by Tara Ellis
Our favorite fishing hole is an amazing place that’s also our best-kept secret. We’ve never encountered anyone else here and it’s as if it were made especially for us. Created by thousands of years of running water, the carved-out rocks make a bowl about twenty feet wide and up to ten feet deep. It’s fed by a small waterfall and has just enough logs caught up in it to make the fish feel safe. Along one side, moss covered stones provide the perfect place to sit. On days like this, the sun warms them when it’s directly overhead.
We’ve been at it for over an hour already without any bites and are debating if we should try digging for some fresh worms. I decide to stay put while Jacob starts scraping at the dirt with a rock. Baxter catches on quickly and aggressively digs his own hole nearby.
“I called Brent while you were getting ready,” Jacob informs me, while holding out a small worm. Taking it from him, I put it on his hook and hand the rod back.
“Oh. So why isn’t he fishing with us?” Brent is Jacob’s best friend. They’ve been hanging out pretty much every day for over a year now, since he moved to our neighborhood. I assume he called to invite him fishing. Both of his parents work on the weekends, so he can usually come over. Better than being home alone.
“He’s sick. So are his parents.”
“Well that’s too bad.” I look over at him when the silence draws out, like he’s expecting me to say something more. I find him staring at me. “What?”
“They were all there last night.” Again, he looks at me with his dark Egyptian eyes, like that’s supposed to mean something.
“At the park? I didn’t see them. They must have gotten there after we did.” A small butterfly floats through the air between us, and I’m momentarily distracted by the bright colors of it wings. Refocusing on Jacob, I can see that he really seems concerned about something. “So what? Are you upset Brent didn’t find you?”
Clearly frustrated with me, he shakes his head. “They were all there last night, Alex. Them, Mom, and Scott. Brent said that he’s sick too. Don’t you think that’s weird?” Scott was another friend from school that he hangs out with.
“Okay, so they all got the same cold. That happens. You and I were there last night and we’re fine. Oh! You got something!” His line has gone tight, pulling the rod down towards the water. Reacting on instinct, Jacob yanks it straight up, setting the hook. With a few turns of the spool, he pulls a trout close to two pounds from the clear water.
Laughing, I quickly scoop up some water in our big bucket that we always bring. Jacob expertly frees the fish from the hook and drops it in. Dad taught us the trick of keeping them alive until we get home. They taste better that way, or at least, we think so.
“So worms it is! Get to work Baxter, we need more.” Baxter barks back at me excitedly and then resumes digging in the hole he had been creating.
Jacob smiles, seeming to relax again. “I guess you’re right, Alex. I dunno, maybe it’s because I don’t like it when Mom’s sick.”
Pulling him to me, I give him a quick hug over the fish bucket. I understand his fear. Looking into his eyes, I ruffle his thick, dark hair the way I used to when he was smaller. “She’ll be fine, Jacob. We’ll take good care of her. Tonight she eats trout!”
After breaking out our sandwiches, we spend another two hours fishing before calling it quits. By the time we head home, we have three nice-sized fish. I plan on cooking two of them and sticking the third one in the freezer. I’ll give it to Mr. Jones the next time we go to the store.
The trip back is uneventful and I turn on the gas barbecue to pre-heat before heading inside. I find Mom sound asleep and figure it’s best to let her rest. On my way back out I grab a good filet knife, some tin foil, butter and a lemon. I may not be much of a chef, but I know how to cook a fish.
Jacob has taken care of the unpleasant business of killing them, so I agree to do the rest. By the time I have them wrapped up in foil and cooking, it’s well past three. It’ll be an early dinner, but that’s okay. I’m already hungry and if I am, then I know for sure Jacob will be.
Within a few minutes, the smell has my mouth watering and I realize we’ll need something else to go with it. Heading back inside, I search through the canned veggies and come up with creamed corn. Some frozen Texas toast should round it all out nicely. After heating it all up, I go back out to get the fish. It doesn’t take long to cook.
