Necessity

A short story about infidelity. And fishing.

Geoff had always thought he had an old man’s name. But now, having a wife, 3 kids and a house he owned less than a quarter of, he had started to feel as if he’d caught up with his name. He also owned a fishing rod.

Maria had come first. Then she had become his wife. Then child number 1 arrived. Then they all upgraded to the house from the flat. Then child number 2 came along. Then their car became a people mover. Then finally child number 3 showed up. The fishing rod hadn’t arrived until he met Jenny.

It was strange that he had started seeing Jenny, because along with an old man’s name he had a strong moral sense about infidelity. So mostly he just avoided thinking about it. Sometimes though, his brain rebelled, his brain forced him to think about it, and he would lie awake. He would lie awake and plan how would break it off with Jenny and everything would go back to normal. This was Geoff coping mechanism: having a plan. Once he had a plan, that nagging doubt, that moral itch would go quiet, and he’d go back to sleep. In the morning he’d never act on his plan, simply having one was enough. Having a plan had always been important to Geoff.

He had started seeing Jenny after a chance encounter at a library. It had started how all illicit affairs start, carried along by the momentum of secrecy and the giddy feeling of having something to hide. At first their stolen minutes together weren’t noticed. But when the minutes started to add up to hours and then days, they were.

That’s when the fishing rod arrived. Geoff had only meant to nip out but Maria, his wife, had asked where he was going. The question was innocent, only his reaction wasn’t.

“I’m going fishing.”

Geoff watched as he said it from deep within himself as if he was on autopilot. David Attenborough had been on the night before. It had been about fish. This had to be followed up with several more hastily constructed non-truths. Yes, he did know he didn’t fish. Yes, he was aware he didn’t have any fishing gear. No, he wasn’t actually going to fish he had just been invited down by some guys at work. No, he wouldn’t be long. It was only after he left, got in his car, driven off, pulled up at the side of the road, driven off again, pulled up again and then made an effort to calm down that he realized he’d stumbled upon a wonderful alibi. People do fish for whole days. Weekends sometimes.

Well after that he had to buy a fishing rod.

Geoff had of course been expecting that at some point Maria would ask where he was off to. He had worried that his palms would sweat, that his heart hammer, that his speech would stutter. He hadn’t. It was actually pretty easy. And fishing became an even easier excuse. A pot into which a lot of time could be poured with little expectation of any kind of result other than fish, which sometimes he bought. He would even get the fishmongers to leave the scales on.

Meanwhile things with Jenny blossomed. Fishing expanded taking up greater and greater sections of his weekends. The extra-marital couple were suddenly able to spend whole days together.

However soon he was spending so much time fishing that he felt he needed something extra to bring back. In truth Geoff knew very little about fishing. A friend at work, well not a friend really, more of a colleague, Mark, knew about fishing. Geoff normally found Mark a terrible bore, but he now realized he would have to become Mark’s rapt pupil.

Geoff strolled down the semi-partitioned corridor planning his approach. Amy was talking to Mark. So Geoff circled, he was an aircraft in a holding pattern waiting to land. Amy was the greyest woman Geoff had ever met. She was 24 and when they’d first met Geoff had felt the need to impress, in the way that older men do when they are around younger women. He soon realized he didn’t need to. She was a pedant who appeared to have been born with out any fun and hair the colour of boredom. Her and Mark were perfectly suited, only they were both to dull to see it.

Amy had finally finished talking and Geoff made his final approach.

“Hey, Mark.”

“Hi.”

“Can I ask you about fishing?”

“Um, sure. What about fishing?”

“Well I quite like the look of it. And I was thinking about getting into it. And I was just wondering if you could tell me a little bit about it.”

“Ok.” Mark turned on his 5 wheel, black office chair so he was straight on to Geoff. The kind of straight on that made it obvious Mark was not entertaining any other thoughts while talking to Geoff. “What kind of fishing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Which type of fishing?”

