We sit alone on a peak overlooking Chinook Pass. The mountain breeze whips around us and we both pull our hoodies over top our heads and turn our backs slightly to block it out. Below us Highway 410 cuts a seam into the side of the mountain as it winds up the East side of the pass and then back down the West side. We sit here, at some 5400 feet of elevation, between two worlds. To the East are rolling hills, apple orchards, Ford Broncos, horses and a big blue sky. To the West are mighty evergreens, city lights with coffee shops on every corner, BMW dealerships and somewhere beyond in the night -- the raw power of the Pacific ocean. Sitting in the quiet solitude of the late summer afternoon, surrounded by mountain peaks and whisps of clouds, we somehow are a part of both and neither at the same time.
"So what do you think?" He says to me.
"About the job offer?" I say. He nods his head.
He reaches into his his sweatshirt and pulls out a pack of Backwoods Sweets and a green lighter. He offers one of the cigars in my direction.
"I'll share yours." I say to him. He leans down and I cup my hands to block the afternoon wind as he lights the cigar. He then hands it to me. I take a long puff and let the smoke linger on my lip until it catches the breeze and disappears.
"It's a freaking dream come true." He says. "I mean, this is life changing money we're talking about here."
"True." I say. "No denying it."
"Then why do I feel like you're not on board." He says. I look down at the pass and watch the occasional car climb the last quarter mile to the summit before crossing this imaginary line on which we sit and then beginning the decent down the opposite side.
"I can't explain it, really." I say. "It's just that I feel my stomach in knots when I picture living the next 20 years locked up in a corporate high-rise, tucked away nicely from everything that really matters in life as I make some schmuck more money in a year than I'll ever see in my lifetime. I guess I'm just not cut out for the 9-5 shit."
I can feel his look of frustration without having to see it. We sit, quietly, for several minutes. The wind whistles softly as we share our cigar in silence. Below a mini-van stops at the lookout view overlooking the East side of the pass. Finally he breaks the silence again.
"Yeah." He says. "Well, I have a family now. It's not as simple as it used to be." He says. "At some point you have to grow up, bro. At some point you have to put childish things behind and step up and be a man." He says.
I watch the cigar until he stops talking and then I take another drag.
"If growing up means dying inside each day because I long ago traded in my dream for the 'American Dream'..." I say. "Well, then... no thanks, friend. I pass." I say.
The sun is sinking dangerously close to sharp, rocky peaks over the West side of the pass now. The wind is picking up too, a warning that the warm season is almost gone. Soon this pass will be snowed over. Soon it will be closed for the winter all together.
"Man time flies." He says to me. "Do you remember all the times we've sat in this very spot, as kids? Where did it all go?" He says.
"It just goes." I say. "It never stays; no matter how much you pray for it to stay... time always goes away."
I notice a scent of some purple wildflower around us and I sneeze because of it. I hand him the cigar as he rubs his own nose with his other hand.
"So what's your answer then?" He says. "You seem to have all of them."
"It's pretty simple for me." I say. "I'm not going to let anything distract me from my dream. I know why I was put here and what I am supposed to do. And that's what I'm gonna do." I say.
He takes a puff off the cigar and hands it back to me.
"Even if that means that everyone around you has to support you while you chase your dream?" He says. It's not really a question, more of a statement. I don't say anything. Instead I take a drag from our cigar.
"Look at Uncle Johnny." He says. "The man should be on the verge of retirement. But instead he's still insisting that his big break, his dream, is just around the corner." He pauses.
"I don't want that for us." He says. "This job offer is the ticket to our dream. Once I stack enough cash then we will be able to do what we always talked about doing, since we were kids." He says. "Besides, I am good at what I do. There's something meaningful about being good at what you do. You know?" He says.
The sun is a giant fireball of orange against the white and gray of the rocky mountain peaks and it sets the meadow below ablaze in golden light. The evening breeze is picking up its pace and I have to yell a little to hear myself above it.
"You don't have time for it all." I say. "Life gives us a choice. But it's just that... a choice. You don't get it both ways. You never will." I say. "I don't have it all figured out like you do." I say. "But I don't need to have it all figured out. I have faith that the road less traveled will be the more meaningful road... in the end."
The cigar is nothing more than a stub between my thumb and index finger now. The sun is setting. A couple hours drive still awaits. We cannot afford to linger in this no-man's land much longer.
"We have to make a choice." I say.
We pause, praying for this moment to stay... just a little while longer.
"What are you going to choose?" I say.
"I don't know." He says.
The words ring in my ears as the wind howls around us. Nothing more needs to be said that hasn't already been said before. Quietly we push ourselves to our feet. As we walk down the side of the mountain, toward the car, we leave behind a single set of footprints. As the sun sets to our left, a single shadow stretches out behind me and to my right. He and I are two sides of the same coin. Life is giving us a choice. One road leads East -- toward art, toward spirituality, toward world travel, toward the road less traveled; and one road leads West -- toward the corner office with giant windows, toward a home with a white picket fence, toward real estate investments and a 401K, toward roads that are more like veins, ceaselessly pumping lifeblood through cities that never sleep.
In the end, we can't have it both ways. We never will.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
A Bad Trip -- A Short
The force of the damp, heavy air caught in Cam’s throat as he stepped out from the air conditioned car and into the dimly lit parking lot in front of the Creekside Apartments. Crickets called to him from the long field grass that covered the undeveloped lot next door. He wiped the sweat already beading on his forehead with his free hand and turned back to the car.
