Of Sea and Cloud

by Jon Keller

  She had two pictures of him and his brother on the mirror and one of Nicolas and Virgil when they were younger. Virgil was lean but still had the big shoulders and big cheeks. Jonah stared for a long time at the young version of his father and wondered what the man had been like.

  His earliest clear memories were of Sundays spent fishing on the lakes and rivers to the north. Bill and Nicolas fished relentlessly but Jonah was more interested in watching birds or clouds or currents. Sometimes Bill would hook one and hand his rod to Jonah and Jonah would feign excitement. Bill’s excitement was rampant and by the time any fish was in the boat Nicolas would have to bark at him to sit down before he tipped them all over. At noontime they’d land their boat and start a fire. This was Jonah’s favorite part. He’d collect twigs and leaves and grasses and Nicolas would give him only a single match no matter the weather. Sometimes Nicolas brought a package of hotdogs with them but usually they’d spear their trout with alder branches and hold the fish over the coals until the skin peeled back. Nicolas carried a tin of salt in the pocket of his fishing vest so the boys would hold their fish out for Nicolas to sift a pinch of salt onto. They’d eat the fish like corn on the cob and then they’d toss the guts and bones into the fire.

  Jonah stared at the photo on Charlotte’s mirror then said out loud, What the hell happened out there? What’s Virgil talking about? How’d you go overboard, Dad?

  Then he realized that although he did not believe Virgil was right he did not believe he was wrong either. He tried to piece together some altercation between his father and Osmond but he could only see his father with a foot wrapped in a rope and the weight of the traps tugging him over the stern of his boat while his fingernails raked first the floor then the stern then the water. Teeth grinding. Legs kicking. Throat screaming and Jonah knew that very same cold water and he reached out and pressed his fingertips against his father’s chest as if to test for a heartbeat but found only his own racing pulse. He blinked and was surprised to find himself in Charlotte’s bedroom. He went down the stairs.

  Get another beer, Virgil said. We got a long night.

  Long night of what?

  None of your business.

  Celeste put dinner on the table and Jonah opened a beer and sat down. He thought of his cold trailer and the cold camp and neither felt like home but this suddenly did. He couldn’t remember his father ever cooking a dinner. He drank down half of the beer and picked at the placemat. He smelled garlic and shrimp.

  You stewing on Charlotte? Virgil said without looking.

  Jonah’s eyes shot up to Virgil then down to the table.

  Well she’s out with a friend.

  She’s got to make her own mistakes, Celeste said as if she’d said it a thousand times already.

  Jonah clenched. He felt as if his blood had drained down his torso and legs and pooled in his feet. A friend who?

  That little clamfuck is who. Julius fucking Wesley is who.

  Celeste paused at the far side of the table. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Virgil. She held a place setting with both hands. Jonah, she said and as she watched him he knew that she saw a weakness within him that he wanted to keep hidden. Hidden even from himself.

  She set down the place settings and rounded the table and gripped him by the forearm and her grip was strong. You need to remember that she’s smart and she’s tough and she’s got some growing to do. I don’t like that boy Julius either but she’s got to decide for herself. Virgil thinks she’s still a little girl and she is in some ways but it’s hard on her having her father knowing her whole life.

  Yeah, said Jonah. He was about to cry right there in front of them and he hoped Celeste would either leave him alone or say something to fill the hole growing within him. He blurted, It’s just sudden.

  Virgil ate a few shrimp from the pan of risotto and wiped his hands on his shirt. I’ll take care of it, he said.

  Celeste stepped back so she could see Virgil better and slowly the implications of what he said dawned on her and her eyes opened then narrowed and the muscles in her face tightened. Oh no you don’t, Mister Man.

  Don’t what? Virgil said.

  You won’t take care of it. What are you going to do?

  The clamfuck, he said. His cheeks were white and wrinkled with shadow.

  You are not leaving this house tonight, Celeste said.

  The hell I’m not.

