We walked back to the cabin, and I showed him where the poles and supplies were. “Tackle,” he said as he opened the toolbox I’d shown him. “It’s called tackle. The stuff you use to fish with,” he explained.
“How do you know that?”
“My grandparents used to take me camping when I was a kid. I learned how to fish but I was never all that good at it. And I’ve forgotten nearly everything they taught me.” He looked through the different items and chose two shiny things with hooks attached. “We’ll try lure fishing. The water’s high so it’s not the best idea but you never know.”
“It’ll be fun. I’ve never tried before,” I said and squeezed in close to watch him.
“We should go to one of the ponds where you pay by the pound. You just need to throw a line in, and you’re guaranteed to catch a fish.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Didn’t you go camping when you were a kid?” he asked.
“They went. I stayed home. Haven’t you noticed I’m not really all that big on the outdoors. Inside is fine with me.”
“I did not know that. Not that we’ve had time to go explore much when we’ve been playing.” He got that far-off look in his eyes again before meeting mine with a grin. “Take this and I’ll showyou what to do. If I remember right.” He handed me one of the poles and we walked down to the river. This time we followed a trail that led down closer to the water. There was a sandy area where the water slowed down and lapped against the shore instead of rushing by. Johnny took the fishing pole from me and got it ready to go.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked.
“Of course, what could go wr—forget I said that. Hold it like this, put your thumb there, and when you’re ready to cast it out just release it there and it’ll fly.”
I looked at the pole while he explained it, but I didn’t understand what he was saying. “Maybe I need to see it first,” I said, and hoped it was easier than it sounded.
“Okay, so this is what you want to do,” he said and clicked something and adjusted the line, then stood at the edge and flicked his wrist. The hook went flying and as soon as it hit the water, he started cranking the little handle. “You want to reel it back in slow and steady. We’re fishing with lures, so you want to make it look attractive to the fish.”
“So, you’re luring it in?” I said, making him laugh.
“Exactly! Now try it,” he said just after he reeled his line all the way in.
I did as he said, gave it a toss, and it landed in the middle of a manzanita bush. “Fuck,” I said and ignored his giggle because ifI was being honest, it was nice to hear, and if it meant throwing my fishing line in the middle of a bush to hear it, I’d do that all day.
Ten
Johnny
After untangling Devon’s lure from where he’d thrown it and a little more help, he was able to toss it out and reel it in a few times. Neither of us caught anything, but I didn’t really expect to. It was part of the experience. Getting closer to nature without having to figure out what to do with a fish was perfect for me. Eating fish was one thing, cleaning one was another.
“Why don’t we go back to the cabin and see what we can figure out to eat,” I said, and ignored how relieved Devon looked. When we got here, I thought this was something he’d done when he was young and wanted to share, but now I realized he brought me here to take me away from it all.
“A sandwich sounds great,” he said as we walked along the trail. “When we go to the store to stock up, we can get some different hot foods to bring back here.”
“You mentioned the store. That sounds great, but let’s see how we do on our own for a couple of days.” The more I thought about having time alone with him the more I liked the idea.
“Just a reminder that I’m not a great cook. I can make spaghetti and tacos, but that’s about it for my culinary skills,” he said.
“I can cook,” I said as we put the fishing gear away and walked inside the cabin. “It was colder out there than I realized.” I rubbed my hands together and threw another log onto the fire before walking over to the kitchen.
“Since when? I’ve known you for close to a year and not once have you mentioned you could cook, or shown off your skills,” he added.
I lifted my shoulder and went to the refrigerator to get what we’d need for sandwiches. “We’ve never really had time for me to cook for you. When we were staying in Reno, we really only had that first night free, then it was easier to just get takeaway food.”
“So, what can you cook?” he asked and took a seat at one of the stools at the kitchen bar.
“What do you like? I can cook pretty much anything I suppose.” He helped me spread mustard and mayo on the bread while I sliced tomato and onion and tore off some lettuce.
“I’ll eat anything and I’d love to eat something you cooked.”
“Then I’ll cook for you. We have everything for breakfast so I can cook that in the morning.”
