Chapter 26

His clothes hung off him and he smelled sour, worse than a drunk, like something was festering in him. Jess could smell him from the doorway.

“Hiya, Jess.” He acted like he’d just left to buy milk instead of ditching him and his mom years ago with no explanation.

Jess stayed at the door, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t want to go in or get any closer than he had to. Kokum went to the cupboard and pulled out a box of cookies and set them on the table in front of the couch, trying to lure Jess inside.

“Gah, you’re grown up, eh?”

Jess snorted. “That’s what happens when you fuck off for five years.”

His dad licked his lips, eyes darting to Kokum and back to Jess. “Yeah, guess so, eh.”

“You’re sick?” Jess asked, hoping his words hurt.

“That’s what they tell me. Liver cancer.”

“How long?”

His dad shrugged, pushing out his bottom lip. “Don’t know. Wanted to come back though. Be with my people.”

Jess erupted. “Your people? What people? You left your people with no money! No food! Nothing!” He flung his arms out. “You have no people!” He turned to go.

“Jess!” It was Kokum. She never raised her voice. “He wants to make peace. Time to listen, eh?”

Glowering, Jess kept one foot in the house, one foot outside. Kokum levelled her gaze at him, and he moved all the way inside and shut the door.

His dad pressed his lips together and swallowed. “I know you hate me. Don’t blame you. I came back to make peace with you and your mom. I didn’t want to leave this world without ever making things right, eh?”

Jess looked hard at his father. Missing teeth, skin with a yellow tinge, hair that grew in greying tufts over his head – Jess searched for compassion for the man sitting across from him. His distended belly didn’t match the gaunt, skeletal face.

“Haven’t had a drink in a while. Had to go to the hospital, eh, and they don’t serve booze on those little dinner trays. Tried to straighten out.”

“What’s the point? You’re dying now, anyway.”

Kokum stamped her foot on the floor, making the plates on the table rattle.

His dad looked at Kokum. “I didn’t want to come home a drunk.”

She nodded. “Gus, take Jess fishing. Show him how it’s done.”

Snorting, Jess turned to go. He didn’t need any fatherly bonding now. He didn’t even know the guy sitting on his grandmother’s couch, pretending to be his dad. “I fish fine. Don’t need him to show me.”

Kokum ignored him and began puttering around the kitchen. Part of Jess, a big part, wanted to show his dad that he didn’t need him. He’d grown up on his own, become a man while his father had been dicking around in the city. With a sigh, he glowered at his father. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, long as we go slow.”

Jess grunted his agreement and let the door slap shut behind him.

< • >

They walked in silence to the river, Jess in front, carrying the rods and tackle box. The sun sat high in the sky and beat down on Jess’s neck. He wished he’d worn a hat as he walked into a cloud of gnats. The rain had hatched a new crop of mosquitoes, and one whined in his ear.

“Guess you graduated this year, eh?”

“Yeah,” Jess answered and set his chin.

“Gonna move to the city?”

“Don’t know.”

“Wish I’d never gone.” His dad laughed mirthlessly. “An Indian can’t make it in the city. Shoulda stayed here. Biggest regret I have is leaving you and your mom.”

Jess rolled his eyes. “Took eight years and liver cancer to figure it out.” Glad he couldn’t see his dad’s face, he ducked off the road and led the way on a path through some trees.

“I’m not proud of my life. Made bad choices. Let drinking take over.”

Was he looking for forgiveness, making excuses like that? It had taken eight years to destroy their relationship, and it would take at least that long to repair it. Jess’s breath caught in his throat when he realized his dad didn’t have that long. By the looks of him, he might not even have eight weeks. They walked silently to the river, down a worn path criss-crossed with tree roots. A squirrel raced in front of them and leaped to a tree, spiralling up the trunk to a branch and chirping at them.

Jess turned to see his dad’s face light up with a smile when they got to the river. “Ha! Hasn’t changed.” He stared at the water’s eddies and ripples and took a deep breath. “Gah, that smells good. Like fish and mud, eh? Don’t smell that in the city.” He picked a long piece of grass and held it between his hands and put it to his mouth. A high-pitched whistle sounded as he blew.

Jess remembered his dad trying to teach him how to do that when he was a kid. His warm, dry hands cupped over Jess’s as they sat in the tall grass.

