by J. D. Netto
I glanced at the portrait beside me one more time, the picture a reminder of simpler days, when our parents would tell us what to do, and we obeyed. Well, some of us. Even then, Jonahs tended to look at the world with curious eyes. Sure, curiosity was a gift, but being too curious could be dangerous.
I talked about the concert, Olivia, and our baby boy during lunch. They insisted I tell them the name, but I refused, promising the suspense would be worth it. Jonahs talked about college and the excitement of finally moving to Arizona with Hannah and starting his PhD. No one mentioned what happened to Jonahs a few weeks ago—the three of us clearly wanting to forget. But you could sense the subject lingering around us and all through the cabin, waiting to find its way into the conversation. Maybe what happened to him was a result of bottling up too much and speaking too little.
After we were done eating, Hannah brought out homemade ice cream and some bottles of root beer.
“No lunch is complete without dessert.” She set it on the table.
“Oh, man.” I placed a hand over my chest. “I hope he won’t punish me for indulging a little bit.”
“You’ll be fine,” Jonahs said. “And you can’t use the excuse that you’re too bloated so you can ditch me and go home early.”
“Don’t you see my outfit? You think I go around wearing this every day? Did you think this was a fashion statement?” My hand landed on his shoulder. “You may be a genius, and I may love you and all, but it was the fish that made me come here.”
We all shared a laugh and reveled in our ice cream and root beer like children.
“Come to the shed.” Jonahs pushed his chair away from the table and jumped to his feet as soon as he finished the last bit of his float. “Come on!”
“Can I finish mine first?” My right eyebrow turned into an arch.
“Sure.” He stared like a kid looking at candy.
“Fine, fine!” I finished mine up with a single slurp. “Happy?” I asked, ice cream dripping from the corners of my lips.
“Very. Now, come on!” He banged a hand on the table.
I rolled my eyes, grabbing a napkin to wipe my lips, before turning to Hannah. “You need help washing up?”
“Don’t worry about it.” She chuckled and waved me away. “He’s been waiting to show you what he did in that shed.”
“Alright,” I said, following Jonahs to the back door.
He pranced down the outside steps and stone path connected to the shed. I was at his heels, observing the mountain peaks and trees.
“Remember how much you used to tease me for keeping bugs hidden in our room?” he asked, opening the shed door.
“Hard to forget finding a whole bunch of crickets in a jar under my bed, Jonahs.”
A smirk played on his face as he pulled on a string, turning the lights on and revealing a shelf crowded with fly rods, reels, and nets. He ventured deeper into the shed, coming back with a metal box in hand.
“Look at these!” He dropped the box on a table by the shed’s entrance. Inside was a colorful collection of artificial flies.
“Oh, wow.” I grabbed one that looked like a moth. “Where did you get these? They look so real.”
“I made them.” He puffed out his chest. “Been working on them for some time.”
“You made these?”
“Yes,” he said proudly. “All those years reading about and staring at bugs finally amounted to something.”
“Ah, I can see it now.” I held my hands in the air, holding the shape of an outdoor sign. “Jonahs, God of All Things Creepy and Crawly.”
“Very funny.” He punched my arm. “And I can see you: Paul, The Stand-Up Comedian Who Failed and Became a Pianist.”
“Alright, funny man.” My attention returned to the artificial flies. “Do these actually work?”
“They work with me, but we’re about to find out if they like you,” he replied, turning off the light. “Let’s go back inside so I can change.”
We returned to the cabin. I sat in the living room while Jonahs went upstairs. It wasn’t long until Hannah appeared, taking a seat beside me. “So, how are you?” she asked, her serious face a sight I hadn’t seen in a while.
“I’m good.” I could tell she wanted my next words to be more than just How are you? in response, but I came up short.
Instead, she asked, “How’s your ticker?”
“Hasn’t given up on me yet.” I sighed. “Which is a good thing, I guess.”
She laced her fingers over her lap. “He’s been alright, by the way,” she said, leaning forward to eye the stairs behind me.
“That’s good to hear.”
Her attention shifted back to me. “Jonahs will be okay. I know you want to ask. Figured I’d save you the time and effort of finding the right moment to do so.”
Silence hung for a moment.
“I was scared for him,” she continued. “His friends found him wandering in the woods, completely out of himself. When I saw him, his eyes were empty and miles away, staring into nothing. It was as if nobody was home. He kept going on and on about seeing things, visions and such.”
“Was he doing any drugs?”
“No, not at all. He smokes a reefer with his college buddies sometimes, but that’s not going to trigger a mental breakdown.”
My mind raced, searching for the right words, but none were found.
“Today will do him good.” She smiled. “He talks about your fishing trips all the time. He needs his older brother. Talk to him.” Her eyes glistened. “Sometimes the weight of his program, starting a family, and this whole religion situation—”
Creaks came from the stairs behind the couch, putting an end to our conversation.
