Pass into Night

The discomfort in the middle of Teddy’s back was mild when he left for work, but it flared at him throughout the day, always finding a new baseline of pain.

By the time he pulled into the driveway that evening, the kink was a knot of fire.

Heeding his late daddy Tom’s advice, Teddy decided that the best way to fix a physical ailment was to get physical.

Chopping wood for 20 minutes in the twilight left him huffing and puffing, and he built up a good sweat, but the ache remained. Reasoning that he needed a more direct attack, Teddy hiked the 500 feet to his wooden dock on Lake Absinthe and climbed into the rowboat that Tom had left him.

Teddy grabbed the oars and rowed toward the center of the lake. The exertion felt good and hit the throbbing gnarl right in its gut. It burned like turpentine on an open cut, but Teddy reveled in the pain, knowing it would soon be gone.

So intense was his concentration that he scarcely noticed the blackness that fell all around him and blinded his view of the shore. Suddenly aware, he was disoriented by the lack of a visual anchor, and his heart rose in his throat.

Just as he was on the verge of full-blown panic, Teddy heard Daddy whisper: “Use your ears, boy, just like when you’re hunting. They’ll take you home.”

Teddy held his breath and listened as his oars slapped gently against the lake’s surface. Then the echo in the distance. Again and again, he stroked the water, adjusting until the echoes came closer and closer together.

Finally, a white mist broke through the dark, and Tom’s pale, hard face swam into focus.

“Welcome home, Teddy.”

And Teddy’s pain was gone.