“You sure you’re cool with this?” he said.
She was reaching back across to the center console and didn’t say anything until she stood and swung the driver side car door shut. She looked at him and her eyes sparkled, her mouth curled with mischief.
“It’ll be fun.” she said.
He watched her as she tucked her dark hair behind her ear and adjusted her top. There was a hint of onion on the warm autumn breeze. Cam pulled a can of PBR from the box in his right hand, cracked it open with his front teeth and turned toward the apartment.
“Let’s do this.” he said.
She walked next to him as they crossed the lawn, curling her arm inside of his and setting her head against his shoulder. He gave her arm a squeeze and chugged the beer.
“I guess I’m driving then, huh?” she teased, looking up at him. He nodded his head and crumpled the empty can.
“You wouldn’t dare let me drive Daddy’s Benz.” he mocked.
She laughed and winked at him. “Oh, whatever. You drive it all the time.”
Cam dropped the empty can back into the box and knocked on the front door. He could hear the muffled sounds of conversation coming from inside. He had to knock again before the door finally swung open and his old roommate was standing in front of him, holding a fifth of Jack and laughing.
“Steven.” Cam said.
“Cameron. Rachel.” his friend said, mimicking his formal tone. “Welcome to another Tuesday night in paradise!”
“Stevo!” Rachel said. She laughed and leaned in to give him a hug. Cam followed her through the door and into the kitchen. His friend shut the door behind him and offered up the bottle of whiskey. Cam smiled and raised his case of PBR.
“OK, hand one over then.” Stevo said. “Probably about time to switch out from the hard stuff anyway.” he said.
As usual, the apartment was packed. Stevo, his girlfriend and three other guys that Cam recognized from intramural soccer stood around the kitchen.
“What’s up, Cam.” one of them nodded. “You got an extra beer?”
Cam smiled as he walked to the fridge. “Fo sho.” he said, handing over a beer.
Stevo’s fridge was empty except for a bottle of ketchup, Tapitio and three different cases of beer. Cam shook his head, grabbed another beer and leaned back against an open spot on the kitchen counter. There were half a dozen faces, all that he recognized, sitting in the living room. Sam and Jonathan sat in their typical spots on the couch, duking it out on the X-Box. From what he could hear of it, the level of trash talk between the two players was already at a seven or eight of ten this evening. An audience always helped to fuel their video game rivalry.
“Hey friend.” said Courtney, bringing Cam’s attention back to the kitchen. Courtney sat on the countertop next to Stevo. “How have you been?” she said.
He looked at her and smiled. “Can’t complain.” he said. “I’ve been working a lot lately. It’s a good thing I’m only taking the one class this semester.”
“Cool.” she said. “How are you and Rachel doing?”
She grinned and nodded in the direction of the living room where Rachel had just sat down next to a guy she knew from her pre-med classes named Chase. Everyone in the kitchen turned and looked in their direction.
“I hate that fucker.” said one of the guys from soccer. “He’s such a tool.”
Cam nodded but didn‘t say anything. He watched Rachel lean on her knee as Chase talked. She laughed at something he said, reached over and squeezed his leg playfully. Her eyes twinkled and Cam remembered seeing the same look a few minutes ago outside.
“You two are still hanging out, right?” Stevo said. Cam Shrugged.
“It is what it is.” he said, looking back to his friend.
Stevo, Courtney and the guys from soccer all nodded. They drank quietly until Stevo stood up from the counter, dropped back to pass and hurled his empty beer can at the direction of the kitchen sink.
“Hun! You can’t take three steps and throw it in the trash?” said Courtney. “That’s so gross.”
Stevo laughed and pulled out a crushed pack of Camel Wides from his cargo shorts.
“Cam, join me for a smoke?” he said.
Cam finished his beer, crumpled the can and walked over to the trash can on the other side of the kitchen.
“Thank you!” said Courtney. Stevo laughed again.
“C’mon, Cam.” he said, handing his friend a cigarette as he opened the door. Cam smiled, took the cigarette and followed his friend out the front door. He did not look back at the living room.
The two friends returned to the kitchen and on cue, Stevo tossed his empty cigarette pack at the sink. His indignant smile lessened though when he realized Courtney was no longer in the room. It was quickly replaced by a look of pure joy, Cam noticed, when Stevo recognized the familiar smell of marijuana smoke wafting from the back bedroom.
“I believe that duty calls.” he said, motioning for Cam to join him.
“Be right there.” Cam said.
The kitchen was empty now. The living room crowd had thinned also. The X-Box rivalry had been put on hold and only a couple guys remained – neither of them talking as they sat in the corner and sipped their drinks. Cam pulled a fresh beer from the fridge, stuffed it in his cargo pocket and grabbed another one as well. He could hear a chant building from the back bedroom, “suck, suck, suck…”
Cam had to turn his shoulders to walk through the crowd spilling out of the bedroom doorway. The room was covered with a layer of blue smoke. A hookah stood center stage on a small coffee table next to Stevo’s bed. The “suck” chant was peaking as Cam spotted Rachel, with both hands wrapped around the hookah hose, taking a long, deep hit. Chase sat next to her on the bed. He was leaning over the coffee table with a lighter – roasting the bowl as Rachel took in the hit.
“Damn!” Someone yelled. “This girl is a born natural.”
Cam sipped his beer and watched from just inside the doorway. Finally Rachel pulled away from the hose, handing it off to Jonathan who sat beside her.
