Jacob’s Cross
a free read short story
LK Hunsaker
This story may be printed as a free read in whole with title page and copyright notice attached. It may not be distributed without express written consent by the publisher. Governed by United States copyright laws.
Elucidate Publishing
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Jacob’s Cross
LK Hunsaker
***
Pausing at the sight of jagged rocks protruding above the shoreline, barely visible in the glow of the moon, Alicia shivered. A previously beautiful formation, it was now a heinous place, forbidden. She wasn’t allowed to go, to climb its slippery crevices as she had before, not since Jacob’s mom had placed the little cross at its sandy base. It had been months; how many, she wouldn’t let herself remember. After so many days of knowing exactly how many days … weeks … months he had been gone, she had forced herself to stop counting. To let go.
But it was his birthday and it had to be celebrated. She couldn’t forget that.
Leaving her sandals at the edge where damp grass gave way to sand, Alicia concentrated on the coolness tickling her feet and tried to avoid sticks and shells washed up by waves. Her flashlight assisted the soft moon glow that wasn’t much help, as there was only a sliver of it reflecting the sun’s light. Jacob had helped her understand the concept. He made it more interesting than their teacher or the textbook. He had made everything more interesting. She couldn’t refuse a grin forcing itself to her lips while she thought about the times he had interrupted to help explain things more clearly. Mr. Griffin had at first chastised the precocious boy, embarrassed, Alicia assumed, about having a student show him how to teach so they understood. By the end of the year, though, Jacob had become his off-the-record assistant. They all believed he would become a teacher after college.
College would begin in a few days – a frightening prospect. High school was enough of a challenge, socially. Her grades were okay. She could do the work. She was afraid, though, of disappearing into the ocean of strangers, even more than she had during high school. She had known most of her classmates since childhood and yet was not a part of them. Alicia would be nothing more than a silent guppy swallowed by the more colorful and larger fish in a huge school full of more people with whom she couldn’t bear to start a conversation.
Adjusting the fishing pole lying against her shoulder, she pulled her mind away from it. It didn’t matter now. Now, she was here, alone in the dark, celebrating Jacob’s birth in the place where his life had ended. He’d been fishing in the dark, they said, alone, on the most dangerous spot on the rocks. Why such a smart kid would have done something so foolish, no one could figure. No one except Alicia. And she kept it to herself.
The little wooden cross spurred her quest. Even from this distance, she could make out his name carved into the wood through the white paint. His mom painted it white for purity, to reflect her hope for his eternal life. Alicia thought he would have preferred the plain wood, but then, it wasn’t really for Jacob; it was left there for those who loved him.
Inching toward the spot, her feet beginning to burn from the jagged rocks she had to climb over, Alicia heard a rattle from within the small tackle box she carried. For a moment, she felt sorry for the worms she dug up from her yard and stuck in an empty tuna can she covered with foil. She couldn’t imagine how she would make herself use them as bait. The thought hurt her stomach. It was why she had never gone fishing before. But it was Jacob’s favorite pastime. He said it helped him figure things out, to see the way nature worked.
Alicia didn’t quite understand. It was one thing he refused to try to explain to others. How could fishing explain anything?
She stopped before the cross and set the box down in order to run her fingers along the edge of the weathering wood, yanking them back again at a sharp prick of her skin. Shining the flashlight on her finger, Alicia knew the splinter would come out easily since the white-tipped end hadn’t penetrated all the way. Still, she left it there.
The lowering flashlight flickered on a piece of yellow plastic – the police line that had marked the investigation scene. Making her way to where it was wedged under a pile of fallen rock, she leaned down to pry it out. It read “cross,” with half of the last “s” missing. She wondered if anyone else would catch the irony. Do not cross.
Carrying the piece with her, Alicia continued to the highest point of the rock formation and set her fishing pole and tackle box down, pondering what to do next. She didn’t know how to fish, and she was starting to get cold already, even in her heavy denim jacket. Fingering the dirty yellow bit of plastic, she resolved to at least make the attempt. Placing the piece carefully inside the box, making sure the light breeze wouldn’t carry it away, Alicia took out the can full of dirt and worms.
Steeling herself against the thought of what she was about to do, she opened the bag and wrestled with a night crawler trying to escape her grasp. She watched it wriggle in her fingers, wondering if worms felt pain the way humans did. Was it inhumane to attach it to the hook just to drop it into the cold water as a trap for an unsuspecting fish? She wrestled with her conscience. But she had come out here for Jacob. How could she understand if she didn’t at least try it?
Gritting her now-chattering teeth, Alicia grasped the fishing pole and unwound the line to free the sharp hook. It was rusted, since it had been there since the last time Jacob used it. She supposed the worm wouldn’t care about that detail one way or the other.
Positioning the flashlight in a low spot on the rock, facing it to where she could better see the hook, Alicia held her breath while fastening the worm the way she had seen it done on that fishing show she used to flip past while scanning television channels. Her stomach churned at seeing a tinge of its blood. She stopped, looked away, and took a couple of deep breaths. For Jacob, she reminded herself.
