The temperature in the shop continued to rise with the mid-morning sun. Ryan had been watching the clock tick, second by second, for the last half hour, begging for his workday to be over with. Stacking heavy bricks painstakingly on each pallet sent his way. The sweat poured off of his body, soaking his jeans and making his t shirt stick to his body. His shaggy brown hair matted back in his drenched ball cap. Covered in dust and grime from head to toe, the moment was almost upon him. He glanced yet again at the clock, relieved to see time was almost up. Three, two, one; the unmistakable sound of the whistle blowing gave Ryan a surge of excitement and relief all at once. The weekend had finally arrived.
"Hell yeah," he rejoiced as he stretched his body and took off towards the office to collect his weekly check.
The company Ryan worked for made cement landscaping products and when people asked how he liked it, he only replied, "It's a summer job, thank God."
Ryan worked ten-hour days from Monday until Thursday. Five-thirty am till three-thirty pm, slaving in the heat of summer. Fridays were half days, to his relief, in which all employees left at noon. The work paid well, but it was hard. The physical labor left Ryan with a great physique, one that he didn't need to maintain in a weight room like he did when he was away at college. As he opened the office door, a blast of cool air hit him like a train, taking away his breath. He stood in line with the rest of the employees, awaiting their pay. A pair of hands clamped down on his shoulders, making him jump.
"Geez dude, relax. Were you thinking of getting your dick sucked or something?" sneered his friend Andy.
"Bite me asshat." He retorted with a laugh.
"What are you going to do with the rest of your Friday?"
Ryan playfully punched his friend in the chest and said, "Heading down to the river, you in?"
"Damn, I wish I could, but I'm going to the cabin this weekend. Looks like you'll have to enjoy it all alone, just you and your fantasies," remarked Andy with a punch right back.
"Fuck you, I got beer on ice and my fishing rod all set up. I'll be just fine by myself." The two young men laughed, slapping hands in a high five.
They got their checks and walked out to the parking lot together. After waving goodbye to Andy, Ryan hopped into his car and headed to the bank. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into his driveway. He stepped into the mudroom and unlaced his boots. Stripping down to his underwear, he put his work clothes in the hamper and headed for the bathroom. After a quick rinse of all the day's work off his body and a change into a pair of cargo shorts and a cutoff t-shirt, he retrieved his needed items for a relaxing afternoon of getting buzzed and catching fish. He grabbed his playmate cooler, his tackle box and fishing pole, and slung a camping chair over his back. Satisfied with what he had; he began his trek towards his favorite fishing spot.
The river sat behind Ryan's house through a patch of woods, about four hundred yards beyond his back patio door. From the edge of his backyard, the woods dipped down a small ridge. He followed a little footpath he had worn down from years of travel to and from the river. Following the path down the ridge, the ground soon leveled off at the bottom of an old horse trail. From there, a short walk on the trail brought him to an old fence and gate from many years past. He had seen no one use the trail before, but he knew there was a small horse farm back up the trail a way, just a short drive from his neighborhood. Ryan passed through the open gate and stepped into his sanctuary.
The woods opened to the end of the trail into a small, grassy clearing along the bank of the river. The river itself was only a backwater to a much larger waterway. Across from Ryan's vantage point sat a sandy beach that extended out almost halfway into the water. The rest of the bank surrounded by dense woods leaving the place very secluded from any human intrusion.
Ryan set down his cooler and stretched his sore arms and shoulders. He set up his chair and found a Y-shaped stick to rest his pole in. He baited his line and cast out into the water. He placed the pole into the crook of the Y-stick and sat down in his chair. Reaching into his cooler, he cracked open one of his beers and took a long swig.
"It doesn't get any better than this." Letting out a sigh of relief.
The June sun beat down on him as he sat and watched his line in the water. A slight breeze blew in the air, giving him nearly perfect relief from the humidity. He quickly guzzled down the rest of the beer and placed the can back in his cooler, retrieving another one. Suddenly, his pole bobbed up and down. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed the rod and pulled back hard, set the hook. The snag on his reel began to whine and grind as the fish took off away from him. Ryan battled against the fish, reeling hard and making sure the line was tight. After nearly a ten-minute struggle, Ryan could finally get the big catfish up on the shore.
"It has to be at least ten pounds," he remarked to himself. As the slimy beast flopped around.
Pulling the hook free with a set of plyers, he released the fish, re-baited his hook, and cast back into the water. Ryan cleaned his hands with the rag on his tackle box and sat down. That was one of the biggest fish he'd ever caught in the backwater. He was disappointed nobody was around to see it. He cracked open another beer to celebrate. The warm sun and cold beer, mixed with the hard-fought battle with the catfish, made his eyes burn. He fought to stay awake, but slowly let them close as he drifted off.
His eyes squinted open when he thought he heard the whinny of a horse.
How long have I been asleep?
He thought. He stood up and peered out at his pole, noticing no change since he closed his eyes, leaning over his cooler for another beer.
"Excuse me, what are you doing here?" came a voice from behind, scaring the life out of Ryan.
He tensed up and whirled around, suddenly being blinded by a ray of sunlight. Covering his eyes with a hand, he squinted to see the silhouette of a woman standing near the fence, a saddled horse tied to the gatepost behind her.
"Well, are you going to answer my question?" The woman sternly asked.
She had definitely startled him enough to cause his first few words to shake out of his mouth. "I, I'm just doing some fishing," he stuttered.
"I can see that," the woman said in an icy tone. "Why are you on my property?"
Ryan had always thought about who owned the property, but after so many years of fishing and swimming there, seeing no one else, he figured the owners weren't around.
"I'm so sorry for trespassing. I've been coming down ever since I was a kid. My name is Ryan Underwood. I live in the cul-de-sac just up the ridge through the woods."
The woman glared at him and her icy tone seemed to melt some. "Sorry I scared you. I haven't ridden this trail in years. Didn't think I would find anyone down here."