“Oh, I don’t… what kinds of fishing are there?”

Geoff realized this was going to take longer than he thought. For the time being Geoff felt like he needed a shield. Something tangible, a life raft of proof to cling to. Something to show he had been fishing.

“What is it?” asked Maria.

“It’s a proficiency certificate. I’m a grade one fisherman.” Geoff had sat at work late the night before with Microsoft Powerpoint and clipart as his only allies. The product printed on blue, 120gsm paper with decorative borders and a fisherman silhouette didn’t look too dissimilar from the kind of certificate a child might get after a running race on sports day.

“I didn’t know they had certificates for fishing.”

Anxiety filled Geoff. The kind social anxiety that is only felt when the blinding obvious is pointed out openly. Geoff had definitely been blind to it.

“No, me neither. I guess,” said Geoff.

“What did you have to do for it?”

“Yeah, no. They give it to you when you’re able to tie a fly and catch your first fish,” said Geoff.

“I thought tying a fly was quite hard. That’s what my dad was always saying.”

It was true, Maria’s dad had always been talking about fishing when he was alive. Geoff was glad he was dead. He was glad in general, they’d never got on, but he was especially glad right now.

“It’s a shame you didn’t get into fishing while Dad was still alive. Maybe you two would found something to bond over.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” replied Geoff.

Maria’s dad was always banging on about his fishing. Geoff had always smiled politely, tuned out and thought about something else. But Maria must have had a lifetime of it. It had never occurred to him how much she must know, how much the old man must have passed on. Maybe that would be his last act from beyond the grave, catching Geoff out.

“What’s a fly, Daddy?” asked child number 2. Geoff had long stopped trying to call the children by their names. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember their names. He could remember all three perfectly. He could just never get the right name when speaking to the right child. Even with a one in three chance he always seemed to say the names of the other two names first.

Maria looked up a Geoff waiting for him to answer child number 2’s question. The worst part was Geoff knew she wasn’t testing him; she just didn’t want to steal his thunder.

“It’s, um, well I don’t want to be overly complicated for you darling. It’s the bit at the end that catches the fish.”

“I thought that was a hook.”

“That’s right.” Geoff smiled broadly and hugged child number 2 as if he’d got the correct answer to a question that he’d never asked. Geoff stood up and left the kitchen.

After the certificate things continued well enough. Maria seemed happy as she thought of fishing as a kind of pastime that kept grown men out of trouble. Jenny was happy as she was seeing more of Geoff. Geoff didn’t know how he felt but he certainly seemed to be collecting a lot of the trappings of a fisherman.

One Saturday morning, Geoff took all three of the children to a shop that sold fishing equipment. Jenny was out of town and seeing as he didn’t have anywhere else to go he finally agreed to the children’s pleas for to be shown fishing things.

Geoff browsed the aisles from stereotypical many-pocketed vest to excessively technological looking carbon fibre rods. He picked up items and marveled at their pure and focused utility, with no idea of their exact function. He simply marveled at the mechanical action of various reels and ratchets. It was the same way a lot of men bought tools; No intention of using them, but their function made them desirable.

Geoff continued to browse. Meanwhile child number 2 had caught child number 1 in a large fishing net. Child number 3 had got bored and was waiting outside, teetering dangerously close to a sulk. Finally Geoff found it, his next rod, the TXL-F lite. It was 33% lighter. It transferred power more efficiently. And it would be a deadly predator to the imaginary fish Geoff would never catch.

While fishing equipment continued to accumulate at the house, Geoff continued his chats with Mark at work. He was piecing together a reasonably complete picture of a theoretical fisherman. He could certainly talk a good game. Sometimes he felt like a bona fide fisherman simply from the amount of fisherman talk he had stored up and ready to burst out, which it readily did. This was partly because he spent too much of his time acquiring angling tips and partly because we was constantly trying to test himself, keeping his story straight.

