Come Fish with Me

Ethyn stood in the doorway, fishing gear in hand, bucket hat on head. The morning held all the promise of blooming into a beautiful day and the sea was calm. His eyes roamed the interior of his shack, surveying the wreckage caused by the small person curled up in a foetal ball of sad-sackness in the middle of the carnage. He could see the breath rising and falling, sometimes catching on a sob, beneath the bony ribs of the child. The clothes the boy had borrowed, old ones belonging to Ethyn's long-gone son, were loose on his thin frame, his feet bare. Ethyn coughed politely, he didn't want to scare the boy.

Bren slowly manoeuvred his body into a seating position, hugging his knees, dark curls flopping across his face, head down. His whole body was tense as he waited for the shouting to begin, the blows to start. He had trashed this guy's home and he knew there would be payback. There always was for kids like him. Bren could no longer remember his real family, but he could vividly recall the many places he had been pushed into and then dragged out of not so much later. He didn't blame all of the people who had tried and failed although some of them had gone above and beyond to point out the error of his ways and he would always bear those scars, even if some were invisible. He had been told in no uncertain terms that Ethyn was his last chance saloon, the end of the road. He knew he had already fucked it up, in less than 24 hours. He couldn't remember what had caused the red mist to descend but it certainly had, with a vengeance, and now here they were.

Ethyn, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, propped the fishing rod up against the door and sat cross-legged in the doorway, bringing him almost level with Bren. He reached out and picked up a large shell from the mess on the floor. Cradling it in one of his huge hands, he blew gently into it, creating a soft, haunting melody. He did it a few more times, each note different. Bren slowly raised his head and his dark eyes sought Ethyn's. Ethyn held the shell out towards him but didn't move any closer. Bren studied the large man, he could sense a gentle presence like nothing he had ever experienced before, like warm rain after a long, hot day. He slowly scooched himself closer to Ethyn and tentatively reached out with his left hand. Ethyn passed him the shell and Bren put his lips to the open side and began to blow. Nothing. He tried again, and again. On the fifth go a low, smooth sound emanated from the shell and filled the room with joy. Bren kept going until he had used up all his breath. His grubby face broke into a smile and Ethyn smiled back at him. Ethyn slowly rose to his feet, trying not to intimidate Bren with his towering height. Bren had seen bigger. He rose gracefully, clutching the shell. He looked around at his handiwork, but Ethyn was already speaking.

"We'll get this later. Come fish with me." Ethyn held out his hand and Bren took it with his right, still holding onto the shell with his left. Ethyn picked up the fishing rod and together they stepped out onto the sand.