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“Fish on!”I yelled as my pole bent to almost one-eighty in the water. This time, I was prepared and put my feet against the side of the boat for more strength. I held on so tight my hands hurt as Parker pulled out a full throttle. Sure, that the hook had sunk into the fish, he stopped the boat and returned to me in what seemed like seconds.
“Babe, all you have to do now is keep the line free of any slack. If, no–not if, but when–the fish swims, let him have the line and just hold on; when he tires and the line gets loose, reel like crazy. It will be like a cat-and-mouse game for a while; he’ll stop, you’ll reel, he’ll go, and you’ll stop. Got it?”
My arms burned as I reeled, my muscles exhausted, and the adrenaline kicked in. The fish swam, and I had a moment to relax.
“Don’t let the line get any slack in it,” Parker reminded me.
Forty-five minutes into this cat-and-mouse fishing, I looked over to Parks. “I can’t do this anymore. My arms are like putty, and I’m afraid I’ll let go from pure exhaustion. Will you take over?”
Parks took the reel and kissed me. I stood and shook my arms; they felt like Raggedy Ann, the limp doll I once had.
“You did great, baby,” Parker said as he reeled. I watched his muscles constrict in his arms as he fought the fish. He looked so handsome and hot as sweat beads formed on his forehead, arms, and chest.
I left for only a moment to get a drink. My mouth felt like cotton, I was so dry. When I glanced at the time, I couldn’t believe I’d been fighting that beast for almost an hour. My hands still shook as I tried to get the cup to my lips. I laughed at my weakness and walked up beside Parker to watch.
I had been thrilled when he’d told me almost an hour ago to put the pole in the Gimble. I’d thought that would give more support than holding it. I was wrong; the reeling was horrible and relied on muscles I’d probably never used.
Approximately ten minutes later, Parker looked at me. “I think he’s tired. Here, you take the rod back and finish him off.”
I took the rod and looked over the edge; I could see the Tarpon right under the water’s surface. Pure pride and excitement tookover. I squealed with happiness as I reeled the fish up to simply lie on the water’s surface.
Parker took the reel from me. “Put on your gloves; I’ll show you how to hold him so I can get a picture. He’s a beauty! I would say he’s six feet long and weighs about two hundred pounds.”
I looked at him with bulging eyes in disbelief. “Really, you think he weighs that much?”
He nodded his head. “Yep, I do. Now put your gloves on.”
I did as I was told. Walking back to him, he told me to grab the Tarpon’s lower jaw with both hands. I thought it would unravel my taught nerves again, but excitement took over. I stood there proudly holding the fish, keeping it in the water so as not to harm it in any way. Parker grabbed my camera and took a shot.
What happened next would never be forgotten.
Parker
Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love. William Shakespeare,Hamlet
Out of nowhere, a Hammerhead shark came up from the bottom and latched onto the Tarpon. The shark had also latched onto the wrist of Liv’s glove. In what seemed like slow motion but occurred within seconds, Liv was pulled out of the boat. I could hear her screams as I looked over and saw a seventeen-foot Hammerhead thrashing around. I couldn’t tell whether the shark was eating her or simply trying to pulverize the Tarpon.
Fear wasn’t a factor; I needed to save Liv, so I jumped off the boat and right on top of the shark. As I wrestled around, the shark took hold of the Tarpon and swam about ten feet out.
I grabbed Liv; I could see she was injured, but I wasn’t sure to what extent. She was unconscious, probably from fear alone. The other boats surrounding us watched as the shark fed on the large Tarpon and Captain Clay pulled up with his boat.
“Hand her to me,” he yelled, and I passed Liv to him. I was surprised by how light she was, even when soaking wet. Captain Clay yelled for the others on the boat to get towels, blankets, and anything to wrap up the wounds. After looking her over for seconds, Captain Clay yelled, “I’ve got to get her to the hospital now!” and sped off like a lightning bolt.
I was so stunned; I was speechless until I realized the magnitude of what had just happened. Then I lost my shit. I went crazy as another boat assisted me out of the water, and I screamed her name over and over. “Olivia! Olivia! Where the hell is she?”
The captain of the boat I was on tried calming me down. “I don’t know where he took her. Calm down buddy, we’ll find her.”
On the verge of total insanity, I glared at the captain and realized Captain Clay was already out of sight. “I should be with her. Take me back to my fucking boat!”
With a nod, the captain sped back to my boat. I jumped on and throttled it to the max, taking it to about seventy-five miles an hour, trying to close the distance.
Tears of hurt, frustration, and guilt overwhelmed me as I raced home. “I’ve got to get home and find out where she is,” I kept repeating to no one, hastily wiping away tears to allow me better vision.
After an hour-and-a-half trip that should have taken three, I crashed the boat into the seawall at my house. A mangled boat almost sliced into two pieces sat there half-sunken already.
I jumped to dry land and ran like a bat out of hell, jumping into my Oldsmobile 442 and speeding to the closest hospital, not noticing the blood oozing from my head due to the crash into the seawall.