“Hold in that shit.” Chase said to her.
She held her breath for a couple seconds before coughing out a large cloud of smoke. Her audience cheered on the coughing fit as she curled her body forward, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes and then running down her cheeks. Once the coughing dissipated, Rachel sat up straight and rubbed her cheeks dry.
“How did that feel?” Jonathan asked her.
She didn’t respond. Instead she stared ahead blankly as her head wobbled slowly side to side. Then she threw her hands out wide and freefell back onto the bed behind her with a smile. The room erupted in cheers. Chase leaned back on the bed next to her. Cam turned and shouldered his way back out the door. It wasn’t until he was sitting on the step out front the apartment that the cheers faded to the sound of crickets.
Cam was half way through another beer when Stevo opened the apartment door and joined him out front on the step.
“Yo, Cam.” He said, nudging Cam’s shoulder with the back of his hand. Cam looked up at his friend.
“What up?” He said.
“You might want to check on Rachel.” Stevo said.
“Yeah?” Cam said.
“Yeah.” Stevo said. “She’s freaking out pretty hardcore.” He said.
Cam pushed himself to his feet and handed his friend his half empty beer. Stevo shook his head.
“Has she smoked before?” he asked.
“Just once.” Cam said.
“Damn.” Stevo said. “That’s no bueno.”
Cam nodded as he pushed past Stevo and through the front door. Sam met him in the kitchen. He pointed down the hall.
“She’s in the bathroom.” He said. “Got the door locked. Wouldn’t let me in.” He said.
Cam walked down the hall and stopped at the bathroom door. There was still a crowd in the bedroom and a couple guys turned back toward him and watched as he knocked once on the bathroom door. He leaned in close and then knocked again, softly.
“Hey.” He said. “It’s me.” There was no response. “C’mon, let me in.” He said.
The door knob turned and the door cracked open. Cam opened it just enough to slip through and then latched and locked it again behind him.
Rachel sat on the floor, her back resting against a draped towel that hung on the bathroom wall. Her knees were pulled tightly against her chest. Her eyes were wide, with tears smeared across her face. Her breath was near hyperventilation as she rocked back and forth. She did not look up at him as he settled down on the floor next to her. Her eyes were fixated on something far away, something far beyond the physical boundaries of the small apartment bathroom. Cam sat beside her in silence for a moment. After a bit her breathing began to slow.
“Do you hate me?” She asked him, her gaze still locked in front of her. Cam reached out and took her hand in his lap.
“Of course not.” He said. Rachel nodded her head.
“They hate me.” She said.
“The guys?” Cam said. “They don’t hate you, ‘Rach.’” He said.
“Not them.” She said. “Them.” She nodded her head toward something in front of them. Cam looked back to her.
“Who are you talking about?” He said. She nodded again.
“My family.” She said. “They’re watching me.” Cam squeezed her hand.
“It’s going to be Ok.” He said.
“Why won’t they talk to me?” Rachel said. “They’re so far away. Why can’t I be with them? Why are they so far away?” She said. Her breath began to shorten again in panic.
“Why won’t they let me go to them? Why can’t I stand in the light, with them, in the light?” She said.
“’Rach,’ calm down. It’s going to be Ok.” Cam said.
He was holding her hand tightly now with both of his. He pictured her family standing in a white light, out beyond some dark void. He pictured her father and his strong handshake, her mother’s guarded smile, her older sister’s shy waive, her younger sister’s warm hug…
“It isn’t real.” He said. “You just need to relax. Don’t fight it. Just relax.”
He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in against his chest. She didn’t fight, letting her head rest against him. Her gaze remained fixated ahead but her breathing began to slow once more. They sat there together in silence for several minutes.
“Do they love me?” Rachel said. Cam squeezed her shoulder.
“Yes.” He said. “They love you very much.”
“How do you know?” She said blankly.
“How could they not.” He said.
They were quiet again for several minutes. Outside the bathroom, Cam could hear the party move back to the living room, the X-Box rivalry resume. At one point there was a knock on the bathroom door. Cam and Rachel sat together in silence. Finally someone yelled from the kitchen, “just piss off the back patio, dude.” Finally, Rachel looked up at Cam. He smiled at her. She searched his face for a moment and then turned away.
"Do you love me?" She said. He didn’t answer right away. She waited quietly.
“Yes.” He said.
“Are you lying?” She said.
"Does it matter?" He said.
After a moment she looked back up to him. "Yes." She said. "It does matter."
He kissed the top of her head. "Then no, I'm not lying. I do love you." He said. They were both quiet for several minutes.
“I want to go home.” She said.
“Then let’s go home.” He said.
After twenty more minutes had passed with neither of them moving, neither of them speaking, Cam and Rachel finally pulled each other up from the bathroom floor and went home.
“Thank you.” She said. “Thank you for tonight.” She leaned up and kissed him softly.
“You’re welcome.” He said.
“Will you stay with me tonight?” She said.
“Of course.” He said.
He helped her out of her clothes and into her pajamas. While she brushed her teeth Cam cleared off the pigs and the pillows. Then he helped her climb into the far side of her bed, against the wall. Shedding his shorts and tee-shirt, he then turned off the bedroom floor lamp and climbed into her bed next to her. She cuddled up to him as he lay on his back. With her arm draped across his bare chest, Rachel slipped into sleep.
