I walked back to my truck carrying bags of groceries. A blast of wind whipped my hair and made the plastic bags whistle. The sky was now filled with dark grey clouds. Buddy jumped around in the cab wagging his tail as I fumbled with my keys. “Down Buddy, down!” I scolded as he attempted to escape.  I’d spent the afternoon in Paris walking Buddy on a leash, trying to teach him how to act around other people and dogs. Buddy truckled back to the passenger seat and I told him to sit. He sat down and I said, “Good dog,” and patted him on the head.

I sped home trying to keep ahead of the weather. A voice on the radio warned of severe thunderstorms rolling into the area. Once I reached Millersburg, the gas gauge indicated the tank was almost empty. I pulled into a Marathon gas station at the corner of the Cynthiana road turn off on highway 68. Overhead the dark clouds boiled while wind whipped up  dirt in swirls. We were in for a big storm.

After pulling up beside a pump, I opened the door when a big flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a loud crack of thunder. Buddy jumped out, racing past me onto the highway of oncoming traffic. I froze and couldn’t react fast enough.  I yelled out, “Buddy! Buddy come back here!” But he didn’t obey. Terrified, I braced myself for the worst by closing my eyes and gritting my teeth. A big green semi barreled towards the intersection as Buddy ran right into its path. I heard a loud blast of the truck’s horn and the screech of brakes.  Somewhere behind me, a lean man nearly my age sprinted past me into the road and scooped Buddy into his arms like an acrobat, just before the truck could plow into him. I gasped, then let out a big sigh of relief. I was breathing heavily and shook with my hands on my knees. Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Is this your dog?” said a baritone voice. A man sporting a dark crew cut swaggered towards me, cradling Buddy in his arms. He smiled revealing the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

“Yeah, that’s Buddy. I don’t know how to thank you enough,” I said taking Buddy from his arms.

“Not a problem. Glad I could help,” he winked.

The wind picked up and suddenly there was a downpour. The guy casually walked away from under the shelter of the gas pump roof  wearing only jeans and a T shirt. He didn’t flinch as the rain plastered his shirt against his skin.

“Do you need a ride?” I called out.

He turned and smiled,“No, I just live on the other end of town,” he said pointing down the street.

“Please, get in the truck. The very least I can do is drive you home. Actually I’d like to buy you dinner for saving my dog.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Please, I want to.”

“Well, sure then.” He reached out his hand. “Please to meet you, my name’s Ben Fisher.”

The wind grew stronger bending the big heavy gas sign and almost took my ball cap. It became a downpour with large raindrops splattering the pavement. The banging and splashing rain hitting the aluminum roof was deafening. I opened the driver’s side door and put Buddy inside.

“Go ahead get inside before you get soaked. I need to get some gas or we won’t be able to go anywhere.” I watched Ben climb inside and Buddy jumped on his lap licking his face.

I felt like a drowned rat after dashing through the heavy rain to prepay. Hail the size of jawbreakers fell making a loud roar. My t shirt was soaked and my hair was plastered against my face. It was hard to see through the wind and rain. The shelter provided little relief as the wind whipped the rain sideways. After pumping the gas I ran towards the driver’s side door yanking it open fast before plopping in the driver’s seat.

“Pheeew! Man it’s crazy out there! Doesn’t look like we can go anywhere till this rain lets up,” I said shaking the rain off my head like a dog and wiping my arms.

“Yeah, It looks like you got soaked good,” said Ben patting my wet shoulder.

Rain and wind battered my truck. I felt vulnerable parked here exposed to the brunt of this storm. The lightning flashed all about and the roar of the thunder rocked the truck. Buddy cowered under Ben’s legs.

Ben stared out the window looking up at the clouds. He said he was from Johnson County Kentucky near Paintsville and had recently lived in Belgium after hitchhiking through Europe.

The storm subsided with limbs and branches littering the streets. The dark clouds  barreled towards the southeast, giving way to clear skies.

“Looks safe to drive now,” I said. I reached in my glove compartment and pulled out a cigarette. “Do you mind if I smoke? You want one?”

“No thanks, I don’t mind if you do. I smoke something else,” He said putting two fingers to his lips.

