Brigit's Flame Week 2 - The Purple Heart
Title: The Purple Heart
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2000
Prompt: Mature
A/N: I didn't have the chance to write something at the beginning of the month, so this is Just For Fun. I actually had a pretty quiet day at work on Monday thanks to the Easter holiday, so I got most of this done then. It was actually inspired by a writing prompt for another website, but I made it work with this week's topic too.
“Hell found me.” Chase slid in next to his mother at the kitchen sink. Her sudsy hands hesitated in the water for a moment before she let out a deep sigh.
“Chase, stop calling your sister Hell! Or Hellary. You know it drives her crazy.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Hill said you were looking for me.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans that were streaked with dirt and grass and Cheeto dust.
“It’s nothing bad,” his mom said.
“Usually is,” Chase replied, looking at the floor.
Tammy sighed again. “Grandpa Dale’s coming for a visit and wanted to know if you’d like to go fishing with him tomorrow. I told him you didn’t have any plans and that you would be delighted.”
Chase looked up at his mother, his mouth open in a perfect O. “Why did you tell him that? You know I hate it when he comes down. He smells weird and I can never understand what he’s saying.” He kicked the baseboard with the toe of his sneaker. “And anyways, you said I could go to the skate park with Brendan tomorrow.”
“The skate park’s not going anywhere. You can go on Sunday.”
Chase kicked the wall a little harder. “But it’s not as fun on Sundays,” he mumbled under his breath.
“He’ll be here at 7 o’clock, so make sure you have everything packed up before you go to bed tonight.”
“7 o’clock. On a Saturday morning? Could this be any more annoying?” Chase turned and stalked off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
The morning sky was bright blue and streaked with scaly white clouds. Chase’s grandfather told him a sky like that meant it was the perfect day for fishing. He called it an “orange roughy sky,” and laughed heartily at his own joke. Chase didn’t see what was so funny about it. He hated how corny the old man was. Like usual, he was in for a day of stupid jokes he didn’t get and boring stories about people he didn’t know.
The trip down the coast from Wilmington to where his grandpa kept his boat took almost an hour. The music on the radio was even older than the rickety blue truck Grandpa Dale drove, and Chase made sure that the noise pulsing through his ear-buds was loud enough to drown it out. He let his arm dangle out of the open window, watching it get tossed around by the current of air that rushed past.
By the time they arrived at the marina, the day had warmed up and the clouds had disappeared from the sky. Only a few boats were left in their moorings, and they bobbed up and down in the calm water. Grandpa Dale’s walkaround, The Purple Heart, was tied near the end of the walkway. It had been over a year since Chase had last been on it. That weekend with his dad.
Dale pulled all of their gear out of the back of the truck and swung it onto his back. “Here,” he said, dropping a cooler at Chase’s feet. “You can help just a little bit.”
Chase picked it up. He could hear the half-melted ice sloshing against the cans of beer and soda inside. The cooler was heavy and he struggled with it down the walkway. Beads of sweat had begun to form on his upper lip by the time he climbed onto the walkaround. He dumped the cooler on deck and wiped his face with the back of his hand. It was just too hot to be doing anything like this today, he though. He would have been better off staying inside playing Xbox.
Grandpa Dale started up the motor and they were off, the water rippling in a wake behind them. The grassy marshland that surrounded the marina soon gave way to clear and open ocean. Chase knew his grandfather liked to be as far away from other fishermen as possible, and they would be on the move for awhile until he found the perfect spot.
Chase had already listened to most of the AWOLNATION album he had on his ipod before he felt the boat slow down and heard its engine die. The hard guitar chords and drum beats pulsed in his ears and he gripped tightly onto the side of the boat. Chase didn’t want to be out there. He just didn’t.
“You want a little something to eat before we cast off?” his grandfather asked. He dropped the boat key into his pocket and moved towards the bench where Chase was sitting. “I got a few sandwiches yesterday from that deli place you like.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself.” Dale took out a sandwich, shiny and white, wrapped in thick wax paper. He unfolded the paper, revealing a mountain of roast beef between the two slices of bread. Chase could smell the meat as his grandfather took a bite. His stomach growled.
It only took a moment for his grandfather to hungrily tear his way through half of the sandwich. He picked up the second half that had been sitting comfortably in its wrappings.
