Cerulean

When you're waiting for something time seems to come to a stop just to spite you. It's as if seconds turn to minutes turn to hours turn to days and so on and so forth. Those few days I spent waiting for Edith brought me back to four-years-old on Christmas Eve, fighting sleep just to catch a glimpse of Santa and his reindeer.

Those four days I spent waiting for a fishing trip I never got to have were filled with the mundane routine of Aunt Laura's desperate attempt at conversations about my future and working with Mark at the store. Things I'd rather not be doing; but when the time came, it was a feeling that can't be described. A feeling you only get when you know that you've waited your turn.

On that particular morning, Edith was early.

When I approached the 7-11, our unofficial meeting place, I saw Edith sitting in the bed of an old pickup truck, a large cup of coffee in her hands. She smiled, and waved her free arm in the air, waving me over.

When I reached the truck, she leaned forward to say Hello. "My grandpa let me take his fishing equipment," she said wearing a half smile, shorts, and an orange tank top.

I nodded. "Cool. I brought lunch."

Edith peaked down at the basket I'd stolen from Laura. "Sandwiches? Pie? File Mignon?"

I laughed. "Something like that."

I watched her climb out of the truck and sneak the basket out of my hands. "We'll see what you've got in here. Grab my coffee, would you, Evan?"

I shook my head, doing as she asked and walked over to the passengers side before climbing in. Edith had placed the basket in between our sides of the truck and was now fiddling with the radio.

"Shit... no music," she said. "Just crap... Do you mind talk radio?" She asked.

I shook my head. "No... it's your car. Play what you want."

Edith scoffed. "Never. I hate it when I'm in a car with someone and they just play whatever they want without even bothering with you opinion, you know? I mean I get it, you're driving, but can't you at least take my feelings into consideration. What if I really hate that song? That guy I went fishing with last time is kind of like that... he's a cool guy and all, just a little self centered." Edith paused.

"My point is that I'd never subject anyone to that sort of... pain, I guess you could say. It is kind of painful to listen to crappy music."

I didn't respond because I didn't deem it necessary. Edith simply started the car and found a station where some guy was discussing whether or not UFOs were real.

I rested my arm on the open window and, watched the trees and buildings fly by as Edith approached the freeway.

"What are you thinking about?" Edith asked.

I shrugged. "Nothing. Well, not nothing, but I'm not thinking about something I'd want to talk about at the moment."

"Okay." She made a right turn. "I'll leave you to your thoughts. If you feel like talking later on... I'm all ears."

She offered a small smile and did as she said she would, leaving me to my thoughts. It was then that I realized Edith and I were more alike than I originally thought. We were both very introverted people. We let people in just enough, but never all the way.

Edith and I, we both wore masks. We wanted to make people believe we were alright.

♣ ♣ ♣

"So, you've never been fishing before?" Edith asked tossing her line into the lake. She sat down next to me in the grass, holding the fishing pole in between her legs.

I shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I haven't. I mean... unless I was really little and don't remember, I don't think I've been."

"That's just sad," Edith said. "Fishing is something every kid should do. It's like a critical time for bonding between a father and his son. It's the perfect time to explain and explore the facts of life."

Edith looked over at me, and I smiled in her direction. "I guess I missed out then. Besides, I never wanted to spend time with my father when I didn't have to. I still don't."

Edith took my fishing pole and tossed my line in the same way she had done hers. She then handed the pole to me and sat back down after grabbing a Dorrito from the picnic basket.

"Why not? Is he some dick-wad, deadbeat dad?" She asked.

I chuckled to myself, lowering my head so I was looking at the ground. I tapped my feet against the dirt and fiddled around with my fingers. "I don't know, really. It's hard to say. Most of the time I feel bad for him, and sometimes..."

I could feel my face getting warm, and I desperately wanted to change the subject. There was a lot I never talked about, and it was for reasons like this. The anger, and the fact that simply thinking about my father made me feel worthless.

"Sometimes what?" Edith asked.

I shook my head, picking up a rock and tossing it into the murky lake water. "Doesn't matter," I mumbled. "It's over now."

Edith was about to say something when I felt something tug on the end of my line. Her head jerked in the direction of my rod and she grinned.

"You've got a biter!" She exclaimed, standing up.

She reached over and pulled me up with her. Standing behind me, her hands fell perfectly over mine as she helped me reel it in. I felt a little stupid for not knowing the first thing about fishing, but in that moment, it was okay.

When the fish popped out the water, I turned around to look at Edith who was smiling in a way I had never seen before. It was much brighter and genuine than any other time she had shown me her teeth. Her eyes lit up, and I just knew she was really happy for me.

"You have a nice smile," I said as I reeled the line in the rest of the way.

Edith's hand moved to cover her mouth as her face went a light shade of pink. "Thanks," she mumbled.

The fish flopped around on the line as I moved to sit next to Edith. "You've never smiled like that. I mean.. I've only seen you smile a number of times, but you know... it was different. It made all the other ones look fake."

Edith looked up at me, and half heartedly shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I try not to, you know? But whatever, I don't want to talk about this anymore. We should send your fish back home."

I watched her stand to her feet and unhook the fish before turning around to face me. Holding the flopping fish in her hands she ran over to me and placed it in my own hands.

She smiled, this time not as bright, and dragged me towards the edge of the river. "Toss it back in," she said.

I did as I was told and watched the fish hit the water and swim somewhere down the river. It was sort of a bittersweet moment, saying goodbye.

"Congratulations, Evan," Edith said, placing her hands on her hips as we both gazed down towards the end of the river. "You just caught and released your first fish."