Karma

by Maximino Vega

  Tom walks into Kats.

  “Tom?” Susie always does a small skip when she talks which make her large breast bounce. “Good to see you. I didn’t expect you until later in the day.” Susie has the merchant’s smile on her face. She’s mastered it to the point of genuineness.

  “I keep thinking I imagined it, but, traffic was light.” Tom smiles back. One of his front teeth has a chip; courtesy of a fall when he was kid.

  “I know that makes you happy.” Susie makes that subtle jump and so do her breasts. Her thin brown hair is tied in a ponytail. She has light brown eyes and light skin. Her large breasts don’t look out of proportion despite her slim build. She moves her six foot frame with ease in the tight space behind the counter.

  Tom smiles with a hint of the devil as he watches Susie move about behind the counter, rearranging merchandise.

  “What are you looking at Tom?” Susie asks.

  “You know what I’m looking. I can’t help it. They’re so substantial.”

  Since day one Tom and Susie spoke to each other without filters. They grew up noticing the changes in their bodies from summer to summer.

  “Be a good boy and keep your distance, I remember well the lesson you taught me.”

  “And what lesson is that?” Tom looks at Susie sideways as he smiles.

  Susie points a finger at Tom. “You’re hornier than a dog in heat only without the loyalty; I wouldn’t exactly call you a woman’s best friend.”

  “Aaauuuu.” Tom lifts his face toward the ceiling as he howls. “I would rather you call me a wolf, the more ruthless cousin of the canine species.”

  Tom walks away and grabs a few cans of Progresso Soup from the shelf. After he sets them on the counter he heads to the fridge to get some beer.

  Susie can’t help laugh. “You need to finish up with your shopping before you go on up to your cabin; get some fishing done. You still have time to make a decent catch.” Susie puts her hands on her hips.

  “I know how to fish these parts. I’ve been doing it ever since I was a kid.” Tom calls behind him as he grabs two six packs of Coors Light from the fridge, bringing them to the counter. He grabs a bag of beef jerky from a rack next to the register and throws it on the counter.

  “That’ll be all for now.” Tom rests his hands on the edge of the counter.

  Susie bags Tom’s groceries then records the cost in a small notebook.

  Tom will settle his tab at the end of his vacation, as always.

  Gathering his bags together, Tom looks at Susie. “If you get lonely or feel the need to cuddle, don’t hesitate to come up to my cabin. You know the way.”

  “Bye Tom.” Susie crosses her arms under her breast, making them look bigger than they are.

  Tom stares at Susie’s chest.

  Susie doesn’t move; allowing Tom to feast his eyes.

  “See you around, Tom.” Susie uses her arms to hike up her breast higher.

  Tom chuckles as he leaves with his groceries.

  Tom stops outside of Kats to look at the Fishing Times flyer Susie posted on the old cork board that’s outside of the entrance door. Susie started posting the details of worthy to report catches a few years ago.

  Tom took a moment to read how a local caught a fifteen pound Largemouth Bass a few days ago, unheard of for as long as he’d been fishing at Sparrow Lake. Tom hoped he would be as lucky this summer. Well at least most of it. He couldn’t stay for the two months that school was out, although, he’d like to. If only Ian had agreed to come.

  Tom could be ruthless when it came to his relations with women, but, he couldn’t bring that same ruthlessness into his relationship with his son.

  He would spend a month in his cabin and the surrounding area then head back to the city to spend the remaining month with his son Ian.

  Tom thought about how good it was to spend time near Sparrow Lake surrounded by nature. He would spend his time fishing, canoeing and taking an occasional swim in the waters of Sparrow Lake.

  He would also walk in the woods. He’d gone on many treks that got him pleasantly lost, although, not really. He knew the forest surrounding the cabin like he knew his way around New York City.

  Tom put his groceries on the passenger seat of his car before he turned on the ignition and started the drive toward his cabin.

