Chapter 68
I watched my father wedge the pole under our seats, fitting it in place, as he leaned over the edge of the boat for the fish splashing and struggling at the other end of the line, wiggling in my father’s hand, fighting to be let go.
As my father disengaged the hook from inside the fish’s mouth, I shook my head, turning away, but the fishy smell in the heat of the afternoon wafted across my face, making me turn to the stinging odors.
I looked at my father. He saw sadness in my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Throw it back.”
I remembered the surprised look on his face as if I had just cussed in front of him for the first time.
“I thought you wanted to learn how to fish, son?” My father held up the wriggling fish in his hand, his daily prize.
I shook my head and turned and looked out at the other fishing boats lolling around us. “Throw it back in,” I said again.
“Why?” my father asked.
“I want to give it a second chance.”