I think about it for a minute and then decide to set the table. Mom has really been emphasizing this lately. Several nights out of the week she doesn’t get home until late, so Jacob and I have gotten into the habit of eating in front of the big television in the family room. On nights that she is home though, she makes a point of setting the nice kitchen nook that takes up a corner of our large country style kitchen. I don’t know if she’ll be up to eating with us, but I know it would make her happy.
On my way down the hall to get Jacob, I look in on her again. She’s still asleep and I can see her chest rise and fall in a nice, steady rhythm. It’s pretty stuffy in her room, but I’m afraid that if I open the window she might get too much of a draft. She looks comfortable enough, so I’ll leave her alone.
After stuffing ourselves, we put the dishes in the sink for later and Jacob disappears outside with Baxter. Mom’s still snoring away so I go back to my room and catch up with Missy on our day.
According to her, biking is for dorks and she would have much rather been fishing. Her younger sister still has training wheels on her bike, so she spent the whole time going in circles waiting for her to catch up. I laugh at how she describes it all. I’m able to picture exactly how she would look when saying it. Missy has always made me laugh. She has a way of knowing just what to say. I tell her about our big catch and my gourmet meal, wishing I had my best friend there to share it with. After several more exclamation marks and smileys, we say goodbye.
Her dad has promised to get a new laptop this next week and we’re both looking forward to being able to video chat. Her old one has had a broken camera for months now. Looking at my own computer, I decide to check out what’s new before crashing in front of the TV.
It would appear that nothing fell into that one woman’s pool, at least certainly not a meteorite. The scientists are still trying to locate the crash site, based on radar and satellite images, but they don’t sound too optimistic. Tired of the news, I switch over to my social media account.
I’m not exactly what you would call a social butterfly, but since I’ve grown up in this town, I do know a lot of people. I’m a junior this year and play on the school soccer team and write for the high school paper, so my inner circle of friends tend to stem from those two groups. Although my friend list is a little over two hundred, I only talk regularly with or follow around twenty. Even so, the amount of them posting about how sick they are is alarming. My apprehension grows when I figure out that most of them were in the park last night. I actually count the status updates… ten. I remember seeing at least seven of them there. It suddenly gets a little harder to breathe.
I take a deep breath and sit back in my chair. Stupid. I’m being stupid. We’re all friends and go to the same school. We ride the bus and eat lunch together. It would make sense that several of us would come down with the same cold. But it was literally within hours of each other. A few said they were sick before going to bed and the rest had it when they woke up this morning. This was just strange. Frustrated at my own conflicting thoughts, I shut my computer down.
It’s not even six yet, but I still want to put on my comfy pajamas. I’m thinking it’s going to be a popcorn and movie kinda night. Grabbing a big blanket off the foot of my bed, I decide to give in to it and go all out.
I stop again at Mom’s door and see that she’s sitting up, the fading light of the day reaching her on the bed. “Hey Mom, how are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck. A very big truck.” Searching around on the bed for a moment, she comes up with a remote and turns on the TV. A horrible
coughing fit grabs hold of her and I cringe at the sound. I can’t remember ever seeing her this way before. “Alex,” she says, finally able to catch her breath. “Would you please close the blinds for me? That light is killing my eyes.”
Crossing the room silently, I do as she asks and then sit down next to her. “Are you all right? Want me to call someone?”
Smiling, she takes my hand and shakes her head. “No, it’s just the flu. I’ve seen this so many times at work, but I guess I’ve never had it full blown before. I’ll be miserable for a while, but I’ve always been healthy so I think I’ll be okay. I promise to let you know if I need a doctor. Thanks for entertaining your brother. I’m sure he had a good time fishing. “
Feeling a bit reassured, I try to smile back at her and then remember that I saved her some dinner. “We managed to catch a few trout today! I put some in the fridge for you. I can heat it up.”
