Sensitive Questions

We lay in bed for a little while, watching the rest of the sunset. Once the sun had disappeared entirely, Roxanne asked, "Are you ready to continue our night?" I looked at her and said, "I don't know how you will top proposing to me." She grinned and asked, "Do you like fishing?" I returned, "I do. It has been a while since I've been." She got up and said, "Let's get changed." I stood up, and we went outside. On the table were two sets of clothes that the concierge brought us. We grabbed our clothes, returned to the room, and put them on. Once clothed, Roxanne led me outside, and a skiff awaited us. We climbed in, and the automated rubber craft accelerated into the darkness. We traveled for about ten minutes and saw a massive fishing boat in the distance. We boarded it, and a deckhand introduced himself, "Hello, you two. I'm Toby, your deckhand for the evening." He continued, "We are going to head towards an oil platform where fish like to congregate and take a shot at getting a yellowtail. It'll be about a 45-minute ride." Roxanne and I made our way to the bow, and the ship lurched into the night. Roxanne was in the bow, and I wrapped my arms around her like a romantic movie. Roxanne pressed, "In your room, I saw a photo of a younger you fishing with a teenager. Was that your brother?" I took a deep breath and exhaled, "Yes."

HANK'S POINT OF VIEW MAY 2020

As Landon adjusted the rod in my hands, he said, "Henry, hold the rod like this." I did as prompted because I wanted to catch a fish. I wanted to catch a fish, not just to catch one, but to impress Landon. I looked up to him like every younger brother should look up to their older brother. He was intelligent, caring and always protected me from my parents. I asked, "How do I know if I caught one." He said with a smile, "You'll know." I felt a massive tug on the end of the rod, and Landon instructed, "Crank the reel." I began to try to reel this big fish in, but it made a dash for the weeds, and the line snapped. I yelled, "FUCK!" I had quite the vocabulary for a twelve-ish-year-old. Landon laughed.

"I'm glad you're pissed. Use that anger and work on the problem. Tie another hook on, but take your time so it doesn't break if another big fish comes out to play." I nodded, took my time with the knot, and put a piece of bait on it. I flipped the lever and threw it out into the city pond. We waited in silence for a minute, and there was another tug. I reeled in, and this one made a break for the weeds. I steered it way and kept reeling. I reeled it in, and Landon grabbed the big bass. As Landon grabbed it, his girlfriend Trish walked up and exclaimed, "Great job, Hank!" I tolerated her. At first, I hated her because she was trying to take my brother away, but it had been about a year, and she hadn't stolen him yet. I shyly responded, "Thanks, Trish." She exclaimed, "You two get close and smile." We posed, and she took a photo with her phone. Landon handed me the fish and directed, "Your fish, so you put it back." I struggled to hold the fish and carefully lowered it into the pond. As it touched the water, it swam away with an explosion of water. Landon's pocket buzzed. He pulled out his phone, and with a scowl, he read, "You two idiots get your asses home right now. You did not get my permission to go fishing, and Hank has violin practice in an hour." He articulated, "We need to get going before Dad has an aneurysm." I growled, "Maybe he should have one." Landon lectured me, "He's our dad, and we need to tolerate him until you can move out. Humoring him will make your life easier." I asked, "Can we run away? We can bring Trish if you want." He chuckled, "No, Dad will just call his goons at the police department, and they will drag us back." He had a point. Whenever I acted out at school, the city cops would jump my shit, constantly breathing down our backs. I conceded, "Fine." He continued, "Tonight, after your violin lesson, we will play Blackjack." That made me smile because being a professional Blackjack player was my plan once I turned 18.

Trish said, "I'll walk with you guys." Landon and Trish held hands while we walked towards our home. As we were walking, we heard a car screech to a halt behind us. A man got out and yelled, "BRANDON!! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE STOLEN FROM ME!!" Before we could process what was happening, the man pulled a gun and shot wildly at us. Trish screamed, and we tried to run, but I collapsed to the floor. When I hit the floor, Landon was also on the ground, lifeless. He had been shot in the head. I couldn't move, scream or cry.

HANK'S POINT OF VIEW PRESENT DAY

Roxanne had a tear rolling down her eye, and she said, "Henry, that's terrible. Those scars on your chest and legs, those are bullet holes?" I said, "Yup." Roxanne paused, then asked, "Your parents pulled the plug only after a few weeks?" I hypothesized, "They claim it was to reduce his suffering, but at the time, my dad spearheaded this anti-drug and crime reduction campaign. It was an attempt to get himself reelected, and all but two hours after they killed Landon, my dad held a press conference highlighting how he now had a personal stake. The guy that shot us was high on meth, and when the police chased him back to his house, a gunfight ensued. The shootout resulted in a cop getting shot in the arm, the shooter dead, and the place exploded because it was a meth lab. My dad was a typical politician. They are leeches that feed off disasters to make money or increase their image. This made national news, and my dad planned to use it to make himself a candidate for state politics." Roxanne concluded, "Your parents are assholes." I corrected, "Assholes is not quite the right word. Ruthless dictators fit better." There was a long pause, and then Roxanne turned to face me and continued the emotional onslaught, "Your scars. Is that the real reason you have not been many women?" I wasn't ready for that question and had never put those two variables in the same equation. I stammered, "I never thought about it like that, but it could've contributed. After I broke up with the CNA, I learned that she told numerous people about the scars, but I never told her the real reason. I didn't want to share my past with the entire hospital, so I told people they were dog bites." Roxanne scoffed, "Those look nothing like dog bites." I affirmed, "I never showed anyone. Six people in this world know about the scars, and four people know how they happened." Roxanne finished my thought, "I am the only one who you've told." I concluded, "Yes. You are the only one I trust." Before Roxanne could ask more sensitive questions, we saw the lights from the massive oil platform.