Geoff felt excitement about his secret and the façade he was successfully maintaining which meant he wanted to talk about fishing more. Only for this to come crashing down in a cold wash of fear, fear of Maria finding out, fear of people learning about the infidelity, fear of being caught doing something wrong. Then once he’d lived with the fear for long enough and it had become dull, the fear itself became exciting. Excitement, fear, excitement of fear; the cycle continued. He’d become someone to be avoided at friends’ houses only having one thing he wished to talk about.

Jenny finally asked Geoff to a family get together. They had been seeing each other for almost a year now and, although she was well aware of Maria and children 1, 2 and 3, she felt it was time to introduce Geoff to people in her life. It was a barbeque at her father’s house. Jenny’s parents were separated. This was part of the reason Geoff felt it was ok to go. If Jenny’s parents had separated after Jenny’s father was discovered to be having an affair, surely no one could judge him.

This feeling only increased after meeting Jenny’s father, he was civil while stopping short of warm. Geoff felt acceptance would have been too much, but he felt confident he could spend the afternoon operating in this social no man’s land of civility. Geoff met Jenny brother next.

“How’s your wife?”

Geoff had assumed Jenny’s dad’s behavior would have normalized infidelity for Jenny and her brother. In fact it had made her brother far more sensitive about it. Geoff lasted 13 more minutes at the barbeque before making his excuses.

On the way home Geoff stopped to buy Maria flowers. For the first time in his life, when the florist asked how much he wanted to spend he didn’t point at the second cheapest, he went for the most expensive.

“What are these for?” asked Maria.

“Nothing,” said Geoff, trying not to sound defensive.

“Oh, aren’t you the sweetest,” said Maria. And that just made the guilt even worse.

Things started peter out with Jenny soon after. It wasn’t that they were fighting, although they did occasionally. It was that a feeling of awkwardness has filled the space between them and there was nothing they could do to deflate it.

The only thing that held them together was Geoff. He was terrified if they broke up she’d immediately ring up Maria and tell all in a fit of jealous revenge. Only She wouldn’t, but Geoff had the fear and nothing could shake it. She didn’t want to be there just as much as him, but he persevered.

The ‘fishing trips’ for which Geoff had initially left the house with a spring in his step had become a visible chore. In fact, more and more Geoff found he was distracting himself with family life to delay his morning departures.

Although Geoff’s interest in his alibi had waned, in other peoples’ eyes it was still his major pastime. His birthday brought a huge haul of fishing related items. Reels, lures, waders, tackle boxes and more reels. Each item confirmed to him further that he needed to break it off with Jenny. With every present his stomach was sinking a little deeper. For every gift he acted out the same routine of emotions: wonder, surprise and gratitude. The feeling of self-loathing was genuine.

Finally Maria’s brother, Johnny, passed Mark his gift. Maybe Geoff was worn out from all the emotions he’d been pretending to have, but when he unwrapped the brightly coloured reels of thread it obvious for a moment he precisely no clue what they were. Before he had time to recover he saw Jonny and Maria react.

“Maria said you’d been tying your own flies,” said Johnny looking to Maria and back to Geoff.

“Yeah, you did say that,” said Maria.

“Well, our dad said this was the best line backing and tippets he used,” followed up Johnny.

“No, yeah, brilliant,” said Geoff trying to recover. “I was just saying to Maria the other day this was the kind of line backing and, um, tips I wanted. Wasn’t I, Maria.” Silence. “So this is great, now I’ll be even more of a fisherman like your dad. Right, Maria?” Silence. “Yeah know these are definitely the best backing line and tip bits.”

He saw Maria’s face. The seed had been planted. Maria’s dad. Geoff had always known the old man would get him in the end.

The following weekend Geoff broke it off with Jenny. He wasn’t sure if he’d expected tears or a mutual massive rush of relief, but he got neither. It had become a none-relationship and it finished in a nonevent. Jenny simply nodded, then they both finished their breakfasts in silence before Jenny said something about dry-cleaning and left.

