Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Pat slept the rest of the way down the river while Dave fished out of the back of the boat. Rose and Dave talked and laughed and shared stories of past lives. The three boats with anglers and guides reached the take-out at the end of the float at Pelican Point FAS within 15 minutes of each other. Boats were trailered, rods secured, and participants loaded up and headed back to Craig. Rose and Dave continued their conversations as Pat slept in the back seat—no doubt dreaming of the last fish he would ever land as his Parkinson’s would eventually take over to a point where he couldn’t be the angler he wanted to be. It was better to just go out on top.

Dave thanked Rose for spending the time with Pat and allowing him to have one final victory with a fly rod in his hand. Rose thought back about the feelings she had while re-rigging Pat’s rod with a dry fly and started feeling a little guilty.

“I gotta to be honest, Dave,” Rose admitted. “I wasn’t really feeling the dry fly thing with your brother. If it wasn’t for Riggs, I probably wouldn’t have even tried it. I guess there’s a lesson there.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dave replies. “But you did and you were great.”

“Well, Pat was great,” She says. “It was pretty awesome, watching him cast like that; so methodical and wasting no energy. And, his reaction time—perfect with the dries where he was late on the nymph-rig. Lot’s of lessons in there.”

“That streamer stuff was fun, too.” Dave admits.

“Chuck and duck, Dave. Chuck and duck.”

As Rose pulls her rig into the Missouri River Angler parking lot, she sees Tom walking out from the shop porch. He waves as he makes his way towards her rig. She pulls around to the back of the shop, lines up her boat with an empty parking spot on the lawn, and backs her boat in. Rose jumps out of her Jeep and walks around to the back to unhook her boat.

“What’s up with your bumper?” Tom asks as he walks around to the back of the Jeep. “I hadn’t noticed that.”

“Oh, just a little fender-bender,” Rose answered. “Just haven’t had the cash to fix it yet.”

“The red duct tape is a nice touch,” he notices.

“Yeah,” she says. “Nothing like a little redneck bodywork. I didn’t even realize how many colors duct tape comes in. Pretty impressive.”

Tom turns his direction to Dave and Pat as they have made it out of the Jeep and are now standing, watching Rose do her thing.

“How was it?” Tom asked.

“We had a great time,” Dave answered. “This lady knows her stuff.”

“Did you get some fish, Pat?” Tom asks.

“I did,” Pat answered. “It was perfect.”

Just then, the other two guides with their anglers pulled into the parking lot: Billy’s truck first and then Riggs. Billy is driving noticeably slower than he was this morning. They both back their boats into an empty spot and their clients pile out of their vehicles. Tom walks over to the group to ask them how the day went.

Rose finishes tightening up her boat, picking up any lose leaders and tippet material and runs them, along with the garbage from lunch, to the trash can next to the shop. As she makes her way back to her rig, she notices Trick leaning against the MPHW van looking up into the sky. He was by himself but didn’t look like he was really bothered by that. He was occupied by something in the air a few feet above his head.

“What you looking at?” Rose asks Trick as she approaches him.

“What are these?” He points to the sky.

Above his head, there are hundreds of bugs that seem to be dipping up and down in a sort of dance with each other. They are flying with their heads up and fine, thin bodies pointed straight down. Their tails are long and wispy and unproportionately long.

“Well,” Rose starts to answer, “Did you see all those bugs on the water today?”

“Yeah,” Trick says. “The blue-wing olives?”

“Nice,” She responds. “You know your bugs.”

“My entomology is a bit lacking,” Trick admits. “I know some of the main bugs but I could probably use a bug course.”

“So, yes,” Rose continues. “The bugs on the water were the ‘dun’ stage of the blue-wings. They stay on the water until their wings dry and then they go airborne. At some point, they molt into spinners and mate. That’s what those are.”

“So that dance they’re doing? That’s them mating? Huh..”

“Kind of cool, right?” Rose states.

“It really is,” Trick admits. “It’s like they’re courting by dancing.”

“Courting?” Rose chuckles. “What, were you born in the 50’s? They’re hooking up!”

Trick laughs a bit embarrassed. “Yes, I guess you’re right. They’re hooking up.”

“You lost the pincher?” Rose points to Tricks arm.

“Yeah,” he says. “I haven’t really gotten used to it yet. I only wear it when it helps. Pretty tough to work the reel without a second hand of some kind.”

