"Look, Mary, I swear, honey, that was the last time," Mark said as his wife met him at the door with a suspicious glare after his fishing trip.
Stepping into the apartment and dropping his massive gear bags onto the floor, he sat down wearily and let out a heavy sigh.
"I bet you didn't catch a single thing again," his wife said with a cynical smirk. "That's why you're saying that."
"No, that's not why," Mark replied stubbornly. "I'm just fed up with it."
"You're lying again..."
"Honestly. You have no idea, Mary, what a depressing business fishing is. You sit there in a rubber boat, staring at the bobber, waiting like a madman for a bite. And the fish—as if out of spite—just won't bite. Everything around you is beautiful, the sun is shining, the waves are lapping against the hull, but your soul is just miserable. You keep thinking, when is it going to bite? This fishing has worn me out completely..."
"Then why do you go?" his wife asked, surprised by her husband's sudden outburst. "Every Friday, like a zombie, you start checking your boat and those stupid rods."
"Because I'm constantly thinking about you while I'm out there." Mark looked at Mary sadly. "I wanted to surprise you with a huge catch, so you could have all the fresh fish you wanted."
"What, am I starving or something?"
"Still, fresh fish is healthy. They say the phosphorus in it is essential for a woman's body. It makes your hair beautiful and all that..."
"Well, alright..." His wife finally smiled. "If that was really the last time, then fine. I won't get upset about it anymore. Did you catch anything at all?"
"Just one little thing. A pike." Mark pulled a pike weighing about seven pounds out of a rubberized bag. "Here she is, a beauty. Go ahead, make us something delicious for dinner. I'll enjoy my home-caught prey one last time."
"Alright, fisherman, I'll get to it," his wife nodded. "I'm heading to the kitchen; you go get changed."
"Yeah..." Mark went into the other room, listening intently to what was happening in the kitchen.
***
About five minutes later, just as he had expected, a gasp echoed from the kitchen.
"Oh my goodness! Mark, Mark, come here quick!"
"What is it?" Mark called back, then slowly made his way to his wife's side.
On the kitchen table lay the gutted fish, and his wife, absolutely stunned with delight, stood staring at her open palm.
"What happened? Did you cut your hand?" Mark asked for the sake of appearances.
"Look what I found inside the fish!" His wife held out her hand.
Mark looked closely and saw a ring with a blue stone resting on her palm.
"Wow!" he exclaimed with feigned excitement. "So those guys weren't lying to me!"
"What do you mean, they weren't lying?" Mary walked to the sink, turned on the faucet, and began rinsing the ring. "It's gold, Mark! Gold... and the stone looks like a sapphire..."
"Definitely a sapphire," Mark confirmed, scratching the back of his head before repeating, "Yeah, the guys weren't lying..."
"What weren't they lying about? Don't just stand there, tell me!"
"Oh, Mary... Yesterday we dropped anchor in a spot where they say a wealthy merchant lost a massive treasure two hundred years ago. He was transporting it in a large boat—a barge, actually—heading downriver. As bad luck would have it, a storm kicked up and the boat capsized. That's the legend the local fishermen told us."
"And?" His wife froze. It was clear she was intensely interested in the story. "Tell me, what happened next? Did the merchant get the treasure back from the bottom?"
"Are you kidding?" Mark chuckled. "The water is fifty feet deep there. How could anyone get it out back then? They didn't exactly have scuba divers. But now, the local guys are constantly catching fish with surprises like this inside. And now, I guess I got lucky. Yeah... It's a shame I'm quitting fishing... I even remembered the exact spot... You know I have a great sense of direction. They even say one fisherman has brought home rings from fish bellies five times already. Two of them were huge diamonds. His wife is thrilled. Now she's the one constantly nagging him to go out fishing."
As if under a spell, his wife slipped the ring onto her finger, admired it, and said:
"It's beautiful... Why did you quit fishing, anyway? So what if you only caught one fish? Look at what was in it!"
"You can't catch one like that every time," Mark sighed.
"You don't need to every time. Even if you get lucky once a year, it would be wonderful. You said someone else got lucky five times already? What, are you somehow worse than him?"
Mark broke into a happy grin.
"So you're saying you won't be upset if I go fishing more often?"
"Why should I be upset?" Mary shrugged. "A man ought to have a hobby in life, shouldn't he? He can't just sit around the house all day, right? So, listen to your wife, Mark—don't give up on your fishing. Especially since that phosphorus turns out to be so good for me...
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