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and the droplets of water still residing there warmed. While we ate, we looked out into the lake while we shared the silence. It was a nice change of pace from every other time I had spoken to him.
    “How come you enjoy fishing so much?” I decided to ask.
    Finishing his drink, he leaned back and planted his hands on the rock slab and kept his eyes locked on the water. “It’s the one place I can go and find solitude. I leave my cellphone in the truck and just carry my pole, bait and maybe a meal. There aren’t very many things left in this life that you can do without distraction. Fishing . . . well, that’s one of them.”
    “Careful now, Paul. You almost sound like a thinker.”
    He laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Nothing. Never mind.”
    “Come on.”
    Taking a drink of my soda, I looked over at him. “You usually talk a lot, which comes across as a bit shallow on the thinking side.”
    “I don’t talk that much.”
    Looking back at the water, I said, “Why’d you decide to marry her?”
    “I love her.” Confidence radiated from his words as he said it.
    “But you loved her before yesterday happened.”
    “True.” Hesitation to continue crept on his face as he ran his fingers through his hair. He looked nervous. “Janice is very important to me, and I’ve wanted to marry her for a while, but . . . it just became the way it is and then I stopped thinking about it.” He looked over at me. “I love my bachelor pad life, but on the other hand, I love her. I’m just. Just . . .”
    “Scared?” I finished his sentence for him.
    “Yeah,” he replied. “That’s exactly it. I don’t want to become the husband . The guy who unclogs the bath tub and watches kids on Saturday morning while clutching a cup of coffee, hoping it kicks in before the kids drive me nuts. That whole cliché, stupid kind of life doesn’t sound entirely great.”
    I shook my head. “Why are you marrying her then? You know she wants kids.”
    “Remember earlier when I was asked about signs?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, I think I might have had one. My beliefs in God are not exactly deep, but I think He was trying to tell me something.”
    Raising my eyebrows, I encouraged him to continue. It wasn’t like there were any fish to be had in this spot of the lake. Doubt began creeping in on me about two things. One—that he was as good a fisherman as he claimed to be, and two—that this was just a fishing trip. Paul was beginning to reveal a different part of himself that I had never met. I wasn’t sure what my crippled self could offer for sound advice, but it was more entertaining than wasting the day away at home, drowning my sorrows.
    “The other day, I was at the grocery store purchasing some food. Just, you know, getting groceries.”
    “Okay.”
    “So there I was, picking out creamer. I’m a French vanilla kind of guy, but I get the sugar-free kind. I’m trying to watch what I take in.”
    I remained silent.
    “Anyway. This guy came up and opened the refrigerator door to grab a gallon of milk. Seemed fine. Ya know?” His tone got nervous. “I glanced over at him and tipped a courteous nod, and he reciprocated. Returning to my business, I thought nothing about it. But then suddenly, as the guy was walking away, he dropped dead.”
    My eyes shot open. “What? He died?”
    “Yeah! The gallon of milk went crashing to the floor, and so did he. The paramedics said he had a brain aneurism. He died in the grocery store getting a gallon of milk! While I waited for the paramedics to arrive, I noticed something. A ring. Then I started thinking that he probably had a wife and kids at home. He was there for them . . . and something just clicked, Clay. He was going to be missed. He meant something to this world. Maybe not to a whole lot of people, but he did to those that mattered to him—his family.”
    When Paul stopped to let me reply, my mind felt like it had just spilled out like that gallon of milk that