still it by shifting his weight. Greg screamed at the top of his lungs as he began to reel furiously.
“Slow down. Slow down, Greg. You’re going to break the line.” Trey held onto the side of the boat. “Slow and steady. Slow and steady.” His grandfather had taught him that. Hell, he’d taught him everything he knew about fishing except what his dad had taught him about creek fishing. Too many people got too excited and lost their catch. Fishing was a tough thing.
Greg ignored him, his pole making a right angle towards the water. His reeling slowed, less from his effort than the fish’s far below. It began to pull the small boat and Trey swiveled and toggled the trolling motor on. He maneuvered the boat to provide a steady pull against the tug of the captured fish. It had to be a catfish and a big one.
The excitement was contagious and soon, Trey, found himself shouting and encouraging Greg. He prayed that the line or the rod wouldn’t snap. He prayed that his friend wouldn’t get jerked in, forgetting to let go and drown in the murky depths. Trey couldn’t help but remember the words of Old Man Hassle, imagining that his young friend had a god on the end of his line. He prayed to the fish themselves, begging them to let these two boys catch one.
Just as suddenly as the hit, however, came the snap, as the line gave away to the combined pressures of the fish and the reverse pull of the boat. Greg fell back hard, hitting his head against the metal rim of the canoe. Trey stopped the engine immediately and managed to catch the rod before it fell in the lake.
Greg sat up. Tears flowed from his eyes.
“Are you okay, Greg?” asked Trey, the wake of the fight still sending ripples across the still water.
“Fuck me,” the little boy said, wiping his cheeks with the front of his T-shirt. “I just hurt my head is all.”
Trey watched him rubbing the growing bump and knew that it was a deeper pain. He had almost caught the big one… he’d had it and it was gone. But that’s what made fishing special and so unique. You always tried for that bigger fish, every moment a chance. When you lost it, it was forever lost and you had to start over, not where you left off. When you finally caught it, the glory was so fleeting, it was no time at all before you went looking for an even larger one.
“Shit. That was a big one too. Damn big,” said Trey.
“Yeah. Damn big,” repeated Greg, still staring at the water.
“I wonder if it has any brothers?” asked Trey. “I still got my line in the water. You better fix yours.”
Greg spent a few moments staring longingly at the lake, then hurried to refit his line.
Trey returned to his own line and argued with himself over the need to check the bait. It was an important argument, one when many experienced fisherman made mistakes. If you pulled it up as the fish was contemplating the catch, your chance was forever lost. If you left it in the water with an empty hook, you were wasting the day. It was a tough choice, but Trey decided to leave it be.
It was right after they finished their egg salad sandwiches when Trey’s rod buckled.
It caught Trey off guard and he almost lost the rod as it slipped and banged against the edge of the boat. It wasn’t until the last moment that he managed to grip it, already half in the water. He jerked the rod back out, partly to set the hook and partly because he stumbled back, knocking over Greg in the process. He stood up and felt the thrumming tug of the line. He immediately knew it was the largest catfish he had ever latched onto.
Trey squatted by the motor and struggled to turn it on. It gave a hum, but when he glanced over the edge, he saw the blades turning excruciatingly slowly, evidencing a dying battery. He cast a glance over his shoulder and eyed the community dock, half a mile away. With only one paddle, it would take forever to reach it.
Trey decided against the motor and screamed for Greg to reel in his own line. After a momentary look of annoyance, Greg complied and pulled his line in. It took a few moments, but finally the two managed to change places.