The Two Chairs
A promise fulfilled
The old man walked to the edge of the dock and sat in the chair. He fixed his old sun beaten bucket hat just so, and ran his fingers threw his white white beard.
He looked over at the other chair that had been empty for the last twenty years.
He did what he did every morning for the last two decades, he whistled “Down By the Bay,” and hefted his fishing pole.
He cast out the lure and jigged the end of his pole, making the little piece of plastic dance in the water. He didn’t even really care about catching fish anymore. Hadn’t for the last year or so. But he still went out there every day. Inertia more than anything.
The sun was creeping up in the sky when the old man heard someone walking up behind him. He didn’t even bother looking over his shoulder.
The man in the black robe stood beside the old man, “This seat taken?”
“Not in twenty years,” the old man said, “Suppose you knew that though.”
“I did,” Death said, the hooded figure taking his seat. He set his scythe down on the dock, and folded his hands in his lap.
“I thought I’d be seeing you sooner or later,” the old man said.
“I imagine you did.”
“Are we going right now?”
“We’ve got a little time.”
“Good, the sun’s real pretty when it hits the water in the late morning.”
“I’ve seen it before.”
“I expect you have.”
“You using that other pole?” Death asked.
“You like fishing?” the old man asked, handing him the fishing pole.
“Better than twiddling my thumbs.”
Death’s nimble fingers fiddled with the lure, “You mind?” Death asked, reaching towards the tackle box.
“Help yourself.”
Death tied on the new lure and cast it out.
“Couldn’t you just kill all the fish? Why do you bother with the pole?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Suppose you’re right.”
They sat in silence for a long time, just two old men fishing. Only the gentle plop of a lure hitting the water broke the silence.
“You were here when Ruth was here weren’t you?” the old man finally asked.
“Yes.”
“I hated you for a long time after that.”
“I know.”
“Mighty cruel thing to do.”
“I don’t make the rules.”
“I suppose you don’t.”
Death didn’t say anything. He just kept casting.
“Did you have to take her so soon?” the old man asked.
“That’s above my pay grade.”
“I mean it was her first day of retirement. We were going to sit out here every morning. Grow old together. Now it’s….” the old man’s eyes watered.
“It’s just me,” he finally said.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Death said.
The old man was stunned, “How often do you say sorry?”
“Not often.”
Just then Death got a bite and he set the hook. The water thrashed about where the fish fought against the hook.
Finally Death reeled in a monster Largemouth Bass.
“Mighty nice,” the old man said.
“Thank you.”
“That going on your wall? It’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen.”
“No,” Death said, taking the hook from its mouth and tossing it into the water, “I only catch and release.”
The old man looked puzzled, “You realize the irony don’t you?”
“I’m aware.”
The old man set his pole down, “I suppose it’s time to go.”
“So soon? I figured we’d wait till noon.”
“I’m ready.”
“Fair enough.”
“So is this a normal thing?”
“What?”
“The fishing. The talking. It’s not like how I thought.”
“No. It’s usually quicker.”
“So do you just like fishing?’
Death laughed, “No. Your wife asked that you not be sitting out here alone when it happened. I figured it was the least I could do.”
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Like the soft landing. This is a good one. Thank you.
Enjoyed your take on Death