Page 63 of Ondine: Vol. 2

Sebastian

Iwake well before the sun is up. I didn’t get ready the night before so I have a lot to do this morning to get out to the pond. I load my boat with my tackle box, fishing poles, cooler with a couple beers and white bread sandwiches, but I can’t find my hat. And I just know the sun will burn me up.

I slept like a fucking rock last night. Thank god.

Freddie called in to say he needed one more day. Ondine and Arnold spent the night together in the spare room. Jake, Shadow, and myself took turns hovering around their door until we eventually all retired.

I want to spend time with her. But I’m not about to play tug o war for her attention. For now, I just need one morning, quiet on the pond, where I don’t have to challenge my core beliefs.

I find my hat in my truck, ease the door shut, and make my way across the lawn to the dock out back. It’s a canvas wide brimmed hat, soft enough to crumble up in my hands.

There’s a fine blanket of cold dew on everything. As I walk I kick up the dew in a wave of sparkles. It’s hard to be in a down mood when you walk through a dewy yard.

I do some switchbacks so I have more of a chance to hit the dew.

Then I hear a giggle from the patio.

I spin and see Ondine in the early morning light.

She looks like a dream.

She’s wearing oversized sweatpants and a hoodie. She’s holding a mug of her tea and is all smiles.

“Ondine, what’re you doing up?”

She shrugs and continues smiling at me.

“Where you off to?” She asks.

I shrug and she laughs at me.

“Fishin’.”

“You want company?”

My mouth falls open. Ondine wants to come fishing with me? When I said I wanted alone time I didn’t think Ondine was an option for company.

“If it would please you. I won’t be doing much out on the water. It won’t be much for entertainment.”

She puts up a finger, telling me to wait and runs back into the house. She emerges soon after without her tea, and someone’s boots on her feet. She meets me on the lawn where I haven’t moved at all.

“Am I good like this?”

I take time to look her over.

“Should work for the fish.”

I don’t think. I just take her hand and lead her to the dock. I hold her hand as I help her into the boat. There are two swivel seats in the boat and she sits happily on her seat.

Today is going to be a good day.

I climb in after her and get my things and get situated real nice. Then I untie and push off. I have to fight the current a little to get to the pond. So I don’t give her much attention as I navigate to my favorite spot. If she doesn’t like the silence and lack of attention, then maybe she’ll think twice about joining a man on a fishing trip.

I nearly miss the turn off but I keep my grunting to a minimum when I finally maneuver through it, and through the overgrown reeds, and we finally end up in my pond. There’s no access to the pond on foot. There’s no beach and the pond leaks out into marsh long before it’s visible to land. It’s my private spot.

Does she know I’ve never brought anyone here? I won’t tell her. That’ll be my little secret.

She watches intently as I tie my hook and set my bait. It’s a ritual and she’s quiet so I don’t notice I have a sandwich halfway bit, hanging out of my mouth when I make my first cast. I sit down and offer her one to match my own. I’d made four so there are plenty. She takes it and unwraps the foil. It’s just a turkey and cheddar. No condiments. I don’t know why I make them everytime. It’s just what I do. I would have made something better if I knew she was coming.