Leave the Living by Joe Hart Read Free Book Online Page A

even as the wind punched the side of the house with the ferocity of a prizefighter, and he removed his jacket, sliding one of the nearly frozen beers from the pocket. Somehow the familiarity of where the fish house was now felt right, like he’d finished something much more important than the simple task. The space to his right, the place his father always sat when they fished together, was too empty. Mick raised his beer, holding it so that he could barely make out the shape of his hand and the bottle in the dark.
    “To you, Dad. It’s freezing here, so I hope you’re somewhere warm where the beer’s cold.”
    He blinked away the tears and poured two swallows of brew down his throat, washing away the lump that had formed there. He sat, staring into the lake’s depths, remembering. Images shuttered past in the darkroom of his mind. His father teaching him to ride his bike down their long driveway, the wheel wobbling while his dad tried to help him steer. The time they’d had a fight about what he’d wanted to pursue as a career, the bitter words slung with disregard until they stormed to opposite ends of the house to sit in acidic silence. Only later did his father come to his room to apologize, saying the only reason he’d disagreed was because he knew the schooling that was required wasn’t anywhere nearby. I’m being selfish, Son, he’d said. I just don’t want you to leave. But I don’t want you to end up like me either, with nothing but my hands to rely on for a living. Follow your talent; you’ve got something that others don’t. Remember that. Now he could see his dad in a tuxedo, standing beside him as his best man while Cambri walked toward them on the arm of her own father. The soft grip on his shoulder as his father leaned closer, whispering in his ear, She’s a treasure; don’t ever lose her.
    Mick sighed and leaned forward, resting his face in his palm. Don’t lose her. But he had. He’d lost her amongst his work, lost her within the pictures he saw everywhere that gave him new fire for his career. He’d lost her even though she was asking for help, not for herself but for their marriage and for Aaron. He’d lost them both. And just as she’d walked toward him all those years ago, she would do the same tomorrow afternoon, on the arm of her father once again, but toward another man. Someone better who was going to fill her life with the joy and love that he hadn’t seemed to be able to provide, at least not while they were married. And Aaron. Aaron would have a new father that wouldn’t be distracted most of the time, someone who would get the benefit of spending all week and several weekends a month with him. Someone who he would eventually call ‘dad.’
    The beer bottle dropped from his hand and bounced hollowly on the icy floor. The remaining dregs pooled out of its mouth and slipped into the clear water, tainting it with the deep red hops that looked almost like blood. A small Perch darted into and then out of the hole’s view, a torsional twist of its striped body and it was gone. The propane heater guttered, spitting its remaining fuel out like that of the beer bottle and sputtered once before going silent.
    Mick turned to look at its fading glow, and within the wires guarding the heating surface, he saw a face.
    It was only the outline of a bald head with two burnt patches for eyes. Its mouth was a red rictus pulled back from a set of slanted teeth. It grinned at him, the waning heat from the burning propane giving it the illusion that it was sinking back into darkness, enveloped by the gravity of whatever abyss it had crawled from. It diminished until only the silhouettes of its soulless eyes remained, and then even they vanished into obscurity.
    Mick stared at the afterimage that floated in his vision. The closest thing to a premonition he’d ever had was seeing the ghostly smile that resembled the Mona Lisa’s when he was just a child, and even that had seemed explainable to