  And you too, Jonah. You’re sleeping here or I swear to God I will never speak to either of you again.

  God save the king, Virgil said.

  Jonah slugged the rest of his beer and lit a cigarette and placed the pack on the table and spun the lighter in a circle on top of it. He thought about Charlotte and Julius and wished he had not come.

  You don’t have to worry, Celeste.

  You bet I don’t have to worry because you two aren’t leaving this house. Blood rushed her cheeks. Jonah had never seen her so angry.

  The hell we’re not, Virgil said. He rocked on his heels as if losing his balance then settled as Celeste stepped in front of him. She grabbed the waistband on his pants and pulled him toward her and at the same time she slapped him across the cheek loud and sharp. Jonah coughed out a lungful of smoke as if he’d been hit.

  Virgil caught Celeste’s hands and he pulled her arms around him and hugged her. Her entire body shook. She rapped her hands against his back and Jonah heard her say, I won’t take this anymore.

  Virgil hugged her tighter and set his head on her shoulder. He faced Jonah but his eyes were closed. Don’t worry, he said. Don’t worry about anything.

  Jonah tried to look away but he couldn’t. Virgil held her until she calmed and when they finally parted she said, I’ll not have you two touch that boy.

  I’m not aiming to, Jonah said.

  Don’t lie to me. He is, she said, and you’d go with him if he went. If Julius so much as hurts a hair on my daughter then so help me God I’ll take care of him myself. But you two will stay away from him until Charlotte says otherwise and you will let the police deal with Osmond if he needs to be dealt with.

  She’s scared of Osmond, Virgil said and tried to smile but it wasn’t funny.

  Yes, she said. Yes I am. And you would be too if you’d sober up.

  I ain’t scared of Osmond, Virgil said. He’s just Judas with rubber boots. But I am scared of that lad who’s got your daughter with him right now. If I believed in that religious crabshit I’d say that boy’s Lucifer if there ever was one and I’d bet my boat that Osmond’d tell you the same.

  Leave it be, Celeste said. We’re eating dinner then we’re watching some dumb football game then Jonah is sleeping in the guest bed.

  That’d be fine, said Jonah.

  That’d be fine, Virgil mocked.

  Jonah lay awake thinking about Julius and Charlotte until he heard a car pull into the driveway. He rolled over and slid the curtain back and peered through the edge of the window. He saw Charlotte climb out of her car and shut the door. She wore a blue sweatshirt and lifted the hood over her head as she walked. She glanced up and he slid away from the window and stared at the ceiling. He heard the door open and close and heard keys jingle and then her footsteps fast on the stairs. The door to her room opened and closed. He didn’t hear another thing.

  He waited and expected her knock on his door but it did not come. He’d been foolish to expect it. After ten minutes he stood and pulled his pants on and slipped out of the room and across the hall and opened her door.

  He saw the shape of her body huddled beneath her comforter. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed and when he put his hand on her thigh she jerked away and said in a voice that sent a chill down his spine, Don’t touch me. Get the fuck out of here.

  Jesus, Jonah said. He stood up angry and crossed the room to leave but stopped. Are you okay, Charlotte?

  She didn’t answer.

  Charlotte? He took two slow steps back toward her. Are you okay?

  He heard her snif
fle. Fine, she said. I’m fine. Please just leave me alone.

  Something in her voice made him feel like he could not help but cry so he pinched his nose closed with a finger and thumb and pinched his eyes shut until it passed. Then he looked up. Charlotte? Are you okay? What happened to you?

  She sat up and threw the blankets from herself. She was still fully clothed. She sat cross-legged on the bed and faced him in the half dark. Her look and her voice were not her own. What do you want from me? What the hell are you doing here? You want to screw, is that it, little Jonah? Fine, you can screw me right now. I don’t care.

  He stood there in the middle of the room. He hadn’t put a shirt on and felt suddenly naked. I’m sorry, he said. I just came for dinner but your mom wanted me to stay.

