Today’s story takes place in downstate Illinois, where a strip-mining coal company went belly up, leaving behind 12 deep basins. Developers bought the land, built a dam and cleared out all the trees, stumps, logs and brushes in each basin, except one: the biggest and deepest.
When the basins were flooded, the chain-of-lakes was created. Lake Charles, the deepest lake, became known as the best and the worst fishing lake. Best, meaning it had tackle-busting big fish; worst, meaning it was snag hell: cunning fish hooked by an angler would wrap the line around a stump and snap!
On the south side of Lake Charles stands the home of the Franklins: Mercedes, the mother and her sons, Denzel, 16, and Joseph, 6. Their story begins on a Saturday morning in May.
While her boys slept in, Mercedes cooked homemade doughnuts. She placed the hot pastries on a white plate. Six glazed, three chocolate, six holes, and three sprinkles. Mercedes turns on her vacuum and begins singing. Her voice is warm and spiritual. Her melodies float through the air, winged promises of hope.
Joseph is dreaming. He has hooked Charlie! Charlie, the 90-pound catfish. Charlie, the fish who ripped poles right out of his hands. He wakes up and smells doughnuts and hears singing. He peeks out his window, the morning sun has painted the earth with buckets of golden sunshine. The wind moves treetops, rocking limbs and ruffling newborn leaves. Puffy clouds sail silently overhead, on their trek across the heartland. Circles of light shift shapes on his bedcovers.
Denzel is awakened by pain. He has clenched his fists in anger, and fingernail cuts on his palms ooze blood. His mother’s singing stops, and bad memories flood in. His drunken father, the fights, the .... “Well, I’m the man now.”
After breakfast, plans are made Mercedes and Joseph will grocery shop, Denzel will mow the lawn, and at 2 p.m., the boys will fish. On the way home, Joseph realized he forgot to pick up supplies for a science project. They arrive home late, at 2:30 p.m. Denzel’s note read, “Gone fishing.”
Joseph raced to the dock. Where’s Denzel? Panicked, he rockets home, and gets his mother, who drives them back to the dock. No Denzel. “Stay put,” she commanded. All alone, Joseph gets an idea. He lays down on the dock, pulls the fish basket out of the lake, and three blue gills are in the basket, and a submerged tackle box.
He retrieved the box, opened it, and saw Denzel’s homemade, silver lures. His mother returns with the police, scuba divers, boats and dogs. Storm clouds moved in, bringing thunder and lightning.
“It’s my fault, I killed him, it should have been me,” Joseph’s black thoughts choked his mind.
One week later: Saturday morning. Six glazed, three chocolate, six holes, three sprinkles, and lie cold, on a white plate.
Joseph hears singing, but now, undertones of mourning bury the melody. He peeks out his window. The sun has painted the land with buckets of golden sunlight. A steady breeze caresses treetops, rocking the limbs, ruffling the leaves. High overhead, white clouds drift eastward, on their trek across the heartland. Geometric circles of light dance upon his bedcovers.
Twenty years later. When Mercedes becomes ill, Joseph moves his own family — wife and 6-year-old son, Denzel — back home, to care for his mother. Now that he had returned home, he decided it was time to confront his fears.
On the dock, Joseph assembled a heavy rod and reel, tied his brother’s silver lure to the line and cast out. For over two hours, he battled the lake monster. Exhausted, he finally landed the 90-pound catfish. Charlie had finally been caught.
When he removed the lure from its lower lip, Joseph spied a second lure, embedded in his mouth. Carefully, he removed it. The identical lures proved that, two decades ago, his brother Denzel had hooked Charlie.
When Joseph started to release Charlie, his son exploded: “No, stop Dad! That monster killed your brother. Kill it, its evil!” Joseph placed both hands on his son’s shoulders: “My brother was not killed by a fish. He broke the rules our mother had made — no swimming alone, keeping life jackets on while fishing. What killed my brother was violence, alcohol, and a father who abandoned him.”
Together, Joseph and his son, Denzel, released Charlie, and as they watched him swim away, Joseph’s eyes flooded with tears. Denzel hugged his father. “Dad, promise me you will never leave me.”
“I promise, Denzel.”
The content of this article is for educational purposes only and should not be used as a substitute for treatment by a professional. The characters in this story are not real. Names and details have been changed to protect confidentiality.
References: Today’s story was inspired by the poem, “The Day after — Without Us,” by Wislawa Szymboskaq, “Here,” 2010.
Dr. Richard Elghammer contributes his column each week to the Journal Review.