While she slept, Cam stared at the darkness that filled the bedroom. He pictured his own family and thought about what Rachel had said. Sometime later, when she rolled over in her sleep – turning her back to him – Cam quietly slipped out from under her feather-top comforter. In the darkness he retrieved his shorts and tee-shirt before letting himself out through her bedroom door. In the bathroom he pulled up his shorts and slipped into his shirt. Once dressed, he paused and looked at the mirror. On the shelf below the mirror sat three items, and Cam looked at them carefully. In the end, he decided to take two of the items but leave the third. With a sigh, Cam stuck the cigarette between his lips… put the keys to her Mercedes in his pocket… left his toothbrush sitting on the shelf… flipped off the bathroom light and headed to meet the guys at the bar.
“You sure you’re cool with this?” he said.
She was reaching back across to the center console and didn’t say anything until she stood and swung the driver side car door shut. She looked at him and her eyes sparkled, her mouth curled with mischief.
“It’ll be fun.” she said.
He watched her as she tucked her dark hair behind her ear and adjusted her top. There was a hint of onion on the warm autumn breeze. Cam pulled a can of PBR from the box in his right hand, cracked it open with his front teeth and turned toward the apartment.
“Let’s do this.” he said.
She walked next to him as they crossed the lawn, curling her arm inside of his and setting her head against his shoulder. He gave her arm a squeeze and chugged the beer.
“I guess I’m driving then, huh?” she teased, looking up at him. He nodded his head and crumpled the empty can.
“You wouldn’t dare let me drive Daddy’s Benz.” he mocked.
She laughed and winked at him. “Oh, whatever. You drive it all the time.”
Cam dropped the empty can back into the box and knocked on the front door. He could hear the muffled sounds of conversation coming from inside. He had to knock again before the door finally swung open and his old roommate was standing in front of him, holding a fifth of Jack and laughing.
“Steven.” Cam said.
“Cameron. Rachel.” his friend said, mimicking his formal tone. “Welcome to another Tuesday night in paradise!”
“Stevo!” Rachel said. She laughed and leaned in to give him a hug. Cam followed her through the door and into the kitchen. His friend shut the door behind him and offered up the bottle of whiskey. Cam smiled and raised his case of PBR.
“OK, hand one over then.” Stevo said. “Probably about time to switch out from the hard stuff anyway.” he said.
As usual, the apartment was packed. Stevo, his girlfriend and three other guys that Cam recognized from intramural soccer stood around the kitchen.
“What’s up, Cam.” one of them nodded. “You got an extra beer?”
Cam smiled as he walked to the fridge. “Fo sho.” he said, handing over a beer.
Stevo’s fridge was empty except for a bottle of ketchup, Tapitio and three different cases of beer. Cam shook his head, grabbed another beer and leaned back against an open spot on the kitchen counter. There were half a dozen faces, all that he recognized, sitting in the living room. Sam and Jonathan sat in their typical spots on the couch, duking it out on the X-Box. From what he could hear of it, the level of trash talk between the two players was already at a seven or eight of ten this evening. An audience always helped to fuel their video game rivalry.
“Hey friend.” said Courtney, bringing Cam’s attention back to the kitchen. Courtney sat on the countertop next to Stevo. “How have you been?” she said.
He looked at her and smiled. “Can’t complain.” he said. “I’ve been working a lot lately. It’s a good thing I’m only taking the one class this semester.”
“Cool.” she said. “How are you and Rachel doing?”
She grinned and nodded in the direction of the living room where Rachel had just sat down next to a guy she knew from her pre-med classes named Chase. Everyone in the kitchen turned and looked in their direction.
“I hate that fucker.” said one of the guys from soccer. “He’s such a tool.”
Cam nodded but didn‘t say anything. He watched Rachel lean on her knee as Chase talked. She laughed at something he said, reached over and squeezed his leg playfully. Her eyes twinkled and Cam remembered seeing the same look a few minutes ago outside.
“You two are still hanging out, right?” Stevo said. Cam Shrugged.
“It is what it is.” he said, looking back to his friend.
Stevo, Courtney and the guys from soccer all nodded. They drank quietly until Stevo stood up from the counter, dropped back to pass and hurled his empty beer can at the direction of the kitchen sink.
“Hun! You can’t take three steps and throw it in the trash?” said Courtney. “That’s so gross.”
Stevo laughed and pulled out a crushed pack of Camel Wides from his cargo shorts.
“Cam, join me for a smoke?” he said.
Cam finished his beer, crumpled the can and walked over to the trash can on the other side of the kitchen.
“Thank you!” said Courtney. Stevo laughed again.
“C’mon, Cam.” he said, handing his friend a cigarette as he opened the door. Cam smiled, took the cigarette and followed his friend out the front door. He did not look back at the living room.
-----------------------------------------------------
The two friends returned to the kitchen and on cue, Stevo tossed his empty cigarette pack at the sink. His indignant smile lessened though when he realized Courtney was no longer in the room. It was quickly replaced by a look of pure joy, Cam noticed, when Stevo recognized the familiar smell of marijuana smoke wafting from the back bedroom.
“I believe that duty calls.” he said, motioning for Cam to join him.
“Be right there.” Cam said.