“Are you sure you don’t want the rest of this?” he asked Chase. “I don’t think I can finish it.”
Chase shrugged. “Are you gonna throw it away if I don’t eat it?”
“It’s not going to last long out here, no matter what.”
“Fine then.” Chase took the rest of the sandwich from his grandfather’s outstretched hand and began shoving it into his mouth.
By the time Chase was finished with his snack, Dale had already unpacked their gear and was attempting to bait their lines.
“Hold this,” he said, shoving a pole towards his grandson. Chase grabbed on to the light graphite rod.
“This one isn’t mine,” Chase said, holding the pole away from his body like it was some sort of radioactive object.
“I know,” replied his grandfather. “It’s your dad’s.”
The long rod suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and his hands seemed to lose all ability to hold on. Afraid that he was going to drop the pole into the water, Chase stepped back and let it fall onto the floor of the boat.
“What’s the matter?” his grandfather asked, startled. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t want to use this. Where’s my old rod?”
“You mean the one that’s barely held together by the entire roll of duct tape wrapped around it?” Chase nodded. “I left it at home. I thought you’d like to use a newer one.”
“What made you think I’d want to use this stupid thing?” He kicked the rod and it skittered across the deck.
In the silence of the morning, Chase could hear nothing but the calling of birds overhead and the pounding of blood rushing through his head. He’d never seen that rod before. He didn’t even know his dad had bought a new one. Or maybe it had been a present from someone. Chase slumped down onto the bench and curled his long, skinny arms and legs together.
Dale sat next to him. “I’m sorry kido. I didn’t think.” He put his hand on Chase’s shoulder. Chase shrugged it off.
“When did he get it?” Chase asked.
“What?”
“When did he get that rod? How come I’ve never seen it before?”
“Oh.” His grandfather stood and picked up the rod from the deck. He placed it against the side of the hull. “Your dad bought this a month or so before he left.”
“Did he ever get a chance to use it?” Chase could just imagine the look on his dad’s face as he attached the reel to the rod for the first time, spooling out the line, anticipating that first cast off.
“Once or twice,” Dale said. “You know, we don’t have to fish today if you feel uncomfortable using a new rod. We can go back and drive down the coast a ways.”
Chase stood up and lifted his dad’s rod from the side of the boat. He traced his finger along the rubber grip. “That’s okay,” he said. “We’re already out here and everything. I think I can give it a shot.”
Before long, they had both cast their reels into the deep salt water. The morning sun had risen high in the sky and Chase could feel the warm rays on the skin of his arms and face. His shaggy brown hair stuck to the back of his neck in clumps, and he unconsciously twirled it between his fingers, lost in thought.
Grandpa Dale was the first to catch anything. The fish put up a good fight, but was eventually reeled in. Dale looked happy and exhausted as he pulled the striped bass out of the net. It was a good size, about two feet long, and it glistened in the sunlight.
Chase could see a trail of blood where the fish had fought to free itself from the hook. The wound was jagged and raw.
“Do you think he knew?” Chase asked quietly, almost to no one in particular.
“Did you say something?” his grandfather asked, engrossed in his task of preparing the fish for transport home.
“Do you think he knew? That he was going to die?”
“The fish?”
“No,” Chase said, his head lowered. “My dad. Do you think he knew that he was going to die?”
Dale stopped what he was doing and turned towards his grandson. He hesitated for a moment before answering.
“He probably did.”
“Thought so,” Chase mumbled, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “Thought so.”
Chase sat and cried until his eyes were dry. His grandfather settled in next to him on the bench and silently stroked his hair. They stayed like that for a long time, the boat underneath them rocking gently back and forth in the calm waters of the Atlantic.
“Do you want to talk about him?” Dale eventually asked. “About your Dad?”
Chase shrugged. “I guess.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Was he scared when it went off?” Chase wiped his face and looked up at his grandfather with red swollen eyes.
“I believe so,” Dale said. “They say that it only takes a split second for everything to go up when they run over one of those IED’s, but that’s probably enough time for him to realize what was happening.”
“Was he in pain?”
“He was,” Dale replied, not looking at his grandson as he spoke. “But not for long. He wasn’t awake for very long after they got hit. That’s what the men who made it back said.”
Chase started out into the water. The salty air stung his red-raw cheeks. He absentmindedly rubbed his eyes.
