Hank slowly eased the chair apart, stretching the dark green canvas until the plastic frame snapped into place. He carefully positioned the seat next to the small camping table, and pushed down on the arms, pressing the legs into the shingle. He shifted it about slightly until fully satisfied that it was stable. Gingerly, he turned around, and slumped into the seat with a crunch.
“Easy Hank,” said Joe, who was seated parallel to him on the other side of the table. “You almost went over there buddy.”
“Yeah, not as young as I was,” Hank chuckled.
“I hear you,” smiled Joe.
Hank pulled the zip of his jacket up to his chin and hitched his arms up so his sleeves covered his hands. Both men fell silent as they settled back and looked out upon the landscape in front of them. Early morning mist hung heavy over the lake, completely obscuring the view they knew so well. All that was visible was a few feet of crystal clear water that gently lapped upon the shoreline. The ends of their lines were lost in the depths, and if a fish bit now, Hank knew he’d have to be on top of his game to land it.
Joe drew in a deep lungful of the crisp air through his nostrils, and puffed out several clouds of hot breath. He exhaled for too long and began to splutter.
Hank, who had turned to watch his old friend, laughed. “Hey Mr Steam Locomotive, I thought you’d quit smokin’?”
“Sure, a long time ago, you know that,” Joe wheezed. “My body’s just not used to this purity.”
“I know, its been too long.”
“Reckon so.”
“Damn, it’s good to be back!”
“Hell yeah.”
They watched as the orange sun rose higher in the sky. The mist retreated, teasingly revealing more and more of the huge body of still water and its surroundings. Dark green fir trees, glistening with a silvery sheen, loomed out of the swirling white. On the distant shore, thickly forested mountain slopes, topped with ice-capped peaks, materialised. Chirupping birds, previously imprisoned by the mist, now soared in the pink sky, swooping majestically down to the water and up again.
“Beautiful,” sighed Hank.
Joe nodded, removed his heavy coat, and pulled his cap lower over his eyes to shield them from the low rays. It was obviously OK to start talking again; one of the rules was no noise during sunrise.
“You know Hank, first light is always my favourite time out here. Nothin’ but me, my best buddy, and mother nature.”
“Yeah, it’s somethin’, I can tell you.” He sat back in his chair and stared in childlike wonder at the mountain scene and its mirror image, perfectly reflected on the glassy surface of the lake.
“How’s Rosie, Hank?” Joe asked.
“She’s fine. You know her, Joe – still running my life.”
“Oh yeah, just like my Sharon.”
Hank laughed, but it was forced; he cut it off too early. Embarrassed, he stood up and took a few steps to the waterline.
Joe sensed his friend’s unease, “are you OK buddy?”
Hank wasn’t sure how to answer; to buy time he bent over and collected a few choice flat stones.
“Hank. We’ve known each other for over sixty years; do me a favour will you? What’s up?”
The lone figure began skimming rocks.
Joe was dumbfounded, “hey, the damn fish! What’s up with you?”
Hank realised what he was doing and threw the remaining pebbles down. He turned and trudged slowly back to the chairs, “I’m sorry Joe… hey, want a coffee?”
“Sure.”
Hank reached for the thermos. Steam billowed out as he unscrewed the lid and poured two drinks. He passed one of the tin mugs to Joe, took a sip from his and sat back down in his chair.
“So? What’s up Hank?” Joe asked. “Is it about your appointment last week? You know, in the whole six hours it took us to get here, you never did tell me nothin’.”
Hank smiled at his friend.
“What?” asked Joe.
“You’ve known me for over sixty years, and there’s the proof right there – you can read me like a book.”
“Yeah, a Stephen King.”
Hank cradled his mug in his hands and tried to compose himself. “I had to twist the doc’s arm to let me come on this trip.”
“Well, I’m glad you did, we’ve been waiting for this for four years. Before then we’ve been coming here every year since ’78…”
“…without fail,” Hank finished the sentence and rolled his eyes; that was a phrase he’d heard all too often. “I know, I know. Joe… this will be my last.”
“What? I’m not getting you?”
“I’m getting worse. It won’t be long, you know?”
“No, I don’t know. What do doc’s know nowadays anyway? Nothin’ that’s what.” Joe hauled himself up; it was his turn to skim stones.
A few minutes passed before either man spoke again. After which Joe returned and poured another coffee. “I’m sorry Hank, I shouldn’t have spouted off like that. It’s just that, well… I don’t like this getting old shit.”
“I know. It happens to the best of us.”
“And I love these fishing trips, they’re…”
“Joe. There’s something else.”
Joe looked at his dearest friend, and for the first time, he noticed how withered Hank looked, “what is it?”
“There’s something I’ve never told you. Something I should have told you years ago. Something that should never have happened. Something that didn’t mean nothin’…”
“What Hank?”
“I…I spent a night with Sharon.”
Joe’s head dropped to his lap, his steaming coffee becoming the focus of his attention. Hank’s eyes never left him.
“I know,” Joe whispered.
“What?”
“I’ve always known.”
“What do you mean you’ve always known?”
“Rosie told me. It was the fall of ’77 right?”
“Well, yeah but…”
“Jeez buddy. Do we really have to do this?” Joe asked.
“Do what? I’ve come clean about something that has been eatin’ me alive for over thirty years and here you are already knowin’? And… wait a minute! If you knew, why didn’t you pound me? Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care, you slept with my wife godammit! It’s just… it was a long time ago.”
Over the years Hank had thought about every possible reaction he might get from Joe; a shouting match, a good old fashioned wrestle, he was even prepared for his oldest friend never to want to see him again. But this?
Something suddenly dawned on him and he started to feel really uneasy. “Hold on, what has Rosie got to do with this?”
“Sharon told Rosie… and Rosie told me…,” Joe began to explain.
“When did Rosie tell you?”
“Oh man…”
“Come on.”
“…Rosie told me…”
“Come on!”
“…the night I slept with her.”
