Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 80

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Second Chances in New Port Stephen - Chapter 80

December 26
There was a weird liminal time between Christmas and New Year’s where nothing felt real.
Some shops and offices were closed for the remainder of the year, but the most random places
remained open. Sure, there were fast-food restaurants and chain stores, but then there was also
the year-round farm stand out on Midway and, of course, Jimmy’s Bait and Tackle.
Nick pulled into the gravel lot outside the tiny outpost and looked over at his dad in the
passenger seat. He was bundled up in preparation for a morning on the water, where
temperatures might dip into the—gasp—high fifties. Eli would have a field day if he saw Tian-yi
in his scarf and earflap hat, Nick thought, then felt a well of bitterness rise up in his gut. Nick
had left him a voicemail asking him to call back when he could, but it was radio silence. The
mature, charitable side of Nick wanted to believe that Eli was busy with family holiday stuff, but
another, more vulnerable part wondered if he was being ghosted.

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He’d never been ghosted before. He’d also never had a one-night stand—if that was indeed
what Christmas Eve had been. Could you have a one-night stand with an ex? Nick would have
loved to ask, but since Eli wasn’t returning his calls, he could only theorize.
“I will get the baitfish,” his dad said, knocking him out of his reverie. He opened the passenger
door. “I know how squeamish you get.”
Nick sighed through his nose. His dad was referring to the time that Eli had thrown hermit crabs
at Nick’s head at summer camp. Somehow, Nick had
gotten in trouble for screaming. Who wouldn’t scream when they had a crustacean coming right
at them with all those pointy spider legs? Thirty years later, and he was still getting roasted for
it. “I am not squeam—”
But Tian-yi was already out of the car. A cheery bell rang as he opened the shop door. Nick
slumped over the steering wheel. He would not look at his phone. If Eli had called or texted, he
would have felt it vibrate. He didn’t need to check it. Again.
His father returned with supplies for their fishing trip—a small Igloo filled with live shrimp and a
couple cans of Coke—and Nick drove them to the spot on the intracoastal where they always
fished together. The water was shallow there, more of a mudflat than anything, but Tian-yi
swore it was the best spot for trout and redfish this time of year. They unloaded their gear,
pulled on their waders, and went in with their poles until the water met their knees. Nick
surveyed the causeway in both directions. They were the only people fishing, the only people
there at all. If not for the occasional car motoring by and the handful of boats tooling across the
water in the distance, they might have been the only people in the world.