“Until they’re hungry.”
“Oh.”
“Yep. So now we just wait...”
“But...”
“Quietly.”
Oh.
“But when will we...”
“The fish decide.”
Double oh.
Harper had no choice but to sit and wait. There was never a nibble on her line. After a while, she fell into a quiet meditation and came up with a few ideas for her plotline. Pippi curled up on the seat between them, alternating between looking around and snoozing.
At one point Harper also felt sleepy, but then she realized that she wasn’t tired. She was just relaxed. She wasn’t used to this feeling of being chill and carefree. In New York, she always felt like she needed to move. There was so much to do and see. And so many people to keep up with and compete against. There was constant movement, and she loved that racy feeling. Fishing was so boring, but maybe slowing down was good for her.
She pictured herself taking a rod down to the East River where the old-timers fished on weekends, just hanging with them, listening to their stories, and then bringing back her catch to gut and clean her fish with a big, sharp knife and cook in her tiny kitchen, her roommates gagging at the smell.
Except so far on this first voyage into the world of fishing, there was one little problem. They’d not had even a nibble on either of their lines.
The sun started to make its way to the exit, and Tommy said he was sorry they hadn’t caught anything.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“No. I’d rather wait.”
“For what?”
“Until they’re hungry.”
“But now I’m hungry.”
“How can we leave without a fish?”
“That’s the best part about fishing. There’s always tomorrow,” he said, as he packed up.
“So that’s it—we just leave?”
“We live to fish another day.”
“Whatever happened to beginner’s luck?” she asked. “I was looking forward to, like, a filet o’ something...”
“How about I make it up to you and take you to the Ugly Walleye for dinner?”
“That sounds... horrible.”
“The uglier the walleye, the better the taste. I promise—it’s good.” Tommy put their poles away, started up the engine, and got them back to shore.
AT DINNER, THEYsat outside on the patio. A local jazz trio entertained the diners, and Tommy and Harper ate their fill of walleye, lemon mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob. They hand-fed Pippi little bites off their plates as they chatted easily about growing up.
“Name your favorite board game,” he said.
“Great question. I loved Clue, but my brother always wanted to play Monopoly. You?”