“I got you. I like weed too if I can find it.” I started up the truck and turned west towards the main part of town. “Where would you like to eat? We can check out the Cadet Inn. I haven’t been there since I was a kid.”

“Sounds great,” he said tucking in his shirt.

We drove through downtown Millersburg and parked out front. It was the only sit-down restaurant in town and was named for the cadets of the Millersburg Military Institute, a private military high school for boys. Buddy sat in the truck with the windows cracked as Ben and I walked inside. A bell jingled  as we pushed open the glass door. It was a very small place with just a few booths.

A middle aged  woman wearing a pink apron with dirty blond hair and deep wrinkles around her eyes was wiping down the booths. “Well hi, Ben. Come on in and have a seat.  Looks like y’all got caught in that big storm. It got dark and scary here for a while. So who’s your friend?” she said wiping the table.

Ben put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey Connie, this here’s my friend Travis. We just met. I got caught in the rain and he gave me a ride.” We took a seat near the front windows.

“Let me get you a menu,” she said with a wink.  

“I see they know you here,” I said.

“Yeah, I come here every once in a while. They make good chicken salad sandwiches. Their fried chicken’s pretty good too.”

Connie came back with the menus. “Just gimme a holler when you boys ‘er ready.”

“Get anything you want Ben. My treat.”

Ben didn’t even look at the menu. She came back a few minutes later and I ordered the fried Chicken dinner and Ben wanted the chicken salad sandwich.

“This place still looks the same. It’s exactly like it was twenty years ago, except it’s dying a slow death. So how do you stand to live in this town? It’s so boring.”

“Actually I like it here. The people are friendly enough, but mostly I just keep to myself. I keep myself busy by fishin’, camping and ridin’ my motorcycle. And when the weather is too bad I sit on my front porch playin’ my guitar,” he said smiling.  

“So are you married or have a girlfriend?” I asked.

“Oh no, not me. Haven’t really been looking. What about you Travis?”

“Well, I….”

Connie walked up and said, “Here’s your Pepsis and your salad. Looks like it’s clearing up. They said on the radio that a funnel cloud was spotted in Georgetown and blew down a few trees in a few spots.”

I was lucky Connie came by when she did. I wasn’t ready to out myself to a guy I just met. You never quite know how people in this area will react when they find out you’re gay.

“So you like to go fishing and camping? Where do you do that around here?” I asked changing the subject.”

“Oh I usually just go back behind the house and fish in the creek, but when I get serious I like to jump on my motorcycle and ride down to Cumberland Lake and camp and fish. Would you like to ride down with me sometime, Travis?”  

“I’d love to. It’s been ages since I’ve been on a big fishing trip.” Ben opened up and became a bit animated telling me about the various places he went camping and that he plays with a Bluegrass band in Refro Valley.

Connie returned with our meals and told us more about the weather reports. She handed me a huge plate of fried chicken and fries. The chicken was dipped in flour and spices and cooked just the way I remembered my mammaw used to make her chicken. “Is there anything else I can get you boys?”she said.

“No, I think we are fine here thanks,” I said.

“Well just give me a holler if you think of somethin’,” she said touching Ben’s shoulder and winking.

I noticed that Connie seemed to really like Ben a lot.  I mean, who wouldn’t? He was handsome guy and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him, but as charming as he was, I really didn’t get any sort of sexual vibes from him at all. He was more passionate about fishing and his music.

After our meal Connie brought us the check. “Looks like you boys were hungry. How’d you like the food here?”

“It was very nice Ma’am, “I said.

“Oh please, you’re a sweet boy, but you don’t have to call me ma’am. I ain’t no old lady yet. You can just call me Connie. You boys come back soon okay?”  

“Sure thing Connie.” I paid in cash and left her a good tip.“We best be going. Buddy’s probably getting antsy in the truck wondering where I am.”

“Thanks again Travis for the meal,” he said.  

“No thank you pal for saving my dog. I don’t know many guys who would jump out like that to save a dog. That was pretty awesome.”

We got up and walked out the door. Buddy could see us walking towards the truck and he started bouncing around all excited. “We’re coming Buddy. Did you miss me?” I said.   The sun was shining and the air was noticeably cooler and crisp. We got in the truck and I asked Ben where he lived.

