Page 13 of Sea La Vie
I look down at my t-shirt, shorts, and sandals—all recent finds from the town’s thrift store—and back to her in a pair of bright orange insulated waders and beanie. “You told me we were fishing and then heading over to the hardware store for supplies,” I counter. It takes all my effort to hide a shiver. I thought it would be warmer than this. It’s summertime on the North Carolina coast afterall.
“We are. We’ll fish on the way over until about sunrise when the hardware store opens. Then, we’ll fish on the way back. Here, throw these on.” She disappears into the cabin for a moment then reappears with a set of waders, identical to hers. She tosses them to me and says, “They’re my brother’s, but he never uses them. You should be about the same size.”
I jump onto the boat and pull the waders over my shorts, instantly grateful for the warmth. Lainey effortlessly moves around the boat, checking gauges and levels before untying us from the dock, and I can’t help but watch her. She makes it look so easy, almost like it’s a dance. I scan the boat for the little furry dog that peppered me in kisses the other night. “Where’s your dog?”
“Midge isn’t an early riser. She’s probably still sound asleep under the covers.”
I smile at that. “Smart dog. So, what kind of fishing are we doing exactly?” She expertly steers the boat out of the slip, then the marina, and I marvel at how she makes it seem like second nature. She doesn’t seem the least bit nervous.
“Typically we fish for tuna, but we’ll take anything we can get at this point,” she says.
I nod, as if that makes perfect sense to me. My only experience with tuna is when I eat it straight from the pouch when I’m headed to the gym, or as a steak seared rare.
“Is this your dad’s boat from back in the day?” I ask, surveying the ship around me—tidy and neat despite the rust and chipping paint—understanding whoever it belongs to runs a tight ship, literally.
“Yeah,” she says simply. “It’s the same one he’s always used.” She speeds up and the salty air caresses my skin. It still has a chill to it and I sink further into the insulated waders, thankful they cut out most of the wind.
Finally, she slows and tosses over the anchor. I feel helpless and in the way, unsure of what to do, while I watch her set the poles. By the time she’s finished, the sun is beginning to ascend—waking up the waves by softly kissing them—and stretching its pink rays out across the sky.Soft kisses.I glance at Lainey and wonder if she’s ever thought of that one and only kiss between us during our very last summer together.
“I saved the last one for you. You think you can handle it?” She holds out a chunk of fish that smells like it came straight from the trash can and nods toward an empty hook dangling from a pole.
I eye the fish skeptically, and she notices my hesitance by acknowledging it with a smirk. Reluctantly, I hold out my hand, and she drops the slimy chunk into it as I hold back a cringe.
She does thisfor fun? And somehow comes out of it smelling like sunshine and vanilla? I’m already dreaming of the showerI’m going to take when I get back, even if Lucille limits me to a solid three minutes because “the cost of water ain’t cheap.”
I busy my mind with baiting the hook rather than focusing on how disgusting it is and choke back my gags. Finally, I step back and arch an eyebrow at my work. “Looks pretty great to me.”
“Not too bad for a first timer,” Lainey agrees.
“I think you’re forgetting that Grandpa took us fishing every summer,” I say. And while I loved it then, the thought of touching a slimy fish now gave me the ick, but I won’t tell her that.
She nods in approval then turns to look at me. Her face contorts quickly into one of disgust. “Next time, get a pair of gloves though, you weirdo.” She releases the line into the water with a soft buzz, just as I notice the gloves she must’ve set out for me sitting on the edge of a cooler.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I assure her, regardless of the heat that’s climbing up my neck. I don’t know why I’m so determined to prove to her that the city hasn’t changed methatmuch. I can do what she does and be fine. She cocks her head dubiously then points inside the cabin.
“There’s a sink in there if you change your mind.”
Another wave of the stench floats past and I cave. “I’m going to go see if I can fit my entire body into it,” I mutter, and Lainey bursts into laughter. Maybe my embarrassment is worth it if I get to hear her laugh like that. It’s a sound I didn’t know my soul needed until I heard it again last night. Now, I’m an addict, constantly chasing more of it, more Lainey, more everything. I shuffle past her and plunge my hands into the sink.
When I’m finished, I find Lainey at the edge of the boat, staring out at the horizon. She’s mostly turned toward the water, and I’m momentarily taken aback at how beautiful she is. The wind is blowing back what messy waves her hat hasn’t contained, and a soft smile sits below high cheekbones. Herarms sit across her chest and she’s leaning against the side of the boat, one long leg stretched out across the other. The sun begins to extend its warmth, and I watch as Lainey sheds her beanie, then sits down and stretches her neck to the sky, letting out a breath of air.
“How often do you come out here?” I ask, joining her.
“Well, for the past few months, I’ve been coming out everyday. Or every day that the weather lets me, more accurately.”
“Why?” I can’t help but ask. “Do you…work anywhere?”
She arches an eyebrow and shoots me a pointed look. “What makes you think thisisn’t my job?” She turns from me and points her head back toward the sun, closing her eyes.
I run my hands through my hair, eyeing her carefully. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious, that’s all.”
She straightens her spine and sets her jaw, as if expecting a fight. “Well, it is. I fish for a living. For now, at least.” She cracks an eye open and peers over at me.
Out of all the things I thought she did for a living, this was not one of them. I had imagined her as a nurse, a barista, basically anything other than fishing. “For now?” I can’t help but ask. “Do you have plans of doing something else in the future?”
“Time to get moving,” she says, ignoring my question. “Nothing’s biting here and we’re wasting time. The sooner you get your family’s cottage fixed up, the sooner you get to leave, right?”
I frown, wondering why the sudden change in topic and cold attitude. “I don’t know when I’m leaving,” I say. “But the sooner I get the cottage liveable again, the sooner I’m not sharing a living space with Lucille, and right now that’s all I’m really worried about.”
