GIRL FISH by Jim Meirose
Sam stood by the wide deep brook, fishing pole firmly in hand, with his red and white Jitterbug lure lying far out among the widely scattered lily pads. Some of the lily pads had beautiful white flowers atop them. Monica sat on the grassy bank with her arms wrapped around her bluejeaned knees. Birds sang sweetly nearby.
Fishing legal Monica? asked Sam.
She turned her face up toward him. Her brown eyes flashed.
Yes – fishing is legal Sam.
How come?
His eyes bored into hers. The lure bobbed far out.
Because it is, she said.
Sam raised a hand and spoke louder.
You ever seen that written down Monica? You ever been told that right out – that fishing’s legal?
She looked down, then up. Her hand flexed in the deep grass.
Well, no, but –
Sam waved a fist. The fishing pole hung in his other hand, limply. The brook water flowed past them. The sunlight poured down. The flowers shone.
Then you don’t know – it’s like when I was a boy I used to pee outside the bowl sometimes I thought it was all right to do that, I used to aim at the bowl cleaning brush on the floor by the bowl and splatter the pee all around but Mother came up and said Sam, Sam, please don’t pee outside the bowl, it’s wrong. So you see what I mean Monica? We don’t know that fishing’s legal either.
Monica coughed lightly into her hand, then answered.
Yes, I see what you mean Sam, but –
Sam waved a hand across palm down.
Oh Monica you know I know fishing’s legal why would I be doing it if it weren’t legal I was just seeing what you would say it’s important to see what you say Monica –
What’s that, said a gruff voice come up from behind. They turned toward the man who’d just walked up, with his cleftchinned craggy face and vivid blue eyes and broad shoulders. They’d seen the man fishing at the brook before, but had never spoken to him until now.
What’s what? said Monica, rising, brushing off her jeans.
The man pointed out at the lure floating tiny far out among the pads.
That, he said. That’s a Jitterbug out there – a surface lure. You need to reel it in slow. Nothing will bite on it if it’s just sitting there – I’ve been watching you. You’ll catch nothing that way.
Sam jerked the pole.
But you put the line in the water and stand and wait, said Sam. That’s how I fish I put the line in the water and I stand and wait for a bite. They’re just not biting now –
Here, said the man – give me the pole a minute – I’ll show you how to use a Jitterbug.
Monica folded her arms before her and shifted her weight over onto one leg. Sam handed over the pole freely. He sat in the baby tenda pointing up at the yellow glassfronted kitchen cabinet, calling out to his mother.
Gahh – goo.
He wanted the thing on the top shelf. He loved it very much. She’d given it to him. She loved him.
The craggy faced man began slowly reeling in the Jitterbug. It wobbled and gurgled through the water.
See it makes noise when you reel it in it makes the fish come –
Mother got the thing Sam loved down from the kitchen cabinet and put it on the baby tenda.
There Sam there it is –
Sam clutched it.
Goo.
They loved each other.
Suddenly the water exploded under the lure and a great splash came up and the lure disappeared into the splash and the fishing line went taut and the pole bent double.
Got one! said the man, savagely pulling back the pole.
Gooh – gah.
Mother smiled and shook a small yellow rattle before Sam’s face. Monica and Sam looked on as the blueyed man fought the fish a moment until the line suddenly went slack and the Jitterbug popped back up to the surface of the water.
Damnit, said the man, stamping the ground. Lost him.
He slowly reeled the lure into shore. Monica pointed at the pole.
Give Sam back his pole, she said.
Anyway that’s how you do it, said the man, handing back the pole. Cast it out and reel it in, and again, and again, until you get a strike.
Sam took the pole and drew the pole back and smoothly and expertly cast the red and white lure out into the lily pads, and let it sit there again. Sam sat down on the grass to wait for a fish to bite. Monica stood there with her hands clasped, a faint grin crossing her face.
You’ll never get one like that with that lure, said the broadshouldered man.
This is how I fish, said Sam. I wait. You put the bait out there, and you wait. This is what Dad told me.
But that’s not bait it’s a Jitterbug.
Sam smiled at the man.
How come? he asked.
Because it is – what do you mean how come –
Monica stood with her hands on her hips biting her lip.
Monica, said Sam, cutting off the broadshouldered man.
What Sam? she said with a grin.
Fishing illegal?
No – it’s not illegal – we wouldn’t be out here doing it if it were illegal –
How come?
