by Kate Merrill
THIRTEEN
The great equalizer…
Matthew had to admit their launch had been rocky. because the kids fought about everything from who gets which life vest, to who carries the worms, to why can’t Ursie come? They nearly toppled Matthew’s rowboat over who gets to drive the outboard? In the end, with Juan in the stern, Johnny in the bow, and Matthew in the center like a hulking referee, no one got to drive. Instead, Matthew rowed and Ursie howled mournfully from the end of the dock as the little hull disappeared across the lake.
“Once we have our house on the lake, my dad will buy a motorboat six times bigger than this one,” Johnny bragged.
“So what? My dad owns a ranch ten times bigger than this lake,” Juan countered.
Matthew was alarmed to hear Juan lie as the one-upmanship escalated.
“Big deal. My dad’s the boss at the biggest bank in Charlotte.”
“My dad’s a cowboy!” Juan snapped.
Matthew took a heavy pull on the oars, then allowed the boat to glide. His feet were planted against the bulkhead, on either side of Juan’s, and he gave the boy a long, hard stare.
“Oh yeah?” Johnny challenged. “There’s no ranch or cowboys ’round here. Where is your daddy?”
Matthew warned Juan with his eyes, but decided not to interfere. Juan knew full well his parents were dead, but this was not Matthew’s truth to tell.
“My dad’s in California.” Juan averted his eyes.
“Pipe down, kids,” Matthew interceded. “Keep yappin’, and you’ll scare the fish away.”
“Can the fish hear us?” the boys asked in unison.
“Loud and clear,” Matthew said, and they both shut up.
They dropped anchor in a shallow, reedy cove--- a secret hole where Matthew had caught many a striped bass and crappie. Of course, he’d prefer different bait, a different season, and a different time of day. Because now, at high noon, in the heat of June, they hadn’t a hope in Hades of catching anything bigger than a minnow or small bream.
Some men relaxed chasing golf balls, but Matthew would just as soon save the green fees and dangle worms, and he had never met a boy who didn’t share that philosophy. On the other hand, his parenting experience had been with a girl, his little Ginny, who could poke a hook through a minnow’s eye or wait out a strike good as any boy. These sorry lads today had already fed most of their bait to the bilge in the bottom of the boat.
“Pass me your line, Johnny,” Matthew told the Sorvino boy. “I’ll show you how it’s done…”
With that, two sets of hooks flopped through the air and attached themselves to Matthew, who instantly saw the problem. “Look, we can’t have two Johnny’s aboard.” He lifted an eyebrow. “How ’bout we call one of you Juan?”
“My name is Juan!”
“Whaan?” Johnny giggled. “What kinda stupid name is that?”
“It’s an Indian name!” Juan’s blue eyes flashed.
“Honest?” Johnny looked to Matthew for confirmation, but Matthew shrugged. Then Johnny peeked at Juan. “Cool,” he said with grudging respect.
One small victory. Now Juan was Juan, and Johnny was Johnny, but Matthew was determined to have a talk with his little friend from south of the border. The child had a problem with the truth, a problem Matthew had shared at Juan’s age. Maybe Juan could avoid the consequences, if he stopped lying before it was too late.
The afternoon spread out like pancake batter on a griddle hot lake. They stripped off their shirts and washed their hands overboard before eating peanut butter sandwiches. They went swimming in the shallows, and Matthew taught the boys how to pee in the bushes when nature called. By the time they rowed out for another round, Johnny and Juan had become best friends. Matthew decided that fishing was the great equalizer--- rich or poor, everyone was united by the mutual lack of good fortune.
“Are there any fish in this dumb lake?” Johnny complained.
“Bet not.” Juan pouted.
“Bet so….” Matthew said as the bobbers on both boys’ lines suddenly ducked under the surface. “Tug up a little on your poles, boys. Looks like someone’s finally hungry down there.”
Ignoring his instructions, the kids jumped to their feet and began jerking their poles and reeling like there was no tomorrow.
“Get me the net!” Johnny screamed.
“No, get me the net!” Juan shrieked.
Matthew pulled them both down to the seats. “We can land these fish by hand.” He wrapped a rag around each line and lifted two tiny bream into the boat. “Too bad these little fellers are too small to keep. You’ll have to throw them back, boys.”
“No!” They rebelled as one.
“Yep, it’s the law.” Matthew was firm. “They aren’t big enough to eat yet. Pass over your lines, and I’ll take ’em off the hooks.”
“No!”
Matthew fingered his jaw until a compromise presented itself. “Okay, kids, I have an idea. We’ll keep fishing as we head home.”
The boys watched in silence as Matthew rapidly removed their bobbers, clipped more weight on their lines, and then reset the hooks in the little bream. Then he tossed Juan’s line off the port side, Johnny’s off the starboard.
Matthew switched places with Juan, yanked the starter cord on his Johnson motor, and set out at trolling speed. “Hang onto those poles,” he warned. “You might just hook onto something big enough to pull you out of the boat.”
“For real?” Juan gasped.
“You best believe it, son.” Matthew knew snagging a striper on a bream was a long shot, but stranger things had happened.
