Someone's Son Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Tomorrow was the first day of autumn, Sheldon's favorite time of year. He enjoyed seeing colorful leaves flopping in the wind. But today their orange and red-painted colors whizzed by as he and his father skipped along at 80 Kilometers an hour.

          "I had a great time with Larry at the Tim Horton’s Camp," he said, watching for any jealous reaction.

along with it.

          Sheldon couldn't wait. He even threw his hat way up in the air. It felt so good to be alive. His father was calling him "son" more often now.

          Fishing rods were strapped to handlebars and Sheldon had his dad's fishing creel tucked over his shoulder. As if he was going on an African expedition or something. His father carried the food basket. He liked to eat a lot but still wasn't fat. Sheldon let him carry the food. It was up to him to make sure his dad had his exercise.

          They went up a dirt road, near Greenfield. Sheldon took the lead and was surprised to see his father keeping up to him. "You trust me, don't you?" Sheldon asked. "About being a good guide?"

          "Yes."

          Just to show his father up Sheldon tried to race, then lost his balance and almost crashed both bikes. The trout creel hanging from his handlebars fell off and he fell on top, almost crushing it. Sheldon's heart was pumping quite rapidly. “I’m okay,” he said. “I can get up on my own.”

His father held his bike and didn't even laugh. Just a little worried. "Hey, I like that sweatshirt."

          "Mom gave it to me." Sheldon knew dad deliberately changed the subject to get his mind off his 'near-accident." It was an old one mom kept and the bright crest said: ‘Tree Planting 1987 NSAC.' It was really flashy, and he was glad dad liked it.

          "I'm okay now." Sheldon said. He could see his dad squinting, after forgetting his new bi-focal glasses in the truck.

          "Makes me feel younger," he said.

          It didn't matter to Sheldon. He didn't care if he tried not to look too old. He isn't though. Especially since he kept up to him on his bike. Fishing was terrible for Sheldon but his father seemed to have magic in his casting. As usual, he kept pulling in one after another. It really wasn't fair.

          "Good thing the limit is five." Sheldon said, jealous of his father's luck.

          "Try this spot where I caught three." More trout might be hiding where the stream pours around those boulders. "Hello. Hello." The boy didn't realize his father was trying to get his attention.

          "I almost got one!" Sheldon yelled back.          After that he couldn't get a single bite. His father caught one more. He said it was Sheldon's turn but how could there be any left?

          "Don't start feeling sorry for yourself," his father said. "You tried your best. Now keep a 'happy' face," he said, jabbing his son on the arm.

          After awhile the thirsty boy drank his box of orange juice. His favorite. Then Sheldon began to walk upstream. He didn't notice his father going further downstream away from him.        The next thing he knew, he couldn't see his dad.

          He looked all around. Nope, he's gone. "Hey dad," he called quietly at first. Then he realized it was no big deal. So he was alone in the woods, but at least dad was nearby. What could possibly happen? He was a little nervous alone by the creek then slipped on a rock, getting his right foot soaked.

          The cold water made him yell, "Aaiiiee!!" giving himself quite a scare. "Ever get a rubber boot full of water and soak your new thick sock?" he shouted at the sky. “No sweat.” Now that was a phrase he hadn’t used for a while. Sheldon felt like jumping in and getting all soaked. Too bad it wasn't warmer out...

          Suddenly, his father was beside him. "What's wrong, sport?"

          "I don't feel like fishing anymore." Sheldon said sheepishly, "OK if I throw boulders over the waterfall?"

"OK if that's what you want," his father answered. Then he went back to fishing. One more would give him his limit.

          Before long dropping boulders made loud 'Booming' sounds. Their vibrations carried over the hill, and down into the valley. Sheldon couldn't see his father. But, he really didn't care right now. After a bit he felt better and looked to see where he was. He hoped the noise didn't scare away all his fish.

          Sheldon watched his father making a little fireplace from rocks on the ground. Suddenly he got interested and moved in closer. He began picking up bits of wood. His father built a 'tepee.' Same as the book he had read on 'Camp Craft' last year. Birch bark was scrunched up under a jumble of twigs with larger ones placed at an angle.

          His father put a hand on Sheldon's shoulder. He knew how much his son liked to have an outdoor fire on a trip. In fact the boy dreamed of moments such as this. Often the boy watched as friends went fishing with their dads, making him jealous. Now he was with his own father in the woods. And even helping gather wood for their fireplace.

          His father explained the food preparation. "Something I learned in Boy Scouts when I was around your age," he said.

          Sheldon watched with interest.

          "Aluminum foil, buttered in the middle with two hamburger patties in the center. Then slices of potatoes and carrots sprinkled on top." His dad rhymed off his actions.

The boy memorized every detail.

          "Then the most important part. Folding up each end, so when it cooks the juices don't run all over. Oh, I forgot the salt and pepper. Well, a little at least would help the taste. Now prepare for a feast,” he said.

          Sheldon didn't feel angry anymore. It was good to lean on his father's shoulder, watching him in action. His father tried to get his limit of five brook trout. But he couldn't. Four was the best he could do. "How many did you catch?" he asked his son.

          The boy answered, "One hundred and twenty."

          His father raised an eyebrow. So, Sheldon liked to tease a little.

          They both changed the subject. No sense getting upset over nothing. When they came across a new trail, his father said, "Let's follow it."

          "Let’s rest instead, okay?" Sheldon asked.

His father listened, then sat down by a tree beside his son. He really looked tired as he held his eyeglasses in his hand. "Why were you chucking those boulders down the waterfall?" he asked.

          "I was bombing the "Bad Guys.”  Sheldon wondered if his father was afraid to ask if his son thought he was a 'Good Guy' or a 'Bad Guy.' Before, Sheldon wasn't sure at the time. Now he was. He told his father he was a 'Good Guy.’

          Then they talked.

          "In school I mostly get along pretty good. Some of the fellas don't like me and I don't know why." Sheldon had to speak quickly. There were feelings inside that had to come out. Some kids call me the "Red Lion." I don't understand why. Maybe it's because I'm daring sometimes."

His father kept listening.

          "Like when I tried to walk across the log stretched across the creek a while ago. Then I slipped, scraping my leg when I fell down. Second time it happened today. "Let’s go for three!!" I shouted at the sky. When the 'hurting' settled down, I didn't feel angry anymore."

Sheldon stopped talking. "Like when you hurt me. But, I'm not angry with you anymore."

          "You know something, son?"

          "What?"

          "You're growing up."

          "Really?"

          "Really."

          His father asked if he could check on his bruise. He clucked his tongue as his hands carefully touched the black and blue skin. Sometimes it hurts being a 'lion.' But Sheldon was brave this time. His father was with him.

 

Mom stayed close by the rest of the week. "How come you don't phone Larry any more?" she asked.

          "No time. You know...dad and I."

          "So now it's dad, huh? I see..."

          He didn't know if she was angry or not. He didn't care. He couldn't wait for Saturday to come.