“Ready!” Jonahs skipped over the last step, landing on the floor as he zipped up his fly-fishing vest.
“Will you be home for dinner?” Hannah asked as he approached her.
“Probably not.” Jonahs bent to kiss her. “Going to take advantage of having this one around. I don’t get to go fishing with a famous musician often.”
“Okay, Charles Darwin, let’s evolve to the truck,” I said.
Brothers (part two)
JULY 2005
We loaded our gear into Jonahs’ silver truck and got on our way after I grabbed the CD from my car. Whenever he and I were on the road, we’d let the music be our conversation. The melodies and lyrics spoke more than we ever could. I thought about Hannah’s words while gazing at the passing scenery. I wanted to ask him what happened, but I wasn’t sure how to ease into the subject. There was no easy way to bring it up.
I opened my mouth, determined to ask, but held off when he started singing along to Kris Kristofferson’s “Sunday Morning.”
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.
We drove about thirty minutes up the canyon road until reaching one of our favorite spots just below the Smith & Morehouse Reservoir. In front of us was the wide dam surrounded by greenery and mountain ranges.
Jonahs and I walked with our fishing gear in hand, dodging the poison ivy bushes. There were plenty of fish in these parts, and the view was something no human could ever get used to.
We put our things down and loaded the pockets of our fishing vests with beef jerky. After grabbing our fly rods, we walked to the edge of the water, its surface so clear I could count every stone at the bottom. Jonahs moved his fly rod back and forth, tossing his artificial fly farther out from the edge of the river. We didn’t speak much the first hour
. We didn’t catch anything either. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, trying to find a way to break into conversation.
“So, how’s the music stuff going?” Jonahs started, keeping his voice down so as not to startle the fish. His words were a relief.
“It’s been pretty great,” I replied, following his tone. “Had a packed house last week. I’m putting the final touches on Primary Worship. Also putting a show together at Kingsbury Hall on September twenty-third. I know it’s only July, but I can get you tickets if you’d like.”
“Very cool, man.” He smiled. “Let me know if you need me to Photoshop any of your covers again.”
I chuckled. “Those were the days. You barely knew how to use—” A fish hit my fly. I stepped into the water, reeling in a beautiful brown trout. “Would you look at that? I guess your flies work!”
“Now that is a beauty,” he said.
My attention shifted between the trout and the awestruck expression on his face until we released it back into the water.
“Still jamming with your college band?” I asked as a flock of white-faced ibis crossed our view.
“We get together every once in a while.” He reached into his fishing vest pocket and grabbed some beef jerky. “It’s fun with the guys.”
“That Vagabond album was pretty good. Maybe we should’ve started a band,” I said. “The Cardalls.”
“That would’ve been a disaster.” He laughed. “I like music, but it’s not my life mission. I’m in a good place right now. I’ve got Hannah and evolutionary biology. I’m set. I’m sure the countless hours studying will pay off at some point. Things are absolutely—” A fish took his fly. He fought with his catch for a few seconds before reeling it in. Another trout, only his was much bigger. He unhooked the fish, its green scales adorned with white scattered dots. Jonahs gazed at the animal as if observing a precious jewel. He carefully bent down and gently released the fish back into the water, as if saying goodbye to a close friend.
“Where was I?” He took a new fly out of his vest and made a quick switch before casting again. “Ah, yes, Vagabond. That album was the beginning and end of my music career. By the way, did you have a favorite song off that? I don’t think I ever asked.”
My eyebrows arched. “The one about Dad’s father. I guess we could call him Grandpa.”
“’The Man I Never Knew,’” he said, casting the fly into the river.
“That one. The lyrics definitely hit home. And props to you for writing a song about the guy who abandoned Dad when he was a kid. That took guts.”
“I can’t imagine a guy walking out on his family like that. Just disappearing into thin air, never to be heard from again.”
“Must’ve been tough,” I agreed. “I also have no idea why a man would walk away from a religion he’s served after so many years.”
He looked at me, surprised.
“Abandoning your roots can be a dangerous thing,” I added. I could tell my sudden comment struck Jonahs like a blow to the stomach. His posture stiffened as he tightened his grip on the rod. But I needed to know if what happened to him was because he had somewhat walked away from his childhood beliefs.
“I don’t want to argue,” he said in a monotone voice, forcing a smile. “Besides, the fish are listening, and that subject will scare them off.”
I shrugged and recast my fly.
“I’m afraid to be happy about this new pregnancy,” I confessed, hoping to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled. “It’s one thing to hurt for your own life, another to feel the pain of losing someone else, even if unborn. Sometimes it feels as if life is wasting its efforts on a sick man whose clock ticks down faster than others. It’s a stupid thought, but…”
“You’ve always managed to push through. You’re still alive even after doctors repeatedly said you’d die. Your boat managed to sail through the storm undamaged.”
“The problem is the passengers on my boat get hurt,” I said. “Olivia mentioned something before the show last week.”
