Fredericktown

This is my first edit of this story…basically just pared it down and tried to tighten it up some. Instead of going through it all I just deleted the first draft and reposted this version. Anyway if you could let me know your ideas.

Thanks, Steve

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The man was sitting at the table waiting. He had been sitting there for quite some time now, although he couldn’t be exactly sure how long. The clock on the stove had stopped running months ago, but still he found he was unable to keep from looking at it. His chair creaked as he leaned back, crossing his legs, and staring out the back window into the night.

It was getting warmer, the days were getting longer; winter was over and soon the frost he found on his truck most mornings would stop. The tiger lilies out back were beginning to turn green again. They would be in bloom before long with their orange and red flowers lining both sides of the walk that led from the back door to where his truck was parked.

He had been home from work for hours now and hadn’t even changed his clothes. He had walked into the house and just sat down at the kitchen table. He was still wearing his blue work shirt and slacks. He should really clean up he thought. He looked down at his hands, turning them over and studying his fingers; there was dirt caked under his nails that had been there for days. Something caught his eye; it was a thread sticking out from his shirt above his left pocket. It was where the patch with his name had been. It had been ripped off some time ago and he hadn’t bothered to replace it. He really should get a shower and change before she came home.

The lights of her car cut through the back window as she pulled into the drive. Every night it was later; soon she would not come home for days, just as she had done the other times. He had lost track of how many times it had been now, but once was too many. Every time he went through this it never got any easier.

The woman walked in and set her purse by the door. She looked up at him sitting by the table while bending down to take off her shoes. He asked her “did you have to stay over today Janine?” She smiled without really looking at him.
“Oh yeah, it was terrible, I just couldn’t get out of there.”
“That busy huh?”
“Busy from the time I got there; never really let up you know.” She answered while putting her shoes in the corner by the door; she rarely ever looked at him anymore.

She went into the bathroom and he heard the shower turn on. Maybe he would go fishing tomorrow. He sighed; he had only been out once so far this season. He could go fish the lake just north of town. He always went back to the same spot and sat on the bank to fish. He had fished from a boat a couple of times when he was young but he never really liked it. The boat always seemed to be suspended over an unending darkness as he looked down into the water. Not knowing what was below the surface unnerved him. On the bank he could relax and enjoy the day. Fishing would be a good way to spend Saturday he thought as he leaned back again in the chair.

He heard the water shut off, the bathroom door opened and then the bedroom door closed. Janine had gone to bed. He would get up before she did, in fact he would probably have his line in the water before she even got out of bed. And, she would be gone when he got back. She would be off doing whatever it was that she always did. Its ok he thought tomorrow will be nice.

Like most nights he slept in the living room recliner while Janine was either gone or in bed alone. As he slept in the chair he dreamed he was standing in water; it was dark and he had waded out into the water because he thought he had seen something bobbing around in the water that he needed to bring back to shore. In that strange way that dreams can be he didn’t know what it was floating out there, but he had to get it. As he waded out to retrieve what ever it was, it had kept drifting farther away and the faster he moved, the faster it seemed to move away from him. Finally tired from wading so far he gave up, watching the object that had brought him out here grow smaller and drift away. He turned back to shore.

The water was only chest deep, but he had waded out so far that he couldn’t see the bank in the darkness. He waded back in the direction he had come from when he stepped off a ledge into deep water. He thrashed and swam back to where he had been, but couldn’t touch the bottom there either. He stayed there, treading water and turning in circles, afraid to go in any direction. Trying to decide what to do with the weight of his clothes pulling him toward the darkness below, he would kick his feet, careful not to extend his legs too far as he didn’t know what was below him.

As a child he had this dream many times. He would wake up turning from side to side in bed, so wet with sweat, that in the those first moments between sleep and fully awake he really thought he was in the water. When he had first met Janine the dream had stopped, but as the years went by the dream had returned.

