by D. Brown
His brother had committed the ultimate betrayal. He had gone off fraternizing with, of all things, a girl.
Sam snapped his fingers, punctuating the point with a jab of a finger.
“Well then, he’s out of the club.”
David’s face squeezed in a frown, “He’s out of the club?”
“Yeah, he’s out of the club,” Sam said and jerked a thumb in the ‘out’ sign, “And he can’t come fishing with us.”
David frowned, “What?”
“He’s not allowed. No fishing for Robbie, not with us.”
David’s face lit up, “Really?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”
“You want to die?”
Sam mussed David’s sandy brown hair. “Shoot no, I don’t want to die. What you heard there my friend was the super double top secret code that prohibits woman lovers from ever fishing with club members, and only certified members in good standing of the Our Gang’s He-Man Woman Haters Club are allowed to go fishing, and Robbie is no longer a member in good standing.”
“Our Gang?”
“Old movies made before you and even I was born,” Sam said. “Spanky, Alfalfa and Darla, some of the funniest movies you’ll ever see, and Robbie’s been kicked out.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely, like I said, cross my heart and hope to die,” Sam and crossed his index finger over his heart. “Stick a needle in my eye.”
“Mom says it’s not nice to say that,” David said in a reproachful voice as one who did as he was told. “Hope to die. You can say ‘cross your heart,’ but Mom says adding ‘hope to die and stick a needle in my eye’ is just gross and not a very nice thing to say.”
“Well, your mom’s right. You shouldn’t hope to die.”
Sam winked and smiled at the little boy.
“She’s not going to wash my mouth out with soap is she?”
David giggled, “No! My mom wouldn’t do that. But you might get sent to time out.”
“Time out, huh? Well, we don’t want that now, do we?”
“No, we don’t.”
“You know why?”
“Because you’re too big for time out?”
“No,” Sam chuckled. “Because then we couldn’t go fishing.”
“Yeah, no time out.”
“So, what do we do big guy?”
“About what?”
“About Robbie, is he out of the club?”
David smiled back with mischievous glee, “Yeah, he’s out.
Sam stood and snapped to attention, then saluted solemnly, “Big brother Robert has been officially exonerated as a member in good standing of the Our Gang He-Man Woman Hater's Club.”
“Exonerated, good; he should have taken me fishing.”
Sam smiled. One day, when David figures out what exonerated means, he might take issue with him on that.
“Robbie’s not lost forever, David, just temporarily. All He-Man Woman Haters suffer the same fate.”
“We do?”
“Sure. We all get girlfriends.”
Sam nudged him in the arm.
“Even you.”
David’s face squeezed tight in a grimace, “No way Jose!”
Then he thought about it a moment, “Though I do think Missy Hyatt is cute.”
“Missy Hyatt.”
“This girl behind me at school.”
“I see.”
“But I didn't take Missy Hyatt fishing.”
“No,” Sam laughed, “You didn’t.”
“And if I had me a little brother I sure would take him fishing and not leave him sitting here waiting while I went out with a girl.”
Sam looked around.
“Okay,” he said. “Stand up.”
David did, and so did Sam, who again looked around suspiciously.
“Whatchya looking for?” David asked following Sam’s gaze up and down the beach.
“Girls,” Sam whispered. “The initiation ritual is super top secret. No girl has ever seen it before.”
“Ever?”
Sam shook his head and continued to look around.
“Never,” he said. “Okay. I think the coast is clear. Now, spit in your hand.”
“What?”
“Spit in your hand, just like me.”
Sam spit into his hand as David watched. David then did the same.
“Now we shake hands,” Sam held out his hand. David held out his and Sam’s engulfed it. He cleared his throat and began the solemn oath, “Oh Grand Scion of the He-Man Woman Haters, welcome David into our brethren as a loyal and devoted brother.”
Sam stood up straight. “Now put your hand over your heart.”
David did.
“Repeat after me. I, David.”
“I, David.”
“Do solemnly swear.”
The little boy’s voice never wavered, “Do solemnly swear.”
“To uphold the secret code of He-Man Woman Haters everywhere.”
He repeated the vow word for word.
“And to not let girls, except moms, keep He-Man Woman Haters from doing what they love best.”
“What’s that?” David asked.
“Fishing, of course.”
“Oh yeah!”
“Okay, now the secret He-Man Woman Hater’s handshake.” Sam held out his hand.
“Give me five.”
David slapped his hand.
“Now, up high.”
And David gave Sam a high five.
“Down low.”
As David started to slap Sam’s hand, Sam yanked his away and said, “Too slow.”
He smiled at the boy.
“Welcome to the He-Man Woman Haters Club, David.”
“All right!” David exclaimed with an awed smile. “Cool.”
“Now, go check with your mom and see if it’s okay, but let’s go fishing.”
Maggie had just appeared on the porch, doing the mother thing, taking a head count of her kids, making sure she knew where they were.
Sam called out, “I’m taking David fishing, that okay?”
Maggie’s initial mother’s reaction of disapproving concern about having her young son out in a boat in deep water wasn’t lost on Sam.
