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26
DEAN
I was wearing a pair of highly fashionable rubber pants that went up to my nipples and were held tight by overall straps. I thought of the way Pearl would probably smile and laugh if she saw me in this fisherman’s getup, and that made me smile, too. More and more, she was sinking into my thoughts. I found myself imagining what she would say or do as I went through my day. Pearl would like that view, I’d think. Or, Pearl would really get a kick out of that old man yelling at the birds. It was concerning, to say the least.
In some ways, it felt like my experience was taking on a new flavor. Her flavor. I happened to like that flavor, too. So how was I going to like going back to my normal life after this? It was going to be like going from coffee to watered down tea. For the record, I hated tea.
I sighed and tried to pull my thoughts back to the moment, because it was quite the moment.
I was thigh-deep in the chilly water of the river that ran through Fairhope. I’d hitched a ride with Zack Ashford, one of Old Man Ashford’s grandsons. He had a bit of a mountain man look about him and he ran the animal rescue center in town. Curtis and Lane were buzzing with excitement as they rode in the bed of the truck, stringing together strange southern curses and jokes the whole bumpy ride out of town. At one point, they even burst into song.
Walter hitched a ride in my lap, but betrayed me a few times to climb over in Zack’s lap. The man appeared to have a way with animals, so I gave Walter a pass.
Zack had taken the truck straight out of town and then veered off a series of dirt roads that cut through wooded hills until we reached a basin where the river widened out, running over smooth rocks in clear runs.
I took a deep breath of the cool air, enjoying the smell of wilderness. A few birds were chittering in the evergreens around us, but the evening was otherwise quiet save for the bubble of running water around our feet and the occasional swish of a fishing line.
I had no idea how to catch a fish, but I could see the appeal of this. I tossed my line out the way Zack had shown me, but mostly just watched the mountains in the distance. I found I didn’t particularly care if I caught anything.
The place was fucking beautiful, actually. I’d been guilty of thinking Manhattan was beautiful more than a few times. I thought there was something about the towering buildings and the pure energy in the air. It had seemed like it fit me for most of my life. But this? I could see why people went for this. It felt like the kind of place where you could relax your grip on life just a little bit. The sort of place you could find a pretty girl and settle down.
I wondered if that thought had bubbled up because I knew Pearl’s dream for her future–to escape the city and build herself a quiet life somewhere like this.
“Shee!” Lane said, breaking the silence. He was yanking his fishing pole and jumping excitedly. Curtis stopped what he was doing and started swearing at the fish on the line.
“Get in here, you little no leg piece of shit! Shee!”
Shee was some kind of Alabama warcry, it seemed. Or maybe it was just a Curtis and Lane thing. It was hard to tell with them.
Lane got a hold of his line and yanked the fish out of the water. It was maybe three inches long and couldn’t weigh much. I wasn’t sure how the thing had been putting up so much fight.
Curtis bent over, clasping his knees and howling with laughter. “Slather me in butter and call me a turkey! That thing ain’t much, but least it’s bigger than your pecker!”
“Bigger than my pecker? She’s bigger than that hemorrhoid you got after Great Grandpa Curtis’ bean-eatin’ contest!”
“You swore you ain’t gon’ tell nobody bout that, you chicken fucker!”
“Least I can get laid!” Lane laughed.
I grinned as the two of them started wrestling and laughing, splashing water and probably scaring away all of the fish in the process. Walter thought it was an invitation, so he got up from the flowers he was gnawing on and waded into the water up to his knees, barking and wagging his tail.
Zack grinned at me. “You have brothers?” he asked.
“Two,” I said. “Pierce and Damon. I don’t see them much anymore, but I do see my little sister, Laney, a few times a year.”
“Hah,” Zack barked. “Same here. Two brothers and a little sister. Greyson is the good brother. Patrick is the prick. And then we have Hailey. She used to not really be in our lives, but a couple years ago she came back.” He gave a nod toward Curtis and Lane. “How do you know these two?”