His lips became a rigid line. “What did she say?”
“She revealed that her mom played piano at the Assembly Hall before she got sick.” I took in a sharp breath. “She died after that. She seemed to be implying it was my turn now. Not sure what to make of that.”
“You think it’s regret?” he asked.
“Sometimes I think she’s tired of believing we have a long future.” I turned to him. “Can you blame her? Maybe her dad was right all along.”
Jonahs scoffed, shaking his head. “Come on, who are you kidding? That woman has been in love with you since we were teenagers.” His eyes took on a vacant stare. “She wouldn’t shut up about you after you guys met. Very few get to live the adventures you do, Paul.” He recast his fly. “No matter how dark things get,” he added, “you have to look at everything you’ve survived. Your heart’s still beating.”
“And my weight fading.”
My comment was met with an eyeroll.
“You guys drifted apart after I started dating her,” I said. “You used to be such good friends before.”
I knew something he thought I didn’t; Olivia told me their friendship ended after he gave her a note. She never told me what it said. And he never told me about it. The few times I brought up the note to Olivia, she said it was a private matter.
“People change. Friendships change.”
His response was a clear sign I wouldn’t get a straight answer from him.
“You’re overthinking all of this,” he said.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” I took a breath before continuing. “I have also been overthinking…you know.”
He brought in the line and gently laid his fishing rod on the ground.
“How have you been?” I asked, Sawyer rushing his pace under my chest as a jolt of adrenaline shot down my body.
“Hannah told me you were one of the first ones to show up at the hospital. I still don’t know why they had to drive me in an ambulance to a hospital so far away. That bill was a hefty one. I’m thankful you made the drive.”
“You gave me quite a scare,” I said. “Of course I came.”
“Well, thank you.” He used the tip of his boot to roll a pebble back and forth on the ground.
“In the ER, you told me what happened. That you were climbing some mountain peak in Idaho, lost your grip, and fell. How you were dangling in the air by your harness with the ground hundreds of feet below. You banged up against the mountain’s edge until you finally grabbed hold.”
Jonahs watched me reel in my line. “I told you that?” he asked.
“You don’t remember?”
“Not really,” he said, kicking the pebble to the side. “The whole thing is a blur to me.”
“You said you felt strange.” A frown carved lines on my forehead. “You went on and on about a voice telling you that your life would be short. Your hair would never gray, and you’d never see your grandchildren.”
“I really don’t remember.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, his attention still on the ground.
“They found you in the woods, Jonahs. I thought you were high.”
He took in a sharp breath. “I’m sure many in the family thought the same thing. Mom and Dad have been hovering over every detail of my life more than ever now.”
“Can you blame them? Olivia’s pregnancy has really helped me understand our parents. Just look at the life Dad had as a kid. You know he means well and doesn’t want your family to go through what he did.”
He shuddered at my words. “Have you talked to Dad about your irrational brother yet?”
“Don’t say that.”
“What?” He shrugged, scrunching his face.
“He’s just worried about you, Jonahs.”
“I’m sure the whole family thinks this only
happened to me because of my declining church attendance.” He scoffed. “They probably think I don’t believe in God now that I don’t attend church.” He picked up his rod and cast the fly in the water. “I’ve heard Dad say that as long as you’re doing what’s right in the eyes of God, your life will be preserved. What’s that about?” He grabbed another beef jerky from his pocket. “Different people have different perceptions of God. They find God in different ways. There are countless surgeons who aren’t religious and operate miracles on people every day.”
Sadness flooded his eyes and his breathing grew heavy.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“Look, I don’t know what came over me during that climb. I lost control, but I was conscious, if that makes sense. And all I want is a moment of relief where I don’t feel like I’m living for the world around me, or church, or for Mom and Dad. I want to live for myself.”
“Are you thinking about seeking more help?”
“They had me see a therapist at the hospital.” He scratched his buzzed head. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I feel fine now. Anyway—whoa!” There was a strong pull on his rod. He reeled in his line, a thrashing trout at the end.
“Notice how the flies shaped like caddis catch bigger fish?” He unhooked the trout, the sadness of his eyes long gone. “This one is a beauty.”
“So you’re okay?” I asked, checking one more time before I let him change the subject.
His eyes rolled. “Yes, Paul. I. Am. Okay.”
He released the fish back into the water.
Jonahs’ artificial flies worked miracles the rest of the afternoon. Streaks of orange and purple painted the sky as the sun set behind the mountains. I insisted on leaving before nightfall, but Jonahs was determined to stay.
By the time we left the river and returned to the truck, a few scattered stars had appeared. We sat on the tailgate as the sun waved the day goodbye.
As soon as dusk settled, Jonahs rushed to the driver side door.
“What are you doing?” I shouted, legs dangling, a cold can of Diet Coke in hand.
The only response was the blaring sound of Rush’s “Tom Sawyer” echoing across the canyon.