“Thanks,” he said. “Thanks for telling me the truth. No one else ever did.”
“He was your dad. You’re old enough to know what really happened. And you’re the man of the house now. You have to take care of your mom and your sister, and you can’t do that if people still treat you like a kid. But you have to straighten up your act a little, you know.”
Chase smiled sheepishly and nodded. He got up and went over to where the fish sat, half gutted. “Do you miss him?” Chase asked.
Dale opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, then swallowed. “Every day,” he said, his words sounding thin and shaky.
“Me too,” replied Chase.
The sun had already begun to set by the time Chase and Grandpa Dale made it back to Wilmington. The rusty old pick-up pulled into the driveway and Dale killed the engine. A few silent minutes passed before either made way to get out of the truck.
“When’s the next time you’re coming down?” Chase asked, his hand on the door handle.
“A few weeks,” his grandfather replied. “Do you want to go out again?”
“Don’t know. Maybe, if I have time.” Chase opened the door and jumped onto the gravel drive. He helped Dale unpack his things from the pick-up bed.
“Gonna help your mom with dinner tonight?” Dale asked, as he lugged a cooler full of fish towards the house. “I bet she’s looking forward to cooking up what we caught. I always thought your Grandma’s cooking was the best thing about going fishing.”
Chase laughed. “Grandma was a terrible cook. Even I know that.”
The corners of Dale’s lips curled into a wistful smile. “You’re right. Your mom’s much better.”
“We’re home!” Chase shouted as he opened the door, kicking off his ratty tennis shoes and throwing his bag on the floor. He hesitated for a moment then bent over and picked up his things.
“Did you have fun?” his mother asked, coming into the narrow hallway.
“It was alright,” Chase said. “Let me put these things away and I’ll help set the table for dinner.” Chase rushed off towards his room, his mother staring off after him.
“Did you see that? What on earth happened out there today?” Tammy asked Dale, who stood next to the door with the same wistful smile on his face.
“Nothing much. Just fished, maybe talked a little. Let me help you put these away,” he said, gesturing towards the cooler. Dale could already smell the corn bread baking in the over as he followed his daughter-in-law into the kitchen.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2000
Prompt: Mature
A/N: I didn't have the chance to write something at the beginning of the month, so this is Just For Fun. I actually had a pretty quiet day at work on Monday thanks to the Easter holiday, so I got most of this done then. It was actually inspired by a writing prompt for another website, but I made it work with this week's topic too.
“Hell found me.” Chase slid in next to his mother at the kitchen sink. Her sudsy hands hesitated in the water for a moment before she let out a deep sigh.
“Chase, stop calling your sister Hell! Or Hellary. You know it drives her crazy.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Hill said you were looking for me.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans that were streaked with dirt and grass and Cheeto dust.
“It’s nothing bad,” his mom said.
“Usually is,” Chase replied, looking at the floor.
Tammy sighed again. “Grandpa Dale’s coming for a visit and wanted to know if you’d like to go fishing with him tomorrow. I told him you didn’t have any plans and that you would be delighted.”
Chase looked up at his mother, his mouth open in a perfect O. “Why did you tell him that? You know I hate it when he comes down. He smells weird and I can never understand what he’s saying.” He kicked the baseboard with the toe of his sneaker. “And anyways, you said I could go to the skate park with Brendan tomorrow.”
“The skate park’s not going anywhere. You can go on Sunday.”
Chase kicked the wall a little harder. “But it’s not as fun on Sundays,” he mumbled under his breath.
“He’ll be here at 7 o’clock, so make sure you have everything packed up before you go to bed tonight.”
“7 o’clock. On a Saturday morning? Could this be any more annoying?” Chase turned and stalked off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
The morning sky was bright blue and streaked with scaly white clouds. Chase’s grandfather told him a sky like that meant it was the perfect day for fishing. He called it an “orange roughy sky,” and laughed heartily at his own joke. Chase didn’t see what was so funny about it. He hated how corny the old man was. Like usual, he was in for a day of stupid jokes he didn’t get and boring stories about people he didn’t know.
The trip down the coast from Wilmington to where his grandpa kept his boat took almost an hour. The music on the radio was even older than the rickety blue truck Grandpa Dale drove, and Chase made sure that the noise pulsing through his ear-buds was loud enough to drown it out. He let his arm dangle out of the open window, watching it get tossed around by the current of air that rushed past.