Well – there are no laws against it –
Well just because there are no laws against it doesn’t mean that it’s legal. It’s not written in a law book somewhere that you shouldn’t throw dirt bombs at the beagles either but I threw dirt bombs at the beagles in the summer and I watched them run back and forth and I laughed and Dad came out and said, no, that’s wrong – and that’s how I found out throwing dirt bombs at the beagles was illegal. Get it Monica? Get it?
Yes I suppose I get it Sam –
Huh you get it good I’m glad you get it –
Hey listen, said the craggy faced man, who’d been standing fidgeting looking out toward the lure. Let me have that pole again. Let me show you how to use this lure –
You’ll give the pole back, right? said Sam.
Yes. Here.
Sam handed the pole over and the man began reeling in the Jitterbug and it splashed and bubbled its way across the water in between the lily pads.
But of course I know that fishing’s legal Monica. Like I said before, I knew it all the time – I just like to talk don’t you like to talk Monica don’t you?
Monica shot Sam a bemused wry look.
Sam rode his bike down the rutted dirt road behind the row of old houses. Sam headed toward a great mud puddle. The dust streamed out behind him.
Yes, thought Sam. Yes, yes yes yes yes – into the water yes – into the water NOW –
He hit the mud puddle with a great splash and the water under the Jitterbug exploded and mud flew out in all directions and the lure disappeared under the water and his father came down the road in a red flannel shirt and pointed at him as he rode up on his dripping bike and the line pulled taut and the pole bent double.
I’ll get him this time! said the craggy faced man. That’s a big one out there –
You shouldn’t ride your bike through the mud like that, said Father, waving his hands, his chin and cheeks covered with stubble.
Why not?
Because you’ll get all muddy look at yourself you’re all muddy now and your nice bike – look at it it’s a mess it’s all muddy it’s a mess because you rode through that puddle what’s the matter with you – you’ll mess up the wheel bearings going in deep mud like that I don’t want to have to replace the wheel bearings Sam –
The pole suddenly sprang back straight and the line went slack and the Jitterbug bobbed to the surface again.
Damn! cried the blueyed man.
– look at you son. Come on let’s go home –
Damn I lost him, said the cleftchinned man, slowly reeling the lure into shore.
Let me have my pole, said Sam.
– come on let’s go home –
Let me have my pole.
All right, all right –
The broadshouldered blueyed man handed over the pole.
We’ll go home.
Well anyway, said the craggy faced man – you see? That’s how you’re supposed to use a Jitterbug – you cast it out and you reel it in. You have to make it make some noise –
But I didn’t see you catch a fish.
– Mother won’t be happy about those muddy pants –
I know but I got two really good strikes –
– those are your good pants Mother won’t be happy –
Sam raised a hand.
But you still didn’t catch a fish. Here watch.
Sam cast the lure smoothly out among the lily pads once more and it bobbed there next to a pad with a white flower on it bigger than any of the others.
The birds sang. Monica shifted her weight from one leg to the other.
Come on now reel it in, said the craggy faced man.
Sam swept a hand across.
No! This is how I fish. I wait.
The craggy faced man’s hands formed into fists held tightly at his side. Sam spoke to Monica.
Why did he lose the fish?
Because it didn’t get hooked –
Sam violently shook his head.
No. He lost the fish because that’s not the way you’re supposed to fish. You’re supposed to let it sit there and you’re supposed to wait –
No you’re not, said the blueyed man, I almost had those fish –
Almost only counts in horseshoes, said Sam. He flashed a big dimpled smile at Monica and he giggled.
My mother used to say that, giggled Sam. See I’m good I remember the things my mother used to say – my mother used to say a lot of smart things you remember Monica don’t you you remember –
Yes, said Monica, arms folded now. Your mother was a very smart woman.
Yes, said Sam. Smart. That’s where I get it.
They waited awhile. The craggy faced cleftchinned broadshouldered blueyed man stood fidgeting then at last he spoke.
Here let me try it again.
They turned to him.
He held his hand out for the pole.
Please hand it over all right? Just one more time –
The Jitterbug bobbed far out in the pads. The water lay still. The fish swarmed unseen under the pads.
All right.
Sam handed the man the pole. The craggy faced man started reeling in. The Jitterbug bubbled and gurgled toward them, sending ripples out gently moving the lily pads.
A great dragonfly buzzed past. The birds sang.
I’ll get him this time, said the man.
Sam said something under his breath, to himself.
You’re seventeen now Sam, said Father, smoothing back his thick grey hair. Time to get your driver’s license –
Sam’s jaw dropped in horror.
But I don’t want one –
The water once more exploded in a huge splash under the Jitterbug and the line pulled taut and the pole bent double.
