“Do you sell magnets?”
The guy behind the help desk at the hardware store looks up from the car magazine he’s reading. “Sure. What kind of magnets are you looking for?”
“Well … um … the magnetic kind?”
“What are they for? You need them for some cabinets or doors? You mounting something? We’ve got neodymium disks, pull magnets, magnetic tape.”
“I’m trying to fish a ring off the bottom of a lake.”
“A ring?”
“Yeah.”
He sucks air through his teeth and shakes his head. “Magnet ain’t gonna do it for you.”
“What?”
“Gold and silver aren’t magnetic. They don’t stick to magnets.”
“Why not?”
“Because they don’t.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Sorry.”
“Shit.”
“How deep is the lake?”
“It’s deep.”
He puts down his magazine. “All right. Let’s see what we can do for ya.”
*
I grunt and begin pulling the rope.
It’s a lot deeper off the end of the pier than I thought. It has to be close to forty feet. I keep pulling. The rope piles up on the wooden slats next to my feet. There’s resistance on the other end.
I’ve lost count of the number of attempts I’ve made. My clothes are soaked in water and sweat. The butchered head of the rake appears at the surface, covered in weeds. I cut off the wooden handle so it would sink. I haul it up onto the pier and begin sifting through the stinking, slimy tendrils. There are some flecks of mud, but most of it has come off on the rise to the surface. After I inspect each handful, I toss the weeds into the water off the side of the pier. Once I go through all the weeds I’ve pulled up, I hold up the head of the rake and inspect the teeth, praying that by some miracle, I’ve managed to snag Nicole’s ring.
Just like every previous attempt, there’s no ring.
I had hope when I first started. The guy at the hardware store helped me come up with it. I’m pretty sure he could tell I had been crying and felt bad for me. It also was apparent that he didn’t have much else to do.
I came home and found the spot on the pier where I figured I was lying down when I lost Nicole’s ring. Then, I dropped the rake into the water, let it sink to the bottom and pulled it back up. The first couple of times, it came up totally empty. I realized that I needed to literally rake the bottom. I tried again, but this time, after letting it sink to the bottom, I took a few steps down the pier, and pulled it towards me. I was rewarded by a slight resistance, and I could feel the weeds being pulled out of the mud below. The rake came up with a big clump of vegetation. I happily sat on the pier and sifted through it. It came up empty, but I believed that with everything I snagged, there was actually a chance I could hook Nicole’s ring. That kept me going for the first couple of tries, but soon, I wasn’t even pulling up weeds anymore, meaning I had raked the spot clean.
I try moving around. I throw the rake out further off the end of the pier. Maybe the tide carried the ring further out. Wait. Does a lake have tides? I’m willing to try anything, but at this point, it’s starting to feel like I’ve tried everything.
The discarded weeds form a layer over the water below me. I’m starting to snag them, again, as I pull the rake up. My optimism is disappearing. It’s being replaced by aching arms, a stiff back, and cold, chapped hands, but I keep telling myself, “Okay, this will be my last throw.”
I think I said that thirty throws ago.
My arms, legs, and back are screaming in agony. I’m coming up empty almost every time. I’m not even getting any weeds. I even try to rake the bottom directly under the pier. I’ll throw it on one side, carefully lie down on my stomach, and pass the rope to myself under the pier. I’m rewarded with nothing but more weeds.
My mind has gone numb. I’m not putting any thought into where I should throw the rake head. It’s mechanical.
I set my feet, wind up, and am about to make another toss when the pier starts to shake.
All my weight is going forward off the edge. I’m staring straight down into the water.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” I stutter.
I’m about to fall, but at the last second I pinwheel my arms backwards, stopping my momentum.
“Whoa! Easy tiger!” a voice says behind me.
I’m able to steady myself and shuffle backwards. Another inch, and I would have been swimming.
I look back to see Mildred, halfway down the pier, frozen in place, holding a cup of coffee in her hand.
