Page 50 of Catch
“Keep the tip up!” Miles said, reaching out to steady the rod.
“The tip is up!” I yelled back, my arms shaking from the effort. “What is this thing, a shark?”
“It’s a bass,” he said, clearly trying not to laugh. “And it’s not that big.”
“How do you know?” It wasn’t like we could see what it was yet. For all we knew, it could have been Moby Dick himself.
“Because I know how much the rod and line can handle. If it were any bigger than twenty pounds, it’d have broken the line.”
Suddenly, the fish broke the surface, thrashing wildly as water sprayed everywhere. Just like Miles suggested, it wasn’t ashark, nor was it that large, but it was still fighting me as I tried to reel him in.
Miles lunged with the net as I got it closer, managing to scoop it just as the line snapped. Quickly, he took the hook out and then held it up triumphantly, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Got it!”
I collapsed onto the bench, panting. “That was… not relaxing.”
Miles laughed, holding the fish up in the net for me to see. “Say hello to your first catch, Lox.”
The fish stared at me with its dumb fish face, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hello, Gerald.”
“Gerald?” Miles repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“He looks like a Gerald,” I said matter-of-factly.
Miles shook his head, still smiling as he got closer. “Want to hold him?”
“I think the fuck not,” I panicked, holding up a hand to keep it a way. “You can let him go.”
“You don’t want to burn him?” Miles teased.
“I can’t look my fish in the eye and then have him for dinner.”
“Can you at least hold the net and let me get a picture of you? It's tradition to hold up the fish like a trophy.”
I grabbed the net, holding it as far away from my body as I could and trying not to gag as it flopped around. Seafood was my favorite, but I doubt I ever ate another fish and didn’t think about Gerald.
“Got it,” Miles snapped a picture with his phone, then slid it back into his pocket. He took the fish from my hands, gently taking it from the net and letting it go back into the lake.
“I think I may quit seafood,” I explained.
“This is lake-food,” he shrugged.
“Whatever,” I laughed, sitting back on the bench and taking a deep, relieved breath. “I need a new hobby.”
“What?” he laughed, sitting back down next to me. “Catching fish isn’t going to be your thing either?”
“I’m sorry, I tried.”
“I’m just glad I got to share something I love with you, Lox.”
“What’s something else you love? I can try that.”
“What’s something you thinkyoumay love?” He asked in return.
I pulled my knees up, wrapped my arms around them, and rested my chin on top as I thought about what he’d asked.
What do I even like to do? Music had always been my answer to everything. What do you love? Music. Who are you? Music. It wasn’t a lie. I loved it, but part of the reason I ran from the tour was because I’d forgotten how to justbe withoutit.
I stared out at the water and let my mind wander. What else could I do? Painting? That would probably end in disaster. Sewing? I’d poke a hole in my finger, guaranteed. Hiking? Maybe, if I had the right outfit.
