We all have true stories we like to tell over and over again. Here’s one of mine, recreated as a scene from the 11th summer of my childhood life.

“Eddie’s at the door,” Mom said. “He asked me if you could go fishing with him at New Market Pond.”

“Can I go, Mom?”

“Yes, but remember what your father says. You’d better be home before the streetlight comes on.”

“OK, Mom!”

With fishing rods in hands, Eddie and I rode our bikes to the train trestle under the Washington Avenue bridge, where we could cast dough balls rolled with our fingers from stale bread. We had no bites for a while. I heard a freight train come rumbling from the tracks behind us. I looked behind me and there Eddie stood, throwing rocks at the passing railroad cars, his usual thing when the fish weren’t biting.

“I got one!” I shouted, reeling in a foot-long carp. Suddenly, Eddie appeared next to me with a dough ball planted on his hook.

“Got one!” he shouted. In the next hour, we caught carp and catfish by the barrel full. The sun soon dropped out of the sky.

“I gotta go,” I said. “My dad will kill me if I’m not home before dark.”

“Why?” Eddie asked. “You gotta stay. We gotta try to catch a red carp.”

“Don’t you have to get home?” I asked.

“Nah, my old man don’t care. He never knows where I am anyway. Got another one!”

I stayed. We kept catching fish in search for the elusive red carp. It was on the edge of darkness when I jumped on my bike and headed home. Dad was going to kill me. I pulled into the driveway. The streetlight was on so I decided to make up a story. I got my fake cry on my face as I walked through the back screen door.

“I’m scared! I think that man is coming after me!” I screamed.

“What man?” asked Mom, with worry painted on her face.

“I was riding home before it got dark and this man drove up to me and he told me to get off my bike and get in his car. He kept following me. I pedaled as fast as I could. I turned down all these back streets to ditch him, but every time I looked behind me there was his car.”

I was hitching my breath in full fake mode now. Dad sat across the kitchen table, staring me down.

“Oh, my God! What did he look like?” Mom asked. I wasn’t ready for that question, but something came to mind.

“He was really ugly,” I said though my sobs. “He had a long scar on his face, missing teeth and when he rolled down the window, I could smell his stinky breath.”

Mom turned around and looked at Dad.

“He’s lying,” said Dad.

“I’m calling the police,” said Mom. “We have to report this. That man might be dangerous and he tried to kidnap our son.”

My heart fell from chest. I looked at Dad, hoping he would talk Mom out of calling the cops. About 10 minutes later, a policeman walked into the kitchen. I was in full-blown real tears now. If I told him the whole thing was a lie, Dad would be taking off his belt and telling me to go to my room and get ready for the whooping. Mom told the story to the policeman who kept looking at me. I wanted to lie down and die. Thoughts of running away from home or asking Eddie if I could come and live with him crossed my mind.

“Mrs. Strack, can I have a word with your son in another room?” He stood face to face with me in the living room.

“You made it all up, didn’t you?” he asked. I nodded my head while wiping the back of my hand across my wet face.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I like to fish, too. Follow me back into the kitchen.

“Mr. and Mrs. Strack, I have written a full description of this man and I assure you we will be on the lookout for him. And if we should find him, I will let you know.” Just before he left, he turned around at the door.

“Did you catch any red carp?” he asked me. I shook my head. “I caught one in the same spot you were at when I was a kid. Really cool. I hope you get lucky and catch one someday.”

Out into the black of night he went. Mom gave me a big hug. Dad glared at me with suspicious eyes. He got up and left the kitchen.

“You poor boy,” said Mom. “Sit down at the table.” She opened the freezer.

There I sat eating a soup bowl full of vanilla, chocolate and strawberry ice cream covered with banana slices, chocolate syrup and whipped cream. I had escaped the belt. Instead, I got a big spoon to dive into an ice cream sundae. While I ate, I looked out the window. There was Eddie riding his bike under the streetlight going to his home around the block.

Many years later, after Dad had died, I sat across the same kitchen table from Mom. I decided to come clean and tell her the truth about that night. She looked at me with amazement.

“I didn’t catch a red carp, but my fake story got me a bowl of ice cream,” I said.

I laughed and Mom just shook her head.

Email Rich Strack at richiesadie11@gmail.com