  Why would she want you to stay? Your shitty trailer’s only like ten feet away.

  She was worried I’d go after Julius.

  Oh Jesus Christ, Charlotte said. She stood up. This is crap. So you were waiting in the window spying on me?

  I just heard you drive in. I didn’t want to stay here.

  You could’ve left. She didn’t tie you up.

  She slapped the shit out of your dad though.

  No she didn’t.

  The hell not. Cuffed him right across the face.

  What’d he do? Get shitfaced and turn into a prick?

  What? No, he didn’t do a goddamned thing and you know that. Jesus Christ. What’s wrong? What happened with him, Charlotte? Did he hurt you?

  No, she said. Her voice was flat and cold and held a finality he recognized. She stared through him for a moment then spoke again and her voice had calmed. I’m just having a hard time right now, Jonah. You wouldn’t understand. But I’m fine, so don’t worry about it.

  Jonah rubbed his arms for warmth. What are you doing with him, Charlotte? A week or two ago things with us were good.

  I can do whatever I want, Jonah. You don’t own me. You said everything was fine, didn’t you? Isn’t that what you said? Fine?

  I don’t want to own you.

  Yes you do. And they want you to.

  Hell. I told you right along that you’d be better off with a boyfriend your age. You know that.

  And now that I got one you’re pissed.

  He’s your boyfriend?

  What’s it matter what he is? You don’t get it, Jonah. I’m not going to live here and be some boring woman like Erma Lee. I want to see things and go places and meet people.

  Christ, Charlotte. I get that. But that don’t explain Julius Wesley. He’s bad and besides, that’s a awful fast change. Me then Julius.

  She interlaced her fingers and held them to her waistline. It’s not sudden. I was going to talk to you before but then your father died.

  So you figured you’d wait?

  She looked exasperated. Do you think I wanted to break up with you the day your father drowned? I’m sorry, Jonah. But Julius is not what you think. You don’t know him. He’s got problems, but he’s nice.

  Maybe you don’t know him. Maybe you shouldn’t be so fucking naive.

  You’re an asshole, Jonah. Just a little baby asshole, she said. Get out of here now.

  Julius and Osmond were at the pound when Bill showed up. It was early morning and a thin line of clouds split the sky in two so that the sun shone bright on the offshore waters while the inshore waters still lay tucked in shadow. Bill parked his truck and watched as a half dozen crows abandoned the causeway leaving the broken shells of several lobsters scattered about the rocks.

  He crossed the driveway and entered the salt-fish air in the pound building and crossed the concrete floor. He remembered that Jonah had cut Osmond’s traps. He dismissed the thought and went out the far door and climbed down the ladder to the floathouse. The house was a twenty-foot-by-twenty-foot lean-to with a metal roof and ten inches of flotation foam in the floor.

  Osmond stood in the scow bolting the 25-horsepower outboard to the fiberglass transom.

  Julius leaned against the wall and watched and he didn’t appear to notice Bill.

  Bill looked across the water at the causeway. The rocks were pink and gray and void of snow. You see them crows over there? he said.

  Osmond straightened and looked at the water. There were no crows in sight. No, he said.

  They been feeding awful on these bugs.

  I haven’t noticed, Osmond said.

  Bill squatted on his heels. What’s your loss here? Ten percent ain’t it?

  Seven to fifteen has been typical.

  I’d say them crows make up a good portion of that.

  Osmond looked at Bill as if being patient with an adolescent. The crows don’t go in the water, William. They only feed on the dead at low water.

  Where do the dead come from? The fucking gulls I’d say. I seen them blackbacks dive in two feet of water for a lobster.

  So the gulls feed them to the crows, William?

  That is right. They eat the tomalley then the crows get the rest.

  Osmond hooked the gas tank up to the outboard and turned the gas on and choked it and started it. He left the choke on and the engine ran fast and spat blue smoke. Osmond watched until it began cycling water then shut the choke off and left it at idle.

