18. MAX

Chapter eighteen

MAX

J ared was already knee-deep in the river, casting his line, by the time I got to its bank. "Come on, you slippery devils, show yourselves!" he called out to himself, not me, sounding like someone in a black-and-white movie. He hadn't yet realized I was there.

I had earlier stayed up by the car for a moment because I needed to set up the cool box to recharge. Eddie said he had to try and find some reception for his cell to check any messages he had had, either from work or about Megan's death. I remembered from past visits here you could get a bit of reception up on the rough track down through the trees, so he headed that way.

"Does your boss email you on a Saturday?" I'd asked.

He'd groaned.

" Every Saturday."

Watching Jared at the water's edge, I felt myself grinning as I soaked in his absorption in his task, there in the beauty of the morning out in that landscape. I breathed in deep, and the air felt good and clean on my lungs.

It was good to see him not thinking about all he actually had to face. I remembered my own teens, in the wake of my mom's death, how hard it had been, how hard it had been to be so unwanted before Eddie encouraged his mom to take me in. I felt good to think that Jared at least had someone who was ready to step up to take him on.

"Hey, buddy," I called from the bank.

"Hey, Max," he called, keeping his back to me. "Can't look around. I'm too invested in this."

I laughed.

"Fishing isn't really about intense focus. It's about kicking back and waiting for something to happen."

"Amateur!"

He turned briefly and grinned at me.

"Are you barefoot in the water?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"Okay, you better come back out onto the rocks. It's slippery down there."

He groaned ironically.

"Okay, Granddad …"

This was turning into a running joke.

The next minutes were about us setting ourselves up in position. Then, that time turned into an hour or more, and Eddie didn't come the whole time.

Jared and I settled into natural turns of conversation and silence. There were moments of laughter, but how easily we blended into the serenity of the morning.

Now and then, we heard a plop at the surface of the water, a fish rising for its own prey, but by the time we saw the spot from which concentric circles rose, it was already gone.

The morning sun rose higher, bleaching out any shadows. Jared and I stayed into our comfortable rhythm, casting our lines and swapping observations from time to time. The river's gentle current provided the softest backdrop, along with the birds in the trees and the odd bee or dragonfly that came buzzing by.

Eventually, we had caught enough fish, and even though Eddie had not appeared, he decided to head back to the camp. As we walked, Jared said to me: "Eddie is talking about us moving to New York."

I felt a weird tingle in my chest, hearing that. I knew it was probably what was going to happen, but even so, hearing it straight out like that made me feel sad.

"Do you want to go?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"I dunno. Maybe. Maybe not."

"You'd have to leave all your friends, I guess," I said.

He sighed.

"I can make new friends." That seemed pretty sane for a fifteen-year-old to say. "I can join football teams or baseball teams." He laughed. "Fishing leagues."

"But part of you is nervous?"

He turned and looked at me with big blue eyes, like his uncle's.

"If you were my uncle, I could stay. The decision would be made."

I waited a moment, wondering what to say. I didn't want to say the wrong thing, and I certainly didn't want to let Eddie down. I was not Jared's uncle. His staying here with me was not a possibility, and would I even want that for him? I had come not to want to stay here, even for myself!

I offered a gentle smile.

"You know, Jared, if I were in your shoes, I'd love to have had Eddie as my uncle. You've been dealt a very rough hand, really rough, but you have someone there looking out for you."

"I have someone in New York looking out for me."

"Yeah, but I had no one pretty much until Eddie and your grandma looked after me. All I had was people who didn't want to look after me. And New York might be amazing. In fact, I am pretty sure New York is amazing."

Jared was a great kid, but at that moment, I saw the child in him, uncertain and afraid. And I, of all people, could understand that. "Eddie is a person, too," I continued. "He had dreams and plans, too. Your mom's death has changed his life, too. He has been put in a difficult position that as a young, single man, he suddenly has a teenager to look after. Just think about that for a moment."

I guessed at once I had said the wrong thing. Jared didn't really say anything in the last moments before we got back to the camp. Once there, he retreated into the tent, and there was a sense that he was in a sulk. I understood why: a teenager who has lost a parent didn't want to be asked to think about other people's problems. They had enough of their own.

A few minutes later, Eddie returned from up on the trail. He seemed to be in a good mood.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, there was a weird amount of stuff to go through on my emails, but nothing terrible. I took the opportunity to answer some urgent things and had to open a few documents. Nothing bad, though, so I can relax now for the rest of the trip." He looked around the campsite. "Where's Jared?"

I explained to him what had happened, pretty much recounting the conversation verbatim. We were just far enough away from the tent that, speaking low, Jared could not have heard us.

"I'm not sure if I said the wrong thing," I confessed.

Eddie smiled at me.

"Don't worry," he said. "I don't think there are many right things to say at the moment. Ultimately, I think I will have to go back to New York, and he will have to accept going there."

I felt that same sadness that he had said it.

"Would you not consider moving back here?"

I saw the flash of near horror that passed over his eyes.

"Look, Max, no offense, but I don't want to live back here, and my life is there, and it's a very different kind of life there."

I took no offense, but I questioned his reasoning.

"Ed, you had a different kind of life. Having a fifteen-year-old to look after will totally transform that. Totally."

His eyes ran around the campsite, down to the river.

"I don't know what I would come back to, to whom even."

I shrugged.

"I'm here."

His eyes fixed on mine. Light bounced off their pale irises. His gaze fell down to the ground, but in that moment, I felt something – almost a crick in my neck, a tingle on my skin – I wanted something to happen.

"I should go and check on Jared, see how he is."

I watched him walk over to the tent and crouch down. Some low conversation took back. I could tell that Jared was not offering any olive branches. Eventually, Eddie stood up and came back to me.

"He is having some time out."

I laughed.

"My grandma would have smacked me around the head if I had asked for time out."

"It's a different generation, with different ways. I admire that they have the confidence to ask for what they want in life." He sighed and then looked at me very directly again. "I wish our generation had had the strength to ask for things they want… and need."

I had that feeling again, that crick, that tingle.

"What do you want to do now?" I asked.

He crumpled his lips, mulling possibilities.

"Let's go on this hike."

"And what if Jared won't come?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"Then he can stay here. He's fifteen, not five. And if he wants space, he can have it. If he wants to cut off his own nose to spite his face, he can do that, too."