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deployed a hundred fifty fathoms of moneymaking gillnet. In the winter he crewed a crab boat in the Bering Sea, as in the past, but the catch of king crab wasn’t what it used to be. The crabbing season was shorter than ever, and when he factored in the required weeks of preparation and cleanup, his paycheck, just under ten thousand dollars, was a disappointment. Florence had gotten pregnant in the fall, and their baby would be due in June when the next commercial salmon season opened. Ordinarily Florence would have her baby at the Native hospital in Anchorage, but she decided to stay in Kodiak so that Lonny would not have to choose between the baby’s birth and the start of salmon season. If it ever came to a choice, though, she wondered what choice Lonny would make, and she asked him. Lonny pondered the question and decided it was a tossup. He played cool about the prospect of becoming a thirty-sevenyear-old father, but Flo wanted the baby a lot, and this made him happy. Lonny’s sentence included three years of state probation and six years of federal probation, and as an ex-convict he needed to pay attention to every rule. Even a fuel seep from his engine filter could land him in trouble, and Lonny couldn’t afford trouble. “I’ve got friends where I’m going,” he would say, speaking of his nemeses on the fishing grounds. Lonny’s supporters, gauging how his experiences had changed him, noticed that he used the word “seem” a lot, as if he didn’t quite trust in appearances anymore. “Seems like it’ll be a nice day today,” he said. Or, “He seems like a nice guy.” Not to be caught in a trivial infraction, Lonny used buoy paint to stencil his boat registration number on the bow of his fishing skiff. Enforcement of the boat registration rules was passing from the Coast Guard to the Alaska State Troopers and a crackdown was expected. As for the sea lions, Lonny refrained from actively repelling them, but it vexed him that people didn’t understand the scope of the problem. It wasn’t one or two sea lions inconveniencing him, it was twenty of them violating his -48-
net. They were predators. He thought about poisoning them, but a bevy of dead sea lions washing up on his beach would look very bad indeed. Although Lonny was pleased that he hadn’t buckled to the government’s pressure and sold his fishing rights, the truth was that Lonny had wearied of fishing. And this was something he had never believed would happen. The fishing was less productive than it used to be, and he wasn’t getting younger. He had long ago dreamed of becoming a high school wrestling coach, but this dream was impossible for a felon. With a baby on the way he thought about finding work in the North Slope oil fields, and he contemplated an apprenticeship in the trade of heating and air conditioning, but these possibilities lay in the future. Lonny still had a difficult choice to make before the way ahead became clear to him. The commercial salmon season was set to open on the ninth of June, and in early June Lonny left Kodiak town and headed to his fish camp to prepare his equipment. Florence, knowing that the baby was close, broke into tears when Lonny told her he was leaving. She begged him to stay in town with her, but Lonny’s fishing instinct was so strong at this time of year that he really had no choice. He had to go. It was not an easy decision to make, but he made it. At three-thirty on the morning after he left, Florence went into labor. From the hospital she called Lonny on the satellite telephone, and Lonny got the news and tried to return to town to be with her, but the weather had changed since he left, with gale winds blowing and dangerous seas, and Lonny couldn’t get closer to Kodiak town than the village of Port Lions. Stranded there during the storm, Lonny missed everything, both the baby’s delivery and the start of salmon fishing. “He’ll hear about that one for the rest of his life,” the old salts in Kodiak say, and they tell Lonny’s story with a laughter born of a lifetime’s learning. “He made his decision and it was the wrong decision.” -49-
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WEST TEXAS Literary Review Issue 6,
Page 5:
Board of Editors Brandon Beck Edito
Page 8 and 9: Lavinia Kumar Carrigaline Cemetery
Page 13 and 14: God is an Old Pear LISA BELLAMY At
Page 15 and 16: Calendar ERIC CHILES The foreman’
Page 17 and 18: Empire Diner WILLIAM DORESKI In the
Page 19 and 20: United Artists Theatre, L.A. ROBERT
Page 21 and 22: Boil CHAD FORET Uncle opens shoebox
Page 23 and 24: Blood Moon LEONORE HILDEBRANDT toni
Page 25 and 26: and, oblivious to dying, pass the w
Page 27 and 28: The Fall of Rose MERCEDES LAWRY Ros
Page 29 and 30: Scythe JAMES OWENS My father fought
Page 31 and 32: I See Her Today KENNETH POBO Leaden
Page 33 and 34: Like a Married Couple Lapsed into B
Page 35 and 36: Last Suppers PETER WALDOR Once when
Page 37 and 38: Eating Laurices BETH WILLIAMS Pope
Page 41 and 42: Spring Melons RICK KRIZMAN “Got y
Page 43 and 44: The Dress IRENE MEKLIN She twirls a
Page 45 and 46: it did her. It seemed odd, finally
Page 47 and 48: gray hair wrapped tightly against h
Page 51 and 52: West GRANT INGRAM The West. To be s
Page 53 and 54: emain much more subject to things l
Page 55 and 56: his commercial fishing rights. They
Page 57: home in a letter. And indeed it sho
Page 61 and 62: Eulogy HARVEY SILVERMAN “Optimist
Page 63 and 64: his joy and vicarious pleasure when
Page 67 and 68: Author Profiles Lisa Bellamy studie
Page 69 and 70: Grant Ingram was born in San Angelo
Page 71 and 72: Review, and Southword. He earned an
Page 73: Chloe Williamson was raised on a ca
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