Just past the dam I turned left besides an old store going uphill on Vimont lane through a lot of trees. We passed a couple of houses and then Ben said stop here.

“This is where I live and the rent is pretty cheap.”  It was a small white house on the edge of town just far enough away for privacy, yet close enough to walk.  Behind the property was the bank of the Hinkston Creek.“Would you like to take a quick look at my place Travis?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind,” I said.  

“Not at all. Bring Buddy too. He probably needs to go to the bathroom.”

“Yeah I’m sure he does.” Buddy was happy to jump out and get a chance to run.  We walked down the gravel path that had opened up past the trees at the entrance. Ben lived in a tiny shack. A motorcycle sat parked in front along with intricate wood carvings sitting in the front lawn. One was of a life size deer and a fawn. Another was a black bear, but I also noticed a carved crow and a woodpecker. “Oh my god! Did you make those?” I asked.

“Yeah, just messin’ around,” he said.  

“You do wonderful work Ben. You’re very talented. They have such natural poses.”

“Thanks Travis,” said Ben with a shy smile.  “It’s just my hobby. I love working with wood. Making custom furniture is part of the way I make a living. Come inside I’ll show you more.” I noticed he had a porch swing like mine. He opened his door and we walked inside. His entire front room was nothing but a workshop. He had various stages of beautiful intricately carved pieces of furniture, from tables to dressers lying about the room.  Animals and designs carved into each piece and inlays of different types of wood and metal.

“Ben, this is wonderful. You amaze me.” At the corner of this room sat a small TV set and a little worn couch. On a little coffee table he had a bong and a few beer cans.

“Would you like to smoke a bowl with me?” said Ben. “I think you’re the first guest I’ve ever had here except for my landlord, and he doesn’t know about the pot. I usually keep it hidden when he comes over. You’ll like this stuff. This is some of the pot I got from Amsterdam.” Ben pulled a small bag from behind the couch and packed the bowl on the bong. I took a hit. It smelled good and skunky. I held it in. “Good stuff huh?”

“Oh yeah smells great.” I coughed and sank back into the couch. It hit me pretty quickly. Ben tried it next. “Wow! I’m way stoned,” I said feeling my heart racing.

Ben walked to the table and got a guitar. “I love to play when I’m stoned,” he said plucking the strings to some sort of medieval sounding ballad.

“That’s a beautiful song. I’ve never heard it before.”

“This is a song written in the 14th century France. It’s a wonderful sombre tune I learned a while back. I think Bluegrass is a bit similar just in a different way,” he said adjusting one of the strings.

I settled back on his couch as he played. It was late in the day and Ben had one dim bulb that lit the entire room. It cast an eerie light that made me feel uneasy.

“They say this song is about a young man dying from the Black Death who gives the last of his money to a plague doctor,” he said plucking out the tune. Then he rambled on describing the plague. “It came without warning. And in that dreadful hour the angel of death descended upon village after village entering the homes of both of the unsuspecting. Black boils sprung up on the groins and pits of those unfortunate souls who fell into fits of fever. Entire households fell prey to the scourge where huge pits were dug on the outskirts of town and those who were able dragged the bodies of their loved ones into the street as undertakers drove a wagon calling out, “Bring out your dead!”to be unceremoniously tossed upon the piles of bodies stacked like cord wood, and then dumped in mass graves lightly covered by dirt. The unimaginable stench of the dead filling the air along the multitude of buzzing of flies. Dogs and vermin dragging out corpses to be consumed in the streets. People cried out to the heavens, ‘Woe to me, oh lord. Deliver us from this living hell.’ And plague doctors were dispatched by the local magistrates, dressed in white masks with long pointy beaks and long black robes to the homes of both rich and poor alike. Their main task was to give comfort to the dying and record the numbers of dead. Each wave of the plague coinciding with the onset of warm weather. The dead needed to be buried quickly for there was no refrigeration and the bodies would decompose rapidly.”

I was mesmerized with fear by the story he told, but when he mentioned refrigeration, I jumped up remembering I had groceries in the back of my truck. “Oh man!  I’ve got frozen meat that needs to be put in the freezer.”

