The Phone Call by Val Tobin Hunched into a crouch, Dylan shoved the kayak off the dock and into the water and then tilted back on his heels to catch his breath. The simple act of lugging the craft down the rocks and to the water had sapped what little energy he had. His muscles were still weak, his limbs scrawny. He lifted the suede cowboy hat off his head and ran his fingers through the gray-flecked mahogany curls. Odd how his hair had grown back soft and curly after it had fallen out. Maddie, his wife, insisted it was sexy. Dylan agreed and checked himself out in mirrors and shiny surfaces whenever he passed by them. Secretly, he loved how young it made him look—not that fifty -five was that old. Still, if people mistook him for forty-five, he wouldn’t complain. He unfolded to his full six feet and scanned the lake. The mist had started to burn off already as the sun speared through the clouds over the eastern horizon. His target destination, the small island in the middle of the lake, looked farther than it had before. Only perception, he told himself. Fatigue always distorted perception. The challenge, to most people, would be easy enough: paddle out to the island, explore it, and return to the dock. For Dylan, it was the day’s major goal. Ever since his doctors had told him his cancer was in remission, he’d set increasingly challenging tasks for himself. Today, he planned to paddle to the island if it took him until sunrise tomorrow.
One day, hopefully soon, he’d return to his job at the factory, back to the assembly line, the piecework. It wasn’t what he’d dreamed of doing with his life, but it paid the bills and the people there were decent. After spending most of his days in the hospital, he’d welcome the
return to manual labour and ordinary problems. He glanced up toward the cabin. Nothing moved. Good. If Maddie caught him here alone, she’d fuss and coo over him as if he were a baby learning to walk. He scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin and grinned at how he’d had to skip his morning shave in fear of waking her. She needn’t worry—he wasn’t a fool. He’d worn his life jacket. Dylan gripped the kayak and slid into it. Lifting the paddle off the dock, he shoved off. With a deep breath in, he reveled in the early morning air and headed for the island. He rested often as he crossed, but he used these respites as an opportunity to check out the local wildlife—such as it was out on the water. He spotted fish in the lake and a loon drifting along the surface. It dove under the water, likely chasing those fish. A hoarse, barking croak sounded across the lake, and Dylan at first thought a dog might be in trouble. Then a great blue heron launched itself into the sky. Dylan followed its flight until it vanished into the trees on the distant shore. It wasn’t until after the giant bird had disappeared that Dylan remembered he should have taken a picture with his phone. Perhaps he’d get the opportunity on his voyage home. - 34 -
