Catch & Release (29 page)

St. Regis River

Dear Gramma Dot,

That Polly is the only person I know who gets more cranky after she pees. I went into a flyshop to find out what the fish were biting on and when I came back she about bit my head right off. I got no positive idea why. But I got to step up and own some responsibility. I did mention as how her dad might have had a hand brewing up the MRSA. It's true and all that, but I could have maybe not said it and avoided some trouble. Polly didn't want to hear about it. She gave me a look that'd peel the paint off a cue ball. It was all downhill from there, and she's on a tear again.

I'm pissed off my own self, for my own reasons.

Buck's figured out I'm with Polly.

And then my cup of coffee sucked. I think maybe the water they made it with is bad because the Clarksfork around there used to be full of toxics that came all the way from Butte. That's a bad deal, poison running through rivers just like an infection in the blood. Then they take that water and sell it for coffee.

My head still hurts. I just chewed up four aspirin and washed them down with water right out of the river. I don't know if there's any fish in there, but that water is cold enough to freeze my teeth and give me a headache if I didn't already got one.

So I wish you was here. I don't know if you ever saw this place, and you might like it. More important, I think you'd tell me to pull my head out of my ass. Somehow, just me pretending that you said to do it doesn't do the trick.

 

Love, your boy Odd

Spokane, Washington (kind of near Thor Street)

Dear Gramma Dot,

Right now I'm in Spokane. I remember us being here before and going to a big park where there was a little kangaroo in a petting zoo pen. It was a hot day and that kangaroo didn't do a single thing but flop in the shade and pant. It's kind of a raw deal being a kangaroo in Spokane. The rest of the kangaroos are on the other side of the planet. I never thought about that when I was a kid and we were here together.

That was the day you put me on an amusement ride and then worried the whole time I was on it that I was going to slide right out because I was skinny as a snake. The funny thing is, I don't have my own memory about being on that ride. When I think about it, it's like I'm seeing me from the outside and any minute I'm going to end up hanging on for dear life and flapping like a rag while the ride spins around and I'll just be there watching it happen.

Polly snores, it turns out. I bet she won't believe it if I tell her in the morning, but she snorks like a critter with no shame.

Her latest deal is she cut her hair off and threw it out the window while we were driving down the road.

I don't know what that was all about.

I remember you taught me sometimes we got to take care of somebody despite what they do, not because of it. The snoring and the random hair cutting and pure ornery is all part of the deal.

 

Love, your boy Odd

The intersection of Wheat and more Wheat, Washington

Dear Gramma Dot,

I'm just going to take a minute to tell you that I was bit by a snake today. It's not so bad as it was in the old days on the Oregon Trail. It bit me in the robot leg, and so I'm unlikely to die. I still didn't like it. It'd be fine with me if I never get snakebite again.

And I was thinking about Thea and wondering if she might still be in Reno and if there is any way to find her. Probably not, because if she wanted to be found, she'd make it easier to do it.

We can make Portland tomorrow. I might know what I'm going to do next by then, but I sure don't know now. It's not a bad thing. I'm OK with not knowing.

Polly saw a shooting star.

I'm going to settle down and sleep right here in G-Pa Odd's car. That way you don't need to worry about me having another run-in with a snake. You don't need to worry.

 

Love, your boy Odd

 

 

I fold the pages into an Odd-style wad. He said not to worry. He said that because he loves her; he loves Gramma Dot. She loves him, and he knows she might worry. Love is all tangled up with worry, but you can't cast out into the world until the line is untangled. I take my phone out and set to work. “Mom? You're going to love my new pink shirt.”

 

Even though there are other empty seats by the gate, a guy comes and sits beside me and nudges me a little. I turn to him. He points at my rod case. That's where he's looking. Everything else about me is irrelevant.

“Been fishing?” he asks.

“Yup.”

“Trout?”

“Yup.”

“Any big ones?”

“Troutzilla,” I say, “I caught Troutzilla. Catch and release.”