“Yeah you probably should be getting home. I can go on and on when I get baked. It was really nice meeting you Travis. I had a very nice time and you should come back to visit so we can go fishing or something if you like.”

“Sure thing pal. I’ll give you my number. Maybe something soon.” I said reaching into my pocket. We exchanged numbers then Buddy and I walked to the truck. I waved goodbye. There was something mysterious and wonderful about Ben. I felt as if I’d met him before.

A few days passed and I kept wondering about Ben. I wanted to call, but thought it might seem pushy and awkward to call so soon, but I was feeling lonely. I got up the nerve and called. Ben sounded eager to meet up. He suggested we go fishing on the weekend. I was giddy with anticipation.

I woke up earlier than usual for a Saturday morning. The weatherman predicted warm and sunny afternoon highs in the 60s for the Bluegrass area with a slight chance of rain in the late afternoon. Ben sounded happy over the phone and suggested that we  go check out the fishing at Lake Carnico. Around 8:30 that morning Buddy barked and jumped at the door. A motorcycle towing a trailer roared up the gravel road kicking up dust. I opened the door and Buddy bounded out in front of me leaping and bouncing through the tall dead grass like a rabbit. Ben pulled up and dismounted his bike and Buddy greeted him with licks and a wagging tail.

“Howdy Buddy ole boy!” he said taking a knee. He wore jeans, a white t shirt, a black leather jacket and black boots.  He placed his helmet on the handlebars of his shiny black and chrome Triumph motorcycle, and swaggered towards me like a rugged James Dean.

“Howdy Ben,” I said waving from the porch.

“Hey Travis. Looks like a good day to go fishin. I brought poles, a guitar and a little smoke.”

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

“Nah, not too bad,…wow! So all this is yours?”

“Yeah, My uncle Andy left it all to me when he died. I still have a hard time believing it. I never owned anything in my life until now.”  

“That’s a big house for one guy. You must have lots of room?”

“More than I know what to do with it. Come on in and I’ll give you the tour.”

I led Ben through the front door past the front hallway into the main living room. “This is where I have been living for the past few weeks. Most of what little I have is still in boxes.”

“Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, been painting the walls and trying to fix up the kitchen. I had to buy a few things when I first got here because my aunt took all the furniture and appliances.”

While I was showing Ben around I told him about the encounter with my aunt Debbie and how they didn’t approve of my uncle’s lifestyle.

“Oh yeah? What did they not approve of?” he said.  

“Nothing bad, well maybe bad in their eyes. He just happened to be gay and was living with his boyfriend. Around here that’s a big scandal in the Bible belt.”  

“That’s so fucked up… You just don’t know how much that kinda shit pisses me off. Ughhh!” said Ben shaking his head. “Sorry, but when I hear stuff like that it just gets under my skin.”

“Well me and my family are not exactly on speaking terms.  I’ll tell you about it sometime. But you know what really pisses me off? When I called and asked aunt Debbie if there were any pictures left of uncle Andy, she said that she’d destroyed them because she didn’t want any record of the shame that he brought to the family. I find it sad that a person can so easily be erased from family history.”

Ben put his hand on my shoulder, “Travis, you knew he existed and other people who loved him knew that too. That’s probably why he left you his house and the land, because he somehow felt that he could trust you to take care of it.”

“I guess, but I hardly knew him myself.”

After giving Ben a quick tour of the house, Ben said that he stayed up late hunting nightcrawlers that he collected in a bucket. I grabbed the sandwiches and pop before heading out the door. I suggested we go in my truck. We loaded the poles and bait, and guitar from Ben’s trailer and I loaded up a couple of folding camping chairs and the food. Buddy jumped in the front seat and sat between us, but eventually sat in Ben’s lap so he could hang his head out the window.

We drove into the Lake Carnico resort off of the Maysville road on US 68. It was a pretty sunny morning but the lake was covered in a blanket of fog. A gravel road led down to the public beach where I spent many summers swimming in my youth. At the edge of the parking lot sat the same tiny shack that took admission fees and sold snacks and sodas. On the lake, past the pylons, the same wooden raft was still anchored in the same place that the older kids would hang out on and dive into the deep cool muddy water. I remember that it could be a fun place to go if you were a teenager, but it only brought back bad memories for me.