By the time they arrived at the marina, the day had warmed up and the clouds had disappeared from the sky. Only a few boats were left in their moorings, and they bobbed up and down in the calm water. Grandpa Dale’s walkaround, The Purple Heart, was tied near the end of the walkway. It had been over a year since Chase had last been on it. That weekend with his dad.
Dale pulled all of their gear out of the back of the truck and swung it onto his back. “Here,” he said, dropping a cooler at Chase’s feet. “You can help just a little bit.”
Chase picked it up. He could hear the half-melted ice sloshing against the cans of beer and soda inside. The cooler was heavy and he struggled with it down the walkway. Beads of sweat had begun to form on his upper lip by the time he climbed onto the walkaround. He dumped the cooler on deck and wiped his face with the back of his hand. It was just too hot to be doing anything like this today, he though. He would have been better off staying inside playing Xbox.
Grandpa Dale started up the motor and they were off, the water rippling in a wake behind them. The grassy marshland that surrounded the marina soon gave way to clear and open ocean. Chase knew his grandfather liked to be as far away from other fishermen as possible, and they would be on the move for awhile until he found the perfect spot.
Chase had already listened to most of the AWOLNATION album he had on his ipod before he felt the boat slow down and heard its engine die. The hard guitar chords and drum beats pulsed in his ears and he gripped tightly onto the side of the boat. Chase didn’t want to be out there. He just didn’t.
“You want a little something to eat before we cast off?” his grandfather asked. He dropped the boat key into his pocket and moved towards the bench where Chase was sitting. “I got a few sandwiches yesterday from that deli place you like.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself.” Dale took out a sandwich, shiny and white, wrapped in thick wax paper. He unfolded the paper, revealing a mountain of roast beef between the two slices of bread. Chase could smell the meat as his grandfather took a bite. His stomach growled.
It only took a moment for his grandfather to hungrily tear his way through half of the sandwich. He picked up the second half that had been sitting comfortably in its wrappings.
“Are you sure you don’t want the rest of this?” he asked Chase. “I don’t think I can finish it.”
Chase shrugged. “Are you gonna throw it away if I don’t eat it?”
“It’s not going to last long out here, no matter what.”
“Fine then.” Chase took the rest of the sandwich from his grandfather’s outstretched hand and began shoving it into his mouth.
By the time Chase was finished with his snack, Dale had already unpacked their gear and was attempting to bait their lines.
“Hold this,” he said, shoving a pole towards his grandson. Chase grabbed on to the light graphite rod.
“This one isn’t mine,” Chase said, holding the pole away from his body like it was some sort of radioactive object.
“I know,” replied his grandfather. “It’s your dad’s.”
The long rod suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and his hands seemed to lose all ability to hold on. Afraid that he was going to drop the pole into the water, Chase stepped back and let it fall onto the floor of the boat.
“What’s the matter?” his grandfather asked, startled. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t want to use this. Where’s my old rod?”
“You mean the one that’s barely held together by the entire roll of duct tape wrapped around it?” Chase nodded. “I left it at home. I thought you’d like to use a newer one.”
“What made you think I’d want to use this stupid thing?” He kicked the rod and it skittered across the deck.
In the silence of the morning, Chase could hear nothing but the calling of birds overhead and the pounding of blood rushing through his head. He’d never seen that rod before. He didn’t even know his dad had bought a new one. Or maybe it had been a present from someone. Chase slumped down onto the bench and curled his long, skinny arms and legs together.
Dale sat next to him. “I’m sorry kido. I didn’t think.” He put his hand on Chase’s shoulder. Chase shrugged it off.
“When did he get it?” Chase asked.
“What?”
“When did he get that rod? How come I’ve never seen it before?”
“Oh.” His grandfather stood and picked up the rod from the deck. He placed it against the side of the hull. “Your dad bought this a month or so before he left.”
“Did he ever get a chance to use it?” Chase could just imagine the look on his dad’s face as he attached the reel to the rod for the first time, spooling out the line, anticipating that first cast off.
“Once or twice,” Dale said. “You know, we don’t have to fish today if you feel uncomfortable using a new rod. We can go back and drive down the coast a ways.”
