15 for 15 (June 2012)

June 9 – Surf

“I hate surfers.” It was Mo who said it, but it could’ve been any of them.  “Gliders, kayakers, the whole lot of them.”

“Nothing worse than tourists mucking about the lake. Ruins the fishing.”

“Look at that idiot. You think he’d know better. Numbnut.”

“Wasn’t always like this. They used to be more respectful-like.”

“Teenagers. Why can’t they just stay home?”

“Ain’t so bad. They leave cash in our pockets.”

“We all gotta eat.”

“Jeff more’n most.”

“That so, Mo? With them three guts you’re carrying around?”

“Least my boat doesn’t gather rust 7 months outta 12.”

“Bah, you’d gotta be foolish to rent that deathtrap.”

“They come to me, I’d have given them a good price. No leaks either.”

Once grandfather and his crew got started, only God, darkness or lack of beer would end it. I tuned them out. You go fishing with old men, you have to deal with old men. And it was a beautiful day, hot and breezy. We got a lot of those over the summer. Nature’s way of apologizing for cold winters.

I cracked open another beer and sat back to watch the university kids zooming across the lake, the ones that annoyed grandfather so much. It looked like fun. I was happy where I was though.

“Heading in time.” I must’ve fallen asleep because the sun was going down. The lake’s fish would live another day. The others grumbled a bit, but got to packing. We’d about put all the rods away when we heard a scream. Not a hey-this-is-so-much-fun scream, but a holy-mother-of-god one.

Grandfather steered the boat towards the college kids. They were the only other people on the water. “Over here! Please somebody help us! Oh my god oh my god.” They were hysterical. It took us a second to realize one of them fell in and hadn’t resurfaced. I had time to wonder what kind of idiots went on the lake without life jackets before jumping in.

Without knowing how long he’d been under, I didn’t know how much time I had to look. It was near full on dark. I came up for air. The more dives, the less likely he’d be alive even if I found him.

I dove back under. Thank God his trunks were reflective. I spotted him right before I’d have to come up for air again. My lungs burned horribly when we finally surfaced. The old men helped me lift him onto the boat. In the distance were ambulance sirens.

“Told you Joey’d bring him up. No better swimmer in this town.”

“Good thing that boy was here.”

“Even if he can’t catch a fish worth a damn.”

“I didn’t see your cooler looking full, Jeff.”

“That’s cause you need glasses old man.”

I flopped on the floor of the boat, body-sore but comforted by their bickering. They'd be working silently if the kid had died. “Was he alright?”

My grandfather carefully leaned down next to me. “Breathing, at any rate. You did good work there, son.”