Trying not to pry, Rose asks, “You must have been fly fishing for a while, huh? I saw you out there getting it done. Casting looked good.”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I started a few years back while in college. My trainer used to take me out when he thought I needed a break from football.”

“Oh yeah? You played?”

“I did…”

Rose was definitely curious but also wanted to be respectful of Trick’s feelings. It was obvious that whatever happened to him was post-college days and post-football, which meant it couldn’t have been too long ago.

Treading lightly and wanting to change the subject she asked, “Where did you go to school?”

“I transferred to Missoula after spending a couple years at a community college in California.” Trick says.

“So you stuck around?” She probes.

“Yeah, my mom and dad are in California but after my accident,” Trick nods towards his missing arm, “I decided to stick around Missoula for rehab. My trainer, my best friend really, is in Missoula. Him and his wife, they’re just as much family as anyone. Plus, some of the guys from the team are still around and it was just a better situation.”

“How did you find the healing waters project?” Rose asked.

“Well, like I said, my trainer and I fished quite a bit before the accident. I was really getting into it. Hadn’t fished since but his wife knew about this program,” he explains. “She’s a therapist and knew about it, anyway, through her work. She thought it would help me.”

Trick felt Rose’s stare on him. He had been looking off into the distance while talking to her with quick, shy glances back at her every once in a while, just to make sure she wasn’t getting too bored with his story. It’s something guys do to protect vulnerability. It made him flush. It felt like a ray of sunshine warming his face.

 He turned to Rose with a deliberate intent. It wasn’t like Trick to take chances with women. He was so focused on football, he just never really put the time into meeting girls. His teammates, his friends, even Sara would ask him why he wasn’t going after some of those girls that would fawn all over him.

“For god’s sakes,” Sara would say. “Why don’t you get after one of those cheerleaders or something? You’re a football player. Isn’t that what you guys do?”

It just wasn’t part of Trick’s MO. It’s not that he wasn’t attracted to women. He was just too busy. And because of that, he lacked any sort of game and now, he had no idea how to pursue except for just being honest.

“I was pretty apprehensive,” he said, now staring back at her. “But now I’m kinda glad I did.”

Now Rose’s heart thumped loud enough to where she thought for sure, Trick heard. She, however, had too much experience with guys hitting on her and had developed a callus and an auto-response to advances from men to deflect, even though this was innocent and genuine.

She played it off. “Yeah, the Missouri. It is pretty amazing.”

Trick’s eyes looked down to his feet and then he turned his head to the group of MHWP participants that had gathered near Riggs’ boat. He was hoping for the door to open a crack. He was hoping Rose would give him a sign that she was interested. When she didn’t, his mind went to his arm and what he thought she must be thinking and now he was feeling a flighting impulse, he rarely ever felt before the accident.

“Why would she ever want to be with a gimped-up guy like me?” He thought to himself.

As he started to turn towards the group, Rose struggled with her own inner dialog; “Why do you have to be such a bitch?” She thought.

“Hey, Trick.” She blurted out. For a first time in a long time she felt nervous and scared and vulnerable. “You want to go fishing sometime?”

The color came back to Trick’s face and he turned back to her, “Yeah! That would be awesome!”

Knowing he was a bit too eager with his response he searched for words to temper his excitement, “but don’t expect me to row too much.”

“Ha!” Rose shot out. “That’s funny. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

Their conversation hadn’t gone un-noticed. Tom had rallied the group and was herding them towards the van. As they moved towards the van, Rose and Trick walked towards them. Rose, still a little bit in “guide mode”, walked around to the tail end of the group to help Pat navigate the gravel of the parking lot with his walker. That left Trick open to some not-so-subtle pats on the back and a couple “at-a-boys” from John and Randy.

“Would you guys grow up?” Trick quietly directs.

“Come on,” Randy responds. “We’re too old to have our own lives, can’t we live yours?”

“Listen,” Bob chimes in. “If I knew then what I do now, I’d be…”

“You’d be what?” Randy cuts him off. “You never had any game.”

“How old are you guys?” Trick asks. “So, when you become an old man does that mean you turn back into a 13-year-old boy?”

