Fishing

Christopher

I woke up feeling refreshed, like I had a second shot at making things right with Olin. In reality, it was more like a tenth or twentieth shot. It didn’t matter. I was going to try again. Fishing had to be the key. When he was younger, he had enjoyed fishing. Maybe there was a chance he still did. I hoped so.

I felt desperate. I was starved for his attention and acceptance. I had a good idea of what it felt like to be a child starving for attention from his parents. I was almost willing to buy him a car just to get him to like me a little bit. I knew I couldn’t. He’d only like me for five minutes and he sure as hell wouldn’t respect me. I had to stay strong. I couldn’t let him win in this battle for what I perceived to be his future.

Everything I said and did in these crucial developmental years mattered. I wanted him to be a good man one day. He needed guidance from a father, not advice from a pal. I hated having to be the bad guy. I hated having to tell him to get his sh