Fate and the Fisherman

 Joseph Manning bent his head back so far, he could have passed as a yawning sea lion. People wandered around him like a flock of seagulls, constantly moving but without real purpose. If it wasn’t for these walls of steel and glass rising above him like tidal waves, Joseph wouldn’t be standing there, waiting for them to start crumbling down.

“Do you happen to know where Jefferson Street is?” Joseph asked a woman passing by, but she barely paid him any attention. Joseph snorted. “Why Gabe gave up the sea to live in this city, I’ll never know.” 

Joseph attempted four other times to ask strangers for directions, with the same amount of luck.

“What on earth could there possibly be to keep an entire city on it’s feet that someone can’t stop five seconds to help a stranger? Had this place been anything like St. Veronica Harbor I could have been there by now.” A few people gave him funny looks before swooping past him.

“Serves them right.” He muttered. He decided that he might as well start moving in some direction, he’d probably get lucky and just stumble upon the right street eventually. Straight. Right. Left. Dead end. He cursed, and a few people who were watching him scattered away when his eyes met theirs. One of them dropped something and with a huff he went to retrieve it before they got too far away. He picked up the little white ball of string that fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.

“Hey! Sorry, but you dropped something!” He shouted, several people stopped to look at him, waving the ball of string in the air. But the woman who he believed dropped it didn’t look back. Joseph slumped up against a wall, too tired at this point to run after her. He looked back up into the blue sky, where ships of white clouds passed by. He looked back down at the ball of string in his hand. He found the fraying end and fiddled with it in his fingers. Now that he noticed, this string felt soft between his calloused hands. He looked back up at the sky as he contemplated what to do next.

“Hi there mister,” a small voice said. Joseph looked down. Big green eyes stared up at him.

“Hello little one,” Joseph said.

“You look lost.”

“As a matter of fact I am. Does a little tyke like you happen to know where Jefferson street is?” Joseph asked.

The little boy blinked at him with a raised eyebrow. “It’s just right there.” He pointed to the sign directly across from where they were standing.

Joseph couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks little one.”

“What’s that?” The boy asked, motioning to the string. Joseph looked at his hands, and noticed that the string was now woven between his fingers and thumb.

“Just some string. Would you like it?” Joseph said, untangling it from his hand. The boy nodded and offered his hands out to take it. His fat little fingers found the frayed end and in a flash the boy took off running. Joseph let the boy run, waiting for the string to unravel in his hands till it was gone, but the boy had already run all the way down the large block and turned a corner and the ball in his hands didn’t shrink. He pinched the fast moving string and tugged. The thin line of string broke off and instantly turned to dust. Joseph looked back at the ball of string, but it looked just as it had before. He crossed himself before tossing the ball of string into a nearby trash can. He waited to safely cross the street.

He stepped out onto the street but his leg got caught, he looked down to see the white string wrapped around his fingers, his waist, and his leg. Suddenly a black car came swerving crazily down the street. The car whooshed past him and almost missed the left turn at the light. The air was soon filled with the sound of car horns and angry shouts.  

Joseph crossed himself again as he backed up onto the sidewalk. There it was again, the soft white string. Muttering a prayer, he double checked the street before attempting to cross the street again. Before he did a woman ran in front of him. She grabbed his wrist. Joseph noticed the tears streaming down her face.

“Please, sir, have you seen him. I told him to wait right there for me. I was only gone two minutes. Please, tell me have you seen my little boy. He’s this tall,” she said holding a hand out to her waist, “he’s got the sweetest big green eyes. He has blonde hair and he was wearing a train t-shirt. He’s not hard to miss. Please tell me you’ve seen him.”

Joseph’s stomach plummeted. What had happened to the boy after the string broke?

“Ma’am, take a deep breath. It’s all going to be okay. Your son was just here just a minute ago. I’m sure he hasn’t gotten far.”   

The woman nodded and gave a small smile. She breathed in deeply. “I’m sorry. I’m not the kind of mom who just leaves her son somewhere. I really don’t. I just was trying to hurry so we could get home. I should have known better. But he’s normally so good and stays put. I don’t know what could have made him run off like that.”

Joseph swallowed down the hard lump in his throat.

“Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure you’re a wonderful mother. I saw him go this way.”  He breathed in shakily as she let go of his wrist. She kept up a brisk walk as she walked down the sidewalk. When they turned the corner, the woman stopped walking. Cars were still honking their horns and a large crowd was gathered around what appeared to be an accident. Joseph couldn’t help but notice a black car, similar to the one that had almost ran him over smashed up against another car. An ambulance barreled past, sirens blaring.

Joseph put a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“Maybe he’s watching with the rest of the crowd. You know how little boys are interested in danger.”

The woman nodded in reply, but Joseph could see the worry in her eyes. She walked stiffly beside him. As they got closer, Joseph saw paramedics rolling out a stretcher. A police man was yelling at people to back off.

“I’ll look over here,” the woman said as she walked past him. Joseph nodded in agreement. He started to look through the crowd. Though there were many boys watching the scene, none of them looked at all like the little boy who had talked to him earlier. He clenched the ball of string hard in his fist. Though no matter how hard he squeezed, it still felt as fresh and soft as ever.

Somehow he made it through the crowd and was now up close to the scene. The familiar black car was smoking, the windows were all smashed. It looked more like a beat up dingy than a car. With the front end all mushed up. There were two other cars smashed and wrecked, but it was obvious the black one had taken the most damage. On the black road there was evidence of some kind of liquid, but it could have been anything.

Then he saw something that made his knees wobble. Lying on the ground was little hand with fat fingers clutching a broken white string.

“That’s my son! That’s my son!” the woman screamed, she tore past him and ran to the paramedics. A police man stopped her and began talking to her. Joseph wanted to move, wanted to run. He wanted to shout to the world that somehow this whole mess was his fault. But all he could do was stand there and watch. Moving with the crowd like a buoy.  

Then somehow the scene was gone. The ambulance had driven off with mother and son in tow. Tow trucks had cleared away the wreckage. All that was left now was a large red stain on the ground and Joseph watching the street return back to its normal quick paced and unfeeling current.

“Similar to the sea…”  Joseph thought. His hand felt heavy. Though he wanted to chuck the string again, he felt like it wasn’t going to leave him alone. So he put it in his pocket. He back tracked the way he had come, he could see the faint white line of dust still and he followed it back to the spot where he had met the boy. He stood there for a moment wondering how to make sense of it all. The more he thought about it, the heavier the ball in his pocket felt.

He looked back across the street. There it hung in green for all to see, “Jefferson Street”. Joseph looked both ways, then calmly crossed the street. Nothing stopped him. He continued on his way, ready to tell Gabe about his interesting adventure to the city. He never noticed the ball of string fall out of his pocket. And there the string sat, waiting for another hand to hold it.