Values and Vanity

Values and Vanity

         The sound of gulls were the only distraction on this day, if one could call it a distraction, so tethered harmoniously with the melody of the gentle waves rocking the legs of my throne. Perched on the edge of the aged dock that overlooked my favorite painting this world has to offer, my eyes feasting upon the horizon twice blanketed by sunlight, coating the sea with the caress of orange and pink beams.
         My eyes grew heavy, nature’s spell lulling me into the recesses of my mind where for but a moment I was void of thought—free of the hypnotic grasp, and surrendered to fatigue. Not a moment sooner and my eyes are wide open, the strong pull on the rod that I held in my hands beckoning my attention, finally a bite?
         Reluctantly I eased the tension of the line and let out a sigh of disappointment, and would not again cast my bait but instead cast my gaze upon the vessel that trapped me. Attempting to pull into nearby marina was a great yacht, a prize possession to be sure and no doubt owned by a wealthy man. A smirk drew across my face, what does a wealthy man know of wealth?
         The yacht stopped well before entering the channel toward where it would make berth and a man, presumably the captain of the vessel, came storming port-side with a look of contempt and frustration. His fiery eyes swelled with the look of a mad-man, and possibly a drunk and he set those emblazoned orbs upon me,

         “Hey! You dumb shit look at what you’ve done! I didn’t pay what I did for this beauty to have dumb ass kids like you stick hooks in her bottom! Why the fuck are you fishing off the marina pier anyway? This is private property!”

         At first I didn’t respond, nor make any attempt to humor the man so distraught over such a miniscule ordeal, but I eventually locked and leered with the man and offered a humble apology,

         “Sorry sir, I really wasn’t expecting to catch anything… I just came here to relax. I haven’t much money, but I can certainly swim beneath your boat and remove the hook if you’d like?”

         The man looked even more irritated and let out a groan of defeat, “And let you do even more damage to my baby? Fat chance kid. You just stay where you are, an—“ before the man could finish his sentence, he lurched to the side and then thrust forward with his fists clenched around the guard-rail, spewing into the sea followed by some unpleasant mutterings under his breath.

         “Are you alright?” I asked of the man who looked as though it was his first time at sea, but I knew better, it was not the sway of the great blue that forced out that wretched sound and that vile substance that now coated the side of the yacht, “You should probably park your boat and get some sleep, or something.. you don’t look too well sir.”

         “I’m fine!” The man stammered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and defiantly challenging his stomach to best his stubborn ways by taking a deep swig from a veiled bottle. “You don’t know anything kid, you just fuckin’ keep quiet and mind your own business got it?” The man picked an unusual time to smirk, and that shrewd smirk slowly turned into a soft chuckle that had me baffled. I quizzically arched a brow and turned my eyes away from the man, working on breaking my line and reeling in the broken thread.

         “I’m rich you know that kid? I’ve got more money than this entire town will ever see in a lifetime! I didn’t get my riches by listening to stupid ass kids like you. You should take that to heart, by the looks of your clothes you could use some financial advice! Maybe you hooking into me was fate’s way of changing your fortunes!” The man at this point was poisoned with laughter, so much so that he struggled to maintain his balance, no doubt played in part by the toxins that danced in his veins.


I set my fishing pole down along side the light tackle I had brought with me, returning my attention to the man with a faint shrug of the shoulders, “My father once told me that men like you know all about money, but nothing about value..” I paused with a wince--the look of suppressing a painful thought washed across my face, speared by the memories of a man I would once follow. Now I am a shadow left in his wake, not unlike the wake of the tide before me; always there, always reminding.
         “..Of course, the irony is that my father left my mom and I a long time ago. So.. I guess what I once thought was wisdom, might in fact be a fabrication. I’m not sure anymore..” I looked up to find the man disinterested and perhaps bored, though judging from the half-dozen empty pill bottles on the table behind him it was more likely the man was suffering the complications of mixing one bad habit with another.
         “Do you have children?” It was an innocent question, or so it would seem. Bereft of laughter the man, with that one simple inquest, appeared quite sober and jettison his blood-shot gaze off into the distance, “I had a son. He... he died when he was just a little boy, he drowned nearby here.” Sorrow and guilt in the man’s tone quickly turned into a plea seeking redemption, “It wasn’t my fault! I turned away for one second, it was just a second! And he was gone… it wasn’t my fault….”
         The man alluded to what really happened, but careful recounting of the man’s words tells a story of tragedy.