I lean over and put my hands on my knees to catch my breath. “Mildred! Good lord, you almost sent me in.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Daniel!”
She’s got that panicked expression on her face and printed on the side of her mug are the words ‘SASSY BITCH’. I can’t help it. She’s such a comical picture, I start laughing until I’m shaking and have to sit down. She’s laughing, too. Her whole body starts to tremble, and coffee begins sloshing out of her cup, which brings more laughter. She can’t control herself and gives up, dumping the coffee into the lake.
“Cold anyway,” she says, “but I do hate to waste the whiskey.”
I’m laughing so hard, my aching muscles can’t take it. She comes to the end of the pier and sits next to me. We laugh until we’re out of breath and it feels like I’ve done a million sit-ups.
“Okay,” she says, wiping her eyes. “I have to ask, what are you doing out here? I’ve been watching you for hours. You weedin’?”
“No,” I reply, still out of breath. “I lost … I, um, I wear my wife’s wedding ring on a chain around my neck. And I came out here and—” The wave of grief that slams into me is unbearable. Seconds ago, I was laughing harder than I have in months. Now, my throat is closing. “—the chain broke … and Nicole’s ring … it …”
All her merriment evaporates in an instant. Her mouth hangs open and she even chokes up. “Oh, Daniel …”
“It’s gone,” I say, managing little more than a whimper. “I lost it … It’s gone … I’m losing her, again …”
It’s taking everything I have to hold back the sobs but there’s no stopping my tears.
Mildred puts a comforting hand on my back.
For a while, we do nothing but sit and stare out at the water. Occasionally, a breeze will pass and gentle waves will lap against the support poles of the pier. Mildred remains silent the whole time, calmly rubbing my back with her hand. It’s exactly what I need. Eventually, I’m able to get myself under control.
“Thank you, Mildred,” I sigh.
“You want me to bring you some whiskey?”
“Nah. I appreciate it, but I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” She stands and looks at the weeds that are starting to wash up on the shore. “Your beach is a mess. You should probably get a rake to clean it up.”
I stare at the butchered rake head in my hand.
She jokingly nudges me with her knee. “Don’t worry, you can borrow mine.”
She walks back down the pier and heads towards her house.
I’m gonna sit out here for a little while longer.
*
After a few minutes, I’m back at it.
I feel like if I stop, then I’m giving up on Nicole.
I toss the rake out from the pier and it sinks into the water. The rope gradually slides off the pier after it. It takes almost a minute for it to stop as the rake reaches the bottom. There’s no way Nicole’s ring is that far out, but I don’t care.
I start slowly pulling it in. There are brief moments of resistance as it rips the few remaining weeds out of the mud. I keep pulling, careful not to go too fast, so that it stays in the mud. It finally arrives at the bottom off the edge of the pier. I keep pulling. There’s almost no resistance as it begins to rise.
I’m already scouting where to throw it next. Just one more time. I wonder if there’s some way that I can get it und—
The rope stops.
I pull but it doesn’t budge.
Slowly, it begins sinking back into the water, like there’s a massive weight on the other end.
I tighten my grip and p—
Shit!
The rope yanks me down.
I strain and with all I’ve got, but the rope starts to slide from my hand, straight down into the water. I further tighten my grip and kneel down, bracing myself on the pier, but I’m still being pulled towards the water. My hand is inches above the layer of discarded weeds, floating on the surface. I have to lie down on the pier but it’s no use. Still clutching the rope, my hand is pulled below surface up to my elbow.
The rope stops. There’s still tension, but I can’t see past the layer of weeds.
Something touches my wrist.
I let go.
The rope rapidly slides off the pier, into the water. I sit back, stunned, watching the rope go. Whatever is on the other end of the rope reaches the bottom. There’s about three feet of slack, floating on the surface among the weeds, next to the pier.
What the hell was that?
