The Catfish and the Storm

The Catfish and the Storm

The wind blew softly off the bay. The mangroves trembled at the waters edge, their scraggly roots reaching into the brackish water searching for a drink. Thomas walked along the shoreline, his feet dragging in the clean white substrate. His breath caught sharply when he rounded the corner by the fire pit.

He dropped his pack. The memories flooded over him and drove him to his knees knocking him into the soft clean sand. He started to cough, as if choking on some unseen food. His hands reached out and found the ground before him. Tears welled up in his eyes, he remembered the gentle contour of Alia’s face and the love it once shared. His coughs subsided into a quiet cry. It had not rained for a while and the sand was still disturbed from the events of the week before. He remembered her young body, dancing nude by the flames of the fire pit wearing only a heart shaped locket around her neck. He remembered her soft lips and how they reached out to his waiting for a kiss and how he lost himself in their love. He pushed himself back onto his knees and sat upright in the sand. The cabin confronted him with all of its implications. He could not hide from from it any longer. He looked up and saw the cabin, silent and unquestionable.

Thomas clenched his fists. He punched them repeatedly into the sand.

Thomas looked out into the gulf. Clouds were gathering to the southwest. He remembered the first time they made love in the warm august rain. He remembered their bodies rubbing each other to the sound of the crashing waves and then cradling her head and kissing her as the clouds cleared and sun came out again.

 Cautiously, he approached the cabin. He remembered the long weekend they built it together. It was a simple one room bungalow. He had made the walls in the city and brought them out on a swamp boat his cousin had. He tried the front door. It was unlocked. Stepping through the door, he entered the cabin’s only room. His heart sank as he realized that she had already been there to clear out her belongings. Her clothing and belongings had been removed from the closet at the back. He glanced around the room. The drawer on her side was open and bare. The sunlight shone through the window and produced dancing patterns on the quilt. Thomas sat down on the corner of the bed and stared out the window. Then he saw it on the table by the window. He did not believe his eyes.

 Alia had left her grandfather’s horn.

 There it was on the table. Why did she leave it here? It was precious to her. That night before the Japanese attacked he recalled when a famous musician offered her two hundred dollars for it. That was a year’s pay. She inherited the horn from her grandmother, Hélene, who brought it after the Great War. It was her grandad’s and he would play it in the trenches of the Marne. Why did she leave it? What did she mean by her actions?Thomas stood up and walked to the horn. It was a handsome instrument. Its silver finished was rubbed off in at the base of the bell. Was it her way of saying that she still loved him? He picked it up and cradled it in his hands like a newborn child. She had taught him to play having taken lessons in the city, but she taught him the basics and the scales. He played every chance that he got. As he was a poor boy, he did not have the chance to play an instrument. Soon he was playing songs. He would carry the horn wherever he went. His skill improved. He would play compositions of his own to Alia. He would play soft lullabies to lull her to sleep on nights when she was upset.

 It was a trick! She was a clever girl and was trying to manipulate him in some way. Holding the horn he marched out the front door. The grey clouds were getting closer. I’ll throw it into the sea!’ He thought. ‘I don’t need this bullshit!” Thomas leaned back to get more momentum into his throw. A splash sounded by the water’s edge. He hesitated and then paused.

 It was Blue.

 He was hungry.

 He walked over to the splash. Thomas fell to his knees at the water’s edge. Two big eyes stared up at him through the water. Blue’s tail wagged a friendly hello. Almost immediately the catfish paused and looked into the eyes of Thomas. What happened? Where was Alia? it was asking. Blue understood the sadness in Thomas’s eyes. The catfish knew sadness. Blue had lost his mate in the hurricane of thirty-five. Thomas reached down into the water and caressed Blue and his long whiskers.

 Thomas put the horn down and walked to his pack by the fire pit. He had packed some food and two bottles of water. He picked up his pack and returned to Blue. Reaching into the pack, he pulled out the pastrami sandwich wrapped in paper. He had made it that morning at the café. The French mustard had leaked onto the wax paper. Thomas ripped a small piece of the sandwich and gently gave it to Blue. The catfish devoid of table manners gobbled down the thick rye bread, lettuce , tomatoes and deli meat. Thomas took a bite of the sandwich.

 Thomas looked at the Flugelhorn.

 What good are promises made in the dark? Why not close the door on this part of his life and start again?

Blue looked up at him with his deep thoughtful eyes.

 Be brave, they said. The sea is vast and has treasure for those who dare.

 But is it not better to forget our sadness and make our world how we want it to be?

No, Thomas, we are the sum of all our realities.  We must face the future with all the joy and sadness of the past. Courage is a hard drink to swallow, Thomas. You must never forget who you are and how you came to be.

 It had begun to rain. Thomas gave the remainder of the sandwich to Blue. His tears mixed with warm rain.

 Blue was there. He was not alone. He had a friend. Thomas looked into the eyes of the old catfish.

The clouds gathered like a spectre in the sky.

Thomas slung the horn around his shoulder. He looked out at the gray trying to imagine where the water and sky met. Blue huddled by his ankles seeking shelter from the storm. He felt honoured by the catfish’s trust in him, as if his form could somehow assuage the fury of what was to come. The warm water whipped every which way. Thomas’s salty tears mixed with the rain and then returned into the heaving ocean. Blue had lost his mate, Princess, in a tempest such as this. The catfish’s muscled form coiled at the refuge of Thomas’s feet. The waves danced in the gale, their tips all white and frothy, threatening with joyous abandon. Tom’s clothes clung to his skin as the warm water baptized his body. Loud thunderclaps resounded in the sky like an angry preacher demanding fealty. The throat of Thomas was dry and parched. He opened his mouth to catch some rain, but the sea jumped up instead. His tears rolled down his cheeks then disappeared away. The tireless waves hurled their wrath about, striking at phantoms. Thomas sunk his knees at the water’s edge. Gently, he caressed Blue. The catfish jumped into the arms of Thomas. His eyes like marbles, deep with trust.

“Play me a song, Thomas.”

“A sad song, Blue?”

“No, Thomas. Make it a song about love and how sins can be forgiven.”

Lightning danced in the muddy sky. Thomas opened his mouth. Uncontrolled cries rained down on Blue.

“Play me a song about how love is greater than the sea.”

“I can’t, Blue.”

“Courage, Thomas. You are greater than you think.”

Thomas ran his digits across the smooth silver surface. Water droplets gathered around his touch then fell into the sea. His fingers, thick with apprehension, curled around the valves. He gazed into the eyes of Blue and looked to where the horizon should be. The wind was louder now. It whistled in his ears daring him to act. The lightning flashed another time, covering Blue and Thomas in a blue radiance.

“I can’t, Blue. I’m just a boy.”

“You must decide now who you want to be.”

The mouthpiece felt strangely cold. He pushed the air past his trembling lips. A quiet note gently sounded in the bay then rose in fervour. The confidence of the sound pushed against the tyranny of the storm. A melancholy rift fought with the angry wind. Blue’s tail danced with appreciation. Again his chest pushed hard. The sound reached deep into his soul.

Thomas closed his eyes, but all he could see was Alia. He closed his mouth, but all he could taste was salt.