For once the boys were quiet as they watched the threads of silver dragging behind in the waves. At the same time, Matthew eyed the storm cloud that had been gathering on the horizon all afternoon. First it was yellow, then it was black as an angry bruise. Summer gales blew up like magic on Lake Norman, and racing home against rain and heavy winds could be a challenge. On a positive note, bass got mean and hungry right before a storm, and these poor boys deserved some success about then. Matthew drove slow, hugging the edge of the drop off where the shallows met the deep. If the granddaddy stripers were inclined to rise off the bottom for a quick dinner, now was the time.
The strikes came just as the first gust of rain poured from the sky. Suddenly each boy’s rod bent like it had been hooked on a log. They screamed with excitement and hung on for dear life.
“Stay calm and keep your thumbs on the line… but if your fish starts to run with it, let the line out easy!” Matthew was anything but calm. When the boys stood up, he bellowed, “Sit your butts down, or I’ll strap you in your seats!” They dropped without an argument.
“I can’t do it alone!” Johnny wailed.
“Take my pole, Trout!” Juan pleaded.
Matthew shook his head. “Nope. I knowyou can do it. Just ease it out, then reel it in whenever the line goes slack.”
They nodded, two sets of blue eyes glazed by panic and joy.
“There’s a storm coming…” Matthew chuckled. “So you’ll have to land those monsters yourselves. I’ll head for the dock, and once we get there, you’re home free.”
The boys’ knuckles were white as they gripped their rods. Clumps of soggy black hair draped their foreheads, while identical grimaces of concentration animated their faces. Matthew focused on the growling thunder and the lightn
ing flashing ever closer. He picked up the pace, his heart swelling with pride as the kids hung on like old men against the sea. Matthew realized he was putting the boys in some danger, yet giving them the adventure of a lifetime. Ultimately, he believed the rewards outweighed the risks.
When they finally bumped against the dock, and he was able to tie up to the mooring posts, only then did Matthew scramble for the net. First they brought Johnny’s, then Juan’s catch aboard. Both were whoppers to take your breath away. Each fish weighed upwards of three pounds and had delivered enough pulling power to tire a grown man.
“Lordy, boys!” Matthew whooped. “How’d you do it? They should put your pictures in the paper.”
The fish flopped, the boys leaped and pushed one another in sheer ecstasy, and a thunderclap shook the dock. Amid the chaos, Matthew spotted Diana’s white Crown Victoria parked in the carport and saw two women jumping and waving their arms from the shelter of the porch.
“Uh, oh…looks like we have company,” he groaned aloud.
The boys noticed Diana and Brenda at the same moment and scrambled out of the boat.
“Hi, Mom!” Johnny screamed. “Wait until you see the fish I caught. It’s awesome!”
“Yeah, me too!” Juan stretched his arms wide to show the length of his catch.
“You two go on up to the house and be sureto tell them you’re okay,” Matthew urged, but the boys didn’t move. “Don’t worry, I won’t throw your fish back. I’ll bring ’em soon as I tie down the boat.”
Reassured, the boys took off running, spinning their arms like pinwheels. As Mrs. Sorvino watched them approach, Matthew could tell from her body language that he had a lot of explaining to do.
He always hated the next part. If he had his druthers, Matthew would throw every fish back into the lake to live out its life in peace. Not this time. He lifted his hammer from the tackle box, swung high, and dealt each bass a swift deathblow right between the eyes. Though their tails still thrashed and their little fins fluttered, the proud creatures had passed on to a better world, their demise quick and painless.
In the distance, Matthew felt Brenda’s eyes burning with disapproval. He sighed and passed a chain through the fishes’ gills. He prayed that facing her wrath would be quick and painless for him, too.
FOURTEEN
Blood brothers…
Juan McCord was so excited he could hardly breathe. When Miss Diana dropped him off at Johnny Sorvino’s house, he couldn’t believe Johnny’s mama would really let them play together. When she screamed at Trout that day after fishing, Juan figured he’d never see Johnny again Maybe Miss Diana made it better? They had to give Johnny his fish, right?
Aunt Nita and Uncle Bobby had already helped eat Juan’s fish, but Johnny’s bass was packed on ice in a cooler in Miss Diana’s trunk. Plus Trout sent along a recipe so Johnny’s mama would know how to cook it. They had stopped at Trout’s Place on the way, and Juan saw Trout kiss Miss Diana when they thought he wasn’t looking. Now Miss Diana was sad. Trout asked her to go on a picnic, but she said no, because she had to work for Mrs. Sorvino. Grownups were really stupid.
As they walked towards Johnny’s house, Juan was suddenly shy. The place wasn’t like a normal house, it was a mansion, like where movie stars lived. Juan’s mama and daddy once took him to Hollywood on a bus. They saw pink and gold castles, and the driver told about all the famous people who lived inside.
“How many families live here?” he asked Miss Diana.
She laughed. “Only Johnny’s family. It’s big, isn’t it?”
“Awesome!”
They rang the doorbell, and Mrs. Sorvino led them into a big hall. She didn’t hug him or say hello. Instead, she called upstairs for Johnny.
