Don Wroe’s Cabin
May, 1976
Ennis stacked the luncheon plates in the sink, intending to wash them later, when they had heated some hot water on the stove.
“I think I’m gonna take a nap,” said Jack. “I’m still tired.”
“Sure,” said Ennis, nodding, watching as Jack walked over to the bed. He tried not to stare as Jack stripped off his pants and shirt and climbed in between the sheets, still wearing his tee shirt and boxers. I should be there with you, he thought, still puzzled by Jack’s mood and silence.
Within minutes he heard a soft snore and knew Jack was asleep. Ennis, who rarely slept during the day, realized he was restless and antsy…he needed something to do. He rummaged in a closet and found some fishing tackle, laughing softly at the irony. Nine years a fishin’ trips and the one time I don’t bring my own gear, I actually end up fishin’.
He stepped out on the porch and noticed that a stiff breeze had picked up. He went back into the house, intending to retrieve his jacket, but stopped. Jack’s duffle was open on the floor. Ennis quietly reached in and pushed the folded clothes around, finding what he was looking for at the bottom of the bag…a heavy wool sweater, navy blue. Jack had brought this on several recent trips and Ennis always admired it…the navy wool, reflecting in the blue of Jack’s eyes, and the brilliant blue of the sky. It was a combination Ennis couldn’t resist.
He pulled the sweater over his head, smelling the familiar odor of Jack, tobacco, and a tang of mothballs. “Hope ya don’t mind, bud,” he whispered softly, “I’m gonna borrow this for the afternoon.”
He picked up the fishing rod and headed out the door.
(299 words)