Dragonfly by Jax Hill 

Ferdy didn’t like the expense for a cooler full of beer. But we were going fishing, and beer was a necessity. Since Jack and Jazz’s mother had told Torstein to come out and meet her husband, he’d been planning a day out on the water. The summer was drawing to a swift conclusion, and he wanted to go before the winds changed. We’d already had some early nor’esters, so we agreed to go the following weekend.

I don’t know exactly when it had happened, but sometime in the summer, after we’d seen the Dunker, more and more people had been coming around, sitting with us in the park in the afternoons, wanting to talk to Torstein or hear what he had to say, or just be near him. Anymore, once Story Hour began, there might be a hundred people sitting, waiting for him to pass by, to offer them some sunflower seeds, to chat. They’d wait politely for the end of story time, but then they wanted Torstein.

He wanted them, too. He would move from group to group among those gathered, give away the seeds, meet new people, pick up their kids and kiss them ... listen to sad stories, give away money or advice ... Looking back, it’s unusual that we didn’t all find it very unusual. Finally it got so that from about three in the afternoon on, sometimes until midnight, people were sitting talking with Torstein, following him if he left the park, waiting for him outside if he ducked into some place for dinner.

They weren’t all homeless or beggars, either (although of course, a good many were). It got so Ferdy was going broke every day or two because of the money Torstein would give away as he talked to the poor people who came to him for help, or the meals Torstein would buy for hungry families ... the word had gotten out that he was a soft touch. As the autumn chill began to be felt in the earliest morning hours, we could feel change coming to our strange existence with him.

But the summer wasn’t over yet. A couple more weeks remained. And we were going fishing. I think Torstein loved helping these people who came to him for advice or money or just a kind word, but I think it was wearing him out. I think he needed to get away, to relax.

Jazz and Jack’s father met us at the docks and supervised the provisioning of the boat for this day trip — a cooler of beer, a basket of sandwiches, a cooler of sodas. He told Torstein his sons were good captains and that he wished us good fishing. He said not to stay out too late as squalls were predicted later in the day.

If we’d been serious about fishing, we’d have been out on the water before daylight. We didn’t expect to catch much, and what we did catch we would release, since we might not find any market for it this late in the day.

Jazz was the captain and took us out onto the open sea. He would try to find some big fish for sport, he said, and we got Torstein strapped into one of the fighting chairs to try his hand. Tawny and Marigold had come along, but they were up on the bow working on their tans. Maggie didn’t tan, so she said she would try fishing, and took the seat next to Torstein. Sully said he wanted to fish, too, but he was really too small, so Maggie put him on her lap, and we strapped them in together.

Jack stood between the fighting chairs instructing the fishermen on what to do once we were trolling. It wasn’t 10 minutes before Maggie had a big hit on her line — she started screaming, and then the reel started screaming as the line played our fast. Whatever she’d hooked was big and strong! Jack started helping her and Sully hold onto the rod and play the fish — both of them shrieking with laughter, Sully shouting incoherently about the size and power of his fish — and then — bang! Something hit Torstein’s line, and his reel began to sing.

My brother Pete jumped up beside him to help him play it, but Torstein was handling it. Pete just called out instructions as he watched the tension on the line and looked for the fish to break the water. Maggie and Sully kept screaming, and Jack was laughing — he’d caught a million fish more or less in his day, but you could tell he was loving this, the enthusiasm of the newbies, the laughter from Torstein and shrieks from Maggie and Sully.

Then, and you wouldn’t believe this if you hadn’t been there to see it, both lines straightened out parallel with one another, and at the exact same moment, side by side, two enormous billfish broke the water together and tail-walked — wick, wick, wick, wick, wick — 10 yards toward the boat, as if they were going to jump in of their own accord. They were blue marlins, bigger than Sully, and their eruption from the sea had thrown up two twin plumes of rainbow spray as the sunlight caught the droplets of sea water that went flying around them.

“Holy cow!” Jack screamed.

“Steady, steady,” Pete called.

“Sharks!” Sully squealed.

“Lord have mercy!” Maggie hollered.

Then, splash! The two magnificent fish dove back under the sea in tandem and dragged the lines with them.

Jazz had run out of the wheel-house to see what was happening, and now he bellowed, “I don’t believe it!”

But we’d all seen it. That was the kind of weird stuff that happened when Torstein was around.

They played those fish for half an hour. Then Sully and Maggie maneuvered out of the fighting chair, and we strapped little Franz in. With my help, and Jack’s, he landed their fish in another half hour. He was as excited as Sully, just beaming all over his funny looking little face. The fish was taller than he was. He and Sully and Maggie all had their picture made with it.

Torstein finally landed his fish about the same time, and let Sully have his picture made with that one, too. Then we cut the fish loose, and Torstein watched them tear away, calling out to them, “Thanks guys! That was awesome!” I fully expected them to circle back and stand up again like dolphins ... but at least we were spared that.

Bruiser and Ferdy had taken their places in the fighting chairs, and Jazz consulted his fish finder to go and find them some good fishing.

Torstein stood under the fresh-water shower on the stern for a few seconds, then staggered up to the bow where Tawny and Mari were sun-bathing. He sat with them until he dried off, then went below-decks and said he would take a nap. Up top Bruiser had already hooked a good-sized tuna, and Pete was helping him land it.

We had a good day’s fishing.