by Lesley Crewe
We didn’t catch anything until late afternoon. Then Bridie gave a yelp. “I think I have something! I definitely have something! Pops! Help! It’s too strong!”
I hurried back, as much as you can hurry in water, and stood beside her, giving her pointers as she pulled and reeled, pulled and reeled. “My arms are going to come off! Take it!”
She passed me the rod and she was right. This salmon felt like a twenty-pounder. Talk about beginner’s luck. It took a good amount of effort to bring the salmon in.
“Hold the net steady!”
She held it out, but it took the two of us to handle it. Meanwhile the salmon was thrashing about giving us a mighty fight. Bridie started shouting, “Let it go!”
“What?!”
“It’s my fish. Let it go! It’s too big!”
Every drop of my fisherman blood rose up in protest, but I could see she was distressed. I pulled the fly out of the salmon’s mouth and dropped it in the water. That very lucky critter disappeared in a flash.
She looked at me with big eyes. “Sorry, Pops, but it was big enough to be someone’s pet. I don’t mind catching normal-looking trout, but I could’ve given that guy a name. It’s wrong to kill something that has a personality. Did you see the look of hate in his eyes?”
“I missed that.”
“I’m not sure I’m cut out for salmon fishing.”
“Never mind. Looks like we’ll have corned beef hash for supper.”
We packed up as the sun cast long shadows over the mountains circling the valley. The air had cooled considerably by then, and we were happy to head back to the warm cabin. We sat with our feet up next to the fireplace and ate our hash.
“Do you think fishermen would fish even if they didn’t catch anything for years?”
I put my empty plate down on the floor and lit my pipe before I answered. “Maybe. Fortunately, most of us catch just enough to make us hopeful for the next time.”
She licked her plate clean and I pointed at her. “What happened to your manners?”
“When you’re on a fishing trip, manners go out the window.”
I puffed away. “Sounds sensible.”
The two of us were asleep by eight.
There were a few days we didn’t catch anything, but most of the time we had enough for our supper. The drizzly days seemed to give us our best results. One day was a complete downpour, with thunder and lightning. We stayed close to the fire, playing cards and cribbage. Bridie always beat me. At home she always won at chess too. I tried to show Patty how to play once and she ended up throwing the pieces to the floor in frustration.
Towards the end of the week, we went for a hike instead of fishing. “I’m not spending enough time with you just talking,” Bridie complained. So we made a picnic and hiked our way over a marked trail sitting on the edge of a bluff that overlooked the choppy, grey ocean.
“Pops, what do you think I should do with my life?”
“Live it.”
“What am I good at?”
I gave it a great deal of thought before answering.
“Survival. You’ve survived everything that’s ever come your way. From the very moment you were born, you’ve hung on when the circumstances were dire. A lot has happened to you in the last sixteen years, and you’ve met every challenge with determination and bravery. Come what may, I have no doubt you will succeed and that your life will be a good one. That’s because you believe in yourself—a rare quality. A precious possession. Never lose it.”
She seemed pleased with my answer.
“Now this question is a tricky one,” she said. “You might not want to answer it.”
“Shoot.”
“Who’s your favourite person in the whole world?”
“You are.”
She took a big bite of her apple. “How convenient. You’re mine.”
On Halloween, a man came into my office with his wife. She had a fatal condition and there wasn’t anything I could do for her. Her husband was furious with the world and took it out on me.
“Are you just going to sit there and tell us that nothing else can be done? What kind of doctor are you, not to offer some kind of hope?”
“I understand how you feel—”
“No, I don’t think you do. You’re like a goddamn robot when we come here. Every appointment we watch you look at your notes instead of at us. Your eyes are dead, man! Maybe you should quit being a doctor if you hate it so much. You don’t have an ounce of empathy for anyone! I’m going to report you to whoever is in charge of this hospital. We want another doctor, someone who gives a damn!”
He took his wife’s hand and rushed out of my office. I turned my chair to look out the window but there was nothing to see. Just the same brick wall I’d spent years gazing at.
Eventually, I heard a soft rapping at the door. My secretary poked her head in.
“Sorry. Are you ready for your next appointment?”
“Just give me a minute.”
She closed the door.
After ten minutes of thinking about nothing at all, I decided the best thing to do was to walk away. I had six patients in the waiting room, and my secretary looked at me with panic as I sauntered out of my office. My first stop was to a downtown store and then to the post office. After that I went home. Mavis wasn’t in, and Bridie was at school. I left them a note.
Gone fishing.
13
Bridie
1965
Eric Wells persisted with his dumb request. He followed me out the front doors as I was heading home from school.
“Who doesn’t want to go to a Halloween party?” he pleaded. “Everyone will be there. Come with me. We’ll have a blast.”
“No thanks. Halloween is for suckers.”
“It’s a great excuse to dress up, have a few drinks, and terrorize the neighbourhood.”
“Tempting, but no.”
He threw his hands in the air and grinned. “Why are you such a pain in the ass?”
“I come from a long line of painful asses.”