The two older men laughed and gave Trick a bit of a shove from the back, pushing him towards the van. Trick stumbled forward but quickly gained his balance. The day has been a good one for Trick. It’s the first time, since the accident, he’s been able to interact with people in this way. A dark cloud that had consumed him has opened, just a little bit. He actually smiled and felt some things he hadn’t felt for what seemed to be forever. He felt shy. He felt embarrassed for a moment. He felt his heart race. He felt alive. He felt hope again.

On the ride back to town, the older men spent their time reliving the day with Tom. They told him about the fish Pat caught at lunch; how he stood in the river leaning up against his walker. They talked about the hippy guide, Riggs and the drill sergeant, Billy. They talked about all the ‘ones’ that got away and compared the ‘fish of the day,’ to which Pat was the obvious winner. Trick took a seat in the back and kept was keeping pretty quiet until Randy piped up about who really had the catch of the day.

“I don’t know, Pat,” he declared. “I think Trick’s got you beat.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bob agreed. “As impressive as that rainbow on the dry was, Pat, Randy’s right. I’d have to give it to Trick…Tricky, trick. Boy howdy.”

“What?” Trick turned from staring out the window to the group that was now turned back, looking at him. “What’er you old bastards talking about?”

The entire van erupted.

“Ahhh, Trick. Good for you!” Congratulated Randy. “That Rose. Wow. Quite the catch.”

A second wave of chuckles and cheers signaling approval of the pun.

“What?” Trick downplayed. “It’s not like that. She just asked me if I wanted to go fishing again. She probably just felt sorry for me.”

“Sorry for you!” Randy chortled. “Sorry for you? I saw the way she looked at you. She wasn’t feeling sorry for shit. Look at you, man. That girl had one thing in mind and it sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with sympathy.”

 “Whatever,” Trick, again, playing it off. “We’re just going fishing.”

A third wave filled the van. Trick shook his head and went back to staring out the window—the noise of the boisterous group of old men faded into the humming of the wheels. Trick’s mind went to a place of self-doubt and deprecation that’s been commonplace these past few months—thoughts that have been occupying space in his head, robbing him of the hope he felt for a few moments not even 30 minutes ago.

“There’s no way a girl like that is going to want to be with someone like me,” he thought to himself. “I’ll never hear from her again. She was just being nice.”

Tom parked the van at their rendezvous point, which happened to be a grocery store parking lot. The participants again, piled out of the van with Trick being last. They said their goodbyes while scanning the lot for their rides home. Sara and Mike had driven Trick to Helena from Missoula that morning. They were going to stay the day in Helena to check out the capital and museum and a couple antique stores. They had not yet arrived back to the parking lot.

Tom walked over to Trick, “How you doing, Trick?”

“I’m good,” Trick answered. “Today was fun.”

“You got a little quiet back there. Care to share your thoughts?”

“Not really,” Trick responded, realizing he was coming off a little churlish. “I mean, I’m sorry. I had a great time, Tom. I really appreciate it.”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Tom clarified. “You’ve gone through a lot, Trick. Your world has been turned upside-down. Your entire plan—everything you worked for has been taken from you. Who you are, in some respects, has been taken from you.”

“It is what it is,” Trick replied as he stared off into the distance.

“But it’s not fair, Trick and it’s ok to feel that way. If it were me, I’d be fucking pissed.”

Tom continued, “you’re being forced to accept change that you didn’t want. Your dreams…your story. It’s all changed now and that must suck. Your body has changed, and I would guess, the way you see yourself has also changed.”

 “How much is this costing me, Doc?” Trick replied flippantly.

“It’s ok to feel angry, Trick,” Tom sympathized. “I just don’t want you to be angry.”

“What do you mean?” Trick asked.

“Yes, all these things changed and you didn’t have any control over it. You didn’t choose to be in the accident. For all I know, you probably weren’t even at any fault for what happened. Accepting of that change and developing a plan that really gives you hope is going to take work—a lot of work. But, there are things about you that haven’t changed and maybe recognizing those things would be a good start.”

            “Like what?” Trick asked.

            “Your physical attributes may have changed. But what’s in here,” Tom puts a finger in Trick’s chest. “What’s in here is still there and you can draw on those attributes or you can let your anger suppress them. That’s your choice. And then that becomes who you are. You’re a kind person, Trick. You have a big heart. And I’m sure you have a thousand other things to be grateful for.”

            “I’m a gimp,” Trick tells Tom. “Who want’s to be with a gimp?”