As we drove further around the lake, small A frame cabins lie tucked away among the trees. I continued to drive until we found the perfect spot hidden away from people’s yards. We parked, and grabbed what we could carry, down a small trail to the lake. The fog, still thick in spots looked nice as the sun shone through the breaks in the clouds. I set up the folding chairs and Ben assembled the poles, hooks, and the bait. Buddy was intent on jumping in the water and dove right in swimming in circles huffing and puffing. He came out of the water and shook himself getting us wet and cold. Ben shrugged it off and laughed thinking it was so funny.

“I guess I’m going to have to keep him on a leash or he’ll do nothing but go back and forth in the water and scare all the fish. He’s part Lab and Labs love the water,” I said.  

“Maybe he can go back in right before we leave,” said Ben.

He took out a night crawler and baited his hook. Then with one quick stroke, he cast the baited hook far out into the lake with a whizzing sound. He wound the line till it was taught, then set the pole up on a forked branch that he’d shoved into the mud. “Travis you want me to bait your hook?”

“No, that’s okay, I think I’ll give it a try. It’s been ages since I’ve been fishing. Before I joined the army, I’d go all the time with my friends.” I grabbed the bucket of worms and chose a big fat one and put it on my hook. “So what were you like as a kid, Ben?”

He rubbed his head looking up, “I think my parents would describe me as an obedient kid, yet I always knew I wanted to travel, play music and make art. And I’ve always felt a special kinship to animals and being in the woods as well as the ocean. After learning woodworking from my dad, I left home just after school and traveled around the country looking for work. Then I decided that I wanted to see the world and hitch hiked around eastern Europe and then Russia. The last place I lived before coming here was Belgium like I told you earlier.”

“That sounds like an exciting life. I bet you know all sorts of languages?”

“A few maybe.”

“Wow! that is amazing. I barely remember any Spanish for my high school Spanish class. I wish I knew more.”

“Well you tend to learn a lot by traveling.”

“So what  does your family think about all that traveling?” I asked.

He looked lost in thought for a second and said, “I don’t really have much family left. Maybe a few distant cousins here and there. My parents got old and died a while back. It’s just me now,” he said raising his eyebrows with a big sigh.

“I’m sorry, Ben. I guess I don’t have much left either. My mom died a few years ago and I had a brother drown in this very lake when I was just a kid.” Ben smiled and reached over and patted my shoulder.

I baited my hook and swung my pole back far behind my head and brought it forward quickly but released too late and the hook plopped with a ker-ploop a few feet in front of us.

Ben laughed and said, “You need to flick your wrist at the last second and then release. Try again.”

I tried a couple of times and finally got it right and it went whizzing out. We sat back in our camping chairs as Ben dug through his jacket pocket. A devilish grin crept across his face as he pulled out a big bag of weed.

“I thought you might want to start the morning off right.,” He said pulling out a small pipe and packing the bowl. He lit it and sucked in deep. The sweet skunky aroma filled the air as he held in the smoke  and passed the pipe to me. I took a long toke, held it in and coughed knowing I was going to be wasted.

The sun warmed things up pretty quickly. I looked over and noticed Ben took his shirt off. I was surprised he had a deep tan this early in the year. Stoned and horny, I stared at him admiring how his chest hair looked like two dark hurricanes around each nipple. Ben however stared intently at his pole, suddenly snatching it up and reeling in the line. A big dark olive catfish thrashed about as he removed the hook from its mouth. Then I noticed something quite unusual. Kneeling on the ground, he took the fish and held it between both hands. He brought his head down and kissed the fish on the head whispering some sort of prayer. I didn’t say a word, but just watched as he placed the fish in the bucket and rebaited the hook. A while later he caught another catfish and did the same thing. I didn’t say anything being that I was stoned and it seemed a bit odd to observe this strange little ritual. I had a few nibbles and tried to jerk and reel in the fish, but I didn’t have the right touch that Ben had with the fish, but I was determined to catch something. By noon Ben had caught four fish and I hadn’t caught anything. Shirtless and barefoot, he sat back in the camping chair, reclining with his hands behind his head and a slight smile on his face.

