Chapter 14 Hudson #2
“Are you not eating?” Tonya asks, as Mira grabs a lonely hamburger bun and nothing else.
“I’m a vegan,” Mira says, taking a bite of her bun and adding another to her plate. Considering I’ve seen her take down many carne asada tacos at the bar, I know that this is her way of being polite.
Growing up, my dad always taught me that what makes a great leader is the ability to anticipate others’ needs.
And through our many conversations Mira told me all the horror stories about eating at work: the plates of green beans she consumed even though she hated them, eating from the dregs of the buffet bowls, or having her plate get thrown in the trash before she had a chance to take a single bite.
It was one of the reasons I always ordered takeout to the bar on days she had a photoshoot, ensuring she didn’t go to bed hungry, and I want to be that guy again.
“Me too,” Adrian says, dumping his plate into the plastic trash bag.
“What about you?” Tonya asks, eyeing me suspiciously. “You a friend of PETA too?”
But my mind is spinning too quickly to answer her, as I figure out a way not only to save this disaster of a dinner but to make a grand gesture to Mira.
I’ve not been confident in many things in my life, but living off the land is one area where I’ve earned my fair share of gold stars from an early age.
Foraging, hunting, and cooking meals in the wild is my specialty.
Right now, my best option is to fish. Making my way into the tree line, I scout for the perfect limbs to use for my makeshift rod.
“If you’re planning on beating us out of our misery, I’ll volunteer as tribute,” Adrian replies, chewing on a piece of bread.
“As much as I appreciate your sacrifice, I’m trying to find us some real food,” I say, bending a branch against my knee to check for flexibility.
“Thank God,” he breathes. “I’ve eaten a lot of sketchy things in my life, but this might be hitting my threshold.”
The branch is too dry, snapping easily. I move into the small patch of forest.
“So, are we like foraging for mushrooms? Or . . .”
“I’m trying to catch us some fish,” I explain, and snap another stick.
“Are you going to spear them like the guys on Naked and Afraid?” Adrian asks excitedly.
“Unlike Derrick, I’ll be keeping my clothes on,” I reply, peeking over my shoulder to see if Mira is still paying attention to his antics.
Thankfully, she’s lying with her head on her backpack, eyes closed, ignoring him entirely.
“If you really want to know, I’m making sure that the branch I choose has enough flexibility to withstand the weight of the fish and the tension of the string,” I explain, as I find a branch that passes my test.
“But, like, it takes more than a stick, right?”
Adrian’s correct. It does take more than a stick.
And it’s then that I remember my wilderness bag, with all the items I need to finish my project, is sitting in the back of the Jeep.
I left it there in hopes of going to the park.
But from our many talks at the bar, I know that the only other person who would have the items I need is . . . Mira.
A part of me considers asking Adrian to relay my message, but if I’m going to prove myself to her, I have to step up.
She’s relaxed, laughing at something Vanessa has said as she bathes in the sun.
She’s still in her life jacket, a godsend considering I can see the bra she’s wearing peeking through the side of the waterlogged fabric.
If she took it off now, my thoughts would practically be broadcasted to the entire group in these shorts.
Get it together, man, I argue with myself, as I make my way towards her.
“Finally going to join the party, Hayes?” Derrick shouts up to me from the river, causing Mira to whip her head back to find me. Her entire body stiffens in annoyance as she quickly turns her gaze back towards the river.
I ignore Derrick, my heart already pounding in my ears with nervousness.
“Do you have your emergency kit with you?” I ask Mira, hoping she can’t see through my false confidence.
“Why?” Her mouth hardens into a thin line as she clutches her camera bag tighter, as if I might take it by force.
“I’m trying to find some fresh food and I’m ninety-nine percent sure your kit has what I need.”
Studying me, she turns her attention towards Vanessa, who gives her an enthusiastic nod of approval, and she relents.
“I will be doing inventory after,” she says, handing me her bag, “so go ahead and expect an invoice for any items missing.”
“Understood,” I say, unzipping it. She told me once that her bag rivaled Mary Poppins’s and I have to admit I’m impressed. Although it lacks collapsible cutting boards or foldable silicone measuring cups like mine, it is stocked with everything I need to finish my project.
Mira watches me bend a safety pin back quizzically.
