Old Man and the Sea (12 page)

  
“Bring any of the papers of the time that I
was gone,” the old man said.

  
“You must get well fast for there is much
that I can learn and you can teach me everything. How much did you suffer?”

  
“Plenty,” the old man said.

  
“I’ll bring the food and the papers,” the
boy said. “Rest well, old man. I will bring stuff from the drugstore for your
hands.”

  
“Don’t forget to tell Pedrico the head is
his.”

  
“No. I will remember.”

  
As the boy went out the door and down the
worn coral rock road he was crying again.

  
That afternoon there was a party of tourists
at the Terrace and looking down in the water among the empty beer cans and dead
barracudas a woman saw a great long white spine with a huge tail at the end
that lifted and swung with the tide while the east wind blew a heavy steady sea
outside the entrance to the harbour.

  
“What’s that?” she asked a waiter and
pointed to the long backbone of the great fish that was now just garbage
waiting to go out with the tide.

  
“Tiburon,” the waiter said.
“Shark.”
He was meaning to explain what had happened.

  
“I didn’t know sharks had such handsome,
beautifully formed tails.”

  
“I didn’t either,” her male companion said.

  
Up the road, in his shack, the old man was
sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by
him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.

The
End