The Boy Who Had Fish, Part II

The Macbook that had always provided him with warmth and security now cast a dead glow upon his face. The cursor of the word processor flashed in steady rhythm, a metronome for the melody of impending disaster. He thought of his daughter, yet unborn, and wondered aloud How will she know me?
He tried to keep a grasp on his mind, yet is slipped and turned figure eights into thoughts of marlin, snapper, tuna, grouper, and guppies. Even now, with the world about to know of his secret, he couldn’t help but think of the countless fish he had. Then it struck him in an instant, an epiphany of resolution, of absolution! A rush of air hit is stomach, inflating it with a vision of liberty. He moved with purpose from behind the laptop which now shown like a lighthouse to a sailor lost in the fog.
He gathered the letters. He read them. He made notes of times, dates, names. He quickly booked a flight. Then he called in a favor.
Sara James was beautiful. She was brilliantly smart. And she was wildly loud. But she was the only person right now who could help Luke. He knew her from college. Being that it was a very small liberal arts school, they knew each other well. Luke had always harbored a bit of jealously over Sara James’ love of another friend, Jonathan Tew. Jonathan was handsome, popular, and talented. However, this would be Luke’s ticket to acknowledgement. As the phone rang he wondered what he would say. What would she say? How could he tell her his situation? Then click..

“Hello?”
“Sara?”
“What the fuck do you want Luke?”
“Nice to hear from you too.”
“What the fuck do you want Luke?”
“Could you meet me in Manhattan ?”
“New York?! Luke you live in Alabama! You stupid piece of shit.”
“Sara, please.”
“Where? Ass.”
“ The Bronx. Hunts Point. 800 Food Center Drive. Don’t tell anyone.”