Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“You look good up there,” I call to him. “You sure you’re ready to give this up?”
He smiles. “The boat or the fishing?”
I step onto the deck and steady my feet. “Both?”
“No way I can take the boat with me.” He motions toward the bait-and-tackle shop. “I put word out at the shack and warehouse that I’m looking for a buyer.”
“Good plan.” If I remember correctly, there’s a bulletin board where fishers pin stuff they’re selling or are interested in buying. Old-school style, but it works.
“In the meantime, she’s going back into storage at the warehouse.”
“Then I suppose we need to give Vitamin Sea one last good run.”
He meets my eyes and nods. “Untie the stern?”
I make my way toward the back of the boat to loosen the rope while he takes the bow side. When he gets behind the wheel, I push us off, and soon enough, we’re heading to the open water.
He slowly increases the speed, making the water spray from the sides of the boat, and I’ll admit it’s exhilarating. He loops around the bay a couple of times before slowing down. We float as we take in the view of the horizon and beach.
“How about the fishing?” I ask, returning to our previous conversation about what he’s giving up. “I’m sure you can find similar places in the LA area.”
He cuts the engine but stays seated instead of reaching for his pole. “Wouldn’t be the same.”
“Why not?”
“The vibe is different there.”
“Maybe there’s a vibe you just haven’t found yet,” I offer.
“In all this time? Doubtful.” He sulks. “I wish I could bring this small-town energy with me, but life is a bit more complicated than that.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter, reaching for a water bottle from his cooler. “Maybe focus on the positives of LA. What do you like most about it?”
He stares off in the distance. “The opportunities for acting jobs.”
“That’s obvious. Anything else?”
I can name things off the top of my head when I think about the epicenter of where he lives, including his eclectic neighborhood and all the places within walking distance. But imagining the constant congestion of traffic and people makes me shudder.
“The beach, I guess,” he replies. “Though I rarely visit. And the food variety.”
“Wow, what a list,” I deadpan. “But I bet you can’t name stuff about Aqua Vista either.”
He thumps my knee. “You, of course. That’s always number one.”
My chest aches with sadness and longing. “What else?”
“Coming back here helped me appreciate a few things.”
I take a swig of my water and replace the cap. “Do tell.”
“There’s a certain charm to the simpler, slower pace of a small town, even with everyone being in my business,” he teases. He might be unwilling to admit it, but I know he longs to redeem himself with certain folks. “Then there’s my love of fishing, appreciating the life my grandfather built, catching up with old friends.”
“Like Ms. Hart?” I ask as another boat passes close by.
“Yeah.” Micah lifts his hand in a wave as boaters are known to do. “That was a lot of fun.”
“Did it remind you how talented you are, even behind the scenes?” I’m not sure Micah has ever really considered that possibility.
“Sure, but I’m still a dime a dozen.” He puffs out a breath. “Too many people vying for too few jobs. Getting this part doesn’t guarantee anything. But I am grateful for the opportunity.”
The silence grows between us, each lost in our thoughts as we enjoy the sun warming our faces and the soft wind cooling us down.
“So what now?” I finally ask.
“I don’t know. Considered casting my rod in the water, but not feeling it today.”
I study him, noticing the shadows beneath his eyes and the wrinkles lining his forehead. “That’s surprising.”
“Got too much else on my mind.” He stands and starts the engine, which coughs and sputters before firing up. “Grab lunch with me? I don’t have much food at the house, and I’m not sure I want to go into town, but I can still—”
“How about soup and sandwiches at my place?”
“Sure, why not?” His eyes brighten. “Just like old times.”
We head back to shore and secure the boat to the dock.
“I’ll meet you at your place. Gonna let the warehouse know the boat’s ready for storage.”
He’s still standing motionless, staring at the boat and water, as I make my way back to my car. I consider staying, but I figure he needs time to let go of something he’s only just found again.
My stomach throbs as I drive away. Once home, I pull out sandwich supplies, heat the soup on the burner, and set the table.
Micah shows up about ten minutes later, and he still seems distracted, looking around the house as if noticing it for the first time. It’s different from when we lived here as kids. I’ve put my stamp on the decor, but there are still remnants of my parents everywhere. Photos and dishes, trinkets and leftover furniture.