  ****

  Tom was anxious to try his luck at Sparrow Lake. He'd recently purchased a tackle pack that had one hundred pieces. It came with lures, weights and sinkers of all kinds. He was sure one of the lures would be his lucky charm this summer. He had the choice to use one of the lures that came in the box or make his own. Either way, something would work for that big catch; he was sure of it.

  Tom drove for a mile before he came upon the wooden sign that read Cabin Grounds and made a right onto the dirt road. He drove for another mile before he arrived at the place where the road split in three. The roadway on his right would take Tom to his cabin.

  Each road led to a different set of cabins. Each one independently built and owned; all of the cabins far away from each other. Privacy was never an issue. One of the main reasons you had to be prepared with all the right supplies.

  Tom never learned how his grandfather came about owning a cabin near Sparrow Lake and he’d never thought to ask. He wished now that he had more information about the history of the cabin that had been kept in the family for so long.

  ****

  Tom finally came upon his cabin. He stopped the Toyota about ten feet from the entrance door. He turned off the ignition and contemplated the Redwood cabin; it never got old. The sight of cabin always took his breath away. The stones in varying tones of gray that make up the base of the cabin make the natural red of the Redwood pop.

  The dirt around the cabin had spots where the grass had grown unhindered making its way unwaveringly toward the sun. Those few patches of grass would disappear under his shoes as he walked around his cabin to and from Sparrow Lake and the woods. Not to me mention driving into town to get more beer from Kats.

  Tom looked at the trees behind his cabin. They were tall and thin. Their green leaves hanging too far up in the air to make out their shape.

  Tom stayed in his car. Something was different; he noticed it as soon as he arrived, even though, he tried to ignore his feeling. The cabin and the surrounding area didn’t look the way he was used to seeing it each year, at the beginning of summer. It didn’t have the vacant quality that could be seen and felt. It was as if someone had been here.

  He couldn’t get the thought out of his mind that something was off. He would sit in his car until it came to him.

  Could it be that a bear had made its way to the cabin looking for food? He’d never seen a bear in these parts, although, his father always told him it was a possibility. Tom looked around. He didn’t want to come out of his car and find himself face to face with a bear.

  Tom remembered the time his Dad told him to keep still if he saw a bear. The warning came after they had been walking deep into the woods for half an hour.

  “That’s not funny Dad.” A young Tom said.

  “It wasn’t meant to be.” Tom senior tried to keep a straight face.

  “You tell me this after all the time we’ve been walking in the woods. Don’t you know there’s no way to outrun a bear?” Tom junior looked around, afraid that a bear would pop out from behind a tree.

  “Yeah, I know.” Tom senior indulged in a hearty laugh.

  “Dad, keep your voice down. We don’t want to attract any bears. It’s not cool how you tricked me.”

  “You’re right, it’s not cool.” Tom senior shrugged his shoulders. “How else would I have gotten you to come with me into the woods? Believe me, it’ll be worth all the walking we’ve done. I know a spot where we’ll catch plenty of fish. Who knows, you might catch the big one.” Tom senior winked at his boy.

  Tom smiled at the memory as he went back to studying the cabin almost in the same way one would study a chess board; looking at all the pi
eces before making a move. He didn’t want to lose an important piece or worse, lose the game.

  Tom took his hands off of the steering wheel and sat back in his seat resting his head against the headrest.

  It took him a few minutes before he saw what it was. The cabin was surrounded on all sides by little white flowers. He’d seen them before, only not so many. They were usually just a few spread around the cabin. Tom stared at the flowers. He searched his memory trying to remember if there had ever been this many, but, he couldn’t remember.

  “Tommy boy you’re going nuts.” Tom said out loud.

  He got out of his car, took his groceries from the passenger seat and the keys from the ignition.

  Tom shut the passenger door before he made his way to the cabin.

  The crunch of the earth underneath his shoes sounded loud with how quiet it was. He stopped a few feet in front of the cabin to stare at the flowers. Tom thought the small flowers were beautiful; a soft touch to go along with the rough edges of the cabin.