The kitchen was empty now. The living room crowd had thinned also. The X-Box rivalry had been put on hold and only a couple guys remained – neither of them talking as they sat in the corner and sipped their drinks. Cam pulled a fresh beer from the fridge, stuffed it in his cargo pocket and grabbed another one as well. He could hear a chant building from the back bedroom, “suck, suck, suck…”
-----------------------------------------------------
Cam had to turn his shoulders to walk through the crowd spilling out of the bedroom doorway. The room was covered with a layer of blue smoke. A hookah stood center stage on a small coffee table next to Stevo’s bed. The “suck” chant was peaking as Cam spotted Rachel, with both hands wrapped around the hookah hose, taking a long, deep hit. Chase sat next to her on the bed. He was leaning over the coffee table with a lighter – roasting the bowl as Rachel took in the hit.
“Damn!” Someone yelled. “This girl is a born natural.”
Cam sipped his beer and watched from just inside the doorway. Finally Rachel pulled away from the hose, handing it off to Jonathan who sat beside her.
“Hold in that shit.” Chase said to her.
She held her breath for a couple seconds before coughing out a large cloud of smoke. Her audience cheered on the coughing fit as she curled her body forward, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes and then running down her cheeks. Once the coughing dissipated, Rachel sat up straight and rubbed her cheeks dry.
“How did that feel?” Jonathan asked her.
She didn’t respond. Instead she stared ahead blankly as her head wobbled slowly side to side. Then she threw her hands out wide and freefell back onto the bed behind her with a smile. The room erupted in cheers. Chase leaned back on the bed next to her. Cam turned and shouldered his way back out the door. It wasn’t until he was sitting on the step out front the apartment that the cheers faded to the sound of crickets.
-----------------------------------------------------
Cam was half way through another beer when Stevo opened the apartment door and joined him out front on the step.
“Yo, Cam.” He said, nudging Cam’s shoulder with the back of his hand. Cam looked up at his friend.
“What up?” He said.
“You might want to check on Rachel.” Stevo said.
“Yeah?” Cam said.
“Yeah.” Stevo said. “She’s freaking out pretty hardcore.” He said.
Cam pushed himself to his feet and handed his friend his half empty beer. Stevo shook his head.
“Has she smoked before?” he asked.
“Just once.” Cam said.
“Damn.” Stevo said. “That’s no bueno.”
Cam nodded as he pushed past Stevo and through the front door. Sam met him in the kitchen. He pointed down the hall.
“She’s in the bathroom.” He said. “Got the door locked. Wouldn’t let me in.” He said.
Cam walked down the hall and stopped at the bathroom door. There was still a crowd in the bedroom and a couple guys turned back toward him and watched as he knocked once on the bathroom door. He leaned in close and then knocked again, softly.
“Hey.” He said. “It’s me.” There was no response. “C’mon, let me in.” He said.
The door knob turned and the door cracked open. Cam opened it just enough to slip through and then latched and locked it again behind him.
Rachel sat on the floor, her back resting against a draped towel that hung on the bathroom wall. Her knees were pulled tightly against her chest. Her eyes were wide, with tears smeared across her face. Her breath was near hyperventilation as she rocked back and forth. She did not look up at him as he settled down on the floor next to her. Her eyes were fixated on something far away, something far beyond the physical boundaries of the small apartment bathroom. Cam sat beside her in silence for a moment. After a bit her breathing began to slow.
“Do you hate me?” She asked him, her gaze still locked in front of her. Cam reached out and took her hand in his lap.
“Of course not.” He said. Rachel nodded her head.
“They hate me.” She said.
“The guys?” Cam said. “They don’t hate you, ‘Rach.’” He said.
“Not them.” She said. “Them.” She nodded her head toward something in front of them. Cam looked back to her.
“Who are you talking about?” He said. She nodded again.
“My family.” She said. “They’re watching me.” Cam squeezed her hand.
“It’s going to be Ok.” He said.
“Why won’t they talk to me?” Rachel said. “They’re so far away. Why can’t I be with them? Why are they so far away?” She said. Her breath began to shorten again in panic.
“Why won’t they let me go to them? Why can’t I stand in the light, with them, in the light?” She said.
“’Rach,’ calm down. It’s going to be Ok.” Cam said.
He was holding her hand tightly now with both of his. He pictured her family standing in a white light, out beyond some dark void. He pictured her father and his strong handshake, her mother’s guarded smile, her older sister’s shy waive, her younger sister’s warm hug…
“It isn’t real.” He said. “You just need to relax. Don’t fight it. Just relax.”
He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in against his chest. She didn’t fight, letting her head rest against him. Her gaze remained fixated ahead but her breathing began to slow once more. They sat there together in silence for several minutes.
“Do they love me?” Rachel said. Cam squeezed her shoulder.
“Yes.” He said. “They love you very much.”
“How do you know?” She said blankly.
“How could they not.” He said.
They were quiet again for several minutes. Outside the bathroom, Cam could hear the party move back to the living room, the X-Box rivalry resume. At one point there was a knock on the bathroom door. Cam and Rachel sat together in silence. Finally someone yelled from the kitchen, “just piss off the back patio, dude.” Finally, Rachel looked up at Cam. He smiled at her. She searched his face for a moment and then turned away.
"Do you love me?" She said. He didn’t answer right away. She waited quietly.
“Yes.” He said.
“Are you lying?” She said.
"Does it matter?" He said.
After a moment she looked back up to him. "Yes." She said. "It does matter."
He kissed the top of her head. "Then no, I'm not lying. I do love you." He said. They were both quiet for several minutes.
“I want to go home.” She said.
“Then let’s go home.” He said.
After twenty more minutes had passed with neither of them moving, neither of them speaking, Cam and Rachel finally pulled each other up from the bathroom floor and went home.