“You really think that’s going to work?” she asks as I wrap the thread from her sewing kit around the metal until it attaches, creating a makeshift fishing lure.
“My father’s been taking me on fishing trips since I could walk.
One time I accidentally threw all our lures off the side of the boat and we all had to learn a valuable lesson in improvisation,” I say, slipping into the confident man she’s accustomed to.
“And considering I saw a school of trout on the way down, I’m not too worried about coming up empty-handed. ”
Mira raises her eyebrows, impressed, and the fact she’s even looking at me is enough to boost my ego. Taking a sturdy stance next to her, I cast my line into the water and wait for the familiar tug on the other end.
God, I need this to work.
The water is flowing steadily, and I spot a school of trout traveling in our direction up ahead.
I only have a small window of opportunity to catch as many as I can.
Unlike professional rods, where I can slowly reel them in, I have to be quick about it, yanking the fish out of the water the second I feel tension.
Unwilling to fuck this up, I prepare a backup rod just in case.
I say a silent prayer to the water gods, as I wait for a bite on the line.
It only takes a few minutes before the rod closest to me goes tense and I jerk it up, displaying a pink-and-blue striped fish attached to the end.
I let out a breath, detaching the rainbow trout from the line.
It wobbles on the shore, as Vanessa, Adrian, and a few of the other party members clap in appraisal behind me.
But Mira’s slow clap is the only sound I pay attention to.
“Impressed?” I ask, wiping my hands on my pants, my palms scratched from the wooden rod.
“Depends,” she replies, peering down to inspect my catch. “Are you really going to be able to cook that?”
“Oh yeah. All I need is some tinfoil and a little salt and pepper.”
She raises her eyebrow skeptically. I can feel the ice between us defrosting as I push her goodwill a little further.
“Want to help?”
I know she’s about to refuse my offer, but Vanessa comes to my aide.
“Go,” Vanessa says, pushing Mira towards me. “He might need to use some of those condiments you have left in your bag.”
“Fine,” she caves and my heart flutters. “But if you call yourself a grill master, I’m out.”
“Totally fair,” I reason, holding my hands up.
“Can you grab me one of those aluminum trays?” I ask, sending her away for long enough for me to handle the more gruesome details of the process, offering the animal a swift death.
There’s a faint smile on her face when she returns, carrying several empty containers.
“I didn’t know how many you’d need,” she offers, handing them over.
“One will be fine,” I say, putting the fish inside and making my way over to the grill.
“I heard you were over here showing off your skills,” Katherine says, inspecting my bounty, and I know whatever ground I’ve recovered with Mira has just been swept away. “Isn’t he just so talented?” she continues, her hand giving me an almost territorial squeeze. “My little mountain man.”
She says the last phrase in a mock baby voice and Mira’s eyes roll so far back, I barely see the hazel of her irises.
“Oh yeah, he’s a real Christopher McCandless,” Mira replies through gritted teeth, referencing the nomadic college student from Into the Wild. “Make sure he forages dessert too. I think I saw some nice berry bushes over by the tree line.”
“Really?” Katherine asks, not getting the reference. Her idea of casual reading is scrolling TikTok before bed.
“She’s kidding,” I say, having to stop her from running over and ingesting something toxic, the exact scenario that led to Christopher’s death.
I place the fish over the hot coals, as Mira retreats back to the group. “Did you need something?”
“No, I just saw you over here and thought I’d check in.”
“Really? Or did you see me paying attention to someone else?” I ask, irritation prickling up my spine. Before our split Katherine always left me alone at social functions, but now that I want space from her, she’s sticking to me like static cling.
“What is up with you? You’re being overly assholish this weekend.”
Smoke billows up from the pan, flames charring underneath as I cover it with foil.
“All I’m asking is for a little distance. Can you give me that for once?”
The words come out sharper than I intended, but since Katherine is accustomed to me rolling over she might need a little scratch to get my point.
“Fine. I’ll leave you alone,” she says, irritated, and skulks off. On any other day, I’d apologize, but today I couldn’t care less about her bruised ego.
“Damn, that smells delicious,” George says, giving the fish a big sniff. “Guess all that time with your dad really paid off.”
Unlike my mother, who only mentions my father with disdain, George’s words radiate respect. Topping out at six-four, he’s an older, more rugged version of Grant, with toned arms and a lean frame from his years of sailing around the Atlantic.