Page 32 of Pretty Wild
She looks on, curiously. “Don’t all dogs know how to swim?”
I shrug my shoulders and adjust my ball cap. “I’ve never owned a dog, but the chances are pretty good."
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “But not definite.”
“Nope. I suppose there’s a chance he can’t swim.” I glance down at Buddy and add, “Only one way to find out.”
She gasps. “No! You can’t just throw him in and pray for the best,” she argues, making me laugh.
“I won’t. I’m just pulling your leg,” I say, prepping the line to be cast. “Ready to catch a fish?”
She sighs. “I guess.”
We go through the motions a few times, me explaining when to release the line. She pays attention to me, but closer attention to the dangling worm on the end of her hook.
“Wanna give it a try?”
She nods, almost eagerly, but she covers it well by clearing her throat and averting her gaze.
Be careful, Princess, or you might actually enjoy this.
It takes her three tries to get the motion and release timed right, but when she does, her cast sails smoothly into the water. “See? A perfect cast.”
She smiles widely, causing my balls to tighten. If I’m not careful, I’ll be pitching a tent bigger than the one my grandpa taught me to pitch when I was seven.
We sit in silence, the only sounds surrounding us the gentle movement of the trees and the frogs croaking. This is the life. I can’t see myself anywhere else but here. It’s Small Town, USA, where everyone knows you, and I have plenty of opportunity to do what I love. I couldn’t get this in a big city, like LA. The thought of living in a city of that magnitude makes me break out in a cold sweat. To me, that’s a nightmare I want nothing to do with.
After a few minutes, she starts tapping her feet. “So, now what?”
“Now we wait.”
“Wait for what?” she asks, holding her fishing pole carefully while still bending down to pet Buddy.
“Wait for the fish to bite.” I reach down and pull two bottles of water from the cooler. The first one, I pour into Buddy’s bowl and hand the second one to Ryan.
She takes the water. “Thank you. And what do you mean, wait for them to bite? How long does that take?”
I shrug my shoulders, throwing the empty water bottle into a plastic trash bag and grabbing a fresh one for me. As I twist off the cap, I reply, “It depends. Sometimes they start biting right away, and other times, it could be hours.”
“Hours?” she asks, her eyes wide in surprise. “You know, I love seafood, but I never realized so much work went into it. I may have to reconsider the next time I order lobster or crab legs.”
I take a hearty swig from my bottle. “Well, you’re not gonna find either of those two in northwestern Wisconsin, Princess. You’ll see walleye, bass, perch, and trout here.”
She scrunches her nose. “I don’t think I’ve had those.”
“Well, then you’re in luck. We’ll fry up whatever we catch.”
She seems to consider the thought for a few seconds before nodding. “Why are you being so quiet? I mean, besides the fact you rarely engage in conversation, unless you’re being asked a direct question or statement.”
“Fish respond to the vibration and noise. That’s why you’re supposed to be quiet when fishing, so you don’t scare them away.”
“Quiet? The whole time?”
“The whole time,” I confirm, the corner of my mouth curling up.
“That’s impossible in my world. Where I come from, silence is unwelcome, especially on reality TV. No one would tune in if you had nothing to say,” she says, staring off into the distance.
It’s the first time she’s brought up the television show. The only reason I know about it is because of my Google search,which continued earlier this morning. It’s how I heard about Vaughn, her boyfriend, and whatever bombshell he dropped on TV. But as much as I wanted to learn about Ryan and her life, I refused to click on any of the links. I want to hear it from her, not from some entertainment media source, so while I scrolled through and read the headlines and saw some of the pictures they accompanied, I didn’t read any of the articles.
