Fiction – Page 2

One for the Road by Brian Woodall

As I readied my gun and made sure it was loaded I leaned my back against the tree just as
I have done many times. While I sat in wait I started to reminisce about the past and I questioned
how many more times would I make it back here. As the sounds of the forest graced my ears I
sat in tune simply wondering how many times this had happened before. It seemed like only
yesterday when my grandpa took me to this tree for the first time and told me to aim towards the
river, as he walked to the other side of the tree line and fired a shot, out dashed a 6 point buck. Of
which a young spry 11 year old me took aim, and with excitement filling my body head to toe I
felled my first deer. With my ears ringing from the shot I realized I was trembling with
excitement, and then I looked over to see grandpa walking towards me with a smile that went ear
to ear, he said to me “ Damn good job Jason ”. I will never forget all those days grandpa and I
went hunting year after year, but no matter how well we did he was always happy to spend some
time with me and I him, hunting for us was a mere excuse as we would spend time in his cabin
drinking soda, playing card games, and cooking food. As those times came and went grandpa
always put his all into each time leaving me looking forward to them all as they would highlight
my year, but as each year passed he got slower and slower until I had turned 21.
10 years passed since our first hunting trip would mark our last one. Thinking about it he
seemed to realize that would be the case as instead of soda and card games he brought some aged
whiskey, something his grandpa would drink back in Ireland where he was from. He sat down in
a handmade chair that I helped him make when I was merely 8 years old. He then proceeded to
pour two glasses, and handed one to me. I looked at him with a forced smile as I felt my heart
reach for my throat, he then told me “All these years have gone and went good or bad no matter
the case we always made it back here, one day it will be for the last time but rather than cry at
them for being gone send em off with pride let them know they did well.” As I drank the whisky I
felt my body reject it and heard my grandpa chuckle, and said “at least you won't get hooked on
it because that stuff’s expensive”. As I laughed at his joke I didn't think too much of it, rather I
just sought to enjoy the fact that I got another trip with him. Then Barely a month after that trip
grandpa passed away in his sleep leaving me devastated, as my fiance tried to comfort me I said
I’d trade anything just to go one more time. It was then his words rang through my head, and
once I collected myself I went over to the kitchen and poured two glasses of whiskey, one for
me, and one for him as I drank the glass, this time it tasted amazing as it felt like I was drinking
it with him again as tears gathered in my eyes I promised I wouldn't let one more fall in his name
and send him off with nothing but pride.
As the years continued to go by I always did my best to make my way back out there to
grandpa’s cabin even asked dad to come with me a few times, but he always declined saying he
didn’t want to go back there again as he didn’t have such a good memory of that place. For in his
youth my grandfather was a soldier in the war, and was part of the force that landed on Omaha
beach. Even after the war ended dad always said part of him was left overseas, and it was the
part of him you would’ve wanted to know. The war started when dad was 10 so dad didn’t see
grandpa for four long years, and when he did come back he was a shell of the man he once was.
That caused a rift to grow between them and once dad moved out he rarely contacted him until I
was born years later. But unlike most of the soldiers that came back broken, grandpa was
eventually able to better himself, for dad it was too little too late. I think grandpa realized that he
could never truly make up with his son, so he did whatever he could with me and gave me some
of the best times of my life. As my trance was snapped by a sudden break in the peace I noticed a deer slowly start to trot out of the grove of trees, I took notice of the deer slowly going towards
the salt lick at the edge of the trees I readied my gun preparing to take the shot I squeezed the
trigger and the deer didn’t make it but 10 feet from where it stood. Another clean shot I muttered
to myself as I stood up and walked towards where the deer fell. The deer wasn’t a very
impressive one, it was just a doe of average size. If grandpa were here he would’ve told me to
just let it walk. Under most circumstances I would’ve done just that, but today was special. I
began to drag the deer towards the truck and my mind started to wonder again I started
wondering more and more what went through grandpa’s head as we went hunting time and time
again. Dad was always reluctant to let me go as he still held bits of malice towards him, and I
had used to think that he was being ridiculous, but as times went and I learned more about
grandpa’s history with dad it seemed I was blessed with youthful bliss and ignorance. I snapped
back to reality again as I reached my truck and lifted the deer into the back of it as the truck
spurred I started to head back to the cabin and when I arrived I was greeted by my son waiting
outside for me to return. “Did you get one dad?” he said with eagerness then I watched his eyes
lit up as I showed him the fruits of today's hunt.

“How do you think we should cook it tonight I asked”.

“Burgers, Wait no enchiladas ya enchiladas”.

“Enchiladas it is then, go tell your mother what were making tonight”

I watched as he ran off eagerly inside and a smile broke out on my face. Man it seems like only
yesterday I was at the hospital waiting room nervously waiting for the doctors to give me news.
Now 9 years later I sit at the very same cabin I spent all those years at with grandpa. Before I
took to skinning the deer I went inside to grab two little shot glasses and walked over to a
handmade cross that was implanted in the ground; I set one of the glasses down in front of the
cross and then reached for the flask that was attached to my belt and poured whiskey in the glass
on the ground and then the one in my hand.

“ It seems like just yesterday we went on that hunt for the first time, I’ll try and make you proud when I see you again just promise you’ll have 2 glasses poured when that time comes ”.