He laughed. “Did you know the guys have a pool going to see who’ll be your date for the prom next year?”
“And that’s why guys are lunatics, Eric. See ya later.”
“Farewell, my one true love!”
I walked home, kicking fallen leaves in my path. It was a bitterly cold day, with a biting wind. Little kids trick-or-treating tonight would surely perish. Time to gather up some of my winter clothes, which made me realize it would soon be two years since Mama died. The world just kept on spinning, and even though you didn’t want it to, it insisted on dragging you with it.
Mavis’s car wasn’t there, as per usual. I let myself in the back door and put my school bag on the kitchen table. Propped up against the sugar bowl was a note in Pops’s handwriting: Gone fishing.
“Without me? The rat,” was my first thought. “On a Monday?” was my second thought. That didn’t make sense. He always had his clinic on Monday afternoons. The phone rang then and I picked up the receiver from the kitchen wall.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Bridie, it’s Marilyn. Is your dad there?”
“No. There’s a note here that says he’s gone fishing, but that’s odd.”
“He left the office this morning with patients sitting in the waiting room, and now there are a slew of them downstairs at the clinic and he still hasn’t shown up.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“It’s not like him to keep me in the dark. You know your dad. He’s always punctual.”
“Usually.”
“Please ask him to call me. Thanks, Bridie.” And she hung up.
I put down the phone, sat at the kitchen table, and looked at the note again. Then I got up and took my book bag into my bedroom and dropped it on the
floor. Next stop was the bathroom, where I washed the day’s school germs off my face and hands. Back to the kitchen for a glass of milk and a handful of molasses cookies I’d made the day before. Then to my room, where I picked up my copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. I’d read it twice before, but this was a book that deserved to be read multiple times. It was that good.
As I lay back against the pillows on my bed, I tried to concentrate on Harper Lee’s words, but I munched on my cookies and stared out the window instead. Not that I was thinking of anything in particular, but I just couldn’t seem to focus.
Then the doorbell rang.
I hurried to the front door. We weren’t expecting anyone. I opened it.
“Trick or treat!”
A witch, a dog, and a peanut stared at me. Damn. I knew there was something I was supposed to do.
“You guys are early.”
“Our mom has night school,” said the dog. “We’re collecting for UNICEF too.”
“Just a sec.” I left them on the step and hurried out to the back porch, where I had boxes of chips and bags of small chocolate bars and Molasses Kisses. I opened the packages and dumped everything in a couple of big bowls, and took them to the front door. “Take what you want. I’ve got to get some money.”
There was a container of pennies under the stairs for some reason, so I took that and put the pennies in their boxes. It didn’t seem like a lot, so I ran back for my wallet and added a few nickels and dimes as well.
Eventually, I just wrapped myself in a coat and mitts and sat on the front step and handed out stuff until I ran out. How many kids lived in this neighbourhood anyway? They had quite a racket going, if you asked me.
I turned out the front light, supposedly a universal symbol for “We’re not home,” but that didn’t stop the doorbell from ringing.
Mavis eventually showed up at eight. She came through the back door and was fit to be tied. “Those goddamn kids threw eggs at my car! I completely forgot it was Halloween tonight, or I never would’ve gone to Francine’s for supper. Where’s your father? He’s going to have to clean that off.”
“Dad isn’t home.”
She made a face. “Surely the clinic didn’t last this long. I always tell him he needs to cut back. Patients take advantage of him.”
“Marilyn called earlier. She said he walked out of the office this morning and didn’t show up for clinic. She was wondering where he was.”
“That’s strange.”
“He left a note on the table.” I handed it to her.
She looked at it. “Gone fishing. On a Monday?”
“That’s what I thought.”
“And he hasn’t called?”
I shook my head.
Mavis went over to the phone. “I’m calling Patty. Maybe she’s heard from him.”
She hadn’t.
Mavis looked at me. “What should we do?”
“Call Uncle Donny.”
So she did. Then Gran. Then Betty. No one had heard from him.
Mavis began to get agitated and paced the kitchen floor. “That silly man! What’s he playing at? You can’t just leave a note like that and disappear for hours. He must know we’ll be worried.”
The phone rang and Mavis ran to get it. “Hello?”
It was Gran. “Yes, Jean. I’ll call you the instant he gets in. Doesn’t matter what time it is. I’m sure he’s just delayed, or he’s had a flat tire in the middle of nowhere. I shouldn’t have called you. Please don’t worry. There’s probably a good explanation.”
At eleven, Mavis was frantic and very cross.
“Why does he insist on dragging himself to these godforsaken places that don’t have telephones—or people, for that matter? What if he’s fallen and hurt himself? There’s no one around to help him. What is the lure of fishing? Can you answer me that?”
Patty had arrived by then. “That’s what I’d like to know.”
I sipped the tea I’d made for us. “To get away from people.”
“Oh, spare me!” Mavis shouted. “I could just wring his neck. This is very inconsiderate. His mother is elderly and I know she’s pacing the floor at this very moment. Maybe I shouldn’t have called her.”
