Fishing for Fall( Abridged)

A little patch of water where the smallest of guppies swam was where we were headed. The radio was off, jazz was playing, but the sound of the car jutting and sputtering over itself was all I could think of. I remember not feeling that blue and white cooler in my lap. I remember the driver, my papa, had a scowl on his face before we got in the car. I used to wonder what he was so upset about...whenever the silence rose between us. 

“Almost there,” My mother hummed with a hint of emotion.

“We shouldn’t be out here.” My dad’s eye slid to the backseat, “And you don’t like fishing.”

“ I like to watch.”

He rolled his eyes and turned up the jazz, just a bit, probably thinking of the last time the volume crossed her threshold. From what I remember, he was always going about himself like that. Like there was the world on his shoulders and only he understood. A belief that stemmed in the way he drove, walked and talked. We crossed through narrow spaces, our blinkers had a short life span, and we were faster than most when allowed until we reached the twisting roads and settled into a parking space. 

A tall rounded man with a soft, chipmunk face and mocha skin stood outside the car without a hint of a smile-nor would he give the impression that there ever was one. On the other side, a petite, short woman that’s face bent into a heart bent low into the vehicle to take a white sun hat. As for me, I was a chubby mess that barely came to each of their waists, lugging an empty box around in my mismatched striped shirt and shorts.

The summer heat receded at the touch of fall winds, the palm trees went brown and the sun’s shift was nearly done. I was distracted by the clear waters, how I could see the fish schooling and splitting through the stillness from the lot. It was beautiful. Milkweeds of red and white lured the orange monarchs out of their hiding places in droves, this, I remember, was my first time seeing them. By the time my trance ended, dad was sitting near the waters with his rod on his shoulder and hat on his head. He was waiting for me? No, he was muttering something.

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Jeffery followed the blue jays who dug their beaks into golden pots; not afraid in the slightest of those who observed through clear glass. He felt a bit of envy build when they fled the tickseeds; not because they were free, no, because they were loved without longing for such a feeling. His fingers, chipped and bitten, gripped and dug into a corner of another box to tear it open and stock whatever shelf he was supposed to that day. He was lucky; he got to see the front of the store on the day of his father's death. 

A contrast to those days, his skin held tight to his bones, his eyes rarely seen beauty, and his movements were so mechanical the pains of lifting, moving, and running day to day for abysmal pay couldn't harm him. Not even words phase him much anymore. Who's to say he wasn't a husk already? He knew the store like the back of his hand, maybe better, but took no pride in knowing so. Those white walls with splotches of primer paled in comparison to the tropical heat and coastal air he grew up within...that liking to nature had no business being an attribute he inherited; he felt guilty for the adoption.

"Jeff!" A man in a cotton blue shirt tapped on one of his boxes with his foot. " You almost done here? We need you to get about two more out before tomorrow."

Jeff's eyes slowly slid over, his face blank, almost as if he had the world on his shoulders. " My shift ends in two minutes..."

"Ah!" He said, reaching up to twist his beard. "That's right. Well, we'll just add it to your workload tomorrow then. You can go ahead and leave."

That stung. Maybe the reminder that he was a cog, a replaceable wheel in the system, was what had his stare linger when his manager pranced off. No, it was the day. The day he became a murderer.

He rolled down his window on the way to an abandoned aftercare center where he steered in right next to another, much nicer car. The houses that surrounded it were hut-sized where nature cast its shadows over roofs, windows, or strongholded entire yards. Bright yellow walls, red lining the tops and bottoms, big friendly graffiti painted over the sides and the front, this place was worth every penny, though that tesla said otherwise. A woman in a fine suit, sleek from head to toe, with her hair done up in a black bun came to him with a clipboard and glossed pursed-lips, handing it over to him where he handed her his own papers. 

"It's a pleasure doing business with you." She smiled, 

"Sure." He sighed when they sorted the business and the money.

She looked at him with a furrowed brow, she turned from him with a shrug, and he tried his best to step away while the apathy of transaction stuck.

But she looked back.

"You ok?"

Of course, he wasn't. Jeffery knew not of what being alright even was and even accepted that being the opposite was his fate. He stopped his retreat, his hand inches from the loose driver door.

"What is ok?" He sighed, " that's such a subjective feeling. If even a feeling."

"Well, you own this place now. I thought that would be a little exciting even if you don't have...You'll get them. Don't worry." She assured.

"No. It's a gift. It's...just what I owe."

"...Worried they won't like it? Who's the lucky lady?" She stepped closer and leaned on her hood.

"It's nothing like that." He shook his head, " A person like me doesn't deserve those types of things. It's for my mother I... I'm trying to make peace."

Her smile erased itself then and there, she watched his eyes drift to a batch of sunflowers watching the sky. " She's your mother, she'll love it no matter what..."

He laughed, slightly, adopting a smile so wry...that looked so painful. " No matter what...huh? That's a romantic thought."

"Hey," Her brows caved on her forehead, " what are you implying?"

"Unconditional love. Its...just nice to remember that. When I thought that too." His head straightened, his eyes glossed and shimmered in the orange rays. She groaned and turned, her door automatically embraced her on her way over. When she settled in, the door closest to him opened as well.

"Come on. Get in."

Those bubbling memories ceased at the offer, "What's this?" 

"Who knows. Not even sure myself." So, both of them couldn't put a pin on what it was. " All I know is this is pretty sweet as far as gifts go, and I think you need a pick me up."

He was sort of worried, not for himself, but for what his mother would think as he slowly climbed in. He said, 

" I don't have to talk do I?"

She replied, " You don't owe anything."