“Adam, can you grab the mail?” Mom would call out from the couch. Her legs were often propped up on a pillow, and she winced with every movement. She’d been in a car accident years ago, and her limp made standing or walking for long periods difficult. Still, she worked long shifts at the gas station just to keep us afloat.
“Sure, Mom,” I would reply grabbing my coat. I didn’t mind doing the little things to help. It made me feel like I was making a difference, even if it was just fetching mail or fixing dinner. I thought I was just going fishing with an old man I’d met by chance, but the letter I received months later revealed a secret that would leave me forever changed—and with a gift that would fulfill my wildest dreams.
Living in an old trailer wasn’t as bad as it sounds, or at least that’s what I told myself. It was just me and Mom. We’ve been on our own since Dad left when I was six. Honestly, I barely remember him, but Mom… well, she never says much about him. We don’t talk about it.
Most days after school, I would find something to do outside the trailer—anything to take my mind off things. But little did I know that at the age of 13, my life would change. That day, I was tossing an old, deflated soccer ball at some bottles I’d set up like bowling pins. It wasn’t much, but it helped pass the time. Then, out of nowhere, this shiny black SUV rolled up next to the trailer. The windows were tinted, and I stared at it for a second, wondering who on earth would come around here in something that fancy.
The door creaked open, and out stepped this old man, probably in his 70s or 80s, leaning on a cane but with a warm smile on his face. He waved. “Hey there,” he said, slowly walking over. “Mind if I take a shot?” He pointed at the bottles I had lined up. I blinked. “Uh, sure, I guess,” I said, not really sure what to make of him. He chuckled. “Tell you what, let’s make it interesting. If I get a strike, I’ll ask you for a favor, and you can’t say no. But if I miss, I’ll hand you a hundred bucks. Deal?”
My eyes practically popped out of my head. A hundred bucks? I could almost hear the register in my brain ringing. “Deal,” I said quickly. The man leaned down, picked up the deflated ball, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed it. The thing rolled straight into the bottles, knocking every last one down. I stood there, jaw dropped. No way. The old man laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “Looks like I won,” he said. “Now, for that favor.” I swallowed, curious. “What do you want me to do?”
“Come fishing with me tomorrow at the old pond,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. .I jogged back into the trailer, opening the door quietly. Mom was asleep on the couch, her chest rising and falling slowly. She’d had a long shift at the gas station the night before, and I didn’t want to wake her. I stood there for a moment, biting my lip. “She won’t even know,” I muttered to myself. “I’ll be back before she notices.” Decision made, I tiptoed back outside. “Alright, I’ll go,” I told the old man, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake.
“Great,” he said, smiling even wider. “We’ll meet tomorrow at dawn. Don’t be late. “The next morning, the old man picked me up bright and early in his black SUV. We drove in silence at first, heading out of town. The place looked like no one had been there in years, the water was still, with tall grass growing around it. There wasn’t a single person in sight. “Why here?” I asked, looking around as I grabbed the fishing rods he’d brought. The old man smiled softly as he set up the gear. “This place… it means a lot to me,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. We cast our lines into the water and sat side by side. We didn’t talk much for a while. But after about an hour, with no bites on the line, I couldn’t help but ask.