Surprisingly thoughtful of Mavis to think of that.
The more Mavis and Patty fretted, the quieter I got. They were sucking the air out of the room. It wasn’t their fault, I just couldn’t breathe around them.
“I’m calling the police!” Mavis announced. “I should’ve done it hours ago.”
“I’ll be in my room,” I said.
They didn’t hear me.
I shut the door so I wouldn’t have to hear Mavis on the phone. With Mama’s quilt wrapped around me, I knelt by my window and looked out at the moon shining down between the inky-black tree branches overlooking our yard.
“You’re not here, are you, Pops? You’re on the other side of that moon.”
Even though I knew the truth—that Pops had planned this—I didn’t say a word to Mavis or Patty. They’d be furious that I would even think such a thing. They would have to wait for the official verdict, whenever that came.
All I could do was lie low and let it unfold. I certainly couldn’t think right now. A black dread numbed me. Mama had sat for hours on a kitchen chair when she heard her mother died. It was like being frozen with fear. But I knew I couldn’t handle my anger either. He left me. He left me.
I put Pops in my heart’s pocket, knowing I’d take him out one day when I was alone, probably standing in a river, watching the glint of the sun catch the silver scales of a salmon flashing by.
Two very long days passed before the authorities found a rowboat drifting out to sea. It had gone much farther than they had calculated it might, probably due to the stiff winds on Halloween night. Although there was no body, the boat had been rented by a Dr. George Mackenzie, and his fishing gear was still on board.
When the police came to the door to tell us, Mavis collapsed on the living room rug. Patty fell to her knees as well, and the two of them clutched each other, wailing. I stood there and looked at the police officers.
“I’d like his fishing gear, please.”
They made a note of it.
I called Uncle Donny to tell him. “You’re going to have to tell your mother. I can’t do it.”
“Of course,” he said quietly. “I feel so terrible. I told him he should take a fishing trip to cheer himself up. Why did I open my big mouth?”
Mavis and Patty were inconsolable. It fell to me to answer the door and the phone and to deal with people who came crawling out of the woodwork. A doctor’s patients are a pretty loyal bunch, and several times a day I’d have to go to the door to receive a pan of squares, a loaf, or a ham and listen to people tell me that Pops saved their life, or that he was the best doctor in the world and how tragic that he’d died so young in a terrible accident.
Did they really believe that?
Mavis and Patty kept waiting to hear that Pops had been found, but as the days went by, their hopes faded.
The phone calls were fast and furious between relatives. No one could agree on the funeral.
Mavis took to drinking wine right after breakfast. “His mother wants him buried in St. Peter’s with his dad and to have his memorial in their church. Well, that’s fine and dandy for her, but what about me? I’m his wife, and my wishes are what matter. I want him buried in Sydney, where I can visit him. Is that too much to ask? I’ll buy a plot for the two of us. And the memorial has to be here, for his friends and neighbours and colleagues and patients. He lived his life here. Doesn’t that make sense?” She waved her wine glass about and downed the last drop.
“It does make sense, Mavis.”
She looked at me. “You agree with me?”
“But it’s kind of a moot point, because we have no body, do we?�
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She threw her empty wine glass in the sink. “Goddammit, you know what I mean! If I have to bury an empty coffin, I will!”
“Then let Gran bury an empty coffin too, if it makes her happy. What difference does it make?”
Mavis rubbed her eyes like a little kid, and then pulled her face down with her fingers as she whined, “That just seems so stupid.”
“Why not have a memorial service in Sydney and one in St. Peter’s? If we find Pops, we’ll bury him here. Gran can put a plaque by his father’s headstone, with Pops’s name on it. How does that sound?”
She slapped her arms against her sides. “I guess. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Why isn’t Patty here? Why am I all alone?”
I sent her to bed.
This whole argument was ridiculous. Pops was where he wanted to be. Out on the water, out of reach of everyone. I just never thought that would include me.
As I sat in school, I was aware of the eyes on me. Most people stayed away, for which I was grateful. Too bad school administrators weren’t as considerate. The guidance counsellor called me to his office two minutes into math class. Already feeling like a freak, I had to get up and walk past my classmates to get to the door. My teacher looked pained. Everyone felt so bad. They needed to get a hold of themselves.
I knocked on Mr. Pruitt’s door.
“Come in, Bridie.”
He was a large man with two wiry hairs emerging from the end of his nose. Why didn’t his wife pluck those? No wedding ring. Ah.
“Sit down.”
I sat.
“First of all, I’m very sorry to hear about your father. I know what a painful time this must be.”
I stared at his nose.
“Is there anything we can do for you?”
“No.”
“We can arrange for you to speak to a grief counsellor.” He opened what I presumed was my file in front of him on his desk. “It says here you lost your mother two years ago. Is this correct?”
I nodded.
He folded his hands in front of him. “Losing both parents at such an early age can often send a child down the wrong road in life. We’d like to circumvent that by helping you with whatever you feel you need.”