         “I see. Well… is this how he would have wanted to see you sir?” I arose from my throne to begin packing away my gear and soon I was disassembling my rod, all the while listening to the sound of silence that bled the salty air around me. The man gritted his teeth and threw his bottle in a fit of rage toward my feet, the sound of glass shattering muffled by its paper sleeve and spilling its contents onto the dock.
Seething, the man pointed fiercely in my direction, “YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!” From sorrow, to pleading, and now consumed with hatred and anger the man glared with renewed energy, “You can’t judge me; you don’t know who I am! You don’t know me!”
Unfazed by the assault which was thwarted by the lack of strength in the man’s arm, I picked up my things and offered one last look upon the man on the yacht, “You’re right. I don’t know you.” Slowly I turned and began to make my way down the long stretch of the pier, pausing only briefly to look back before the man was out of ear’s reach, “But… I wish I could have. I really do..”

The man on the yacht recanted his anger and appeared quite startled, “J-Jake,” He barely managed to get the name out past his trembling lips. “Wait… wait!” Desperately the man threw himself into the water, swimming with what little might he had left and using all his reserves to pull himself up the ladder of the dock. Soaking wet the man sprinted down the lane of planks only to trip and fall onto his hands and knees, “JAKE!” He screamed as tears flooded down his face, struggling to regain his balance as he made another attempt to catch up.

I didn’t look back, nor did I hasten my pace. With my rod over my shoulder and my tackle-box in hand I walked down the dock with my eyes on the darkening skies. I felt a certain peace, a certain alleviation when what flashed before me was no longer the gallows of sadness, but instead a prophecy of hope. My eyes welled gently--I could finally go home.

The man on the dock swung his arms around a distant memory, or was it an apparition of sorts? Whatever it was it was no longer there, and his demanding reach was left empty as he passed through the kid on the dock, landing on his face and skidding across the uneven planks of splintering wood. Confused the man picked his head up, blood spilling from an open wound on his lip while he looked all around him. The kid was no longer there.

         Questioning his own sanity the man lays his head back down, the feeling of defeat washing over him. “Carl?” A concerned, feminine voice pierced the awful silence surrounding the man. Carl lifted his eyes to the woman at the end of the dock, a beautiful sight that even in his drunken haze there was no mistaking. Picking himself up very slowly Carl made his way over to the woman, where he wrapped his arms around her into a soft embrace.

         “I’m so sorry Laura, I’m so sorry for what happened. Please forgive me… I want to make things right again.” Laura tentatively returned the embrace, the look of confusion faulting her otherwise lovely face, confused by Carl’s condition and the strange coincidence of running into him here as she had to pass the marina on her way to the market.
         “What are you doing here Carl? What happened?” Laura pulled back just enough to assess the damaged Carl, both physically and emotionally, and she too would soon begin to lightly cry from the power of the circumstances. This just didn’t make sense to her, what was going on? It had been three years now since she last saw Carl, her ex-husband.
         “Laura, please, just listen to me..” He tried collecting his thoughts but nothing else came to mind except for, “I love you.”

         Laura now was overwhelmed with emotion she could not explain, and she held onto Carl tightly as she could only nod in response, agreeing with her lost companion and opening her eyes just in time to see the sunset on the horizon, and disappearing in the distance was Carl’s yacht. At the helm--a kid and his fishing pole.

          Laura understood, and she closed her eyes and drifted away in the moment, as too did their pain drift away.

End