The Less Fortunates

by Charles C Martin

19

  I heard a thud next to us and looked down at the large saw lying in the sand.

  “Fun’s over,” said Forest. This would be an odd transition. I had never sawed off the head of a shark.

  “Good luck,” said Becca, giving us a thumbs up as she made her way back to the trail leading up to the house. We did as Agwe instructed and took turns sawing off the shark’s head. For some reason I thought it would happen quickly. Not at all. It was bloody and took us at least ten minutes with the dull blade, most of the time spent severing the thick spine. It almost felt like we were sawing through a tree.

  The head itself was the size of a big dog.

  “Check out these teeth, man,” I said, feeling the almost razor-like front edges of one of the teeth.

  “I’m going to take one out,” said Forest.

  “We can’t, man. These are for that lady.”

  “Yeah,” said Forest. “That would suck if she said no because it was missing a tooth.”

  We took Forest’s knife and made a slit from the base of its neck to its tail. Pulling out the insides was intense, and it made us a bloody mess. Afterwards, we took our clothes and washed them in the saltwater.The environment was physically harsh at times, but I was getting used to it. I hardly noticed the saltiness in the water anymore.

  Forest spun around toward land.

  “What was that?” said Forest.

  “Sounded like a siren,” I replied.

  “Oh shit,” said Forest.

  “Shhh..” I whispered. We continued listening and scoped the outer woods toward the road, looking for the slightest flash, anything unusual.

  “There it is again,” I said.

  Forest let out a deep breath. “It’s a bird.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Yeah, man. That’s like the fifth time that’s happened to me. It’s these crazy parrots.”

  Together we managed to haul the two hundred pound shark carcass up to the house. I was beyond tired. Forest chugged some water and passed out on his goose feather mattress in the corner of the main room. While making my way to my bed, I heard the faint sound of crying again. I tiptoed to Becca’s room. The door was shut, and I pressed my ear to it. It sounded like she was in pain or something. I reached for the knob and froze.

  It would freak her out if I suddenly showed up in her room. I decided to just barely crack the door and try to see if she was okay.

  “Are you okay?” I said in a loud whisper. “Becca, you okay?”

  “Joey.” I recognized the voice of Forest and poked my head around the corner to the main room.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Becca, she’s crying or something.”

  “She has nightmares,” said Forest.

  “About what?” I asked.

  “Remember I told you about that guy I shot in the face when I was a kid?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Him.”

  I nodded. “You think it’s okay to wake her up and see if she’s alright?” I asked.

  Forest shrugged.

  I heard her say no again, and I decided to wake her up. I walked about halfway between the door and her bed. God she was beautiful, even when she was sad.

  “Becca!” I said a little louder. “Psst!”

  She popped her head up with her eyes wide open looking at me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Why?” she said.

  “I think you’re having a nightmare.”

  She looked away from me at the ceiling. “I’m okay,” she said.

  I nodded and turned back toward the door.

  “Joey.”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you do something for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “Will you keep my door open?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And will you sleep on the floor over there so I can see you?”

  “Of course. Let me get my mattress.”

  I entered the main room and went to the corner opposite Forest. I picked up the mattress and the small pile of clothes I had.

  “What are you doing?” asked Forest.

  “Becca wants me to sleep over there.”

  “What?”

  “Not in her bed. In the hallway so she can see me. Just to help her sleep.”

  Forest nodded and leaned back over, facing the wall.

  I put the mattress down outside of her room and across the doorway. I made sure not to block the door to Agwe’s room. He only used his room to keep a few personal things and his books. He would sleep there occasionally, but only if it rained. He preferred to sleep in an old hammock between two palm trees on the south side of his property.

  I rolled over facing Becca. She was no more than ten feet away in her bed. I admired her and began to realize it would be obvious to anyone that she was too good for me. We sure as hell didn’t match. I wondered if I should start paying more attention to my appearance. I didn’t really know if I was considered attractive or not or how I could even tell. I remembered a girl who had a crush on me in the fourth grade. Another one supposedly liked me in the ninth grade. That was about all I had to go on. If I was with Becca, I needed to make some sort of effort on my appearance. How was it she looked passed that? Just then Becca rolled over. Her big green eyes wide open, but downcast. Her face was tear stained. We stared at each other without expression or speaking. Somehow it wasn’t awkward at all. We just looked and kept looking. At some point we slowly fell asleep.