  Tom cleared the two steps to the small porch in one step. He looked on his keychain for the key with the red nail polish. Tom put the key in the lock and turned it. He opened the door and the smell of wood, dust and something he recognized, but, couldn’t name hit his nostrils.

  Tom turned around. He looked passed his car from right to left. Tom couldn’t get rid of the sensation that something was off.

  He turned around and walked into the 30x40 Redwood cabin. The wood of the cabin had been hit with multiple coats of clear polyurethane to make the finish durable.

  The inside of the cabin isn’t elaborate. It had been built loft style except for the bathroom which is enclosed by walls. The bathroom has a bathtub, toilet and wash basin. On his left is the kitchen with the basics; stove, refrigerator and sink. A chopping block sits in what can be considered the middle of the kitchen. This is where Tom cuts vegetables and prepares whatever fish he catches. It’s also where he seasons the occasional steak when he gets the urge to go into town to buy a nice sirloin. Against one wall of the kitchen stands a two door standing cupboard where Tom keeps a few canned goods. It also has supplies like matches, a flashlight, batteries and two kerosene lamps among other things.

  There’s a window above the stove in the kitchen, two windows on either side of the entrance door and a big window on the living room wall across from the entrance door. There’s also a window in the bedroom at the other end of the cabin on the right.

  All the windows are covered with red wool curtains. The bedroom is separated from the rest of the open space of the cabin by the same red wool material of the curtains; it hangs from a pole that stretches the entire width of the cabin.

  The bedroom has a full sized bed, two night tables with a lamp on each one and a dresser. Against one wall stands a four foot shelf holding Tom’s favorite books. When it’s time for bed, Tom will fetch his copy of Siddhartha by Herman Hesse and read it for the umpteenth time.

  The living room has two leather loveseats facing each other separated by a coffee table. The coffee table sits on a throw rug.

  Lying on the floor underneath the large window in the living room is the one man yellow canoe Tom takes onto Sparrow Lake in favor of skipping rope as a different form of exercise. The paddle sits snug alongside the canoe. Against the wall not far from the canoe is the metal bin holding the fishing poles of three generations of Devlin fishermen.

  Tom puts his groceries on the chopping block before he walks over to the bin. He passes his hand over the fishing rod that belonged to his Dad. Tom senior caught a lot of fish with his Shakespeare Fishing Rod. His father’s favorite lure still hangs from the end of the fishing line. The neon green of the imitation frog is as bright as when his father first bought it.

  Tom turns and sits on one of the love seats. Both of which are covered in butter soft brown leather. Tom stretches out his legs and tilts back his head. He closes his eyes searching for a nap.

  Tom can’t relax; he sits up on the love seat and looks at the coffee table. The film of dust should’ve been thicker. The cloud of dust floating in front of him when he sat down should’ve been heavier. This along with the flowers around the cabin and the sense that things were off came to Tom in the same way getting back in the groove with the nuances of fishing did.

  Looking at the curtain that separates the living room from his bedroom, gives Tom the feeling he isn’t alone. He gets up and takes a step toward the curtain. Tom stops for a moment to listen. He takes another step and cocks his head to one side. He can’t hear anything out of the ordinary. Even though it’s quiet, Tom keeps his head cocked to the side as he slowly approaches the red wool curtain. Despite the internal voice telling Tom he’s being paranoid, he continues to make his way forward with his fist clenched and ready for anything.

  The only sound Tom can hear as he stands in front of the curtain is his own breathing. Tom didn’t know if he was being paranoid or if he was stressed about the challenges of being recently divorced and having alternate weekends with his son with whom he doesn’t seem to have anything in common with except DNA.

  Ian is eleven and challenges Tom whenever there’s an opportunity. Tom knew this was normal for a kid his age who was establishing what kind of human being he would be, with his likes and dislikes along with the fortitude to rebel against everything.

  Then there was Megan, always reminding Tom of what he had done to her more than she’d ever done when they were married. Tom couldn’t understand how his wife’s reproach could last for so many years. He wished she would’ve divorced him sooner. Tom figured Megan had to know that she would never forgive him.

