Bob, or Man on Boat

And there are other fish in this river that are the kind of fish that you throw back when you fish them up and into your boat.

Come back when you’re older is what we say to these kinds of fish.

And then there are the fish like the fish that Bob is fishing for.

This kind of fish, I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do with this kind of fish.

To fish this kind of fish up and out of the river, I can only imagine that this might be like coming up to the man who is your father and hearing this father call you his son.

What do you do at a moment like this?

You hold onto it is what you do.

You hold that man in your arms.

You hold your hands onto that fish.

But how long can you hold a fish out of water before this fish starts gasping for breath?

You only get one fish like this.

You only get one father who is your father.

You only get one son if one son is all you’ve got.

There comes a time when you’ve got to let go.

There comes a time when you’ve got to look this fish straight in the eye and then that’s it.

It’s over.

And the river keeps flowing and flowing.

And so Bob goes home.

Bob goes home to his boat that floats on the flowing river.

Bob goes home to the river.

Where Bob fishes for fish.

I go home too.

To be with my son.

I am a father.

My son is a fish.

I like to tell my son stories.

My son likes to hear me tell him these stories.

In each story, there is always some kind of a fish.

In each story, there is a man in the story who is fishing for this fish.

This man, I always call him Bob.

The story always ends the same way, with Bob living happily ever after.

After Bob catches his fish.

What my son always says to this is, What happens next?

What does Bob do after he catches the fish?

That’s the part of the story, I tell my son, that I don’t know what happens next.

What do you think happens to Bob next?

Sometimes I ask my son this.

My son says that he thinks that Bob, after he catches the fish, Bob gets eaten by the fish.

Bob gets eaten by the fish? I say.

I say to my son, Is that a happy ending?

My son reminds me that this is what fish do.

Fish eat, he tells me.

Fish eat other fish.

So in my son’s version of this, Bob gets eaten by the fish that he’s been fishing for.

That fish must be a pretty big fish, I say to my son.

It is, he says.

It’s this big, he says, and he stretches his arms out as far as he can get them to stretch.

It’s as big as the river is, he says.

He says that this fish, it’s as big as from where our house is and it goes up all the way to the moon.

That sounds like it’s bigger than a whale is, is what I say to this.

It is, he says.

It’s a moon-fish.

This fish, my son tells me, it swam all the way down from where the moon is.

That’s some fish, I tell him.

I say, That’s some story.

It gets even better, my son says.

Tell me, I say.

What happens next?

What happens next is this.

This fish, this big moon-fish, it has swum down all the way from where the moon is to eat up all the fish.

To eat up all the fishermen.

It won’t stop, it won’t swim back to the moon, until there’s nothing left for this fish to eat.

So maybe I should stay away from the river, I say, if this fish is going to eat up all of the fish.

It won’t be safe to be fishing the river if this fish is going to eat all of us fishing men up.

And what my son then says to this is that he thinks that might not be such a bad idea.

Three days later, I go out on the river.

Out on the river that night, I see Bob’s boat tied up to its dock, but I don’t see Bob sitting up in Bob’s boat.

I do not, at first, think that something’s gone wrong.

I think to myself that maybe Bob has gone into town to pick up some gas to gas up his boat.

But the river, without Bob sitting on it, there’s something big missing from this picture.

That night, I fish more fish out of the river than I have ever fished out of it before.

And I know why.

I know that the fish that I am fishing out of the river are the fish that would be Bob’s.

But because Bob is not fishing the river, I catch more fish that night — there are so many fish piled up on the bottom of my boat — that it’s hard for me to keep count.

That night, I’m up half the night cleaning fish.

The guts, that night, I don’t bury the guts the way I usually do out back in our backyard garden.

I put the guts into two buckets.

In the morning, I go with these two buckets of guts, down to the river, and I throw the guts in.

I think about Bob and how Bob believes that the guts of the fish, when Bob gives them back to the river, the guts turn back into fish.

I think about my son’s story about the moon-fish that is eating up all of the river’s fish.

I think about the river and what would happen, one day, if the river ran out of fish.

I think about Bob again and what would Bob do if the river one day ran out of fish before Bob fished from the river that one fish that he has for so long been fishing for.

I think about Bob’s boat and the way that it looked last night without Bob in it.