A Patient Boy, Page 7 of 8

Denny grew up hearing the story. And by the time he was old enough for me to take him fishing, he was more excited than me about seeing Old Brown.

"I'll bet you get him," I said.

"You think?"

"I got one of my feelings about it."

"We'll go in the long way?" he said, starting to plan.

"Yeah. Short way always seems to spook him."

"And we'll fish our way up?"

I nodded. 'We'll catch the limit save one."

His eyes were fading on me. The two drunken kids were now in the back of the police car. Paramedics were talking in low voices with the deputy. There's nothing more they could do to keep from dealing with it. I tried to find my way back to Jarrett Creek, conjure up the early morning dew and me arid Denny sneaking through the barbed wire next to the posted sign.

"You get first try at all the holes."

He smiled.

I heard them wrestling out the stretcher and talking about getting his legs in the rubber suit. Me and Denny, though, we were fishing. I could tell he was right there I with me.

'We'll catch right up to the limit, except one," I said again.

"Old Brown." His lips moved but you can hardly hear.

"You'll go first cause you're shorter. Old Brown, he'll be looking upstream. And with us coming in the long way, he'll never know."

I was seeing it now. Hot sunny day, lazy grasses ducking in a hint of breeze, us on the bank
creeping up on each hole with the stealth of Indians. We would take a break on the last one before the bridge to eat our sandwiches. With our toes cooling beneath the ripples, we'd start to notice all the creatures, the shiny black spin - beetles, underwater divers, the different colored dragonflies. We'd see little frogs, and tadpoles growing out their legs getting ready to climb out and breathe the air. . .

Behind us they were worrying about the tow truck. Cops couldn't get it on the radio. Ambulance guys were anxious to get Denny in the rubber suit. One just took his pulse. Tried to get me to move, but I wouldn't. Hardly seemed necessary with the two of us where we were right now. Certain things you don't have to talk about between a father and a son.

"How you going to do it?" I asked, meaning how was he going to catch Old Brown. Maybe if I could get him to talk. . .

"Slow," he said, barely audible. "Go round that big rock to the downstream side."
"That's my boy."

They wanted to push the car over. It should ride up, they said-long as it didn't roll back it'd be off him, and they could get him in that rubber suit. Seemed it was all they can talk about. That rubber suit. I was wishing they'd just go away. He was too, cause it interrupted the quiet of our thoughts.