A Trek of A Storyteller

Ch.16: Goodbyes

Before either could leave, both hesitant to abandon the other, Jack pulled the boy aside to a small corner of the pub where a young bartender was cleaning the counter. A single light shed warm light over them, casting long shadows on the ground.

"Here's where I see ye off, lad," Jack said, kneeling before him. "Now ye just tell 'em o'er there that yer a son o' Jack an' they'll understand," he nodded, convincing himself. Skylos nodded and Jack ruffled his hair. "Good lad," he smiled sadly. "Ye take this," he handed the boy a small leather watch. It had a small square cut out on the face with a small 24. The date. "Ye'll always know what day it is. An' remember, lad, when ye've had yer fun at sea ye just come on back ta Ol' Jack's place an' yer guitar an' a warm meal an' a bed will be waitin' fer ye," his voice broke and there was a moment's silence as Jack put the watch on the boy's wrist and they admired it before Skylos threw himself into a hug.

"Thank you for everything, Jack," he whispered before he stood again. "We may have only known each other for a short time but you have given me more than a roof and a meal. I will remember you always for your kindness, Jack. I will always remember my sea dad," Skylos smiled. A tear slipped down his cheek and Jack wiped it away again, just as gently.

"Ye put it much better than I could, lad. Ye'll be a fine sailor, ye will," Jack pulled the boy into a hug once again. "I fear I may 'ave ta be gone now, else I'll ne'er leave. Ye'll 'ave us both bawlin' ye will," he laughed and wiped at his own eyes.

"Safe travels, Jack," the boy was crying harder now, tears coming too fast to wipe away. "Goodbye," he cried, smiling despite himself.

"Goodbye, lad," Jack smiled. "Safe travels, indeed," he added. Skylos watched as Jack hopped onto the wagon, lightly smacking Captain Kidd with the reins and set off. Jack looked back once, raised his hand in farewell and Skylos raised his own hand, mirroring him.

"What's your name?" Skylos startled and turned to find the old man had hobbled over to him. The old man was missing his leg below the knee, a wooden peg where it should be and carried a twisted cane in his hand.

"I am just the son of Jack," the boy replied. The man nodded thoughtfully, stroking his beard.

"Pleased to meet you, Jackson," he said deliberately, and the boy decided that he liked that name. He would never leave Jack now; he would be forever reminded of the first person to show him kindness. His sea dad. Skylos, now Jackson, wiped away the rest of his persistent tears from his cheeks.

"What is your name, sir?" the boy asked. The old man chuckled kindly.

"I am just an old man with his heart set on the sea," he spoke wistfully. The boy studied the man for a moment, tilting his head.

"Pleased to meet you, Old Man Hemingway," he finally said with a tone that could only be described as lace blowing in the wind, sticking out his hand for a handshake. Old Man Hemingway took his hand, enveloping it in his own hand. The boy was shocked at how gentle the man's hand was, given how rough and calloused it felt.

"Old Man Hemingway?" the old man questioned, a humorous glint in his gaze.

"Yes sir, like The Old Man and The Sea," Jackson said, lip twitching up in a half smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Storyteller," Old Man Hemingway whispered, winking at the boy before letting go of his hand and hobbling back to his seat in the corner. Jackson followed after a moment, sitting across from the old man patiently while they sat in companionable silence, saying more than either of them could have said in words.