Wrinkling up her nose at the thought, she shakes her head. “I can’t really stomach the idea of eating much more than crackers right now. Can you get some for me, and maybe a soda and more Advil?”
I manage to find everything requested and even locate another box of tissue and some cold medicine. I reposition the pile of pillows behind her and turn on a small nightstand lamp instead of the brighter overhead one.
“I’d give you a kiss right now, but you seriously don’t want this,” she says, taking a swallow of medicine. “In fact, you should go wash your hands. That’s the best way to avoid getting it.”
“Get what Mom?” We both turn to look at Jacob standing in the doorway with Baxter.
“Oh it’s only a flu bug, Jacob. It isn’t anything to worry about. I’ll be back to normal before you know it! Now come give me a quick hug before I go back to sleep.”
He crosses the room hesitantly, as if he’s afraid she’s lying. Once he gets close enough to see her better in the dim light, he seems more convinced and jumps onto the bed, throwing his arms around her. “Please get better,” he begs, his voice muffled in her blonde hair. Looking at me over the top of his head, the love and concern for him in her eyes is obvious.
Patting him, she then gently pulls his arms from around her neck. “Of course I’ll get better. I love you, bug.” Shooing him off the bed, she swats him on the behind. “Now go wash your hands so you don’t get sick too.”
Satisfied for the moment, he smiles and dodges beyond her reach. I realize then that Baxter is absent, which is odd, because he never misses an opportunity to snuggle on a bed. Looking back I see that he is still in the doorway, quivering. I give him a questioning look and he whines at me in response. Before I can call him, Jacob is running through the doorway and Baxter quickly follows.
Not seeming to notice the exchange, Mom tells me goodnight and reminds me again to go wash my hands. After making sure I can’t get her anything else, I follow her instructions.
Back in the family room, I find Jacob and Baxter already on the couch. They’re all wrapped up in the blanket that I dropped earlier while getting mom’s stuff. Jacob is busy trying to find a movie to watch, so I plop down next to Baxter, planning to finish our conversation. He looks at me boldly, in a way that only an intelligent dog will.
“What was that all about, buddy?” I ask quietly, stroking his head. Looking intently at me for a moment, he then leans forward and softly touches his nose against my forehead. Folding his paws in my lap, he places his head on top of them and sighs. It wasn’t like I expected him to answer me, but for some reason that I can’t explain, I believe he just did. I don’t know what he’s trying to tell me, but that feeling of danger I had last night is suddenly back with a vengeance. As darkness starts to press in against the windows, the three of us huddle together under the blanket.
FOUR
Sunday morning isn’t starting out so hot. It took forever to get to sleep last night, even though Jacob and I stayed up late watching stupid movies. It was good to laugh. We started that tradition during the horrible weeks after Dad died, when Mom stayed in her room for a day or two at a time, in a deep depression. Fortunately, her parents flew out and helped get her and us through it. Come to think of it, I believe Grandpa Fisher was the first one to use the stupid movie treatment. There wasn’t much laughing back then, but it was a good distraction that grew into a new family time.
I wish my Grandparents weren’t in Nebraska. It’s way too far to drive very often and they couldn’t afford to fly back more than once, maybe twice a year. They were just here for my birthday, so we probably won’t see them again for several months.
My restless sleep last night was filled with odd dreams about running through the woods, trying to get away from whispered words that I couldn’t understand. Twice I woke up to check on Mom. I think that she was coughing and that’s what drew my attention, but when I tiptoed to her room, she was sleeping quietly.
Then there was Baxter. Normally, he isn’t a problem and goes through the night nestled up to Jacob. Last night though, he woke me up around three. There he was, just sitting there staring at me. Scared the heck outta me. He was right next to the bed, his snout resting on the mattress beside my pillow. He whimpered at me when he saw that I had opened my eyes. I was too scared at first to move and by the time my brain caught up with my heart, I realized it was just him.