It wasn’t a fish. It was dead weight like a stone or a log, but whatever touched my wrist has to have been a fish. I’ve been making a nice little habitat for them with all these weeds.
“What are you doing?”
I turn towards the shore behind me.
Caitlyn’s standing at the base of the pier, bookbag slung across her back.
“Oh. Hey, pumpkin.” I get to my feet. I must be quite the sight. “I was, uh … just …” I have to tell her the truth. “Well, sweetheart, I lost Mom’s ring. The chain broke and it fell in the water and I was trying to see if I could get it back.”
I don’t know what she’s going to say. I was inconsolable when it happened a few hours ago. I’m worried how it might affect her.
She surveys the floating weeds that have washed up on shore and surround the pier. “Do you want me to help?”
“No. That’s okay, pumpkin. Thank you. I might try again tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
I clap my hands. “All right! Let’s go inside. I’m gonna take a shower, make us dinner, and I want to hear all about how your first day went.”
She shrugs and begins walking back to the house.
“You can be happier about that, you know?” I call after her.
She waves her hands and sarcastically drawls, “Yeahhhhh.”
I’m not mad. That was objectively funny.
I look down at the end of the rope, floating in the water. I’m tempted to leave it there, but there’s that one in a million chance that Nicole’s ring is on the other end of it, or whatever cinderblock I snagged.
I … I almost don’t want to …
But the thought of Nicole’s ring wins out.
I drop down on the pier and reach out. I hesitate for a split second, then quickly snap up the end of the rope. My fingers briefly break the surface, but I hurriedly pull them back. I stand up and pull.
There’s no resistance.
Whatever it was must have fallen off.
The rake head quickly rises out of the water, and dangles from the end of the rope.
No cinderblock. No weeds. No ring.
Damnit.
*
After a quick shower, I change my clothes, and get started on dinner. I’m taking it a little bit easier than yesterday with some chicken and veggies. Caitlyn sits at the alcove, scribbling in one of her new notebooks.
“How was today?” I ask while sautéing some vegetables.
“It was okay,” she says in a manner that suggests it was not.
I stop tossing the vegetables. “What happened, sweetheart?”
“Nothing.”
“No. Not nothing. Come on. Tell me.”
She fidgets and puts down her pencil.
“Caitlyn?”
“A boy was making fun of me at recess.”
“A boy was making fun of you?”
“Yeah. Peter Sanders.”
“What happened?”
She fidgets again.
I turn off the burner and go and sit across from her in the alcove.
“Sweetheart?”
“He was making fun of someone and I told him to stop.”
“That’s good, Caitlyn. That’s what you should do. Did he stop?”
She’s trying not to look me in the eye.
“… No.”
“Did you tell Ms. Hancourt?”
“… No.”
“Do you want me to talk to Ms. Hancourt?”
She quickly shakes her head.
“Are you sure?”
She nods.
“Okay, but you tell me if you want me to talk to her, okay?”
She nods again, but I can tell she’s not going to do that.
It’s probably because I’m a little bit raw after these last few days, but this pisses me off. Screw this Peter Sanders kid.
“And if he still doesn’t stop, maybe you show him who’s boss. You know, rough him up a little bit.”
She looks at me with her jaw dropped, which I’ve earned. Even I can’t tell if I’m joking, but she would never do that. Caitlyn is far too nice and caring, but I want her to know I’ve got her back, and I’m sure I’ve said the right thing because her shock melts into a smile.
“Okay, besides the smelly Peter Sanders, how was the rest of school? You have any homework?”
“Yep.”
“All right, dinner’s going to be ready in a few minutes. Let’s get started.”
*
We knock out her homework as we eat dinner. Her assignments are light. After all, it was only the first day of school. Most of it is orientation stuff.
Then, it’s some boardgames and a movie on the couch.
This is exactly what I needed to get my mind off Nicole’s ring. I still have the best thing we ever did, which is this little munchkin sitting next to me.
