St Croix River, Maine – June 1960

Hawkeye gazed out across the river, taking in the beautiful sight of the Maine countryside. There a breeze in the air, not a cloud in the sky. And then there was Trapper, standing at the side of the river, a fishing rod in his hands.

Silently, Hawkeye moved a few yards downstream away from his partner, baited his hook and cast into the river.

Trapper watched him out of the corner of his eye. "Still mad at me, huh?"

Hawkeye's hands tightened, and the line twitched. "I'm not mad. I'm upset." He continued to stare at the ripples of water as the lure bobbed and danced. "You said you weren't drinking this week. You said..."

"Your dad offered!"

"You could have said no! And then you tried to crawl into bed with your boots on!"

Trapper gave a sniff. "I don't remember."

"Do you remember waking me up for sex at two in the morning?"

"Depends. Did ya do anythin' memorable?"

"I remember slapping you."

Huffing, Hawkeye re-cast his line. Trapper sulked. There they stood for a moment, each staring at the water, neither one of them talking.

"Why're we fightin', huh?" Trapper said at last. "This is s'posed to be our vacation! This is meant to be fun."

"And you can't have fun without getting tanked or laid?"

Trapper fell silent. This vacation was also meant to be time away together to deal with their problems, and so far it had been an enormous failure. Not only had their problems come with them, but now they were also tasked with hiding them from Hawkeye's father. For two days they had smiled and chatted and dined and drank, and Hawkeye had tried to hide his disappointment when Trapper had ordered a Scotch instead of a lemonade, and raided the wine rack instead of the refrigerator. Last night, when his dad had suggested a night out camping and a day fishing, Hawkeye had thought it would be the perfect solution. Then he'd started passing the brandy around, and Hawkeye had watched with growing distress as Trapper had sunk once again into inebriation. But he'd said nothing.

Daniel had remained oblivious. He stayed up long into the night, singing campfire songs with his son-in-law, while Hawkeye slunk off to bed.

Even now, as he joined them, camera in one hand, fishing rod in the other, he seemed blissfully unaware of the argument he had almost walked in on. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he declared with a smile. "Just look at that water!"

Trying to feign a good mood, Hawkeye kept his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Yeah, it's really beautiful."

Daniel raised the camera, hoping to capture a happy moment for posterity. "Smile, boys."

And they did, each of them turning and grinning at the lens. The photo came out great. To look at that photograph, a casual observer would never know that they had just had a lovers' tiff. In fact, you would never know that they were lovers at all.