  The next morning I awoke to the smell of fried eggs. To my left I noticed Becca’s bed was empty. I paused for a moment and stared at the thatch roof above me. It was a mix. I couldn’t wait to start the day, walk outside, see Becca, the ocean. The flip side of the coin was the constant thought of being caught. Forest was still conked out in the living room. I made my way out back and found Becca sitting on one of the stumps, frying eggs over a fire. I noticed her hair was even more wild. There was a piece that formed a hoop just above her right ear. I didn’t care, but I knew she did. She looked beautiful. I was anxious to get the shark head to that lady to make that trade for her.

  “Hey, Becca.”

  She smiled. “Hey, Joey.”

  I stretched my arms in the air and yawned. “Where’s Agwe?”

  She pointed to the ground in front of me. There were words sketched in the sand with a stick that said, Agwe out fishing.

  “You need anything?” I asked.

  She shook her head, “No.”

  I watched the fire quietly, and suddenly it felt awkward again. It was such bullshit. I kept second guessing what I should say, what I should do. But I remembered what she said the day before. To just be myself. So I asked myself - what do I want to do right now? I wanted to sit next to her, so that’s what I would do. I took a few steps toward her and sat against the stump she was sitting on with my right shoulder touching her legs.

  I felt her hand on my hair and shoulders. Natural. That’s what it felt like.

  At the sound of footsteps approaching, I turned my attention toward the trail. Black dreads bounced above the high grass. It was Agwe.

  “Oh, you would not believe this fish!” he shouted. There were blood soaked rags around his hands.

  Becca put the pan down and stood up, “What happened?” she asked.

  “A big fish drug me for three hours. I saw him once. It was a Blue Marlin that came in close to shore. I couldn’t believe it. I lost the towel overboard and fought him with my hands.”

  Becca inspected the wounds. He had deep gashes in both palms from the line. Half of the cloth he had around his hands was bright red.

  “And I lost the line,” said Agwe. “Haven’t lost a line in four and half years now. It was a good line.”

  Becca took a fresh towel and wrapped both of his hands. “You need to rest,” she said.

  “I’m okay. I need to eat. Forest, Forest!” said Agwe.

  Forest came out the back door squinting
. “Yeah?”

  “Grab some of the shark steaks from the box.”

  “Alright.”

  “Joey! I hope you are hungry,” said Agwe.

  He had a large cast iron grate that was placed over the fire. He cooked everything on it, from eggs to sliced pineapple to shark steaks. The eggs were ready and staying warm on the far end of the grate. We watched the shark steaks sizzle, releasing the smell of spices and smoke. We always ate on the same wooden plates that we washed in the ocean every afternoon. Agwe only had four, so it was important that we kept up with them.

  On my plate there was a thick shark steak, at least a pound, with charcoal black grill lines. To the side were two fried eggs and a mango. Agwe seemed alright. It was obvious the mobility in his fingers and hands were limited, but he didn’t seem to take too much notice.

  “How long will the shark last in that salt?” I asked.

  “About a week,” said Agwe.

  “We can’t eat all that in a week.”

  “No no. We will give much of it to the people in Queens Bluff. Many of them are too old to fish.”

  Agwe chewed, closed his eyes, and smiled. He looked up at the sky, still smiling. It was an odd habit. He would often look up at the sky and smile.

  “Have you always lived like this, Agwe?” I asked.

  “My father and his father yes. When I was young, no.”

  “What’d you do when you were young?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Got into trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” asked Forest.

  “All kinds. Mostly drugs. I returned to this life some thirty years ago.”

  “Were you ever married?” I asked.

  “Once. Beautiful woman, but restless. She was always looking.”

  “Looking?” I asked.