That afternoon, with Maria and the kids out, Geoff started on a new project, something to hopefully eradicate any doubt in Maria’s mind. He sat up late into the night trying to get his face right. Photoshop tutorials taught you how to cut, copy and clone. Only he could not get these actions in the right sequence or execute them in the right manner for his task. If only the Photoshop For Dummies had a chapter titled ‘How to cut and paste your own head over the head of a prize-winning fisherman in order to keep up the pretense to your wife that you are not having an affair and are in fact spending all your free time fishing and getting quite good at it’. If they had a chapter with that title it would suit his needs perfectly. If only they had a chapter with that title, then everything would be fine.

The computer was starting to anger Geoff but in a weird way he enjoyed it. It let him feel like he was working off some kind of penitence for his infidelity. The deep itch of guilt had never gone away completely and by doing this he was at least able to scratch at it briefly.

His face still wasn’t right. He thought it might have been because of the lighting. Geoff recalled an episode of CSI Miami, or was it New York, where the murderer’s alibi was picked apart because a composite photo with incorrect lighting. The prize-winning fisherman standing on the riverbank with his prize-winning catch was refusing to take Geoff face, refusing to be part of the lie. Geoff had found a better picture of a commercial fisherman replete in oilskins. Too much? Geoff wondered. Yeah, probably.

Maria didn’t return that evening. Or that night. When she finally did in the morning Geoff could immediately tell something was wrong.

“Hi,” said Geoff. More a question than a statement.

Maria said nothing.

“Where have you been?”

“At my mother’s.”

“Where are the kids?”

“Still at my mothers.”

“What’s wrong?”

Maria said nothing for a moment as if she was hoping to stay silent but her anger proved too much.

“I saw Mark yesterday. You know, Mark, your fishing buddy from work. Your great fishing buddy that you’re always telling me you’re fishing with. Well he had some interesting things to say. Or at least some interesting things he didn’t say. Or didn’t even know about.”

Now it was Geoff’s turn to say nothing. Maria stared at Geoff. Her gaze felt uncomfortable.

“Mark’s going to a fishing competition today. Why don’t we go?” asked Maria.

“Why?” asked Geoff, already recoiling from the answer he hoped would never arrive.

“So I can see you fucking fish.”

It was the first time Geoff had heard Maria swear in a very long time.

“Maria, why don’t we sit down for a minute?”

“Get your fucking rods in the fucking car.”

The drive to the competition was one of the most silent and awkward Geoff had ever experienced. Geoff wasn’t sure if it was worse than the long, childhood drive back from playing cricket with his cousins after he’d killed their Jack Russell with an errant 6.

Geoff moved to turn the radio on to break the tension. Maria fixed him with a look. This drive was definitely worse.

When they arrived at the competition, Geoff unloaded while Maria stood with her arms folded. Geoff set up his ultra-light aluminum tubed fishing chair.

Geoff thought about Theodor Kaluza. Could an encyclopedic theoretical knowledge move seamlessly into the practical with absolutely no practice? Theodor Kaluza thought so, he thought himself to swim from a book at age thirty. Then again he also can up with field equations for 5-dimentional space so he was probably a lot smarter than me, through Geoff.

He was delaying the moment he had to actually touch the rods.

Maria was standing by the driver side door, arms folded.

Geoff scooped up the rods. He thought he’d carried it off in a reasonably practiced manner. The looks from some of the other fisherman said otherwise. Geoff went back to get his dry box.

Maria was still standing there. Still watching.

Geoff didn’t know if was after a fly had become lodged in his hand, or the reel had become unspooled, or he had dropped the first rod into the water that Maria had left. But by the time he turned around she was gone.

Maria let him back in over two weekends to clear his things out. Now Geoff actually fishes. At first he resented it but he grew to love it. Well, love might be a bit strong.