  He stepped out of the scow. He looked bigger now as he towered over Julius. He crossed the floathouse to where Bill stood. We don’t kill crows, William, he said.

  Bill pushed his glasses up his nose bridge. He could smell Osmond like wet fur. It ain’t just the crows by Jesus. We got otter and coons and who the hell all knows what.

  What would you do?

  That’s a lot of shrinkage, Bill said. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth. Even on this shitass market, ten percent of eighty thousand pounds is costing us thirty-two grand.

  Two crows circled the causeway and landed on an exposed rock.

  We don’t have eighty thousand pounds in here, Bill. We never have.

  We will next year. Bill looked at Julius and Julius caught his eye as if Bill had finally said something that interested him.

  Osmond laughed. Nicolas always said you were a planner. We need to get the crates down here. We can discuss shrinkage later.

  Fine, said Bill. But I’m getting me a crow call and I’ll be damned if I ain’t going to kill everything that spits, shits, flies, or crawls from here to Canada. He turned around and climbed the ladder. His breath came quick and he wondered why and he reminded himself that he had not cut Osmond’s traps but still he felt his pulse slam like an ill-timed engine. He thought of his father and wondered if he was watching from wherever the dead go and he hoped he was not because he did not feel like Nicolas Graves’s son right then.

  The crates were lined up beneath a lean-to on the far side of the building. Ten rows of ten and Bill dragged the first row into the building and across the concrete floor and the plastic grated loud on the dry concrete. He peered down at the floathouse where Osmond threaded twine through the torn dragnet. He wished his father were there. Just one more day working at the pound to help him prepare for Osmond. Just one more day to help him prepare for life on dry land.

  He dragged the rest of the crates over then climbed down the ladder. Julius still leaned against the wall. The sun which had crested the chain of islands now glimmered off the pound water.

  Osmond hooked the drag to the scow.

  Give me a hand with these, Bill said to Julius.

  Julius turned slowly and stared at Bill. You can’t get them?

  It’d be faster with us both.

  Christ, said Julius. I can get the fuckers myself.

  Bill stepped back as Julius passed him and Osmond stopped what he was doing and watched. Julius reached up and pulled at the stack of crates. The bottom of the stack was two feet over his head and the top another eight feet above that.

  I’ll lower ’em down to you, Bill said.

  The fuck you will.

  Julius, Osmond barked and his voice was big and stopped
Julius. He will help you.

  I don’t need his help.

  But you will have it.

  I could be fishing right now.

  Bill climbed back up the ladder and separated the crates into fives then lowered the stacks down by their beckets and Julius restacked them against the floathouse wall. As they worked Osmond throttled the outboard forward and pulled the drag overboard. The drag was six feet wide with iron runners on each end and a nylon mesh bag in the middle. Osmond circled the pound with the drag running over the smooth bottom while the lobsters tumbled and piled into the mesh bag. He circled twice and headed to the floathouse and he rammed the bow of the scow into the float and unclipped the drag rope and handed it to Bill. Bill ran the line through a block that hung from a rafter. Osmond flipped the outboard into reverse and throttled back and the rope reeled through the block as the drag slowly rose out of the water.

  The outboard whined. Bill and Julius each took an iron runner and heaved back. The drag rose onto the floathouse floor. The mesh bag held 500 pounds of lobsters piled with strands of rockweed and twists of kelp. Osmond helped them dump the catch onto the floor then Julius and Bill flipped the drag over and lined it up at the edge of the deck as Osmond motored off again. The line tightened and the drag dropped into the water and the salt swished and sparkled in the wintertime light.

  Osmond circled the pound with the drag as they crated the lobsters and weighed them out and strung the crates into a line that floated serpentine in the pound water. Bill and Julius worked in silence until the third drag when Bill pulled a skull out of the pile of lobsters and held it in the air and the world stopped.

  Fuck, he said and his knees sagged and his back bent as if he could no longer hold himself up.