Reticent

Reading by the Bankside

George drifted just beneath the surface of the water, basking in the warm afternoon sun. Soft rays of light peaked through the leaves of the canopy overhead, dancing across the gentle ripples that travelled across the water. It wasn't a very big pond, but there was a creek leading in and out, the entrance being dammed by a local beaver family. Small fish swarmed around George as he relaxed along a sandy bank, eyes closed and breathing in the fresh water deeply. He could hear the rushing of water on the opposite end of his pond as a low rumble, though it was faint and passive.

He flicked one of his webbed hands towards the curious school of fish, trying to shoo them away as he napped. Most of the fish scattered for a moment, only to return to the warm spot seconds later. They kissed at his skin, chased each other, and tried to fit underneath him, all of them being quite a nuisance.

Annoyed, George moved to stretch, confirming his nap to be over. Slowly, he lifted his head above the shallow water and took in a deep breath of the sweet air. With both a set of gills and lungs, George could enjoy the surface for a while, though the temperature difference was quite uncomfortable at first. In the humid air of Florida, George didn't need to worry about his skin drying out. He would often bask in the late afternoon and evening sun, draping himself across some of the massive rocks that lined the pond, closer to the beaver dam.

As he picked himself up above the surface of the water, the sounds of the forest enveloped him. He sat up, the water only reaching just under his sternum. He gazed into the leaves above him, admiring the sunlight. He could hear the rustling of the long grass and wildflowers as the soft winds meandered around the pond. A bit further back, the line of trees sang with various birds. An occasional twig snapped under the paws of a raccoon or fox.

George looked down from the canopy and admired his glorious soft blue tail, gently swaying with the current of the water. The fish, disturbed by the movement, had left him alone in the sand and was instead playing closer to the center of the pond where the water was much deeper.

Loud crashing sounds of haphazard footsteps came carelessly down a deer trail leading to the bank where George sat. Terror and panic swept through him, sending chills along his skin and his heart into a panic. He desperately dived back into the water, now cold to his chest, as he narrowly avoided whatever danger approached him. Below the surface, it was nearly impossible to see George from the bankside. He felt safer. George deliberately slowed his breathing, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

As his nerves died down, George grew curious to see what had scared him. Slowly, he moved closer and watched. A person wearing a green hoodie and a simple mask walked past him, oblivious. He moved with confidence and ease, George noticed, though this stranger had to be new to the area. George had never seen him before.

The stranger walked towards one of the closest trees, sat down, and took off the mask. George peaked just above the surface of the water to see better as the man flipped the white mask to look at the smile printed on the front. The stranger smiled back at it, then set it beside him. George watched as the man took a deep breath, then pulled out a book from his bag and began to read.

Who is this? George thought. He acts as if he owns the place.

Bored and unable to get a good look, George ducked back under the water and swam down to the bottom of the pond. His sun bathing had been interrupted, but he didn't want to risk being seen by this strange, new person.

Unbeknownst to George, the man looked up from his book at the disturbed water George left in his wake.

Periodically, George would come back up and check on the stranger. He was always reading in the same position with a content look on his face. Every time George checked, the man was further along in his book until he looked again and noticed the stranger had grabbed a second and began reading that, the first book lying next to his mask.

George caught himself staring as the stranger snickered at something he read. The way his nose scrunched up in amusement, or how his smile overtook his whole face, making his eyes squint, and the way his shoulders and chest bouncing at the laughter had George nearly entranced. This person looked so peaceful and happy. So content and at ease. He looked as if he didn't have a care in the world. As if reading those books was the most important thing he could be doing.

George started spending more time above the water watching than below it waiting. This stranger was just so... Enticing. Captivating. Attractive. For a human, bound to a post-industrial world and swallowed by machinery, this one looked so appropriate in this comparatively wild setting. Every so often, George would watch him take a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. Sometimes he would pause and look at the canopy overhead, bathing his face in golden rays of sunlight. Then he'd smile and go back to reading.

George, during these moments, found himself holding his breath. Perhaps a bird caught his eye. Something moved in the water. Animals jumped from the branches overhead. Every time this stranger looked up, George froze. He was stunning.

Eventually, as the sun started to set, the stranger noticed he was losing light and began preparing to leave. George watched quietly as the man stood and stretched. He reached down to grab his mask and methodically put it back over his face, hiding his expression from George and the golden rays of the setting sun. His posture almost changed with the mask over his face; he stood more conserved, more solemn, as if he had to wear some persona or he was put in a character. Then he left. He took the deer trail back to wherever he had come from, leaving the worn grass from his spot next to the tree. Though his footsteps were quieter now, as if he was finally grounded and spatially aware. More in tune with himself. More at peace. Refreshed.

George felt disappointed, perhaps even devastated as the stranger left. He had learned nearly nothing from this man intruding on his home. Though, somehow, he was enticed. He wanted the man to come back. The curiosity must've been the most interesting thing George came across in quite a while. Came across him, more accurately. How was this stranger so eye-catching? All he did was sit and read for hours. But... He was quiet and respectful of the land around him. His reactions to the book were always small and subtle. Watching him almost kept George in suspense.

I want him to come back...