Page 91 of Grown-Up Second Chance

I nodded.

The air had a slight breeze which provided welcome relief from the lingering heat of the day. We appeared to be alone—tourists congregated in more populated places, enjoying a late dinner or drinks.

Joe suggested places for us to fish so we were far enough apart from each other to avoid catching each other instead of fish. I reluctantly stepped into the water, but as soon as it hit my ankles I was once again surprised by its warmth. Rivers around Butte could get cold enough to freeze off body parts … at least that’s how they felt.

I made my cast, pleased that it was beginning to resemble something graceful. Idly, I watched the lure, but also let my gaze wander to the wildlife moving away from the edges of the forest, feeling safer in the fading light. The sky was putting on a show; its blue deepening and starting to be edged with a soft pink.

I was grateful for the less than vibrant colors. Sunsets and sunrises during fire season took on a brilliant red due to the smoke in the air. Beautiful to look at, but not safe to breathe for very long. The birds chirped good night to each other, reminding their world about territories and calling out to stay safe from things that came out in the nighttime.

There was a breeze, enough to cause the grass tips to whisper secrets to each other, like the secret I’d finally given up to Joe.

The words faded as I fished. Nature cocooned my soul and made me feel safe. I wasn’t thinking with my mind, but at a deeper level. Sharing with my oldest friend had released the tight grip the events had on me even more than talking to my therapist. He’d known me before life had beaten me into a shape I’d no longer recognized.

I’d been naïve. We all were. For all the wildness of the Last Best Place, it was a haven for dreamers. My plan had been to go to Montana State and figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I knew I wanted to do something with the arts.

I’d even toyed with the idea of photography. The memory had been buried under piles of life’s debris. I’d planned to have a small studio, doing graduation and wedding shots to make a living, then going off to the wilderness whenever I could to take pictures.

My father had insisted on something a little more practical, and since he was footing the bill, I went along. After things ended with Joe, the light had gone out of the arts for me.

He apparently hadn’t had that problem. He’d gone on with life just as if kissing me hadn’t mattered.

I jerked the line enough to pull it out of the water and splashed it back into the river.

Joe turned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

We went back to fishing.

I tried to recapture the zen feeling I’d had earlier, but once I’d let a thought into my brain, it multiplied. It pinged from one topic to another. Thoughts permutated from benign to hostile and then took prisoners. Every time I tried to interject a more peaceful topic—Look! There’s an elk! Getting closer!—the thought-monster twisted it into danger.

What are you doing in the wilderness? Don’t you want your nice, warm, Bay Area condo? With your cappuccino maker?

Your sisters are going to make you crazy after a few months. You know they will. They’ve always done that. Remember what a slob Liz can be? And how controlling Kathleen is?

And Joe? Joe? Really? Don’t you remember how he dismissed you when you threw yourself at him in high school? You made a fool of yourself then! And you’re doing it again!

It was worse than gnats. Buzzing thoughts swirled around my brain, leaving pinpricks of pain and itching.

“Di!” Joe yelled.

“What?” I snapped back.

“You’ve got a fish. You’re about to ...”

The pole almost jerked out of my hand, but I gripped it tight. I was going to get that fish!

My arms went into their familiar seesawing motion before I landed on my butt in the river.

Not this time, buster.

I sat up and reeled the fish in until I felt I had control of the situation. As I let him run a bit, I somehow staggered to my feet, then began the dance with the fish. Out and back, out and back, each time a little closer.

I could see him! He was right there! A little more?

“How’s the fishing?” somebody called from the bank.

Instinctively, I turned toward him.

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