The Fisherman

Benjamin remembers his past as he fishes to avoid his home life.

The reeds blew softly over the orange lake. The floater bobbed as the line swayed left and right.
Haven’t been biting today.
Benjamin looked at his tackle box and wondered if the bait was right. He remembered his Dad’s insistence on the right brand.
My Father would have known. My father would know.

Benjamin looked up
Do you know?
The clouds floated on the edge of the pond.

Answer enough, I suppose.
Benjamin remembered sitting by his mother on weekdays, waiting for his dad to come crashing through the door. Those were the quiet moments. His mother would give a slight smile.  He would look at her sad, brown eyes. Stillness. Anticipation.
Here comes daddy, here comes daddy.

Barreling in and scooping up Ben comes father. He rubs his scruffy cheeks against Benjamin’s face and gives him kisses. Tells him he loves him.  He’s hugging mother against his burly plaid. They are a happy family.
Those were the good days.

Benjamin’s father died when he was 18.  Alcohol poisoning.
Couldn’t cope with the divorce. Shouldn’t have been seeing Leslie. Mom ripped him up good.  Now I don’t have any good bait.
Benjamin had decided not to think, but he had to go fishing.  The pond was the only place he felt at home.  Fishing passed the time.
Shouldn’t have said what I said. Heather knows I didn’t mean it.
The ripples started around the floater. Benjamin grabbed onto the pole and started tugging. The line tightened quickly. Benjamin reeled and tugged. The line loosened before it reached the shore.
Damn it lost another one.  

Benjamin settled back down on his rock.

A lot less work when you don’t catch anything though. A lot less work.
The sun was setting over the hill on the far side of the pond now. Benjamin didn’t have much time left before they’d close the park.

I wonder what Heather will say. “I don’t know why you go fishing when you don’t catch anything,” maybe? “If you don’t bring us back something, don’t leave,” perhaps. She doesn’t understand. I can’t tell her that.  Already screwed up tonight. Shouldn’t have said what I said. She knows I didn’t mean it.

Benjamin packed up his tackle box as the orange gave way to purple and navy. He loved when the sky turned deep blue and the stars sparkled. He’d stay a bit longer to see that.  His phone buzzed.
Shouldn’t have stayed so long.
He gave up on the stars and ran to his car. Benjamin opened the trunk, stashed his tackle box, and settled into the driver’s seat. The car sputtered to a start, and Benjamin drove away from the pond. On the dirt road, he could just make out the navy blue and white over the water. He smiled.
I was a fisherman tonight, though. I was a fisherman. Didn’t catch a damn thing, but I was Benjamin the Fisherman.
His car rolled past the dirt onto the pavement, and he put on his blinker. Benjamin took the left turn that would take him back to his house, and turned on the radio.