Page 76 of Our Own Light

“If there are any fish stupid enough to swim right up to the shore here, they’ll be in for a surprise,” Ollie remarked.

Floyd liked that Ollie could tease himself, but sometimes, he wished Ollie would compliment himself more, too.

“For a first cast, that was pretty decent.”

“Yeah?” Ollie perked up a little. “Guess I’m a natural, then.”

Gosh, now he couldn’t resist a tease, either. “Yeah, as soon as you learn how to touch a worm, you’ll be the second-best fisherman for miles.”

“Hmmm... we’re miles away from civilization, aren’t we?”

“Just about.”

“Wow, so I’m not currently second best even though there are only two of us out here, huh?”

“Nah, I think the worm has you beat. He’s working way harder than you are.”

“Floyd!” Ollie scolded through a laugh. “Don’t make me feel even worse for him!”

Now Floyd was laughing, too. “Sorry.” He came closer to Ollie and bumped him with his elbow. “I was only trying to be funny, by the way. I hope you know I think the world of you.”

“Yeah,” Ollie said, beaming up at him. “I know.”

For the next half hour, the two of them relaxed near the stream’s edge, sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, listening to the burbling water and the intermittent croaks of bullfrogs.

Eventually, Ollie started talking about the kinds of activities he had enjoyed back in Cleveland and New York. Other than reading, Ollie liked playing instruments, mostly piano, like he had told Floyd before, but cello, too. Floyd liked to listen to him talk about music. He wished the two of them could play together someday. Ollie was probably a talented piano player, especially since it sounded like he had practiced so often for so long. It’d be nice to play music with someone. Matt had never been interested in all that.

As soon as the thought entered Floyd’s head, it felt like a battering ram had struck him in the chest. He couldn’t believe he had thought such a terrible thing. It was like he was saying that Ollie was better than Matt, but Ollie wasn’t better. He wasn’t worse neither. Ollie was Ollie. Matt was Matt. Comparing them wouldn’t lead nowhere.

A faint roar of thunder rumbled overhead, rolling in from miles away. Floyd looked up to see some clouds coming in. Even though it would probably be a while before the storm arrived, it was a nicely timed excuse for heading back. After having caught himself comparing Matt and Ollie, Floyd wasn’t really in the mood for fishing no more.

“Hey, Ollie, I reckon we ought to head back,” he said, pointing up at the sky. “Storm clouds are a-coming.”

Ollie frowned. “Neither of us caught anything.”

“Oh well. I was plenty excited for beans and cornbread,” Floyd said. “I like fish, but mostly, I like being out here, listening to the water.”

“Well, I mucked that up, too, by rambling about my music lessons.”

“I liked listening to you talk about all that,” Floyd said, setting his pole by his feet so that he could pull Ollie close. “I hope I can hear you play sometime.”

“Maybe I’ll look into buying myself a piano, then.”

Floyd kissed Ollie softly on the lips. “I could put some money toward it. Just need me some time to save up.”

Ollie nuzzled Floyd’s nose. “See? You’re a total sweetheart. Even though you murdered a poor worm for no reason.”

“Not no reason.”

“Did we catch any fish?” Ollie asked, and Floyd leveled a look. “See? No reason.”

“Come on, silly,” Floyd said. “Let’s head back.”

Floyd ripped his dead worm off the hook and tossed it into the stream. While the water was still rippling from the tiny splash, Floyd turned to see Ollie carefully removing his own worm from the hook.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Ollie said to the worm. “We tried.”

Watching Ollie gingerly set the worm atop the nearby patch of bluestem grass, Floyd’s breathing turned shallow, the sudden heaviness in his chest preventing him from more. He had to close his eyes for a few seconds, to muster the strength to lift the weight of tenderness that had settled upon his shoulders. Ollie’s niceness was still too heavy for him sometimes.

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