  Standing in front of the red wool curtain, Tom puts his ear near the curtain even though he feels like he should be more careful. Tom feels like there’s someone standing on the other side of the curtain. He listens for a shift in weight or even a slight step. The floorboards would let him know if there was somebody there.

  “You’re being foolish Tom. You’re alone.” Tom yells with as much conviction as he can muster. For the body’s capacity to feel what the eyes can’t see won’t stop whispering to him that he isn’t alone.

  Tom decides to turn around and get things ready for his sabbatical. He starts walking toward the kitchen when he hears what sounds like the scrape of a shoe against the wooden floor. Tom quickly turns around and marches toward the curtain, this time he isn’t stopping. He sticks out his hand, pushing one of the four sections of the curtain to the side.

  Tom walks passed the curtain and stands in his bedroom. It’s empty. He starts laughing at his own paranoia when the entrance door to the cabin slams shut. Tom bolts from the bedroom toward the entrance door; he opens it and runs onto the porch then down to the dirt. He turns around and scans the area around the cabin and behind him making a complete turn. Tom’s trying to make sense of the moment when a gust of wind ruffles his hair. He knows summer doesn’t truly settle in for another week or so. Tom convinces himself the wind was the reason why the door closed on its own. He’d rather think this than believe someone is responsible for the door slamming shut.

  Tom stands still as he tries to quiet his mind. After a while he goes inside to get his things ready for his vacation.

  ****

  It took Tom two hours to get the cabin ready to be lived in. It was still light out as he made an early dinner. He still had a chance to do some fishing.

  Tom grabbed his gear and headed out.

  ****

  Tom was savoring his second Coors Light. The first one he’d drunk fast. It was ice cold and the humidity at the lake was higher than he’d expected. He took his time with the second beer.

  Tom always fished from the same boulder that sat at the edge of the lake. The boulder was surrounded by trees, the leaves offering plenty of shade. Across the lake and to the right stood another boulder where there’d sometimes be another fisherman either standing or sitting depending on their preference. At times there was a polite wave of acknowledgement and s
ometimes not. Once in a while it was some gregarious fellow who shouted from across the lake to ask how the fishing was going. Tom would answer accordingly, although, he preferred those who offered the polite wave.

  Tom had settled into the beach chair when the small bell he hung to the top of the fishing pole started to ring as the fish pulled on the line.

  Tom sat up in his chair. The rod bent as the fish ran. Tom got up. He put the bottle of Coors Light in his back pocket. He undid the bell from the rod and clipped it to the lapel of his shirt.

  Tom took his time. The hole that his father had drilled into the boulder secured the fishing rod; keeping it grounded. Tom grabbed ahold of the rod and reeled in the fish.

  “Yeah baby!” Tom cried out, when the Large Mouth Bass broke water and he saw its size. He knew it was well over five pounds.

  Tom reeled in the meaty fish and put it inside the portable aerated bait fish carrier. It would keep the fish alive and fresh until cooking time.

  Tom always hanged back after he made a catch. He loved to look at the scenery. He admired the natural setting while he sat on his father’s old beach chair. There was the occasional clear spot in the dense grouping of trees that surrounded the lake and different size rocks along the edge of the lake.

  He balanced the empty bottle of Coors Light on his lap as he looked around. Tom took in a deep breath of contentment before he got up to pack his things and make the walk back to his cabin.

  ****

  Back in the comfort of his cabin, Tom had a skillet warming on the stove while he went to the fridge to fetch the pasta with cherry tomatoes and basil he had made earlier.

  The pasta would go well with the fish he had seasoned with salt and pepper.

  Tom poured just a little oil in the skillet before it got too hot then changed his mind and poured enough oil to fry the fish whole. He’d had been taking care of himself for most of the year. He deserved a treat. Tom could afford to cheat.

  He got a Coors Light from the fridge as he waited for the oil to get hot enough for frying.