“Hey Travis, I’m ready for a sandwich, how bout you?” he said.

“Sounds like a great idea, cause I sure ain’t catching any fish.”

“Well I’m looking forward to some fried catfish dipped in cornmeal tonight and I brought my guitar in case you want to be entertained,” said Ben.

I got out the sandwiches and chips. Buddy who was sleeping under Ben’s chair jumped up as we started digging out the food. “Buddy I didn’t forget you. I brought your crunchy food.” I was pouring some of the nuggets into a bowl when Ben shouted.

“Travis! … Travis I think you have a bite!”  

I turned around and saw my pole bending and jerking. I dropped the bag and lunged for the pole. I snatched it up, gave a little yank and definitely felt something tugging at the other end.

“I think you got a fish Travis,” said Ben smiling.

I kept reeling in the line as something heavy jerked and pulled hard against me. Suddenly there was all sorts of splashing as a big green fish slapped itself on the water’s surface. Buddy was all excited wading in the water waiting anxiously for this creature to be pulled to shore.

“That’s a nice size bass you have there Travis. That might be about 10 lbs or more.”

I think he was happy that I finally caught a fish. Ben helped pull it in, took the fish and removed the hook from its mouth and repeated the the little ceremony.

Finally I asked, “So Ben, I’ve been noticing that you do that little thing with the fish. Is there any sort of meaning behind it?”

“Well, I just feel its important to honor the fish and ask for its forgiveness. I am taking a life,” said Ben looking serious.

“Do you think the fish understands?” I said.

“Probably not, but I did it not so much for the fish, but to humble myself. I may be bigger and smarter, but I’m no better than this fish. It has just as much right to be here as I do. It’s important that I always remember that.”

At first I thought Ben was a bit odd, but now I was in awe of him.

After lunch Ben stood and patted me on the shoulder. “Hey, you feel like taking a swim?”

“What? That water’s probably ice cold,” I said. “You aren’t really going in that cold ass lake today are you?”

“I sure am.  Join me if you want.” By that time Ben pulled off his jeans and stood beside me buck naked.

I looked around to see if there were other people driving by. “You know you can get arrested for public nudity.”

“Sure, but no one’s around and the water looks great.” Fearless, he stood unashamed as I stared at his lean hairy body and large flaccid penis. I was both smitten and somewhat jealous, maybe because he could do things I felt afraid to try myself. Naked in all his glory, he waded into the icy water until he was waste deep, then dove on in. He swam out a bit and I imagined the water was ice cold. Buddy followed him into the lake. I just stood on the shore watching and hoping that I would not have to go in after them in case they got hypothermia and drowned.

“It feels great!” Ben yelled waving his hand at me. I just shook my head and smiled.

After about 15 minutes or so, Ben swam back and joined me on the shore. Buddy came back long before Ben and shook himself all over me.  “That was refreshing!” he said putting on his shorts.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

We didn’t stay much longer. Ben was satisfied with his catch and I was happy just to catch a fish.  We packed up the truck and headed back to my house. That afternoon, Ben and I fried up the fish we’d caught and made coleslaw, cornbread and pinto beans. We invited Cody and Ethel to join us and seemed very taken with him the moment they met him. Ben is the type of man who can charm any women, no matter how old with his smile, giving them a little nod and a wink when he says hello. Other men want to be his friend because of his confident masculine demeanor. I envy Ben that way because I’m really not like that at all. I tend to guard my emotions and I don’t really flirt. I’m way too reserved for that. Ben’s a touchy feely kinda guy. When he meets you, he’ll shake your hand and pat your shoulder. He has this energy about him that everyone wants to be a part of it.  Even though I have this envy of him, I also feel lucky that he chose me to hang out with.

After eating dinner on the front porch, Ben played all sorts of songs on his guitar that we could all sing along to. I was surprised that Ben knew so many old songs that I had never heard before but Cody and Ethel seemed to know the words and got a big kick out of singing along. Sometimes you have one of those perfect days that seem magical and special and you never want it to end. That was just such a day.