My attention wanes as Jim’s voice fades into the background, but suddenly, he’s in motion. With a swift, almost unexpected grab, he snatches the fishing pole, its tip swaying in the air, and hands it over to me. “Here, go for it,” he says, his voice filled with frantic energy. I accept it, a mix of gratitude and excitement bubbling inside me. And then, everything stops.
“Let Robbie.” Jim doesn’t say a word but opens the bail to let the line run out as he strides the length of the truck. I run close behind, careful of the line, and then stop to watch, standing by if needed. I watch as Jim adjusts Robbie’s fingers.
Then – in perfect harmony – they reel. It’s slow and jerky, but their movements are synchronized. Jim acts like an excited parent whose child is walking for the first time. Non-stop phrases of, “You’re doing it!”, “Great job, buddy!” and “Almost there.” They reel, and they reel. And when the fish finally reaches the truck, Jim grabs it through the side gill and holds it up for Robbie, “Oh, wow. Look at that fish, buddy. You did it!”
After Jim and I return to the lakeside, Jim fishes for gear in his tackle box. Preferring a recommendation from local knowledge instead of leaving it to my own guessing, I ask Jim, “Is there a spot you’d recommend where I could put my tent?”
Pressing a glob of bright pink power bait onto the hook, he says, “You betcha. There’s one not far. It’s tucked off the road, too.” He flings the fishing gear into the water, props it on a y-shaped stick, and then stands to face me. “It’s a bit of a hike, but it’s right on the water. Nice and private for you. I’ll tell you what you do.”
I’m given the lefts and rights, an “if you go past the guardrail, you’ve gone too far,” and detailed instructions on the narrow path I’ll walk. I’m being handed a treasure map, and I am careful with it, repeating each part slowly back to myself. After goodbyes, I return to my car, grateful for the next step. But also, the unsettling news of Robbie’s fate sits with me awkwardly like a hitchhiker in my car.
In some experiences, words don’t suffice; afterward, it’s as if we know less instead of more. The situation with Robbie and Jim was that for me. It was a simple interaction that pierced my psyche, splayed it wide open, and rewired the reality I’d known.
Going On 40 
2 thoughts on “The Perfect Spot (Book Part 7)”