Finally securing the wriggling creature, she moved it away from her, allowing the line to dance along in the breeze. She wouldn’t look at the hook. The next step was to actually get it into the water. She’d practiced in the back yard when no one was home, with a wad of modeling clay wrapped around the hook for simulated worm-weight. It wasn’t that hard. But she hadn’t been on a rock, beside the ocean, at night, using an actual worm. And of course she hadn’t caught anything. Half of her hoped she wouldn’t this time, either.
Her third cast, after two failed attempts, seemed successful enough. The line dropped down into the water. Holding the pole tighter than necessary, she leaned to grasp the flashlight, shining it down to the point of entry. So far, so good. Shivering again, she lowered herself to the rock’s cold surface, sitting not too close to the edge, but close enough to watch the water’s movement in the moonlight.
In the silence, she pulled her mind away from what she was doing and watched clouds move along around the moon. Cirrus clouds. Jacob had explained the difference between cloud types, also. He had talked about which types were better for fishing, but Alicia couldn’t remember. She hadn’t had any interest in fishing.
A tug on the fishing pole disturbed her thoughts. A fish. With a jerk, she felt resistance and tried to calm her thumping heart. Forcing her thoughts to the fishing show, she reeled it in, pulling it closer while rising to her feet. She stumbled once, pausing in her task until she was able to breathe again, and returned to winding the reel. With a splash, the fish jerked out of the water, then dropped back in. She yanked the rod, reeling faster.
Successful, Alicia stood and watched the flapping little fish caught on Jacob’s hook, grasping the pole tightly so she wouldn’t lose it. What would she do with it? She hadn’t actually thought she would catch anything. She had to take it off.
/> Touch it? No, she didn’t think so. The worm had been bad enough. But she couldn’t leave it there, either.
Gathering all the bravery she could find, Alicia moved the line closer and reached her free hand toward the fish. She pulled it back as her fingers rubbed against the cold, wet creature. Why did Jacob do this? He threw them back. She knew he always freed them and threw them back into the water. To do that, she would have to touch it, to pull its mouth out of the hook. She couldn’t.
Undecided and irritated with herself for being so weak, she stood and watched the poor creature flopping around on the line, wondering if it had been able to eat the worm which had cost its freedom. She hoped it had. The worm’s death shouldn’t have been in vain.
Alicia cried watching the fish struggle. Thoughts of Jacob struggling to maintain life after slipping from the rock into the cold water rushing to and from the shore resurfaced in her mind. She hadn’t been able to make herself attend his funeral. She hadn’t said goodbye. Of course, no one missed her presence or questioned her for not attending. They likely didn’t notice. Alicia had never even dared to speak to him, though he had been so constantly in her thoughts. No one had any idea how much his life touched hers, how losing him had torn out a part of herself. Not even Jacob.
But it was his birthday, and she wanted him to know now, if it was possible.
The fish stopped wriggling as she pushed tears from her cheeks. She looked over at it, horrified. It was dead, all because she couldn’t make herself free him. She had ended its life, unintentional as it was.
The splinter still entrenched in her finger from touching Jacob’s cross rubbed against his fishing pole, reminding her of its presence. It was Jacob’s fishing pole, which she had rescued from the pile of garbage outside his house, at night, while no one noticed. She supposed the memory was too hard on his mom for her to be able to keep her son’s beloved object. Or maybe she didn’t realize its value. It had been hiding away under Alicia’s bed ever since.
Jacob had explained his view of the ancient ritual of sacrifice during history class. It was a way of honoring the role of nature. Another argued that he was missing the real meaning but she didn’t bother to listen. She adored Jacob’s explanation. She hadn’t said so. She remained silent in the back of the room trying not to attract attention.
Honoring the role of nature. That’s why he fished. It made him part of the role of nature, reminding him of the purpose of life and death, the influence that even the most seemingly insignificant creature had on all others. He had never known the way he had influenced her life. She had to wonder if anyone felt the same about her. Maybe someone did and she didn’t know. Maybe she wasn’t so insignificant.
Abandoning her original plan, Alicia moved carefully off the wet rock and toward the little white cross, carrying the tackle box, the flashlight, and Jacob’s fishing pole still holding the dead fish. Setting the other things out of her way, she propped the pole so that it stood leaning against the cross and found loose rocks to hold the bottom in place. Then, with more tears warming her cheeks, she unhooked the little fish and buried it in the sand at the base of Jacob’s cross. It was the first time she had touched death so closely, and she allowed herself to mourn.
Rising again, she pulled the splinter from her finger, noticing the tinge of blood on the piece of wood and more washing out her wound. She opened the tackle box to place the splinter inside, keeping it as she would the bit of yellow “cross” line. Jacob’s fishing pole needed to remain.
“I get it.” She said to the wind. To the rumpled spot of sand covering the little fish, she said, “Thank you. It wasn’t in vain.”
At home, she flopped onto her bed without showering the smell of the night wind and ocean spray from her body. She didn’t even wash her hands to rid herself of the evidence of holding the worm and fish in her palms. Alicia wanted it to stay with her. It was nature, and she was part of it.
LK Hunsaker
https://www.LKHunsaker.com