  Agwe finished chewing the food in his mouth. “Yes, another house, another man, another island, anything that she didn’t have was always better.”

  “Where is she now?” asked Becca.

  “Somewhere in the States I think. She ran off with my friend a long time ago. Lived in Nassau for a while.”

  “Is she still with your friend?” asked Becca.

  “No. That didn’t last long at all.”

  “Do you have kids?” she asked.

  “No I don’t. A long time ago we planned to. That’s the beds you sleep on now. It took many lobsters in a trade to get those beds. It is good to see them being used.”

  “Sorry to hear about your wife,” I said.

  “It was a long time ago,” said Agwe with an infectious smile that lit up his entire face.

  “You don’t seem bitter,” I said.

  “No, no her parents died when she was a little girl. She was afraid to love.” Agwe looked at his hands. “We all collect scars, even the fish. Dive down and look closer. You will see tooth marks on their bellies, the reef ripped up by engine propellers and anchors. Walk the trails down to the ocean and notice the seedlings you trample with your feet. Our scars should remind us to be compassionate, not create more hurt for others.”

  After breakfast Forest and I swatted flies away from the big shark head. The black eyes and blood stained mouth made it look more like a monster than a fish.

  “How the hell do we carry this a mile down the road?” asked Forest.

  “Hey Agwe,” I shouted. He was inside washing his hands in the kitchen.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have a wheelbarrow or something?” I asked.

  “No. Use rope,” he said.

  “Drag it?” asked Forest.

  “No. Run the rope through it’s eyes then hoist it to your back. Use the fire pick to push the rope through.”

  “Alright,” said Forest. “I’ll carry it on my back. You can do the rope through eyeball thing.”

  It took me a solid five, nasty minutes, but I managed tie one end of the rope around the tip of the fire pick and stab it all the way from eye to eye. Forest grabbed hold of the rope, and we both hoisted it up onto his back. “How is it?” I asked.

  “Heavy as hell. What do you think this weighs?” he asked.

  “Fifty, maybe seventy-five pounds,” I replied. “This looks crazy as shit. Imagine walking around in Miami with this on.” The shark’s nose reached the back of Forest’s neck, and the bloody base ran almost all the way to his waist.

  “Let’s go man,” said Forest. “I feel something slimy dripping down my back.”

  We made our way down the old, beaten dirt road.

  “One thing’s for sure,” I said.

  “What’s that?” asked Forest, with a strained voice, as he tried to reposition the ropes on his shoulders.

  “No one will mess with us. We look like total bad asses right now.”

  Forest laughed.

  We neared the row of shacks and small homes. Two young boys were kicking a soccer ball in the street. They saw the bloody shark head, quickly picked up their ball, and left in the other direction. We walked up the old gravel driveway that led around the side of the old white house with sky blue shutters. I knocked on one of the side panels.

  “Mrs. Phoebe, you there?”

  “I don’t know nuthin’. Go away,” she said.

  “Ma’am?”

  Who that be?” she asked.

  “Forest and Joey. We’ve got your shark head.”

  “Oh come on back here.”

  We walked around the corner, and there she was just as if she hadn’t moved from the morning before. She was tying small plastic bags that had cookies in them with a red ribbon.

  “I thought you was the police badgering me again.”

  “Police been out here?” asked Forest.

  Mrs. Phoebe stood up. “Yeah rumor has it there was a murder on the west side. Now let me see what you have here.”

  Forest turned around.

  “Oh, now that’s a nice one there! Ooh yes look at them teeth. Very, very nice teeth indeed. Let me go inside and get your trade.”

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  She walked into the house and came back with two small blue boxes and some colorful plastic bottles in a plastic bag.

  “Thanks. We’ll see you around,” I said.

  “That sister of yours. Does she cook?” she asked.

  “Becca - she’s a good cook,” said Forest.

  “I could use someone to help me bake on Thursday through Saturday in the afternoon. I can pay her with small money and the best bread on the island.”

  “Okay, we’ll tell her. Thanks,” said Forest.

  “You boys have a fine day. Say hello to Agwe for me.”

  “Alright.”