“We’re going out to the pier,” he said, pointing over his shoulder, “I’ll introduce David to the boys. Maybe he can teach them a thing or two about catching fish.”
He mussed with David’s hair.
“Can you handle that?”
The boy's face lit up.
“I can handle that.”
“Big time.”
“Definitely, big time.”
“Okay then. Let’s go.”
Maggie said the pier would be fine and told David to come for some sunscreen. He winced as his mom applied a liberal coating and rolled his eyes at Sam when Maggie turned her back.
“My mom still fusses at me about sun screen,” Sam said and winked at Maggie as she turned and overheard.
“She does?”
Sam nodded. “Go get yours. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”
Sam waited with his pole and bait bucket while Maggie finished lathering up her son’s face, his neck and arms. She then sent him off with Sam with a kiss on the cheek and a mother’s hug. David ran across the yard with his fishing pole in hand.
“All set!” he said.
“You’re missing something,” Sam said.
“Not more sun screen!” David grimaced, and his face fell. “What now?”
“All good fishermen need their fishing hats.”
Sam pulled a creased and faded cap out of his back pocket. It was simple, khaki green crown, with a tan bill. One size fits all, lightweight cloth to keep the head cool, great for summer. Sam adjusted the strap in back and plopped it on David's head.
“There you go, sport,” he said. “You’re a regular Bill Dance, now.”
“Who’s he?”
“Bill Dance? He’s just the best bass fisherman known t
o mankind. If it swims and has fins and gills, then Bill Dance will catch it.”
“Cool.”
“Let’s go,” Sam said, “Before they catch all the fish. We’re burning daylight.”
Sam waved at Maggie who had returned to the shadows of the porch, with both arms clasped at the elbows. There was something about the way Maggie looked that tugged at Sam’s chest.
And those eyes.
They haunted him already.
I just met you yesterday and I feel like I’ve known you all my life.
“We’ll be gone about an hour,” Maggie heard Sam call to her as he and David started off down the beach.
She watched the two of them walk away and surprised herself to be watching Sam more than her own son. The easy way he moved when he walked, comfortable with his physique, both his assets and limitations, but not one to feel like he had anything to show off.
He's an ordinary guy, she thought, and happy with his ordinariness. No pretenses of being anything else than what he was, a middle aged man, happy to have reached middle age.
David’s father should be walking off with him, not a man she just met yesterday.
Where was Robert anyway?
He might not have been her most favorite person in the world right now, but he was still David’s father.
She found him in the bedroom on the phone. He didn’t sound happy.
“Why can’t you do it?” Robert’s expression told her everything she needed to know. It was work related and her husband would wind up on the short end of whatever argument they were having. “Well, I’m in East Nowhere, Georgia, Mike, and I’m on vacation too!”
Mike was Robert’s boss, Michael Pierce, and his family spent every Fourth of July week in the Pocono’s. Whatever problems had arisen in regard to work, Mike didn’t feel warranted him cutting his vacation short.
Just Robert’s.
Maggie watched her husband pace about the room, his expression a hard, tense mask. Robert never did manage stress well, especially when dealing with work related issues.
“All right,” Robert said after a long silence that most likely meant his boss was telling him just what he was going to do. “I’ll go, but I can’t be there until tomorrow night.”
Another pause then, “Mike, it’s a fifteen hour drive. I can’t get there by tonight. There’s no way.”
A resigned sigh then and Robert’s shoulders sagged.
“A 3:15 flight out of Savannah?”
He checked his watch, then looked up at Maggie and offered an apologetic shrug. Sometimes Maggie really felt sorry for him.
“Maggie can take me. Okay. I’ll call you from the airport.”
Robert flipped the cell phone shut and tossed it on the bed in disgust.
“Well, there goes vacation.”
“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked.
“The union has planned a 12:01 Independence Day walkout at the Mingo Junction Ryerson’s plant. They’re going on strike.”
“And Mike wants you there.”
Robert nodded and voiced his obvious irritation. “He’s in the Pocono’s, says he can’t make it.”
“You don’t do employment law though,” Maggie said. “You’re acquisitions.”
“I’m also bucking for partner and Mike knows it.”
“Well, that’s Mike for you.”
“I have to fly out this afternoon. He’s already booked me a 3:15 flight. You and the kids will have to drive home, but you should make it okay by Sunday night.”
Maggie frowned. “You want us to leave?”
“Honey,” he looked at her as if she hadn’t heard a word he said. “Vacation’s over. I have to work. It’s time we all went home.”
Maggie couldn’t understand why, but she found her husband’s tone infuriating. “Why do the kids and I have to leave now?”
Robert cut her his standard you-are-just-a-simple-woman look which she hated.
“Maggie, vacation is over. It’s time we went home.”
No discussion.
No asking whether they were ready to go yet, just laying down the law. The father and husband had spoken and all must obediently comply.
Like hell we do, she thought.
“The kids and I want to stay,” she said.
“You can’t stay. I’m going home.”
“Since when can’t we survive without you?”
Her remark stung, but to hell with it. Robert made Maggie feel more like an appliance than a human being. Well, turnabout is fair play.