What do you mean you don’t want one –
Damn him I’ll get him this time –
The line cut through the water as the fish ran across.
– when you’re seventeen you’re supposed to get a license – everybody wants a license –
Damn him I’ll get him –
- but I don’t want a license, I don’t want a license, I’m scared to drive – cars are so big and they go so fast and I’ve seen pictures of accidents, I’ve seen pictures –
The hooked fish leapt from the water.
Good God he’s huge –
Sam stared down into the grass, past it.
– but how do you know you’re scared to drive. You’ve never driven – look at me I’ve never had an accident –
Sam’s hands grasped together.
I just know I know things Dad please don’t make me get a license please don’t where’s Mom where’s Mommy please please please –
All right Sam. All right.
The line went slack and the pole straightened and the Jitterbug once more came to the surface and bobbed in the center of a great circle of ripples.
Damn! Lost him again.
All right –
Give me the pole back, said Sam, looking up.
You don’t need to get a license.
The man reeled in the Jitterbug and handed over the pole.
Damn it there’s a big one out there –
Sam smoothly cast out into the lily pads and the Jitterbug bobbed there.
Reel it in, said the blueyed man.
No. This is how you fish. You lost that fish because you reeled it in. You don’t see me losing any fish do you.
No, but – you don’t get any bites either –
But nothing. Monica! Monica –
Monica stepped forward.
What Sam?
Are there girl fish and boy fish?
Her head tilted.
Yes, I think so Sam –
How come?
Because that’s how it is Sam –
How do you know that’s how it is. Did you ever look at a fish to see if it’s a girl or a boy? Would you know what to look for?
Well, no, I don’t think so –
I know that with people I learned there were girl and boy people when Candy Hayden dropped her pants and I saw she was different from me but even then I didn’t know what that meant I thought she was the normal one and I shouldn’t have what I had between my legs but I suppose I’m stuck with it –
The craggy faced man’s eyebrows rose.
The red and white lure quietly bobbed out in the lily pads. Gnats swarmed out over the water. The mud of the wide bank stank. Sam went on waving his hands ignoring the pole.
But if you look at a fish is there a difference you can see between a boy fish and a girl fish –
The cleftchinned man rolled his eyes.
Say listen. Do you mind if I fish while you talk?
No go on, said Sam, handing the man the pole without taking his eyes off of Monica, saying I don’t know if there are girl fish and boy fish, I never looked.
Well I think there are Sam –
Sam swept a hand across.
Oh of course Monica I know there’s boy fish and girl fish but it’s hard to tell the difference between them I just like to talk to you and I just like to listen when you talk to me back like you do you know.
He breathed heavily. She smiled into his eyes.
Sam you’re a pisser, she said.
He beamed.
The blueyed man began reeling in the Jitterbug and Sam stood by the kitchen table, older now, almost at his twenty-first birthday.
Sam’s father beamed as he spoke. Father’s shirt was torn.
And just think Sam, when you’re twenty-one you’ll be able to vote –
But I don’t want to vote.
Father’s face fell.
What do you mean? Why not?
I saw how it is when you took me with you when you went to vote and you had to close yourself up in that creepy little booth with those awful scary curtains –
What are you talking about Sam? What was scary about that –
It just was! I don’t want to be closed in like that it’s the worst thing in the world to be closed in like that!
And Sam turned away tightly folding his arms before him with his lower lip stuck out and the water exploded bigger than ever under the Jitterbug and the line pulled taut and the Jitterbug was gone under the water and the pole bent double once more. The blueyed man savagely set the hook.
Yes! Yes, I’ll get this damned fish this time –
– anyway, I don’t want to vote you can’t make me –
The hooked fish jumped clear of the water and fell back in with a splash and its scales flashed a bright streak in the golden sunlight sun streaming into the water.
– you can’t make me!
– all right Sam, all right – I won’t make you.
The line went slack, the pole straightened and the Jitterbug bobbed to the surface again.
You win Sam.
God DAMN it! yelled the craggy faced man.
You win.
Sam turned to the man with his arms out.
I told you that’s not the right way to fish – give me my pole back. I guess I have to show you how to fish.
The man brought the lure back in and handed the pole to Sam. Sam once more smoothly drew the pole back and whipped it out and the Jitterbug splashed down among the scattered lily pads.
You sure know how to cast, said the blueyed man.
That’s because I know how to fish.
The Jitterbug bobbed out in the water.
The cleftchinned man’s hands slowly flexed into fists over and over again. His lip visibly trembled. Sweat poured down under his shirt and his heart pounded.
