run away from something, it was to run toward something. If you’ve ever met one of my friends from back home and got to talking about me, they might tell you I was just fed up with people. They might mention that I went through a tough breakup. I had experienced my share of hardship but nothing I couldn’t handle. I put on a tough front but that’s only because I’m a tough guy. I have feelings sure, who doesn’t? And I like to revel in all emotions. Love, rage, tiredness, if you can call that last one an emotion. I’m off track. My point is, I left for adventure. California’s a big place and if you’re willing to travel far enough you can find a national park, no problem. But Oregon, Oregon is one big forest, one big adventure.

I couldn’t really get there on my own. I had the help of friends and family. Moved all my shit up north and settled in with my new room mate, Big Mickey. Big Mickey didn’t have one of those ironic nick names. He was a actually a huge guy. But that didn’t stop him from living life to the fullest. Nothing stopped Big Mickey.

It was three weeks since we’d arrived at our new place and the timing could not have been more perfect. It was smack dab in the middle of fall and the leaves were amazing. Bright red and yellows filled every inch of the horizon. Big Mickey and I stood on top of Skinner’s Butte looking out at the vast forest that is Oregon. Droplets of water collected on my rain slicker as the fog rolled in. This was our first time on top of the Butte but I knew I’d want to come back here.

I had Mickey drop me off along the Willamette River because I felt like walking some more and Mickey just wanted to head home. I told him thanks for the ride, slapped the hood of the car, and he drove off. There was a trail next to the river that made it the perfect hiking spot. I remember the sound of the water rushing over rocks as I walked. I remember the sound of the wind whipping through the crisp Autumn leaves. I remember the sound of screaming.

I couldn’t tell what it was at first, it was faint. I picked up my pace so I could get closer to the sound. When I neared it became clear that someone was screaming so I took off at a run. The river was obscured by foliage at this junction so I had to do some hopping. I bounded off a trunk here and a boulder there and finally landed with a soft splash at the banks of the river. It was then that I saw the source of the cries. A small child clung to a rock in the center of the river.

Without hesitating I whipped my shirt off and dove in. I remember how the icy water sent a chill through my veins to my very core. I am an experienced swimmer but the cold would have challenged even an Olympian. After I powered for a few seconds towards where I had seen the child last, I paused to check my heading. The child was gone! I treaded water, shivering while I scanned the river for any sign of the kid. After a few head turns I saw a beanie poke through the surface. I kicked off and worked my muscles as hard as I could. The beanie receded and I dove down after it. I couldn’t keep my eyes open so I felt around wildly. And then I made contact. I clenched my hands around a jacket and swam for the surface.

We breached and I flipped the kid over so her head was above water. When I was younger I had been in Junior Lifeguards and the training never really left me. Finally I felt the mushy shore beneath my feet and dragged the little girl out of the water. Her eyes were closed. She wasn’t breathing. I quickly attempted CPR careful not to damage a rib as I pressed down on her chest. I placed my cheek against mouth to check for breath but there was none. Just an unusual coldness.

The next moment I will never forget. I heard a voice behind me. A young girl thanking me. I was startled and my heart began pounding. I whipped my head around and saw the girl I had just pulled from the river. Only she was a pale blue color and semi transparent. I scrambled backward until my back pressed against a tree trunk. In my confusion I could not make sense of where her body had gone, but it was no longer on the shore. The spirit held out her hand and smiled. No one saved me the first time, she said, but I’m okay now. I felt a sudden calmness melt through my body and I grabbed the girls hand. Her “touch” filled me with warmth and my shivering stopped. I was too dumbfounded to come up with anything reasonable to say so I stayed quiet. The little girl wrapped her arms around me and though I couldn’t feel her hug in the traditional sense, I was filled with happiness.

I  barely remember walking home along the river. The trip was a blur. I opened the door and was greeted by Mickey who was mounted in front of the Xbox. He said hey but I just drifted upstairs and into my bedroom. I remember collapsing on my bed while my kitty hissed at me. I tried to grab her and she bit me. Her behavior was unusual but she should know better. I grabbed her and bit her back. She calmed down after that.

I woke up the next morning and it was business as usual. I went to work, did my thing and life went on. To this day the whole thing feels like a haze, but I can remember her face clearly. That’s how I know it really happened. Well anyway, thanks for listening. I have more stories where that came from but it’ll have to wait for another time. Time to get back to work.

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Brandon Edwards was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.