After The Sandwiches Are Gone

“Papaw, can I go with you next time?”

Percy expects his grandfather’s standard answer, “No. You’ll just beg to come home, as soon as the sandwiches are gone.”

His grandfather, Tommy, chuckles then returns to cleaning the day’s catch. Percy eyes are fixed on his grandfather as he scrapes fish’s scales off with a spoon. He takes out his knife once the scales are gone.

The knife is thin from being sharpened hundreds of times. It knows how to turn fish into food. Fins, head and tail disappear. No motion is wasted. No tears are shed for the meat. Meat Tommy loves for its taste and the fact that a feast can be bought with a bucket of minnows.

Percy winces with every slice of the knife, but he cannot look away.  His grandfather tosses the fish to join its fellows in a pan of water. Once more, Percy asks what he’s asked since kindergarten.

“Papaw, can I go…”

Tommy smiles and interrupts.

“I know. I know. You want to go with me next time. Well, I guess it’s about time. I took your Daddy when he was about your age.”

Percy stays awake most the night. He falls asleep near dawn. After what feels like a few minutes, his grandfather shakes him awake.

“Get up lazy bones. The fish ain’t gonna wait on you.”

They pack sandwiches, a thermos of coffee, and some sodas into a cooler. Crust of sleep make Percy’s eyes into slits. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sees a new fishing rod in the boat. He touches it, not sure if he’s awake or still dreaming. The rod is real, not a dream. His mind races, “I’m going fishing with Papaw. Just wait til the fish get sight of me!”

They arrive at the lake as the sun breaks the horizon. Wisps of fog float across the lake.

Percy helps his grandfather slide the boat off the trailer and onto the shore. They load the boat with the cooler and a bucket of minnows. They get in. Tommy grabs a paddle and pushes the boat away from the shore. He starts the tiny motor and they putt-putt across the lake to one of his secret fishing holes. It is next to the remains of an old dock.

Minnows swarm around the pilings, dining on the moss and flies that collect there. Bass, crappie and bream love eating minnows even those who are their offspring. Cannibalism is a fact of life in the lake.

Tommy puts a cork on Percy’s line and baits his hook with a shiner. He helps Percy cast his hook to a promising spot.

“Percy, watch the cork. If it bobs a little, wait. If it goes under, yank the line up quick to set the hook.”

Tommy casts his line and becomes a statue. He will not move until he hooks a fish.

Percy fixates on his cork, willing it to move. He prays to the god of fishes to grant him a catch. He waits for what he’s sure is an hour. Nothing. He waits more. Nothing still. Finally, his cork moves a bit and he yanks line out of the water. The hook swishes through the air toward Tommy.

Tommy grabs the line before it hooks him in the eye.

Percy stares at the bottom of the boat. Tommy’s brow furrows but he wants to be encouraging. So, he lies.

“Looks like you might have had a nibble, son. But you got to be patient. Wait until the cork goes all the way under. Else you can’t set the hook.”

Percy’s face reddens, “Sorry, Papaw.”

Tommy examines the minnow closely. It is as pristine as it did fifteen minutes earlier when he first put it one the hook. He stifles a chuckle.

“Yep. You definitely got a nibble.”

Tommy places a fresh minnow on Percy’s hook. Percy brightens. Maybe he did almost catch a fish.

“I’ll be more patient, Papaw. The most patient of anyone. You’ll see.”

Percy stares at his cork and promises himself to become a stone like his grandfather. He sits. He stares. Sits more. Stares more. The excitement of fishing is wearing thin.

Suddenly, Tommy yanks his pole hard and grabs the line. “Hup! Hup! Come on now. I got you! I got you,” he shouts.

A bream leaps into the boat, flapping as if it hopes to fly. It is a big one. Percy is ecstatic.

“Papaw, that’s the biggest bream anybody’s ever seen. It must be as big as my head.”

Tommy unhooks the fish and slides it onto the gill line at the side of the boat. He quickly baits his line again and casts it back to the honey hole. Again and again he brings in bream and crappie.

Excited once more Percy stares even more intently at his cork. He jiggles his line, hoping to make his minnow more enticing. But the fish are not interested.

Bored beyond tears, Percy grabs a sandwich. One sandwich becomes two and two become three. Soon Percy has eaten all but one and its chances of survival are slim.

Midday, Tommy opens the cooler for a snack. He looks quietly at the last sandwich before he offers half to Percy. Percy refuses but his grandfather smiles and insists.

“Go on, son. May as well. We’ll be going home in a bit, anyhow.

Percy pulls his hook out of the water every few minutes. He inspects it carefully, wanting to make sure sure his minnow hasn’t dissolved or been nibbled away by a particularly sneaky fish. The minnow stubbornly remains whole.

Tommy continues his stony pose. Percy is sure his grandfather could remain a human statue until glaciers returned and buried the lake under miles of ice.

Percy dozes. His foot bangs the side of the boat. Tommy turns and whispers.

“Sh-h-h. You’re scaring the fish.”

Percy yawns. Doesn’t Papaw realize the fish have gone so deep we can never reach them? Can’t he see that I’m wasting away from hunger and exhaustion?

Disgusted, he curls up and goes to sleep in the bottom of the boat. Thoughts of fishing fade.

He awakes in late afternoon to hear the putt-putt of the motor taking them back to the shore.

Thrilled, Percy makes a vow to himself. I’ll never again get trapped in a boat with a man who can turn to stone. Why did I want to go fishing anyhow? I can get a fish sandwich at the Burger Chef.

Back home, Percy helps Tommy take the boat off the truck and take the string of fish to the cement bench Tommy sits on while cleaning fish. Percy sits next to him and scrapes the scales off the scales before handing them to Tommy for the cutting.

Percy’s grandmother and father come out to see the catch. Percy cringes. His father smiles a twisted smile. Then it comes, like always. Criticism that darken Percy’s soul

“How did you do son? Bet you didn’t catch a one.”

Percy’s face reddens. His grandfather comes to the rescue.

“He did just fine, Rafe. A lot better than you did your first time out. Caught four of these crappie and the biggest bream of the day.”

Percy bows his head and scrapes fish like a demon. He can feel his grandfather smiling at him. His embarrassment deepens. Why did Papaw lie to Daddy? Why didn’t he just tell the truth? I didn’t catch a damn thing.

Percy never goes fishing again. He never cleans another fish. But he never forgets the fishing trip where he learned that people who sit like stones can have hearts full of love. Love is the most important thing, especially after all the sandwiches are gone.