-----------------------------------------------------
When they were standing in the middle of Rachel’s bedroom, a floor lamp softly illuminating a dozen stuffed pigs piled beside them on top of her feather-top bed cover, Cam pulled her into a hug. She hugged him back, wrapping her arms around his waist.“Thank you.” She said. “Thank you for tonight.” She leaned up and kissed him softly.
“You’re welcome.” He said.
“Will you stay with me tonight?” She said.
“Of course.” He said.
He helped her out of her clothes and into her pajamas. While she brushed her teeth Cam cleared off the pigs and the pillows. Then he helped her climb into the far side of her bed, against the wall. Shedding his shorts and tee-shirt, he then turned off the bedroom floor lamp and climbed into her bed next to her. She cuddled up to him as he lay on his back. With her arm draped across his bare chest, Rachel slipped into sleep.
While she slept, Cam stared at the darkness that filled the bedroom. He pictured his own family and thought about what Rachel had said. Sometime later, when she rolled over in her sleep – turning her back to him – Cam quietly slipped out from under her feather-top comforter. In the darkness he retrieved his shorts and tee-shirt before letting himself out through her bedroom door. In the bathroom he pulled up his shorts and slipped into his shirt. Once dressed, he paused and looked at the mirror. On the shelf below the mirror sat three items, and Cam looked at them carefully. In the end, he decided to take two of the items but leave the third. With a sigh, Cam stuck the cigarette between his lips… put the keys to her Mercedes in his pocket… left his toothbrush sitting on the shelf… flipped off the bathroom light and headed to meet the guys at the bar.
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Wednesday, September 8, 2010
A Proposal -- A Short in Three Parts (Concluded)
~ First written on December 2nd, 2005 to my now wife, Julie Anne McKown and broken into three parts and shared today in honor of our four year anniversary. Happy Four Year Anniversary Jules!~
It was the subtle sound of wood striking wood that brought Cameron back to consciousness. It was the first thing he noticed, even before he opened his eyes. And then he opened them. The storm had passed, as had the night. The clear blue sky overhead was the second thing he noticed. And then he moved, and couldn’t help but notice the pain that wracked his every muscle and every bone. As he pulled himself into a sitting position he looked around, taking note of the damage. The boat was in pieces. Random planks of wood lay in chaos. It was a miracle the boat was still afloat.
Cameron was wondering how he was still alive when he heard the dull thud of wood on wood once more. Slowly he dragged himself to his feet, turning toward the sound. As he looked over the side of the boat, at the calm water below, his heart stopped. His jaw dropped. A chill ran down his spine. His hands began to tremble. Lying below him, face up on a floating piece of wood was the most breathtaking girl he had ever seen. She had long, brown hair and deep, mysterious brown eyes. Wrapped about her shivering body was a brilliant green dress. Cameron recognized her immediately. She was the girl in his dreams, there was no doubt.
A fearful excitement began to stir his cold heart. The air seemed fresher now. The sun shown brighter. His body didn’t ache as badly. In an instant everything was different and somehow Cameron knew that nothing would ever again be the same. The brown eyed girl looked up in a daze, soundless words on her lips.
“Help… me… please…” Cameron jumped into action. After finding a length of wood that could reach to the water, the boy guided the floating castaway to the stern of the boat where he then pulled her aboard. With the girls head lying softly in his lap, Cameron helped the girl to a jug of fresh water that he had found below deck. After a few minutes the girl spoke.
“Thank you.” She said hoarsely. Cameron nodded.
“What’s your name?” He asked her softly. She smiled.
“Haley.” The girl said. They looked at each other for a moment and then Cameron grinned.
“Hello there, Haley.” He said. “I am Cameron.” The girl smiled again and closed her eyes, and slept. She slept for several hours there in his lap. He watched her sleep, running his hand lightly across her face and through her hair. Over and over the boy mouthed her name, as though it were a prayer that he had always known, but never before said. Haley. Haley. Haley…
With the next dawn, Haley traveled home to find her family and let them know that she was safe. But over the next few months the two remained in touch and their friendship quickly became something much more. In the spring of the next year, Haley moved in with Cameron into the home of his childhood. The two were head-over-heels in love with each other. One was rarely seen around town without the other. Every day the boy thanked God for bringing them together like He had. And every night, in his dreams, Cameron still dreamed of the same girl – the brown eyed angel that he had always dreamed of, the girl who had saved him, the girl named Haley.
And then on a snowy day in early December, their lives were changed forever. The day started like any other day. The two love birds awoke in the morning next to each other. Cameron took a shower while Haley lingered in bed. He dressed, kissed his girl and hugged her goodbye. And then Cameron left for work for the day. Haley went about her day as she always did. Everything was as it should be, until late that afternoon. It was then their world was turned on its head.
A knock pulled Haley away from a book she had been reading. When she opened the door she was greeted by the village mailman.
“Package for ya, Miss.” He said, smiling. Haley took the blank, oversized envelope.
“Thank you.” She said pleasantly.
“Pleasure.” He nodded. “Good day now.”
With that, Haley shut the door. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she examined the package. There were no clues on the outside, other than the words, “My Best Friend” printed in a familiar handwriting on the front. Curious, she opened one end of the envelope and reached inside. Upon emptying the package, Haley found only a handmade journal with a second, smaller envelope tucked inside. On the journal’s cover were the words, “A Proposal.” Confused, she pulled out the smaller envelope. On it was a warning not to open until she read from the journal. Excitement began to fill her as the girl realized she had seen the journal once before, accidentally, in Cameron’s bag some time back. With her heart in her throat, the girl opened the book and began to read. She immediately recognized Cameron’s nervous handwriting. Her hands began to shake as she read. She found herself shivering although a warm, wood burning fire lay only several feet away in the living room. Her breath came more quickly and it was all that she could do to remain sitting long enough to read what he had written.
