A floating dock stretched into the lake. Holding a red rod and a fish bucket, Andy stepped past the guardrail. Now he was on the water.
Andy looked back and asked, “You got this, Tom? The water’s calm.”
“Oh, shut up and give me some room. I can’t get through with you standing there, gumming up the works.”
Andy continued along the dock until he reached the chairs. The fish bucket had ice in the bottom. He set it between the chairs and moved around to sit in the left one. He waited for Tom, whose breath was raspy as he set the tackle box on top of the fish bucket. Tom came around and flopped down into his chair.
Andy slowly fixed a hook, weight, bait, and bob onto his line. Tom was slower.
“Arthritis?” asked Andy.
“Yeah.”
Andy pulled a blanket out from under his coat and spread it over his legs.
“Where did you have that stuffed?” asked Tom.
“In my coat, don’t you carry one?”
Tom replied, “I oughta. It’s nippy today.”
Andy leaned forward, gathered his strength, and cast his line as far as he could.
“How’s Linda?” asked Andy.
It went twenty feet.
“Well, she says you need to come over …”
“… for dinner, yeah. Things are just more chaotic without Rachel.”
“I know, but you still need conversation.”
“This is conversation.”
“Ha! This ain’t shit. Talking to me? I’m a …”
“… donkey’s arse, I know.”
Tom cast his line into the lake. He managed fifteen feet.
Andy asked, “You remember …”
“… Lonny?! Oh yeah, that boy could talk. Remember his tirade on how Jesus ‘ paintings were disrespectful …”
“… because they made him look like King Arthur. Yeah.”
“And don’t get him started on King Arthur.”
Andy asked, “When did he pass?”
Tom answered, “Five years ago, now.”
“Ah.”
Andy’s rod tugged in his hand. He gripped it tighter. The bob plunged, then popped. He reeled it in a few feet — resistance. He yanked. Hooked. He pulled in an eight-inch trout.
“Good one,” said Tom.
Andy unhooked the trout and tossed it in the fish bucket. It flopped for a time; eventually, it stilled. Andy, slowly, rigged his line again. He cast it into the lake. It went a little past twenty feet. He couldn’t tell for sure.
“Good cast,” said Tom.
“Jealous?”
They sat in silence. The sun moved from one side of the lake to the other.
Tom’s rod lept. Hooked and pulled. Andy looked over. Tom’s hands stayed relaxed.
“Arthritis?” asked Andy.
The rod sprang from Tom’s hands. Andy saw it too late. He reached for it, but it was already in the lake. Andy looked at Tom.
Tom’s eyes were closed. Andy turned in his chair and studied his friend. A long moment passed. He took the blanket from his lap and covered Tom’s face. Andy reeled in his line and placed his rod across Tom’s lap.
Andy turned back to the water. Quiet. He looked back at Tom.
“Good cast, huh?”
