A Thing of Beauty

Photo by Anders Ipsen on Unsplash

Thomas had been fishing his way up the Hyampom River since 6am. Now, the sun was two hours past its zenith. He’d hooked a few fish, but steelhead fight like lightning and he had lost them all. He wasn’t worried. It was late September, still too early for the real run, and a day on the river was never wasted. He decided it was his last cast, then he would swim. He boulder hopped down to the next hole.

The river arched and rolled into a lazy bend under a granite outcrop that formed a natural amphitheater. It was sheltered by alders and cottonwood trees. Dappled light on the surface of a deep pool. Fry jumped in the shallows further upstream, flashing silver. Far below dark water rippled with the deliberate motion of shadows that observed, still and patient, beneath the shelter of a rock.

Thomas made his way to the edge of the pool. Pulling a dry fly from his vest, he tied a barrel knot, attached the fly, and waded in. A boy, seated on the rocks above, watched him intently as he cast and teased the fly across the water. He worked his way around the pool, but nothing struck. Not even a nibble. It was futile. He pulled his line in and fastened it to the rod.

“Any luck?” the boy called out.

“Not today. They weren’t interested in anything I had on offer. How about you? Did you fish today?”

“No,” the boy said. “I just watched fish.”

“Can I join you?” Thomas said.

“Yeah, come on up.” The boy smiled and waved him up.

He broke down his pole, secured it to his pack, and made his way up onto the rock. Unshouldering the pack, he dropped down next to the boy who looked over at him and smiled, but said nothing. Thomas noticed the boy's face was pale and his lips were blue.

“Are you okay? You look really cold,"he said.

“I’m fine. I swam a lot today. I’m warming up now.”

The boy’s black hair and blue eyes were stark against his pale skin. In the direct sunlight, he showed not a hint of color. He was the inverse of Thomas, who was tall, broad, and deeply weathered. His blonde hair was cropped close, and his face edged towards grim, but laugh lines nested at the corners of his green eyes softened it.

“Look down there,” the boy pointed. “Do you see the shadows there?” The dark outline of 3 lunkers hovered at the bottom of the pool.

He gave the boy a wry smile.

“Yeah…the bastards,” he said.

The boy laughed.

“Do you live here or are you just visiting?” Thomas asked. The boy glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

“I’ve lived here forever,” he said.

“For all 15 years of forever?” He laughed.

The boy laughed too.

They chatted amiably about the river, and fishing, and the boy told him stories about Black Oak, the neighboring town.

“I lived there for a time, when I was a boy,” Thomas said. “I went to Black Oak Elementary. When I was 11 my dad took a job in Portland and we had to move. But I never forgot this place. It gets in your system. I had to come back.”

The boy was quiet and thoughtful for a moment. He looked at Thomas.

“I know,” he said, nodding.

Thomas laughed. “I’m going swimming,” he said.

“I’ll come with you,’ the boy said. We can look at fish. They come to me sometimes, when I’m very still. Here, you can use my goggles.”

The boy produced a pair of Superman Official Junior Swim Goggles from the pocket of his trunks.

“Those are off the hook!” Thomas said. “They must be 40 years old.”

The boy smiled.

“You can wear them,” the boy said.

“Thank you.”

Thomas felt a chill coming off of the boy's skin, as he reached out to take them.

He examined the goggles, the light blue plastic felt supple and new.

“You still look cold,” Thomas said. “Are you sure you should swim?”

“I’m fine,” the boy said over his shoulder, as he headed down to the pool.

The air was warm and thick as honey with the scent of California lilacs and bull thistles. Purple buds bobbed under drowsy bees. With the sweet thrum of summer tickling inside of him, he followed the boy to the edge of the pool and they stood side by side. He gazed down. Tiny Diamonds of water glistened on the boy’s thin shoulders. Fathomless blue eyes peered back up, contemplating him. The boy’s Eyes reminded Thomas of long ago summers passed under the sheltering sky of childhood. The magic of the moment spread inside of him, suspending time. He smiled. The boy smiled too.

“Let’s look at fish,” the boy said.

“Yes,” said Thomas. “Let’s.”

They waded deeper into the pool. Thomas slid the Superman goggles over his face. He entered the bright side of the pool and let the water hold him as he floated above looking down. The boy followed him out and they hung there together on the surface of the water watching bright arcs of rainbow and silver dart up and descend. A web of reflected light played over the granite on the far side of the pool.

Swimming in and out of the shadows and light, the boy, who could see perfectly without the goggles, felt Thomas’s warmth. It drew him. Though the boy was as pallid and cold as the pool, he was quick. Excited, his eyes darted now. He edged forward in short bursts. Slower, he schooled himself. He was just inches from Thomas now, a shimmer, a rainbow, a sliver flash, a strike…

Floating peacefully, his face frozen in open wonder, scarlet banners unfurled from Thomas’s throat and eddied around him in the current. The boy swam below him looking up, admiring Thomas, who was a thing of beauty.

Then, he fed.