“How long will you have to stay up there? A day? Two at the most? You fly home. Take care of what you need to take care of, then fly back the first part of next week. There’s nothing for the kids to do at home, and I have no intention of enduring two weeks of a spoiled vacation dealing with disappointed children.”
Robert’s cheeks flushed red. “Well, you’ll be just fine here with your new buddy, Sam.”
“Oh for goodness sakes, quit acting like a child.”
But inside, her stomach turned somersaults.
Her husband hit the nail square on the head. Her sudden irritation at having to cut the vacation short, and leave, was because she'd miss out on the opportunity to see Sam again. The disappointment stabbing at Maggie’s stomach was insistent.
I don’t want to go.
Not yet anyway.
12
The boys sat in lawn chairs arranged along the far corner of the pier.
Older guys, retired, with nothing better to do with their days than pass the time in the sun, fishing, telling stories, arguing politics and baseball, and of course debating which of them was the best fisherman.
Plastic Go-Cups and flasks full of whatever cocktail, high ball or home brew that helped take the edge off the day rested in makeshift cup holders draped over the pier’s cedar railing.
Sam handled the introductions.
“All charter members of the He Man Woman Hater’s Club,” Sam said, “Finch, McGee, Tin Can and Jerry Lee. Guys, this is David, our newest member.”
“Hi there, sport,” McGee said and smiled, a wad of chewing tobacco stuffed in his cheek, and tufts of white hair sticking out from beneath his sweat-grimed and faded Cincinnati Reds baseball cap. A former industrial league catcher, McGee held out a hand that looked like gnarled roots. David took it. “Always glad to meet another He Man Woman Hater.”
“And I hope Sam here hasn’t filled your head with any wild fish stories,” Finch added.
Finch was a big man, with red hair and equally red cheeks. Stubbles of auburn and white whiskers shadowed his jaw. He hadn’t shaved since last Tuesday.
“He hasn’t,” David said in wide-eyed awe.
“Good,” Finch said and slapped David on the shoulder, “Because half the lies he tells aren’t even true.”
He laughed and pulled David’s cap bill down over his eyes. “As long as you promise not to catch all the damn fish, I guess you can stay.”
“Sam says I’m Bill Dance.”
“Bill Dance?” Tin Can said with a chuckle. “You look like him, but I thought he was taller.”
“Why do they call you Tin Can?” David asked.
Tin Can winked. “You know how in school kids will give you nicknames? Like Smitty, Skip, or Fatso?”
David giggled and nodded.
“My last name is Tinken,” and he spelled it, “and well, everybody naturally started calling me Tin Can.”
“Watch him son,” Jerry Lee added, his arthritis knotted hands deftly working the rod and reel. “He tells as many stories as the rest of them. If you want to know the real scoop, just listen to me, okay?”
“Yeah, listen to Jerry Lee,” McGee spat a wad of tobacco juice over the pier railing. “He’s seen Elvis.”
“I really have, dammit. I saw Elvis.”
Jerry Lee winked at David. “Best rock and roll singer of all time, son. Don’t let them tell you different, boy. You ever hear of Elvis?”
David shook his head no, eyes as wide as sa
ucers.
“You’ve never heard of The King? Elvis Presley? My boy you have lived a sheltered life.”
And Jerry Lee then started to sing.
“Goin to a party...”
“Oh hell, you got him to singing,” McGee spat. “He’s going to scare all the damn fish away. Sam, shut him up, will you?”
Sam winked at David as he baited his hook, skewering a shrimp along the spine from tail to head. “Don’t pay them any mind, David. And don’t tell your mother you heard any bad language. She won’t let me take you fishing with me anymore.”
“Mom says that if you have to resort to swearing you lack the vocabulary to express yourself in a more intelligent manner,” David said as if reciting a lesson.
Sam laughed and slapped his knee.
“Well one for sure, this crowd will never be mistaken for intelligent. Take old McGee there. He has a bad case of potty mouth.”
“Old? Hey. Don’t make me use my outside voice on you,” McGee spat another wad of tobacco juice.
Sam pinched a couple lead shots above the leader on David’s line. “We’re fishing for reds and snapper. You want to let the shrimp here bounce off the bottom. You feel it pull, give this a good hard yank, and then start reeling in, okay?”
David nodded.
“Okay then, Bill Dance. Let’s catch us some fish.”
Maggie heard her son’s squeal before she saw him.
“I got one!”
She saw David through a break in the throng of walkers as she made her way out to the end of the pier. Her son sat with Sam at the railing with four other men gathered around him, all of them simultaneously shouting instructions. The fishing pole bent at a severe angle.
“I got one! I got one!”
She heard Sam say, “Reel him in! Not too fast. Play with him now.”
She saw David jump to his feet, the pole bent over the pier’s railing. She wanted to jump in and help, feeling a squeeze in her stomach when she saw her son lurch against the railing as the pole tugged furiously – she never did like heights, but relaxed when she saw Sam holding David by the shoulders. His little hands worked the reel, cranking the handle as he fought the jerking pole.
“Play with him, David. You got him!”
She heard one of the older men sitting with them shout out, “Hot damn! Look at the size of that whopper! Somebody get the dip net.”
David squealed again, “I want to do this myself! Don’t help me!”