Thinking he needed to go outside, I took him to the back sliding door in the family room, but he just looked at me like I was stupid. Making that sound only a dog is capable of (you know the one where they are clearly done with you), he padded in to Jacob’s room and didn’t come back out the rest of the night.
Now, for some reason I have woken up again and it’s not even eight. It’s Sunday! I don’t usually get up until Mom makes me. Lying here, I can tell that it’s useless to try and get back to sleep and it’s still too early to text Missy. She would kill me for waking her up.
I grab a book off my nightstand and flip through the pages. I haven’t even started it, and I can’t quite seem to read more than two sentences at a time. This reminds me of the old book on Dad’s desk yesterday. I had almost forgotten about it. Deciding to give in and get up, I throw on some sweats and head for his office.
I find the book right where I left it and pick it up on the way to Mom’s room. I don’t know what I expected, but I’m shocked when she looks up at me. The shades are still drawn, but enough light is bleeding in around the edges to reveal the deep smudges surrounding her eyes. The red on her nose has spread around her mouth, which looks raw and sore. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her shiny blond hair in such a matted mess. She’s always been thin, but fit and strong. Now, she seems frail and weak.
“Mom! You’re worse.” Going to her, I put a hand to her forehead, finding it dry but very hot. Her neck actually looks swollen and I realize it’s her glands.
“Yeah, this is the worst I’ve ever felt,” she confirms. Her voice is coarse, like someone who smokes three packs a day. It’s seems an effort to even talk.
“I should call Dr. Wells.” He has been our family doctor for as long as I can remember, and I’m confident he’d know what to do, because I sure don’t.
“No, don’t bother him. My cough is actually better, which was the most concerning thing. So long as my lungs are clear, I should be fine. My headache is a little better too; it’s just this God-awful aching, sore throat and glands. I’d swear I have the mumps if I didn’t already have them as a kid.”
Looking closely at her, I’m trying to decide if she’s being honest with me. It’s true that she hasn’t coughed yet, and her breathing isn’t raspy like yesterday. “Okay, but if you still aren’t getting better by tonight, I’m calling. Deal?”
“Deal,” she agrees. “I see you found the book.” Taking it from me, she flips through the pages. “I got this out Friday night. I meant to give it to you yesterday.”
“Why?” I’m transfixed by the fluttering paper, like something’s going to spring out from them. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” Lo
oking at me, she seems to be debating something. Her hands becoming still, and she holds it back out to me. “It’s from your father.”
“Dad?” Confusion engulfs me, along with several questions, as I take it back. “I don’t understand.”
Sighing, Mom tucks several loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Alex, the day of the … mugging, when your father was shot, he didn’t die right away. You know that I was there with him. Well, after a short fight with the man who attacked me, he shot Adam in the chest. It all happened so fast, I don’t even remember the guy running away or me screaming for help.” Pausing, she takes several breaths and I think she must be fighting back tears. But looking at her, I realize that while it’s obviously hard to talk about, she’s totally composed. She’s just winded from talking.
Coldness starts to spread from my stomach, as I comprehend that she doesn’t seem upset at all. I’ve never heard exactly what happened. It’s mainly due to the fact that normally, Mom can’t even discuss Dad without getting choked up. Grandpa Fisher held me that night of the phone call (they were staying here with Jacob and me), telling me he’d been shot and killed while protecting Mom from a robber. But that was all. This is the first time that Mom has ever given me any details of that horrible day.
Looking at me now, her deep blue eyes are glazed with fever, but clear of any strong emotion. I hold the book to my chest, a small shield between us.
“I held his head in my lap as he told me he loved all of us. He knew he was going to die, Alex, but still he took the time to tell me that the book was in his bag and I was to give it to you the day after the Holocene meteor shower. He whispered something else, but I couldn’t hear him and then he was gone. I’ve kept it ever since. I have no idea what it is, but it must have been important to him.” Pulling the covers up around her neck, she lies back in bed, seemingly exhausted by the conversation.