Monica, said Sam.
What? said Monica, kicking at the grass.
Do fish get married if there are girl and boy fish?
I doubt it Sam.
How come?
Because only people get married animals don’t get married.
But fish are not animals. Fish are fish.
The broadshouldered man gently took the pole out of Sam’s hands and slowly began reeling in the Jitterbug again. It splashed and gurgled toward them.
I know Sam but it’s the same thing, said Monica.
How come? said Sam.
Just as Monica opened her mouth to answer the water exploded once more under the Jitterbug and it vanished under that water and the line pulled taut and the pole bent double.
Yeah! cried the craggy faced man. I got him this time –
Sam, said Father.
I’ll get him this time!
What?
The fish flashed under the water running back and forth, hooked.
You’re a man now it’s time you got a job.
What kind of job.
He’s hooked. He’s hooked good!
A good factory job. With benefits and a union.
Sam nodded watching the blueyed man fight the fish.
But what would I do on the job? said Sam.
I’m going to catch him this time you watch –
It doesn’t matter, said Father. As long as it’s union, with benefits, in a good factory like the IBM factory or the Squibbs factory –
I got him Lord God, I got him!
Sam spoke to Monica ignoring the man.
– oh of course I know that fish don’t get married Monica of course I know that only people do I just like to talk to you I just like to listen to you talk to me back –
She smiled and unfolded her arms.
– good steady job. Good benefits –
I got him! I got him –
And the fish leapt out of the water higher than ever and spit out the Jitterbug as though in disgust and the line went slack and the pole straightened and the fish disappeared under the water again and the Jitterbug just sat there, bobbing.
DAMN! cried the cleftchinned man.
– okay son? said Father.
– okay Dad.
The blueyed man brought in the lure and handed the pole back to Sam. Sam once more sent the Jitterbug flying out toward the lily pads and this time began reeling the Jitterbug in slowly. It gurgled and wobbled and splashed toward them.
What are you doing, said the craggy faced man.
I’m fishing. What do you think I’m doing.
But you said you just let the lure sit there –
I know, silly – but now it’s time to fish different.
– you’re a man, son. It’s time you acted like one.
I know.
And suddenly there was a great splash, the greatest splash of all, under the Jitterbug and the line pulled taut and the pole bent double and Sam savagely pulled back on the pole to set the hook and the broadshouldered man’s jaw dropped.
Sam, cried Monica. You’re going to get him.
Sam sat in the baby tenda clutching the thing Mother had got down for him – his favorite thing. He hugged it to him. He nestled his cheek against it.
The fish leapt from the water and splashed back down and swam across, scales flashing underwater in the sun.
The bike ran through the mud and Sam went up to Father and looked him in the eye.
I’m dirty now, look.
The fish slowly came closer to the shore, swimming back and forth.
I’m dirty now. And my bike. My bike is dirty.
Sam played the fish expertly. The blueyed man stood open mouthed.
Sam powered the big Ford up the hill toward home. He clutched the wheel savagely, grimacing, eyes bugged. He never wanted to drive to begin with, now he’d show ’em; the pedal slammed to the floor. The hard curve came closer –
The fish came close to shore now. Sam reeled in the slack. The fish was tiring. The line sliced back and forth through the water.
Sam cast his first vote and pulled the lever with a snap and the terrible curtains let him go. He stepped back out of the voting booth in an ice cold sweat. But he’d done it.
The fish was pulled from the water and Sam slid it across the muddy bank and onto the grass and it lay there gasping, Jitterbug hung from its jaw.
Having quit the factory job, Sam walked to his car.
The big fish gasped and flopped.
I quit the job what will Father say I’m afraid of what Father will say he’ll go on and on –
The craggy faced man said Lord God, that’s at least a five pound bass –
See of course I know how to fish I just like to talk I just liked to hear you talking back of course I knew how to fish I knew how all along –
Sam leaned down and squinted at the fish, then straightened.
This is a girl fish, said Sam.
Monica laughed.
It’s important we know it’s a girl fish right Monica?
Yes Sam, she said, smiling. It’s important.
The craggy faced blueyed broadshouldered cleftchinned man stood with fists clenched, and spoke.
How do you know it’s a girl fish?
Sam spoke to Monica.
Well Monica? How come?
Monica grinned, turned her back on them, and walked up the Indian grass path away from the brook.
Jim Meirose is the author of the novel Claire and the short story collection Breakfast, Meat, and Other Stories. His work has been short-listed for the O. Henry Awards.