The prince and the princess begin waltzing around the castle, the music crescendos, and the credits roll, ending the movie.
“Okay, Caitlyn,” I say. “Eight o’clock. Time for bed.”
Without much of a fuss, she hops off the couch and heads upstairs.
While she gets ready for bed, I turn on the light in the Writing Room and fire up the computer for some background writing music. I’m going to try to get some writing done to make up for this afternoon, but first, I head upstairs to tuck Caitlyn into bed.
I enter the room just as she’s crawling under the covers.
I go over and kiss her on the forehead.
“Good night, pumpkin.”
“Good night, Dad.”
“Know what?”
“What?”
“I’m really proud of you for standing up to that Peter Sanders.”
She smiles, unsure of how to respond.
I kiss her forehead again, go to the door, and remember to hit the night-light.
“Get some sleep. Love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
She snuggles deeper into the covers.
I close the door and head back downstairs into the Writing Room, when I sit in my chair and grab the pen.
“All right. Let’s try this again.”
*
I don’t get far.
It’s not bad. My main character is trying to find out who sent the hitman after him. This stuff should be riveting, but I can’t get into it. Thoughts of Nicole’s ring elbow their way back into my mind.
Maybe I’ll try again with the rake tomorrow.
No. I’ve got to accept it. It’s gone. I’ve got to stop thinking about it. This is what I need to focus on.
But maybe one more throw with the rake. Just one.
No. Move on.
I keep going back and forth until I have to put my pen down. I need to concentrate. I’ve got to reset my brain and focus on this hitman. I stand up, jump around a little bit, shake out my hands, and take some deep breaths. The clock on the computer monitor says that it’s 11:30 p.m. Damn. I want to finish this chapter before going to bed and at this rate, the sun will be up before that happens.
My muscles ache from a night in the office chair and pulling the rake through the mud. My throat is parched. Some aspirin and a glass of water is what I need to get this chapter going.
I pause the music on the computer and step out of the Writing Room.
The darkness combined with the silence is a bit too eerie, but that’s quickly remedied by turning on the table lamps in the living room as well as the light in the dining room on my way to the kitchen.
I pour myself a glass of water and shake two pills out of the bottle from the cabinet. It’s a cloudy night and I can barely see past the deck into the yard through the window.
Final decision made: no more fishing for Nicole’s ring.
It’s gone and I have to face it. Also, I’m not sure my body and sleep-deprived brain can handle another day of that.
I pop the aspirin in my mouth and wash it down with a gulp of water. I down the rest of the glass, load it into the dishwasher, and leave the kitchen.
As I cross the dining room, there’s the sound of giggling from the Writing Room.
“Caitlyn?”
Silence.
I shake my head. I’m hearing things.
I walk into the Writing Room and plop back down in my chair.
“All right. Here we go for real this t—”
I stare down at the desk.
There’s a silver butterfly necklace with two tiny blue stones on a silver chain with a broken clasp, sitting on the notebook. It’s clearly been left for me to find.
I look towards the door.
“Caitlyn?”
She must have come down the stairs while I was in the kitchen, left it, and went back upstairs. I guess I really did hear her giggle. I’ve never seen this necklace before, but I’m sure I don’t know every bit of jewelry Caitlyn has.
Necklace in hand, I walk upstairs and open Caitlyn’s door.
She’s asleep, or at least pretending to be. What is she doing? I walk over to her bed and whisper. “You lost this, pumpkin. I’m going to leave it right here.” I place the necklace on the nightstand, next to her medallion.
I wait for her to open her eyes but she doesn’t. She must have fallen right back asleep or she’s doing an amazing job of faking it.
We’ll talk about it in the morning. Right now, I need to get this chapter done.
As quietly as possible, I go back downstairs into the Writing Room, and plop into the chair. I go to grab my pen, but stop.
Sitting on the notebook is a silver butterfly necklace with two tiny blue stones on a silver chain with a broken clasp.