“What d’you got for bait?” his dad asked. He went to the edge of the river and stood looking over it with his hands on his hips, as if he were the Creator surveying his work. Jess walked beside him and stuffed the container of night crawlers he’d taken from Kokum’s freezer into his distended stomach.

His dad, unfazed by Jess’s rudeness, held them up like a prize. “I remember digging for these when I was a kid, eh? We’d sell ’em to Loeppky’s for a penny a worm.” He hooted at the memory. “Then he’d sell ’em for ten cents.”

Jess could feel his nostrils flaring. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to hear about his dad’s happy childhood memories. This whole outing was bullshit, concocted by Kokum to what, help them heal? He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the idea.

His hook poked through the rubbery worm, making it convulse and contract. Jess took a few steps away and cast. His line sailed through the air and landed in the middle of the river.

“Nice,” his dad said.

Jess ignored him.

“I stopped treatment to come out here. Don’t have much time left, but I’ve made my peace with that.”

Did he want an award? Jess steeled his jaw and stared at the line. A pressure at the back of his throat made it hard to swallow.

“I’d hate me too, if I was you, that’s for sure.”

Jess looked at him out of the corner of his eye. His shaking hands made it impossible for him to bait the hook. He looked worn out and exhausted, like a popped tire; there was no buoyancy left in him. Jess reeled in and set his rod on the pebbles at his feet.

He took the worm from his dad’s hands and pressed the hook into it, feeling the resistance of its innards. As he handed it back to his dad, their eyes met. The chasm between them was so deep, so filled with years of pain and hurt, that it might never be bridged.

His dad sniffed and stood up, wobbling a little. His first clumsy cast didn’t go anywhere. But, after a few tries, muscle memory kicked in and his line floated through the air.

His body relaxed as he pulled on his line, testing it, letting some out and reeling it back in. “Ma said you come here a lot, that you’re pretty good.”

Jess shrugged, pleased that his grandma had said those things. “Guess so.”

“My dad taught me to fish. Used to fish at the school. The nuns would let me out of class so I could catch dinner. Used to catch enough to feed all the kids.” The line grew taut and he spun the reel. “Rock,” he said when the line released.

His dad cast his line, the hook slipping soundlessly into the water and drifting downstream. “Kept me out of trouble, being the best fisherman.”

Jess didn’t say anything and reeled in his line, preparing to cast again. As he bent down to pick up another worm, he heard a sharp intake of breath from his dad. His shoulders tensed as the rod bent and went slack, teasing a fish to the surface. With an explosion of water, the silver-scaled fish burst to the surface, its body contorting in mid-air. Jess stood waiting with the net and lunged for it before it could fly off the hook.

It was seven pounds at least. The fish flapped in the net, coiling itself in the strings until it lay still, its gills taking final fluttering gasps.

Charged with energy, his dad slapped a hand on Jess’s shoulder. “Beauty! Ma’s gonna be happy, eh. Prove to her I haven’t lost the Indian in me,” he said laughing.

Jess sat down and pulled the hook out of the fish’s mouth. The tang of fresh fish lingered in the air. His dad sat down beside him with his arms resting over bent knees, winded but exhilarated. Suddenly, he was wiping away tears, his shoulders shaking. Jess looked at him, annoyed. He didn’t want to see his father cry. He inched away and stared across the river.

With a shuddering sigh, his dad took a deep breath and shook his head. “Didn’t realize how much I missed this place.” He stared out over the river. “Took me a long time to get up the guts to come back.”

Jess clenched his jaw against all the things he wanted to say.

“Meetings helped. Always thought those AA people talked a bunch of bullshit, but once I started going, I saw. Us Indians, we all got the same story. Same pain. From the schools.”

Jess waited for him to continue. The fish lay on a rock in the sun. Some flies, glistening like oil slicks, feasted on the new catch.

“Took me a long time to figure it out. How I got this way.” He looked at Jess. The whites of his brown eyes were tinged with yellow from the cancer, and underneath, pouchy pockets of black showed through the papery thin skin.

“Thought coming back here, I could find some peace.”

A hawk dove down, enticed by the fish, its glide smooth and effortless as it soared back to the tree and gazed down on them.

“I need you to help me, Jess.”

Winding a blade of grass between his fingers, Jess thought about it. He didn’t owe his dad anything. He could get up and walk away, and even his kokum would understand why. He slid his thumb along the rough underside and let it unwind, leaving an unruly blade amongst the rest. He didn’t say no.

The hawk flew off, no longer interested in someone else’s catch.