The Matchmaker - 2. Chapter 2 - Trout Fishing in Europe

In the morning, I'm feeling less bloodthirsty. I'm just sad and depressed. Wondering how I could be so delusional to think Sarah would fall for an underdeveloped tweeny boy when she could easily have a man.

It is Sunday and the weather is awful. I'm sitting stark-naked across my bed when I hear a knock to my room.

"Come in," I say.

"You're alright son?" my dad asks as he peeks inside.

"No, I'm not," I reply.

I stare blankly at the opposite wall. Not even caring to cover myself. I’m sure I don't look alright. But I don't care.

"Mind if I talk to you for a while? Or do you want to dress up first?" he asks, nodding at my groin.

"We can talk," I mumble, making no move to stand up or dress.

My dad closes the door, takes a few steps inside and sits on the edge of my bed. It squeaks threateningly underneath him.

You must know that my dad is one bear of a man. He's almost two meters high and probably weighs three times more than me. He has a lush, black beard and short curly hair. I doubt I inherited any of his Roman gladiator genes from him. My mom is a tiny woman with light hair and I've always been a living image of her.

As I sit there naked next to him with my arms across my legs, I feel even more tiny and insignificant than ever.

"Let me guess. A heartbreak?" He asks with his deep voice.

I nod slightly. I'm surprised he got it right but I don't show it.

"A boy, girl?" He asks then.

Come on. Really? Does he think I'm gay, too?

I just roll my eyes. He knows what it means.

"A girl then? That's what I thought. I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable in case it was a boy. Which would be perfectly fine with your mom and me. I mean, if it was a boy and not a girl, so…"

"It's a girl, dad. You’re making me feel worse."

"Sorry, Kevin. I didn't mean to. Any way I can help?"

"Can I skip church?"

"You got it, son."

"Thanks. I'll be fine. I just need time," I say, hoping I'm right.

"Yeah," he says slowly. "Find something to occupy your mind. It may get worse before it gets better."

My dad places his huge hand on my knee and looks at my exposed dick again.

"If you need a clean pair of underwear, you can borrow mine," he winks at me.

"If I ever need a parachute, I will get one with no holes in it," I say and we both chuckle. "I'll go naked for a while if that's fine."

"Don't mind me," he says. "I wouldn't want my son to be ashamed of his body."

"I am," I admit. "I'm trying to get over it right now."

"You shouldn't be ashamed. You have a great body. Don't go comparing yourself to other people."

"Okay, thanks dad," I say and watch him as he leaves.

***

An hour later, Sarah texts me. My hands tremble and I almost drop the phone on the floor. Just one word. "Sorry."

What is she sorry for? It's not like we were a couple. She could tell me she's not interested. She didn't have to lie to me. It wouldn't hurt half as bad.

It's tempting but I don't smash my phone against the wall. I don't reply to Sarah either.

***

The day continues. I pass time playing the Ligue with Dave, watching TV and scrolling social media. Trying not to think about Sarah. It's tough. Tomorrow's school and I can't sleep.

***

"I'm sorry I lied," she says.

She's been waiting for me in front of the school building, looking genuinely sorry. And very beautiful. I feel pleasant stirring beneath my boxer shorts when I let her hug me. But I don't put my heart into this hug. I'm still not over it.

"I’m sorry I said I would be out of town. I've been talking to James for some time now," she continues. "I didn't want you to feel bad but I shouldn't have lied to you."

"It would make me feel less shitty if you didn't, frankly."

"Oh Kev, I know, I'm so sorry. Can we still be friends?" she asks.

That's a very good question. I hope we can.

But the days go by and I start seeing James and Sarah together. Every time I do, I feel jealous. I try to keep appearances when talking to Sarah but it's slowly becoming obvious that I can't go on like this.

My parents see it, especially dad. He's been giving me space so I could come to peace with my feelings but I'm slowly realising it's not the space that I need.

"Can we go fishing this weekend?" I ask my dad.

"Fishing?" He asks, raising his left eyebrow.

"Yeas, I would like that," I say somewhat enthusiastically.

"It's been a while since we’ve last gone fishing."

"Yes, I suddenly feel like going again."

"Let me check the weather," he says.

***

It’s Saturday and I’ve gone fishing with my dad. We asked my mom and my sister if they wanted to go but we weren’t insisting when they refused.

There is a lake an hour drive away. We used to go there even a few times a year until I was about eleven. It was usually my dad's friend's family and ours. But then the kids got older and got other priorities than fishing. Now, fishing sounds like a good idea again even if for very different reasons.

It is early in the evening when we have everything up and running. We plan to stay up at least until midnight. We got our rods, some lights, lures and other stuff. We got a tent and mosquito repellents.

Twang!

And we got beer. I mean, dad's got beer.

For dad, beer has always been like water. He could easily drink twelve Buds during a fishing session and continue a conversation like if he just woke up.

Today, he brought twenty. I mean, I'm not judging him but it was usually dad and his friend getting their asses drunk. Now, I'm afraid it will be weird being with him alone.