            Tom tilts his head back and looks inquisitively at Trick. “Rose?” he asks.

            Trick turned to look at Tom for the first time since they began talking. “It’s not just Rose…”

            “Today it is Rose, Trick. And tomorrow it might be someone else.” Tom continues, “What do you want her to see? An angry dude missing an arm? Or a kind man with a big heart who has two good legs, a good arm and doesn’t give up?”

            “Easy for you to say,” Trick responds.

            “You’re right, Trick. I have no idea what you’re going through—the pain you feel. That pain is real. I get that. All I’m saying is control what you can control. Find those things that haven’t changed, that you want people to see about you and then let the chips fall how they may.”

            “Tight lines,” Trick murmurs.

            “Yeah,” Tom agrees with a surprised tone. “Tight lines.”

            Trick sees Mike and Sara roll into the parking lot of the grocery store and lifts his head, motioning to them.

            “Guess my ride’s here,” Trick says to Tom.

            Mike and Sara park. Sara gets out of the car and gives Trick a hug and then Tom.

            “How you doin, Tom?” She asks.

            Mike walks up and shakes Tom’s hand.

            “We haven’t met,” Mike says. “I’m Mike Morley.”

            “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard some great things about you.” Tom tells him.

            “Ah, shucks…” Mike gives his best Goofy impression.

            “Quit it,” Sara ordered as she slaps his shoulder.

            “Ouch!” Mike protests as Sara pushes him away, tickling him at the same time.

            “Holy…” Trick interjects. “Do you guys ever stop flirting?”

            “Speaking of flirting…” Tom says.

            “We’re just going fishing,” Trick cuts Tom off.

            “What?” Sara asks emphatically. “Did you meet someone?”

            “What? Did you guys set all this up or something?” Trick asks defensively.

            “If that were the case, you would have been fishing with her all day instead of Billy.” Tom admits.

            “Yeah, I gotta be honest,” Trick reveals. “I would have much rather fished with Rose.”

            “Rose?” Sara asks. “Who is this Rose?”

            “It’s just fishing!” Trick declares. “Fishing!”

            “Doesn’t sound like it,” Mike interjects as he grins ear to ear in the Mike Morley way.

            “All right,” Trick says, trying his best to diffuse the interrogation. “I’m getting hungry. Can we just get some food?”

            Trick was feeling like a little kid being teased by the “adults.” On one hand he was a little embarrassed but then on the other, it was kind of exciting and reassuring all at the same time. The fact that these adults saw something there to tease him about meant they saw a real possibility that something could happen.

“Did they really feel that way,” he wondered to himself?

“Okay,” Mike put an end to the harassment. “Pizza or Suds Hut chicken?”

They all nodded and at the same time, “Suds Hut.”

They said their goodbyes to Tom and turned to the car. Before Trick could climb into the back door of the Subaru wagon Tom yelled to him: “Hey, Trick! It’s ok to feel a little hope. Tight lines, bud.”

            “Thanks, Tom,” Trick replied as he worked his way into the tiny back seat.

It was around 9:30 pm that night, when Trick, Sara and Mike arrived at the house. Trick had taken up residency at the house in the mother-in-law suite above the detached garage out-back. Mike built the apartment for Trick after the accident knowing Trick would need a place to stay and some help recovering. Trick said goodnight and headed off to the garage.

            Once settling in, he took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Before Rose and Trick said goodbye in the parking lot of the Missouri River Angler, Rose asked Trick for his phone and saved her number to his contact list. Trick found Rose’s name and number. He took a breath. He tried as hard as he could to chase the butterflies and the nerves and the doubt from his stomach.

            “What’s the point?” He thought. “Could she really be with someone like me?”

Rose was sitting alone in the White House with Chase. She was often alone these days because the alternative was to hang out with everyone else at the Frenchman Bar next door and she knew that wasn’t an option. She picked up her phone and double-checked for any notification of a new message. She decided she had, had a long day and was going to get ready for bed.  

Trick recalled the things Tom told him. He also remembered what his tight ends coach told him those early days in the hospital after the accident when he learned of how the accident had changed his life.

“This is going to be hard,” he admitted to himself.

Rose had finished washing her face and brushing her teeth. Her face was buried in a towel when she heard the chime of her phone ring. She poked her head out of the bathroom and looked at the phone not sure if she had actually heard a notification. A green light flashed, telling her a new text had come.