Travis ditches school for one more day on the water before fall turns to winter. He encounters an old man languishing in the marshes. Is the old man there to die?
I first posted this story in June of 2020. This is a revised version with more depth of feeling, I hope, Please enjoy the story.
Talking an Old Man Down
Bob Gillen
Blowing off a school day in mid October, Travis steered his small boat down the creek and out toward the open bay. A last day of freedom on the water before the seasons changed, before fall slipped into winter. A light breeze carried the sharp, sweet smell of wood smoke from nearby chimneys. A brilliant blue sky dotted with white cloud specks offered the perfect backdrop.
Travis moved east, passed under the railroad trestle that intersected the bay, and swung south. He soon eased up to a narrow beach accessible only by boat. Tiny black snails littered the sandy bottom at the shore’s edge. He tilted his outboard motor out of the water to keep the propeller from striking the bottom. He slipped off his sneakers, rolled his pants legs up to his knees, and hopped out of the boat into the clear, warm water.
All summer Travis had spent hours scouring the bay’s beaches and marshes for treasure, anything useful washed up or adrift. The best thing he had ever found was a varnished oar.
Today’s scrounging yielded nothing but a shredded nylon rope. He pushed the boat off the beach, left the motor tilted up, and used an oar to pole his way parallel to the beach till he reached the narrow channel he knew snaked through the marsh that filled the center of the bay.
Travis took in the slight odor of decay underlying the salty smell of marsh grasses and tall reeds. The tide ran high. He had a few hours till he needed to worry about getting caught in the shallows.
A swarm of flies surviving from summer flitted frantically around the boat. His oar sent up a billow of sand every time it touched bottom. A horseshoe crab glided by under his boat, dodging his oar. A battered rowboat appeared, stuck deep in the marsh grass. A quick glance told him there was nothing to be salvaged from the wreck.
Fifteen minutes later Travis rounded a curve in the narrow channel. The grasses here grew straight up over his head. He spotted a boat up ahead. Bigger than his. A tiny cabin, looking like an afterthought, stood at the bow.
Got to be something useful on this boat, Travis thought. He edged his own boat closer. He spied an outboard engine on the stern. “Oh wow! A motor!” he said aloud. He poled closer.
Stopped cold.
Sitting on a tattered beach chair in the back of the boat was an old man.
An old man with his back to Travis. Dozing?
“Hello,” Travis called out. The man jumped, shaking his boat, ripples playing out into the channel. He turned to look at Travis.
It took a moment for his eyes to focus. “Beat it. Keep moving.”
Travis ignored the old man’s hostility. “Sorry to startle you. I’m just moving through the channel.”
“Well, move on by.” The old man gave a sharp gesture toward the channel.
Curious and confused, Travis moved closer to the old man. He got a better look at his boat. White paint faded, peeling in places. Barnacles and sea grass adhering to the boat under the waterline. A dented outboard motor tilted up out of the water.
“Did you run out of gas?” Travis asked.
A croak. “I said, keep moving.”
Travis hesitated. He couldn’t leave the old man stranded. Could he? “I can spare some gas, or tow you out of here.”
“How many times do I have to say, get lost?” The old man turned his back, wrapped his arms around himself.
Travis felt an uneasy vibe. He poled his boat closer to the old man’s.
“Are you hungry? I’ve got a couple of sandwiches I can share.”
Silence, broken only by a screeching gull.
Travis noticed that the propeller on the old man’s motor was missing.
“Where’s your propeller?”
The old man pointed toward the marsh grasses.
“It fell off? I can help you find it.”
“I don’t want to find it. I threw it in there.” He waved towards the marsh. “It’s gone.”
Travis let his boat nudge up against the old man’s boat. He gripped it to hold the two together.
The old man turned, glared. “Don’t touch my boat.”
Travis could see at least a week’s worth of gray stubble on the old man’s sunburned face. His shabby clothes hung loosely on his frame. Cigarette burns dotted the edge of the old man’s boat.
“You look hungry.” Travis dug out a sandwich and offered half to the old man. “It’s only peanut butter and jelly.”
The old man looked at the sandwich. Pushed Travis’s arm away.
“What are you going to do?” Travis asked. “The tide will be going out soon. You’ll be stuck in here.”
The old man shrugged.
Travis shook his head. “You’re weird. You going to sit here till you die?”
The old man looked hard at him. A single tear rolled down his craggy cheek.
“Nothing wrong with that.”
That silenced Travis. He wants to die out here?
Travis continued to hold the two boats together as they bobbed gently.
“When was the last time you ate?”
The old man ignored the question.
“You going to die hungry, or do you want the sandwich?”
“What do you care?”
Travis stared at the soggy sandwich in his hand. “Not sure I care either way…I guess I never gave any thought to dying. It must be hard. But I don’t think I would want to die hungry.”
“Come back in a few days. I’ll let you know… if I’m still breathing. Otherwise, you’ll have to figure it out for yourself.”
Travis could think of nothing to say for a few moments. Then, finally, “This is an awful place to die.”
“Not so bad. Water, open sky, quiet.”
“Won’t people miss you? Look for you?”
The old man shook his head. “No one cares.”
“Where do you live?”
“The south end of the bay.”
“Do you have family?”
“One son… lives three states away. Haven’t seen him in years.”
“No one else?”
“No one.”
“Neighbors?”
“None worth a damn.”
