I smile. I’m glad I could do this for my friend. I’m glad I get to see him in his element.
“You’re so good at this,” I say. “But I suck.”
“Lemme help you,” he says, taking a step sideways toward me.
I stick my tongue into the corner of my mouth, right where my lips meet. “Nah. I don’t want to get poked again. I’ve had enough for one day.”
“No poking, promise. Here.” Beau takes off his sunglasses and hands them to me. “The polarized lenses will help you see the fish better. That’s step one.”
I notice he’s letting his scruff grow out on his neck.
I like it, this laid-back, PTO version of Beau.
“Larry, is he right?”
Larry looks at us and smiles. “Yes ma’am, he sure is.”
I take off my own sunglasses. Beau grabs them from me and slides them into one of the seventy pockets on his fishing vest thing.
I put on Beau’s glasses. The fish swirling around my ankles are suddenly—almost magically—visible. I can even see the way the sun glints off their scales.
“Step two. You gotta loosen your wrist a bit.”
“What? How—”
“Can I?” Beau holds up his free hand.
“Okay,” I say, swallowing a spark of anticipation at the thought of Beau touching me again. “Show me how to do this sports ball thing.”
“No balls involved in this sport, I’m afraid.”
“Shoot. I just got a lot less interested in fishing.”
Larry lets out a bark of laughter.
The water swishes around Beau’s legs as he positions himself behind me. Awareness rips through my body, gathering in my shoulders of all places, pulling them back. This settles my shoulder blades against Beau’s chest. It’s almost as if there’s an invisible string between my back and his front, keeping us close.
He covers my hand with his on the rod. His palm feels warm and calloused against my skin. He folds his fingers around mine, tightening his grip.
“Step three, be patient with it. Soft touch,” he says, and together we cast a line into the middle of the creek, right where the fish are gathering.
He guides the pole a little to the left, a little to the right. The world is quiet around us, but my heart is thundering in my chest. For a second, I close my eyes because it’s all just too damn much.
Here it is, the break I needed more than I knew.
The pleasure, too.
It’s the pleasure of being with my dear friend. The pleasure of allowing myself to be cared for.
The pleasure of enjoying the day, rather than just surviving it.
Even with Beau’s help, it takes a while before I feel the tug on my line. I gasp at the fish that flips on the surface of the water. Beau shushes me, a smile in the sound, and together we begin to reel in the fish, tipping the rod up, up again. Beau’s grip is still firm on mine, and pleasure hums in my veins. A big smile spreads across my face as I net the fish, a decently sized one this time, just like Larry taught me. I even hold the fish in my hands, trying very hard not to gag at the slimy feel of it.
We release it back into the creek.
My shoulder bumps into Beau’s chest as I give him a high five.
“Now you try on your own,” he says, setting me up with another minnow as bait. “I’ll be right here if you need help.”
I glance at him over my shoulder. “But—”
“Nope.” He nods at my pole. Rod. Whatever the fuck you’re supposed to call it. “You got this.”
You got this. Beau said the same thing to me when I talked to him after my PPD diagnosis.
I probably don’t, but it’s worth a shot anyway.
Taking a deep breath—my back brushes against his front again—I turn around and get to it. I peer into the water through Beau’s glasses, then cast my line where I see fish gathering.
“Remember to be patient,” Beau murmurs. “There’s no forcing it. Just feel your way through.”
It’s hard to take that advice when his attention is wholly focused on me. Larry’s, too.
But I keep breathing. Keep waiting. Seconds slide by in splashes of water, the chirp of a bird.
And then, just when I’m getting frustrated, the tug comes.
I go through the motions Beau showed me. I reel in the fish, patient. I get my net ready. Patient. I drop it, of course, but Beau is there to grab it for me before the creek washes it away. Our fingers brush as I take it from him.
I net the fish again, although I don’t hold it this time. It’s another brook trout, a little bigger than before.
“See?” Beau leans over my shoulder. “You did it.”
“I did.” I’m grinning like an idiot, but I don’t care. “Holy shit, I did! Although I got an assist, so…not sure if this counts as a solo catch?”