Chase stood up and lifted his dad’s rod from the side of the boat. He traced his finger along the rubber grip. “That’s okay,” he said. “We’re already out here and everything. I think I can give it a shot.”
Before long, they had both cast their reels into the deep salt water. The morning sun had risen high in the sky and Chase could feel the warm rays on the skin of his arms and face. His shaggy brown hair stuck to the back of his neck in clumps, and he unconsciously twirled it between his fingers, lost in thought.
Grandpa Dale was the first to catch anything. The fish put up a good fight, but was eventually reeled in. Dale looked happy and exhausted as he pulled the striped bass out of the net. It was a good size, about two feet long, and it glistened in the sunlight.
Chase could see a trail of blood where the fish had fought to free itself from the hook. The wound was jagged and raw.
“Do you think he knew?” Chase asked quietly, almost to no one in particular.
“Did you say something?” his grandfather asked, engrossed in his task of preparing the fish for transport home.
“Do you think he knew? That he was going to die?”
“The fish?”
“No,” Chase said, his head lowered. “My dad. Do you think he knew that he was going to die?”
Dale stopped what he was doing and turned towards his grandson. He hesitated for a moment before answering.
“He probably did.”
“Thought so,” Chase mumbled, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “Thought so.”
Chase sat and cried until his eyes were dry. His grandfather settled in next to him on the bench and silently stroked his hair. They stayed like that for a long time, the boat underneath them rocking gently back and forth in the calm waters of the Atlantic.
“Do you want to talk about him?” Dale eventually asked. “About your Dad?”
Chase shrugged. “I guess.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Was he scared when it went off?” Chase wiped his face and looked up at his grandfather with red swollen eyes.
“I believe so,” Dale said. “They say that it only takes a split second for everything to go up when they run over one of those IED’s, but that’s probably enough time for him to realize what was happening.”
“Was he in pain?”
“He was,” Dale replied, not looking at his grandson as he spoke. “But not for long. He wasn’t awake for very long after they got hit. That’s what the men who made it back said.”
Chase started out into the water. The salty air stung his red-raw cheeks. He absentmindedly rubbed his eyes.
“Thanks,” he said. “Thanks for telling me the truth. No one else ever did.”
“He was your dad. You’re old enough to know what really happened. And you’re the man of the house now. You have to take care of your mom and your sister, and you can’t do that if people still treat you like a kid. But you have to straighten up your act a little, you know.”
Chase smiled sheepishly and nodded. He got up and went over to where the fish sat, half gutted. “Do you miss him?” Chase asked.
Dale opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, then swallowed. “Every day,” he said, his words sounding thin and shaky.
“Me too,” replied Chase.
The sun had already begun to set by the time Chase and Grandpa Dale made it back to Wilmington. The rusty old pick-up pulled into the driveway and Dale killed the engine. A few silent minutes passed before either made way to get out of the truck.
“When’s the next time you’re coming down?” Chase asked, his hand on the door handle.
“A few weeks,” his grandfather replied. “Do you want to go out again?”
“Don’t know. Maybe, if I have time.” Chase opened the door and jumped onto the gravel drive. He helped Dale unpack his things from the pick-up bed.
“Gonna help your mom with dinner tonight?” Dale asked, as he lugged a cooler full of fish towards the house. “I bet she’s looking forward to cooking up what we caught. I always thought your Grandma’s cooking was the best thing about going fishing.”
Chase laughed. “Grandma was a terrible cook. Even I know that.”
The corners of Dale’s lips curled into a wistful smile. “You’re right. Your mom’s much better.”
“We’re home!” Chase shouted as he opened the door, kicking off his ratty tennis shoes and throwing his bag on the floor. He hesitated for a moment then bent over and picked up his things.
“Did you have fun?” his mother asked, coming into the narrow hallway.
“It was alright,” Chase said. “Let me put these things away and I’ll help set the table for dinner.” Chase rushed off towards his room, his mother staring off after him.
“Did you see that? What on earth happened out there today?” Tammy asked Dale, who stood next to the door with the same wistful smile on his face.
“Nothing much. Just fished, maybe talked a little. Let me help you put these away,” he said, gesturing towards the cooler. Dale could already smell the corn bread baking in the over as he followed his daughter-in-law into the kitchen.