“I’ll be back around four,” she told Miss Diana. “That drive-by couple said they were coming to see the house after lunch. Maybe you’ll sell it to them, and we can skip the damned Open House?”
Then she left.
Johnny trotted down the stairs and stared as Miss Diana carried the cooler to the kitchen.
“Who else lives here?” Juan asked as Johnny took him to the playroom.
“Just me, my mom, and my dad. Who else did you think?”
Juan felt ashamed. Kids on TV lived in places like this, but that was only pretend. “My grandpa and grandma in California have a house big as a motel!”
“Like a ranch?”
“Yeah. Cowboys live there, too.” Juan had seen the photos in Daddy’s album---cows, red hills, and a big gate with McC for McCord hung above it. Off in the distance was the big white house. When Juan was a baby, Daddy took him there, but now Juan couldn’t remember much about it.
Johnny showed him all his toys, but then said he was bored. “Hey, you wanna play outside?”
Juan wanted to stay inside with all the cool stuff, but he had a secret of his own to show. “Yeah, okay.”
“Where do you two think you’re going?” Miss Diana blocked the front door.
“We’re allowed to go out,” Johnny whined. “Didn’t my mother tell you?”
“Yes, she did, but let me give you a lunch bag to take along.”
They trailed her to the kitchen. Johnny grumbled and rolled his eyes, but Juan had already decided he loved Miss Diana. She was so pretty and funny, and she smelled real good. Plus, she didn’t talk too much, like Aunt Nita.
She opened the refrigerator and lifted out a glass pan loaded with slabs of gooey white meat.
“Ooh, gross!” Johnny made a face and stuck out his tongue.
“What’s wrong with you, man?” Finally Juan had one up on Johnny. “That’s the fish you caught, stupid. Trout sent it.”
An enormous grin spread across Johnny’s face. “You sure it’s my fish?”
“Absolutely.” Miss Diana smiled. “Your mama will fry it up for your supper.”
“No way! Mom can’t cook stuff like that.”
“Sure she can,” Miss Diana said. “But in the meantime, here’s something special for your lunch…”
She had little sandwiches with all the crusts cut off, some fancy cookies from a high shelf, and two cans of Mountain Dew. She put everything into a plastic bag, like Juan’s mama used to do. Aunt Nita never made him lunch. She cut people’s hair and never came home at noon, so Bobby and he always ate whatever dumb stuff they could find.
“Be careful, and don’t wander too far. Your Aunt Nita will come to pick you up pretty soon,” Miss Diana said.
Juan nodded, then followed Johnny outside. Why couldn’t he live with Miss Diana instead? Aunt Nita didn’t love him. She wanted to send him away. He heard her talking late at night, when they thought he was asleep. Maybe he could live with Johnny, or with Trout?
They took turns riding Johnny’s bike past big houses with shiny new cars in the driveways. The sun sparkled off the chrome bumpers and hurt Juan’s eyes. They stopped where the shiny lake rolled around the land and the wooden bones of a new building rose into the blue sky. The building was empty and quiet, like when Mommy took him to the museum where a dinosaur lived.
Johnny dropped his bike and ran inside the structure. “This is my new home,” he said. “My room’s right here on the lake.”
“Where are the men who build it?”
“Daddy says the lazy bums never
work a full day.”
They wandered through pretend rooms in hushed silence, where open rafters cast hard patterns on the cracked red earth. They sat cross-legged in Johnny’s room and ate their lunch, while Juan told about Porter Park and how he lived on the lake, too. Juan decided to save his big surprise for later, but he did show Johnny the two pictures hidden in his other pocket.
Johnny cheered when he saw the one of Juan posing with his fish. “Who’s that man standing beside you?”
“Uncle Bobby, but he’s not my real uncle.”
Then Johnny’s eyes bugged at the picture of Aunt Nita in her tight halter and short shorts. He pressed his finger against her breasts. “Who’s this? She’s sexy, like those ladies on MTV.”
Juan blushed. He wasn’t quite sure what sexy meant, but he knew it was good. “She’s my real aunt.”
“Cool.”
After lunch they raced to the lake, kicked off their shoes, and went wading. Soon, off came their shirts. Juan left his photos on the shore so they’d stay dry, and then the boys dove in. They played man and shark, taking turns pulling the other under and biting his leg. Finally, exhausted and happy, they crawled onto the grass and flopped in the shade of an old willow tree. Juan decided the time has come.
“Hey, Johnny, check this out…” He pulled apart the Velcro pocket in his shorts and brought out the knife. The sun sparkled on its red enamel casing and gleamed on each blade as Juan plucked them out one by one.
“Radical!” Johnny followed each movement with his eyes. “Where’d you get that thing?”
“It’s Daddy’s Swiss army knife. He gave it to me before…” Tears pressed behind Juan’s eyes.
Johnny turned pale and stared. “Before he died, right?”
Juan nodded and looked away.
“And your mom died, too. Miss Diana told my parents, but Mom said I shouldn’t talk about it…”
Juan picked up his shirt and wiped his eyes. The sky, water, and blazing sun spun in dizzy circles. He couldn’t catch his breath.
Johnny’s chest heaved as tears also spilled from his eyes. “I’m real sorry, Juan. Are you scared?”