There are letters on boats, there are numbers on boats, that will tell you that a boat is from someplace else.
This father made his sons give up this boat.
The father of these two boys, he picked up the phone. He did some talking into it.
He took two men with badges on their chests down to the river to take a look at this boat.
The men with badges took the boat from there.
They took the boat and found out who this boat belonged to.
It was the boat, they soon found out, of a man who went out fishing one day and then, this man, he did not come back.
This man was the dead man.
The two men with badges on their chest took the boat and gave the boat back to where and to who the boat belonged to.
The dead man’s wife.
But the dead man’s wife, she did not want this boat to be given back to her.
This boat, the dead man’s boat, it now belongs to me.
I bought it.
The dead man’s wife, for the dead man’s boat, she gave me a good deal.
What do I want with this boat? the dead man’s wife asked me.
She said to me, What am I going to do with this boat?
This boat, she said, it doesn’t mean a thing to me.
I just stood there nodding with my head.
How much? I said, after a while.
The dead man’s wife held out her hands and said a number that I knew was better than fair.
I nodded my head some more.
Then I fished my hand down into my trouser pocket.
I gave the dead man’s wife twenty dollars over the number that she said.
Thank you, she said.
When I left with the dead man’s boat, I told her I was sorry.
For what? she said.
He’s the one, she said, who should be sorry.
She looked off towards the river.
All the time out on that river, she said.
All the time fishing for fish.
Do you fish? she asked me this.
No, I said.
What you want this boat for then? was what she wanted to be told.
I want to learn how, I told her.
I told her, I want to fish.
The dead man’s wife looked me right in the eye then and asked me was I a married man.
Do you have a wife? she asked. Do you have kids?
No, I’m not, I told her. I don’t.
I didn’t want her to know that I did, that I do.
My wife, too, I didn’t want her to know about me going out and buying the dead man’s boat.
She would have said it was a bad idea.
Nuts is the word that she would have said.
What, do you want to end up like your father?
Do you really want to be like Bob?
I don’t know what I would have said to this.
That’s a good thing, the dead man’s wife told me when I told her that I did not have a wife.
A married man has got no business being out on that river, she said.
If it wasn’t for that river, she said.
She said, My Henry wouldn’t be dead.
I didn’t say anything to this.
I didn’t say anything though what I was thinking was that it wasn’t the river’s fault.
You can’t blame the river.
It’s the river, is what I wished I had said.
It’s the river that kept Henry and men like Henry, men like Bob, a man like me even —
It’s the river that keeps us alive.
The dead man drowned, as bad luck would have it, because he did not know how to swim.
I did not say this to the dead man’s wife though I was thinking it the night I bought the dead man’s boat.
I bought it for a song.
What I wish I had said, that night, to the dead man’s wife, was that the dead man fell out of his boat, into the river, not because he was standing up in his boat, not because he was pissing in the river, but that it was the moon’s fault, it was not the river’s fault, that the truth of that night is this: that the dead man was leaning out over the side of his boat because he was trying to kiss the moon’s reflection on the river: that the moon, that night, it was a fish floating in the sky, and when the dead man saw it bobbing by the side of his boat, the moon, it looked close enough to touch.
And so he reached out to touch it.
He reached out with his hand to touch this fish.
When he reached out to touch it, the moon, it shattered into a billion pieces. Each broken piece became a star.
So why did I go out and buy the dead man’s boat?
I bought the dead man’s boat so that I could get closer to Bob.
So I could get to better know who Bob is.
What I know is this: Bob is my father.
I know, even though Bob doesn’t, that I am Bob’s son.
How else can I say this?
Bob, I wish I could say.
Father, I wish I would say.
Teach me how to fish.
To fish, to catch a fish, this is what you need.
A boat.
A river.
Fish.
Something to fish with.
Some bait.
A net to net the big fish with.
But what about patience?
Bob, is it really as simple as this?
To this, Bob doesn’t look up.
Bob doesn’t lift his head.
Up from the river.
The way that Bob sees it, the river is all that there is.
Sometimes, when I watch Bob fish, I can’t help but believe that Bob is older than the river is.
That Bob is older than the moon is.
That Bob made the moon so that at night he could better see the river.
So that Bob could better see the fish.
This is what a fish looks like to Bob when Bob looks down inside the river to see a fish.
A fish is a flash of silvery light.
A fish is a sliver of milky moonlight.
A fish is a shooting star.
Bob, make a wish.
Get in the boat, fish, Bob says to the fish.
In the boat, Bob whispers to the river.
Like this, Bob wishes.
Bob’s boat, when Bob makes his wishes, his boat fills up.
With stars.
With moon.
With light.
At night there are other lights that light up the river.
There is the light from the lighthouse light.
There are lights from the houses with the people who live inside them.
There are lights from factories along the river that haven’t yet shut down.
Nights when the moon is full, it is so lit up on the river that Bob in his boat looks like he is glowing from inside him.
As if Bob is made out of light.
But no.
Bob is a man made out of flesh.
Once, when I shook Bob’s hand, there was bone there for me to shake.
I’m Bob, I said, and I stuck out my hand for Bob to take it.
It’s true that Bob hesitated at first, Bob looked at my hand, but then he took it, my hand, the way that a fish might look at a rusty hook before taking it into its mouth.
I’ll take two fish, I said to Bob.
One for me.
One for my father.
Bob gave me a look.
It wasn’t a mean look.
It wasn’t the kind of look that makes you want to turn and run away.
But it was a look that says let’s get this over with.
Bob handed me two fish.
I took them both into one hand.
I stuck out my other hand and waited for Bob to take it.
When Bob took his hand away, I watched Bob turn and walk away, back to the river.
It was like losing a fish right at the side of the boat.
It was like watching a fish spit out the hook and then disappear back into the river.
The big ones, they say, always get away.