The journal was filled with his thoughts, his fears, his loves and his dreams. In those pages Cameron told Haley that she was his best friend and that his entire life had been leading him to one single day, one single moment, one single question. In those pages the boy told his girl that she had put a name to the face he had always known he would someday find. He told her that now that he had found her, he never wanted to let her go. In that journal Cameron told Haley that he wanted her to have his children, that he wanted to grow old by her side. And when the girl read the final words that he had written, she screamed. They said boldly, and simply…
WILL YOU MARRY ME?
The story ends here, my sweet Julie Anne, but this is not the end of the story. This is the beginning. If you turn this page there are countless more that are blank, that are waiting to be written on. We have the rest of our lives to finish writing our story. Just as Haley found once she opened the white envelope that was tucked in the pages of the journal, you will find a ticket inside. Please take this ticket and come join me so that we can finish writing this story, our story, together. I love you so very much! And if you come find me, I have a question that I would like to ask you…
A Proposal, Part 3
It was the subtle sound of wood striking wood that brought Cameron back to consciousness. It was the first thing he noticed, even before he opened his eyes. And then he opened them. The storm had passed, as had the night. The clear blue sky overhead was the second thing he noticed. And then he moved, and couldn’t help but notice the pain that wracked his every muscle and every bone. As he pulled himself into a sitting position he looked around, taking note of the damage. The boat was in pieces. Random planks of wood lay in chaos. It was a miracle the boat was still afloat.
Cameron was wondering how he was still alive when he heard the dull thud of wood on wood once more. Slowly he dragged himself to his feet, turning toward the sound. As he looked over the side of the boat, at the calm water below, his heart stopped. His jaw dropped. A chill ran down his spine. His hands began to tremble. Lying below him, face up on a floating piece of wood was the most breathtaking girl he had ever seen. She had long, brown hair and deep, mysterious brown eyes. Wrapped about her shivering body was a brilliant green dress. Cameron recognized her immediately. She was the girl in his dreams, there was no doubt.
A fearful excitement began to stir his cold heart. The air seemed fresher now. The sun shown brighter. His body didn’t ache as badly. In an instant everything was different and somehow Cameron knew that nothing would ever again be the same. The brown eyed girl looked up in a daze, soundless words on her lips.
“Help… me… please…” Cameron jumped into action. After finding a length of wood that could reach to the water, the boy guided the floating castaway to the stern of the boat where he then pulled her aboard. With the girls head lying softly in his lap, Cameron helped the girl to a jug of fresh water that he had found below deck. After a few minutes the girl spoke.
“Thank you.” She said hoarsely. Cameron nodded.
“What’s your name?” He asked her softly. She smiled.
“Haley.” The girl said. They looked at each other for a moment and then Cameron grinned.
“Hello there, Haley.” He said. “I am Cameron.” The girl smiled again and closed her eyes, and slept. She slept for several hours there in his lap. He watched her sleep, running his hand lightly across her face and through her hair. Over and over the boy mouthed her name, as though it were a prayer that he had always known, but never before said. Haley. Haley. Haley…
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When the girl awoke once more, she told Cameron of how she came to be lying on a piece of driftwood in the calm after the storm. It was an amazing tale in itself, but a tale to be told another day. Let us just say that it was a tale much like the boy’s in many ways. And as the girl told him of it, the boy’s heart melted, and his anger faded. Cameron, who had never had direction, never had a purpose, suddenly realized that somehow his entire life had led him to this day, to this moment. And in the time it took to limp the boat into the harbor, the boy and girl had become the best of friends. As they stepped back onto the safety of dry land, the two survivors marveled at how they felt they had already known each other their entire lives, and not just mere hours.----------------------------------------------------------
With the next dawn, Haley traveled home to find her family and let them know that she was safe. But over the next few months the two remained in touch and their friendship quickly became something much more. In the spring of the next year, Haley moved in with Cameron into the home of his childhood. The two were head-over-heels in love with each other. One was rarely seen around town without the other. Every day the boy thanked God for bringing them together like He had. And every night, in his dreams, Cameron still dreamed of the same girl – the brown eyed angel that he had always dreamed of, the girl who had saved him, the girl named Haley.
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A knock pulled Haley away from a book she had been reading. When she opened the door she was greeted by the village mailman.
“Package for ya, Miss.” He said, smiling. Haley took the blank, oversized envelope.
“Thank you.” She said pleasantly.
“Pleasure.” He nodded. “Good day now.”
With that, Haley shut the door. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she examined the package. There were no clues on the outside, other than the words, “My Best Friend” printed in a familiar handwriting on the front. Curious, she opened one end of the envelope and reached inside. Upon emptying the package, Haley found only a handmade journal with a second, smaller envelope tucked inside. On the journal’s cover were the words, “A Proposal.” Confused, she pulled out the smaller envelope. On it was a warning not to open until she read from the journal. Excitement began to fill her as the girl realized she had seen the journal once before, accidentally, in Cameron’s bag some time back. With her heart in her throat, the girl opened the book and began to read. She immediately recognized Cameron’s nervous handwriting. Her hands began to shake as she read. She found herself shivering although a warm, wood burning fire lay only several feet away in the living room. Her breath came more quickly and it was all that she could do to remain sitting long enough to read what he had written.