He got up and went into the bathroom to relieve himself. He came out and stood in front of the bedroom door for a moment, it was nearly morning. Reaching out his hand, his fingers blurred together as he focused on the wood grain of the door. Behind it in the darkness she would be asleep on her stomach; she always slept that way, with her hair spilling across her face, hiding her eyes. It would be daylight soon; he would let her sleep. She had worked late. He would just stay up and get ready to go. He would catch some fish today and that was always something to look forward to.

Driving up through Fredericktown the sun came up. He was heading northeast and he could see the large red orb through the right side of the windshield. Slowly it changed from red to orange and then as it brightened the inside of the truck, the windshield turned opaque from the dirt and splattered bugs on the glass. He had turned off of the county road onto an unpaved township road to get to the lake. It wasn’t a large lake but there were some parts of it that were quite remote. The fishing was best in these areas where the trees and brush came down to the water’s edge.

He parked the truck, grabbed his pole and tackle box, and started down a path. The brush along the path was greening up more since he had been here a couple of weeks ago. Soon spring would yield to the muggy days of a mid western summer and the fish would move out to the cooler water in the deep parts of the lake. Those were parts that you could only fish from a boat, but he would still come out here. He would sit and drink beer and look at his line in the water and think of her. Then he would go home with no fish to sit and drink beer and think of her. Today he didn’t bring any beer because he knew the fish would be biting and he was here to fish. He would drink tonight, as he did every Saturday night.

The path down to the water was damp from the heavy dew during the night; slick in some spots where the top soil had eroded off exposing clay and sand stone. It wasn’t a steep path, sloping gently down to the water’s edge where the weeds angled over the water and a small clump of cat tails stuck out of a shallow marshy area like brown needles.

He laid down his rod and took a small plastic bag from the tackle box. Opening the bag he shook a number two split shot into his hand. That should do it he thought. He crimped the weight onto the line with his teeth just above the hook and added a bobber about three feet above that. When he baited the hook, piercing the worm, it curled itself tightly. He wrapped it around the hook twice and pierced it again. The worm squirmed and wrapped itself even tighter around the shaft of the hook. It seemed as though it wanted to grasp hold of the very thing that would lead to its death, not knowing that if it had any way to escape the sharp point of the barb it could have lived.

The first cast broke the smooth surface of the water. The man reeled in some of the line, just enough to take in the slack and stood there watching. The bobber sent ripples out that disappeared under the tangled willow roots along the bank. One by one they went out to be swallowed up by the darkness of that overhanging tangle of roots; leaving his bobber standing alone in the water.

He stood there holding the rod and thought how this is a good spot for blue gills, maybe even a bass or two. But, a couple of nice blue gills would be fine. His thoughts drifted to Janine. He could leave her, he thought. It would be nice to be free of it all. What is it that drives her? He had asked himself this question many times since they had been together; he still didn’t know. Maybe he wouldn’t go home tonight. Maybe he would go to a motel for the night. He could pick up some beer and watch T.V.

The bobber moved a little on the water. It went to the side as though it were being pushed then stopped. He took a turn on his reel to tighten up the line a little. He’s teasing me, he thought. The bobber went down but came right back up as he held the rod with both hands now to be ready to set the hook. The bobber went down again, stayed down slightly longer this time, but then came back up. Come on take the bait he thought, as he tightened the line another half turn. Then it did. With a heavy jerk the end of the rod bowed down as the fish took the bait and tried to return down to the weeds on the bottom. The reel sang as the line ran out against the drag. The man pulled back and cranked, knowing the hook was set. The fish was strong; the rod thumping in the man’s hand as the line cut the surface.

He stepped down to the edge of the water to grab the line just above the hook. It was a small mouth bass and a nice one too. He held it up to look at it. The fish with its gills open and exposed, blood red on the inside, was suffocating out of the water. It had a large hole under the jaw on one side of its mouth. The fish had been caught before he noticed and the hook had left a wound that never really healed. He removed his hook from its mouth, bait still intact. He stooped down to release it back into the water and watched its tail flick to the side as it disappeared back to deeper water and swam away, with yet another wound that would not heal.