A houseboat. Finegan Fine

fish?

The manager says,

We don’t have a pier. Don’t have a boat. And

except for myself, who could manage it? They’d

drown trying. . . We do have a pole and line.

Some relative would come for a visit and haul a

resident off to some riverbank for a picnic. So

we had a pole and line on hand. . . But I can’t

leave. I’m the only one here. . . Plus my day

is long enough as is.

Just then one of the female cats saunters up with a dead rat in its

mouth and drops it at the manager’s feet. The manager leans forward to

praise and pet the cat.

Why thank you Mitzy! That’s a beautiful gift!

______________________________

The peace on the main street has been shattered by the sound of lumber

being pulled apart, nails loosened but still holding and complaining as

boards are pulled apart. The mayor comes to his window to see what’s

going on.

Hey! You can’t take that! That belongs to

someone.

Finegan appears in a window near where his canoe has been tied. The

window has been pushed out for easy access. He sticks his head out the

window to yell back.

So sue me. . . How come you’re not helping that

woman up there tending the old folks?

The mayor gets a disgusted look on his face and flaps his hand again in

the direction of Finegan, as though dismissing him, and turns to

shuffle back into his apartment. Lumber pieces start flying out of the

window – studs and railings and numerous floorboards, splashing as it

hits the water. In the background there is more hammering as Finegan is

retrieving nails as he dismantles the building.

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The oldsters in the garden are all shock still, their jaws a bit agape,

heads turned in the direction of the noise, listening to the sound of

construction.

______________________________

That evening the manager, Finegan and Joey, and several of the oldsters

in wheelchairs or clinging to walkers are looking out over the water in

a beautiful sunset. A floating pier can be seen, with a long ramp down

to the pier accessible by wheelchairs. Former 6” wide hardwood floor

boards from one of the old flooded town buildings, torn from the floor

of the second floor, are used as the pier bed and lengthwise as a ramp

to the floating pier. As the water raises, the pier will too.

Posts from an interior railing are placed along the side of the ramp

and pier, with rope strung between the posts as guardrails. The whole

lot is irregular, the posts painted white, the floor boards a scuffed

brown, and the rope of varying thickness. Finegan did not have a saw so

the ends of boards stick out at the end of the pier. Studs have been

hammered along the top of the pier bed, along the edges, as wheelchair

guards. Some chairs from the raided second story apartment are placed

here and there for those coming to fish on walkers.

The manager looks sideways at Finegan, who is standing beside her. She

says,

You must stay for supper. And I think the

residents have some seed they want to share

with you. They don’t see much family these

days. In fact, not in over a year.

Then realizing what he must be expecting for supper, she whispers.

Tonight, it’ll just be vegetable soup!

Finegan whispers back.

No, no, have your usual! I’m fine with that!

Then, turning to the residents grouped around her, the manager says,

We may not have TV any longer, but now, during

these beautiful sunsets, we can do some

fishing! Does anyone remember what we used for

bait? John, do you remember? Worms. Yes, it was

worms from the garden!

______________________________

Finegan and Joey are coming through the fog, approaching the houseboat

where it is moored below the nursing home complex. Finegan has a clear

plastic bag filled with little zip lock bags of various seeds, hand

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labeled and dated. All is taped watertight. Barney is barking in

greeting, his tail wagging. Finegan says,

Better tuck this high and dry.

Joey reaches down to pet Barney, appreciating the fact that he is not

evasive as the cats were. Joey tells Barney,

You wouldn’t have wanted any of that soup

anyway, buddy. Just yucky vegetables. . .

Joey stands up and looks around for some leftovers from breakfast to

give Barney, taking them from a covered frying pan atop a box. Barney

snatches the fried potatoes from his hand and gobbles them down. Joey

says,

Just old people food. They didn’t have much.

Just dead rats.

Finegan smiles as he puts away the package of seeds, and