For a while, we fish in silence. Dad only mentions something about the wind and brings up a 30-kg trout he caught ten years ago. Ten years sound conveniently long enough for me not to remember it, while not entirely prehistoric. I believe him.

I feel good, even though we haven't caught anything, yet. The time is only measured by the sound of beer cans opened by my dad. Everything back home, including Sarah, seems far away and unimportant. I don't mind at all when dad mentions her.

"That girl…" he starts.

"Sarah."

"Sarah! A lovely name. You still feel bad?"

"Yes. Pretty bad. Well, not here and not now, but I've been down ever since it happened."

"Care to tell me what happened?"

At first reluctantly, but I tell him everything. When I get to the grand finale at KFC, he just shakes his head. When I finish, there is silence and dad's looking absent.

"Kevin, my boy," he gets closer and pats my blond hair. I lean into his bear statue. "That's tough."

He reaches into the bag and grabs another beer can. He gives it to me.

"Don't tell your mother," he murmurs.

I'm not crazy about beer. I've only had one or two in my whole life. But I accept it. For the sake of this father-son bonding experience.

"I reckon that she's pretty," dad breaks the silence.

"Yeah. Most guys say she’s the prettiest girl in school. I even jerk off thinking about her sometimes."

"I don't doubt it. And this James Mitt dude? He's some sort of a sports hero?"

"Like I told you. He plays volleyball, is tall, and he looks like an actor. Uhm, Dad?"

"What's that, boy?"

"How tall were you when you were my age?"

He looks at me and smiles. Then he lifts his hand to his nose.

"About this high," he says.

"Oh," I look down.

"Yes, I stopped growing when I was 17. You wish you were taller, right?"

"I do, dad."

"Then stop" he burps, "Stop right now. I know it doesn't change how you feel but some girls like tall boys and some don't."

"Most do."

"Maybe,” he shrugs, “it doesn't matter. Some girls you will meet will like small, cute guys like you. You're a cute boy and you will surely turn into a handsome man as you get older."

"Uh, I hope so," I say, unconvinced.

"Look," he nudges me, "would you date a fat girl?"

"As a matter of fact, maybe," I challenge him.

"Ugh, okay. Then, would you like to date a two-meter tall girl?"

"No!"

"See, in the same way, some girls will not date a guy who is smaller than them. Or younger. Or older. When you see that a girl likes tall dudes, just go looking elsewhere."

“It’s like going to a restaurant,” he continues. “Even if most people tell you that it has the best steaks in town, there will be always some who disagree.”

We go silent again for a while. As soon as I empty my can, dad tosses me another one.

"Don't tell your mother," he says.

"Have you been talking to someone about Sarah?" dad asks me after a while.

"No," I admit.

"Well, you should. What about Torry? I haven't seen him in a while."

I don't answer immediately.

"You're still friends with Torry, right?"

"I'm not sure," I say.

"Don't tell me you two had a falling-out, too."

"Well, yes. I mean, no," I scratch my head.

I take the last sip of my second beer. Dad tosses me yet another one. Don’t tell your mother. I get it, he wants me to substitute for his friend. Well, no way I'm drinking twelve beers. I already feel a little drunk.

"Break it to me, boy," my dad says.

"Torry's gay," I say after taking a long breath.

"Is he?" dad asks.

"Yeah."

"How do you know?"

"He told me, a week ago."

"But you're not a homophobe, are you Kev?"

"No… at least I don't think I am. But he said he has a crush on me and I don't know what to feel or think."

"Did he try to… do something?"

"No daddy… he said he gets it that I'm straight and wants to stay friends. But it weirded me out!"

"Then you should give him a chance. I get it, it's all new and it's not the kind of attention that flatters you. If he can keep his urges at bay, it would be a shame if you lost him as a friend."

"I don't wanna be a homophobe, dad. But I find it so gross!"

"It's up to you, Kevin. I wish you would talk to him."

"Dad?"

"Yes, boy?"

"You suspected I might be gay, too, right?"

Dad exhales and looks at me with empathy.

"I'll be honest with you, Kevin. I was pretty sure you were."

"Are you still?" I feel tears gathering in my eyes.

"No," he says. "Not anymore. I'm sorry for assuming that."

"I'm not gay, dad," I sob. I feel the alcohol getting to my head.

"I know, Kevin boy, I know."

***

I don’t think dad should be driving. It's 10 am and we're going back home. I got pretty drunk yesterday and had weird dreams.

One of them was that I was jerking off inside our tent with my dad watching. "I'm a big boy!" I yelled. "You are a big boy. You are my big, straight boy," my dad said as I was cumming all over my body. Thank god it was just a dream.

Dad is strangely quiet on our way back. It's probably the beers.

***

I made up my mind and decided to meet with Torry even before we got home. Dad was right, I can't abandon my friend just because he chose to be honest with me. I know I have to be wary so that he doesn't cross the line. But then again, he never did and we've known each other forever.