Travis waved a few flies away from his sandwich. He bite into it, wiping stray grape jelly off his face.
“Why are you here?” the old man asked. “Isn’t today a school day?”
“I ditched.”
“Won’t they look for you?”
“They’ll call my mother. Get her voicemail.”
“What will she do?”
“Not much. Cry about how hard life is, how much she sacrifices for me.”
“My mother was like that too.”
“School sucks.”
“No argument there.”
“Today is my last day out on the water before I have to haul my boat out for the winter.”
“So you came in here to mess with me.”
The boy smiled. “It’s quiet in here. Peaceful. Away from everything.”
“So maybe not a bad place to die, huh?”
“I guess… how are you going to do this?”
“Sit here till death finds me.”
Travis once again offered his sandwich.
“Do you want half?”
The old man hesitated, stared at the sandwich. “If I eat it, it’ll take me longer to die.”
“Yeah, so…a few more minutes enjoying this.” Travis waved his arm up to the sky.
“Peanut butter?”
Travis said, “Yeah.”
“What the hell.” His hand trembled as he took the sandwich and stuffed it in his mouth.
“Why not die at home?”
The old man opened his arms to the marsh. “Why not here?”
“I got no answer for that.”
The two ate in silence for a few moments.
“Am I supposed to talk you out of it? We have a suicide hotline at school. They try to talk you down.”
“You called the hotline?”
“Once. Mostly to see what it was like.”
“You wanted to die?”
“Not really. Just got sick of everything. Wanted to see if someone had a better idea.”
“And?”
“Nothing better. Just stuff about my future… about hurting my mom.”
“Was that enough?”
“Not really. I mean, I’m not depressed or anything. I just get tired sometimes.”
“I didn’t know kids felt like that.”
“I get tired of trying to figure things out.”
“What do you have to figure out at your age?”
“Girls.”
“Ah. Yeah, I get that.”
The old man finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on his pants. “So… are you going to beat it and leave me to die?”
Travis had no answer.
“This is what I want, buddy.”
“Really?”
The old man closed his watery eyes, drifted into silence once more. A silence that seemed to fill the entire marsh.
The old man’s eyes popped open. He turned to face Travis. “Want to know the truth, kid?”
“I guess so.”
A hoarse whisper broke from the old man. “Dying scares the shit out of me.”
“You said you want to sit here till you die.”
“Yeah, I said that.” The old man stared down at his feet. “I got nothing to live for here. I lost my pension. No one cares if I live or die. He pointed to the sky. “But the thought of the other side. I mean, shit, who knows what it’s like.”
“Do you believe in heaven?”
The old man took a deep breath. “What is that, really? Sit and stare at the clouds day after day after day? I don’t want that.”
“It’s supposed to be happiness…forever,” Travis said.
“Look, I’ve been sitting here for two days. I thought it would be a peaceful way to go. And… I am bored out of my skull. And when I die? More boredom. Only it will never stop.”
Travis felt his boat pulling away from the old man’s boat. He had to grip more tightly to keep the two together.
“Tide’s shifting, isn’t it?” the old man said.
“Feels like it.”
“You don’t want to get stuck in here.”
Travis nodded. “I’ve got some time yet.”
“Don’t waste your time on me, boy.”
The marsh grass rustled as the afternoon breeze picked up. Gulls screeched off in the distance.
“Should I get someone to come in here for you?”
“No…not till I’m gone.”
Travis couldn’t bring himself to leave. “Let me take you home. Your boat can stay here. It’s a piece of junk anyway.”
The old man grimaced. “You takin’ a shot at my boat?”
“No offense, but it’s older than you are… and more messed up.”
“You think I’m in better shape than my boat? Thanks for the compliment.”
Travis laughed.
The old man smiled.
“I could help you fix it up,” Travis said.
“She looks like hell, but she’s tight and dry.”
“The bottom is covered with barnacles. It would have to be hauled and scraped. And it needs a good paint job.”
“More work than I want to do.”
“I could come weekends. Once my boat is out of the water, I won’t work on it till spring. I’ll have time.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know… I love working on boats. We could fix yours up pretty easily. Together.”
The two locked eyes. “And maybe it would keep you from dying.”
The ebbing tide increased its pull on Travis’s boat.
“Look, I gotta get out of here or I’ll be stuck till the next high tide.”
The old man said nothing.
“Come with me. Get in and we’ll tie your boat to mine.”
“Get going. I want to stay.”
“You just said you’re scared of dying.”
The old man smirked. “You were listening.”
“I always listen…at least outside the classroom.”
“You got any more sandwiches?”
“You’ll have to get in my boat to find out.”
The old man cracked a thin smile. “A tough negotiator.”
He leaned over from his chair and gripped the edge of Travis’s boat. His feeble legs kicked the chair aside as he swung into the smaller boat. Travis held the old man’s arms.
Travis took a length of rope from the floor of his boat, tied one end to a cleat on his stern, and tied the other end onto the old boat’s bow cleat.
Then he let go of the old man’s boat, felt the towline go taut, and began poling the boats out through the narrow channel, south toward deeper water on the old man’s side of the bay.
The old man said, “How about that sandwich?”
Travis handed over a sandwich. “What color can we paint your boat?”
“Whatever’s on sale.”
The old man chewed the sandwich while Travis stared at him. Did I just talk him down? Cool.
“Not what you expected today, huh, kid?”
“Nope.” Travis grinned. “It sure beats Social Studies.”
***
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