Fishing

So far, Huck has had to bury the dead animals in the yard and witnesses his daddy making his momma cry.

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Dewey and I eat our eggs and sop up the yolk with some biscuits left over from dinner last night. Momma is nervously straightening the kitchen. She needs a break, and I know just what to say. "Momma, after our chores, Dew and I are gonna go catch some fish for dinner. We're gonna clean 'em fer you, too."

She nods, but her frown is still dominating her face. I'm sure my daddy's hateful words are still swirling around in her head. "That'd be real nice. Just don't bring any of them bony ones back."

"I'll toss those back, I promise."

Dewey puts his plate in the sink and runs out to grab his fishing box. I put my plate on top of his and start to turn away, but she grabs my arm. She pulls me to her, giving me a needy hug, so I hug her back.

"You're a good boy, Huck. Both you and Dewey are good," she whispers. "Don't listen to him. He's just bitter hearted."

"I know. I love you, Momma," I whisper back.

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There ain't no bites on either line that Dewy and I put out. Dewey looks miserable. "I'm getting hot, Huck." He glances up at the sky overhead. "I'm seeing double every now and again."

"Go sit under the bridge for a spell, or go walk over to the spring."

Dewey lays his pole on the ground next to me and starts trudging along the creek towards the bridge. I dig a hole about six inches deep and stick the base of the pole down in it. Then I pack the dirt around it tight. I'm laying there, eyes closed in a lazy kind of way when I hear voices coming from near the bridge.

I know'd right away who it is. It's Miss Lynn. She's the prettiest and nicest woman in all of Patterson County. She's the colored woman who works at Dobey Mercantile in town. Everybody likes her on account of her sweet smile. She don't never say anything bad about anyone. She just smiles and talks to you like you're her good friend.

She has two small children, her daughter, Hester, is about eight or nine years-old. And, I can guarantee she is gonna be every bit as pretty as her momma. You can just tell things like that sometimes. Miss Lynn's little boy is named Lionel, after his daddy. I can't tell much about him on account of all he does is stare at me. Miss Lynn says its cause I'm so white.

Quick like, I smooth my hair with a little creek water and lay both poles down, then I scramble up the bank, making as much noise as I can so I don't scare them.

"Hello, Miss Lynn," I say, then smile at Hester and the little boy. "You come fishin'?"

Miss Lynn giggles and puts her hand up to her mouth all shy like. "Oh, heaven's no. I don't know anything about that."

"You just out walking?"

She nods her head, then lifts up a metal bucket by the handle. "Someone said there are several blackberry bushes around here."

"Probably," I say and look from side to side. "You need any help, you just ask, alright?"

She smiles again and looks down, placing her hand on Hester's shoulder. "It was good seeing you, Huck. Tell your momma and brother I said hello."

I stand there while she walks off, and only make my way down the slope to the creek after she disappears from sight. I jump a little as I forgot Dewey was down there. "Miss Lynn said hello."

He sits up, drapes his arms around his knees. "I know, I could hear." He fiddles with a small hole in his pants, then looks at me. "You like her, don't ya'?"

"Everybody likes Miss Lynn."

He grins. "No, you're sweet on her, I can tell."

"Stop it, Dew."

"She's mighty pretty. Too bad she's colored."

"She got some white in her. Momma said so."

Dewey tilts his head. "You gonna try to kiss her?"

"Shut up, Dewey. Shut up all this nonsense or go home." I turn away, walking over towards the two fishing poles, before he can see my flushed cheeks.

Dewey comes out from under the shade of the bridge, wiping dirt off his backside. "Daddy would skin you alive if'n you were to kiss a colored woman. He don't care how much white blood she got."

"Dang it, Dewey, she's just a nice lady. I ain't gonna kiss her so stop talking about it, ya' hear?"

Dewey stares at his feet and I feel bad for yelling at him, but he just don't know when to let something go sometimes.

"Line's got something on it, " he says and points.

I spin around, grabbing the pole as whatever is on it starts to pull it towards the water. I hope it don't break. Sometimes a big old catfish will pull so hard the pole will just snap in two.


It takes both of us but we finally get him reeled in. And he's a big one. Dewey gently tugs one of his whiskers. "We gonna eat good tonight."

While Dewey is busy skinning the fish, I start to think about blackberries. They sure would taste good with a little cream poured over them.

"Dew, I'll be back in a few minutes. Once you finish cleaning that fish, you go on and take it home to Momma. I'll be a long in a little while."

I hurry up the hill and head off in the direction of Miss Lynn and her children. I hear them giggling and talking cheerfully as they pick the berries. "I see you found them," I say.

Hester nods, "Lionel ate more than both Momma or me."

I crouch down next to the little boy. "Don't go getting a belly ache," I tell him, and pat his head. His hair feels strange to me with its soft curls and tight nap that moves under my fingertips.

"Hester, honey, I think we have enough," Miss Lynn lifts the bucket filled with the berries. "It was good to see you, Huck."

Strange how certain people say your name and it makes you feel special. It's like that when Miss Lynn says my name.

I start picking berries and popping them into my mouth 'cause I got nothing to put them in.

Hester tugs her momma's arm and puts her hand to her mouth to whisper something. Miss Lynn laughs.

"What's funny?" I ask.

"Hester says your eyes are the color of the sky."

"Ain't she ever seen someone with blue eyes?"

"No."

"Well, Dewey's eyes are the color of clover. Green as grass," I tell her.

Miss Lynn tilts her head just so. "Mine are green, too. My momma says that my daddy had green eyes."

I swallow the lump in my throat as I look into her eyes. "Yours are a sight prettier than Dewey's."

Miss Lynn laughs softly. "Why, thank you, Huck."

Flustered I step back, nearly tripping on a vine that wraps around the base of a cypress. "Y'all have a good afternoon," I call out quickly, retracing my steps to the bridge.

I feel the sweat tickle its way down my neck. It ain't from the heat either. It's one of those sweats that you get when you stand next to a pretty girl and you catch a whiff of her fresh washed hair, and all you want to do is touch it, let that silken strand slip over your fingers.

Dew is right. I do want to kiss Miss Lynn. I want to stand close enough to look into her eyes and watch that pale green turn dusky when I kiss her.