Eden sits outside, twisting a piece of string, quiet. She doesn’t ask to come. She keeps her eyes down, and I feel a tug I can’t explain.
“Nah,” I say, grabbing the two fishing rods. “I’m going fishing.”
Leo smirks. “Suit yourself.” He heads off.
I turn to Eden. “You coming with me?”
Her head pops up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Got two rods.”
She beams. “Okay!”
Mom glances up from her book, sliding a finger betweenthe pages to hold her place. “Fishing, huh? Y’all stay on the bay side. And make sure you look out for each other, you hear?”
“We will,” I promise.
Eden skips ahead as we walk the boardwalk, the morning warm but not yet hot. The grocery store opens, bells jingling. The deli puts out its signs, the scent of bacon and bagels filling the air.
The bay is still, the water glittering under the sun. We sit at the ferry dock, legs dangling. I hand her a rod.
“You know how?”
She shakes her head. “Not really.”
“It’s easy.” I bait both hooks and show her how to cast. The lines plop into the water.
We sit side by side, the smell of the bay mixing with fried dough from the boardwalk. She kicks her feet, humming. After a while she asks, “Do you think we’ll catch anything?”
“Maybe. It’s not really about catching stuff.”
“Then what’s it about?”
I watch her sticky fingers grip the rod, the way she chews her lip while she waits. “Just…being here.”
She gives me that smile again—the one I always want to pull out of her. We sit in silence, the only sounds the creak of the dock and the water lapping below. She tells me about the bracelets she’ll make this summer, one for every day we’re here.
Then my line jerks. “Got one!” I reel in fast. A small silver fish bursts from the water.
Eden gasps, hand flying to her mouth, her eyes lighting up.
I hold it carefully, scales flashing in the sun. “You gotta kiss it and make a wish before we let it go.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Eww.”
“It’s the rule.”
She hesitates, then leans in and kisses it quick. She whispers her wish so quietly I almost miss it, but I catch one word: “always.” The way she says it, and the way she looks at me, sends my heart thumping.
I toss the fish back, watching it disappear into the dark water.
“What’d you wish for?” I ask.
She grins. “Can’t tell. Or it won’t come true.”
I want to know what she wished for, but more than that, I want to make sure it comes true.
We pack up when the sun climbs higher. On the way back, I buy us gummy worms and sour straws from the grocery store with the ice cream money my grandpa gave me for my birthday. We sit on the bench in the shade, sharing candy and cold sodas.
