Bait & Tackle

Marry Raybun awakens fighting for her life, gasping for air, in her medical bed at Walnut Square Assisted Living Facility. Nurses and aides surround her bed trying to reassure her, but fail. Marry soon realizes were she is and calms down. “Get out of my room,” cries Marry at everyone. “Would you like some medicine?” asks a nurse “I don’t want anything from you people, just leave me alone,” demands Marry, still gasping for air. The next morning, on a twelve acre catfish farm in the middle of south Georgia, Amanda Raybun sits at her kitchen island painting her finger nails stop light red; thinking about a conversation she had earlier that morning with a man she believes may be her half brother. The phone rings, she closes up the nail polish bottle, and stands up from the bar stool and answers the phone to hear a familiar soft voice. “This is Susan from Walnut Square Assisted Living Facility.” “Hey Susan, this is Amanda.” “Hey Amanda”, says Susan, “I am calling to let you know that your aunt is ready for her doctor’s appointment, and that she didn’t have a good night last night.” “What happened?” asks Amanda, in a concerned voice. “Marry had some night terrors, at first we thought she had drifted into the past again, but then we realized she was still asleep.” “Do you know what it was about?” asks Amanda. “No honey,” says Susan sympathetically, “but what ever it was must have been pretty bad. She punched a nurse and kept grabbing at her neck, like she was choking, when she finally woke up all she could do was breathe, like she couldn’t get enough air. But, she seems fine this morning, she doesn’t even remember anything from last night,” says Susan in a calming voice. “Well thank you for letting me know,” says Amanda, fluffing her curly dark red hair. “Will you tell Aunt Marry that I’ll be there shortly?” “You know how impatient she can be.” “Sure thing,” says Susan reassuringly, “we’ll see you in a bit.” As Amanda hangs up the phone she hears a familiar voice and looks toward the end of the island to the swinging kitchen door, and sees a tall skinny black woman, with dark black curly hair shaping her face. “Hey girl, I thought you’d be up and gone by now,” says Debbie, walking into the kitchen. “I’m fix’n to be,” says Amanda. Gently placing her hand on the bar stool sitting down looking Debbie in her dark brown eyes, asking “Is your nephew still going to run the booth this summer?” “Yeah, but he won’t be nothing like Albert. Those people are going to pull up down there expecting to see a white country boy, and instead see a black ass punk,” says Debbie, as they both laugh. “I’m sure he’ll do fine. Do they know what Albert was doing in your house?” asks Amanda, looking at Debbie pouring a cup of coffee. “Honey, the only thing the FBI has told us is that they are taking over cause some accelerant used to start the fire is the same homemade accelerant that the Boston City Arsonist has been using.” “Well, ya'll are welcome to stay here as long as you need to there’s plenty of room.” “We really do appreciate it and I think Adam likes being back in his old room,” says Debbie