The journal was filled with his thoughts, his fears, his loves and his dreams. In those pages Cameron told Haley that she was his best friend and that his entire life had been leading him to one single day, one single moment, one single question. In those pages the boy told his girl that she had put a name to the face he had always known he would someday find. He told her that now that he had found her, he never wanted to let her go. In that journal Cameron told Haley that he wanted her to have his children, that he wanted to grow old by her side. And when the girl read the final words that he had written, she screamed. They said boldly, and simply…
WILL YOU MARRY ME?
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The story ends here, my sweet Julie Anne, but this is not the end of the story. This is the beginning. If you turn this page there are countless more that are blank, that are waiting to be written on. We have the rest of our lives to finish writing our story. Just as Haley found once she opened the white envelope that was tucked in the pages of the journal, you will find a ticket inside. Please take this ticket and come join me so that we can finish writing this story, our story, together. I love you so very much! And if you come find me, I have a question that I would like to ask you…
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And thus ends A Proposal, Part 3.
The rest of the story... Well, that is still in the midst of being written.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
A Proposal -- A Short in Three Parts (Continued)
~ First written on December 2nd, 2005 to my now wife, Julie Anne McKown and broken into three parts and shared today in honor of our four year anniversary. Happy Four Year Anniversary Jules!~
A Proposal, Part 2
For six years the boy spent his days learning the ways of city life. After a couple of months he was no longer the small town fishing boy and after a couple of years he was no longer a boy at all. But in the darkness of night, on the other side of a draped window, Cameron spent his time dreaming. It was always the same dream. No matter how much money he made during the morning, no matter how much ale he drank during the afternoon, no matter how much he enjoyed the company of friends during the evening, the dream always awaited him during the night.
Cameron tried dating but he found that he cared nothing for the girls he met in the city, just as he had cared nothing for the girls he had met in the fishing village before. The girl in his dream haunted him and he began to realize that he would never be completely happy without having her. And so in the spring of his 23rd year, on a drunken, rainy night out on the town with friends, Cameron decided that he could not run from himself, or his dreams, any longer. When he awoke the next day, the boy who had now become a man came home to his brother, his father, and to the sea.
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But in the late fall of that very year, the boy's father was laid to rest in the old cemetery just out of town. It was a small service, with sailors, the Reverend, a neighbor and the two boys. Cameron listened to the others and their good words, sipping from his flask and letting the downpour of rain soak through his overcoat. He imagined it seeping through his clothing, and then through his skin. He imagined it cleansing him, giving him a fresh start. There was a clap of thunder overhead and a flash of lightning that split the sky over the bay. Cameron shivered and raised the flask to his lips once more. After his brother Luke had said his piece, and the eldest brother had declined the chance to speak, the reverend said a prayer to close the ceremony. As the man spoke, Cameron sipped his scotch and imagined that the rain drops which ran down his face were instead tears.
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"Supposed to be a monster of a thing." Luke said. The two brothers stood alone on the old cemetery hill overlooking the sea and the approaching storm.
"The greatest storm this century has ever seen." He added quietly. Cameron handed his brother the flask.
"How is the family?" He asked. Luke drank from the flask, swallowing hard.
"Well enough." He said, passing the scotch back to his brother.
"Dad sure loved my boy." He said. "Couldn't get enough of him."
The brothers were quiet. The wind howled around them. Thunder crashed ahead of them. The rain stung their faces. Cameron sipped his scotch and handed it to Luke.
"I'm going out there." The older brother said. "This wind is gonna bring in the catch of a lifetime."
Luke took a deep swig from his brother's flask and clenched his teeth. "I figured you would." He said. "I've got Dad's boat prepped and ready for us."
Cameron shook his head. "There's no 'us' on this one." He said. "This is something I've got to do alone." His brother laughed into the wind.
"Not a chance I'll let you have all the fun for yourself." He said.
"I'm afraid you've no choice, Brother."
Before Luke could say anything more, his older brother swung around, bringing with him a vicious right hook. And then for Luke there was only blackness.
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As Cameron left the harbor in his fathers drift boat he paused for a moment to look toward the hill where his father lay at rest, and his brother lay unconscious. The knowledge that Hannah was on her way to make sure Luke was OK did little to ease the guilt Cameron felt for hitting his little brother. He had never hit him before today.
"There was no other way." He muttered in the wind. "I'll see you, Brother." And with that Cameron turned into the oncoming storm.
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The next ten hours were the sort that only tales tell of, the sort of tales that are told by widows and orphans of the men that parish in them. There was wind. There was rain. There was thunder that shook Cameron to the bone and lightning that shattered the sky into hundreds of pieces. There were waves thirty feet tall. And there were fish. There were so many fish that the net lines could not hold them all. With a mighty snap, the net cut itself loose of the boat and disappeared into the sea. And then for the boy, the boy who had somehow become far too bitter for his twenty-some years of life, it became a simple, pure struggle of life and death.
The boy laughed at the storm. The boy cursed God. Tears streamed down his face. His muscles burned with fatigue but Cameron fought on. Cameron fought... and fought. He found he possessed strength he didn't know he possessed. But in the end, he was only a boy, alone in the oncoming darkness of the stormy night, sinking into the waters of the violent sea. At last his strength gave way. In exhausted defeat the boy collapsed to the deck. And then there was only blackness.
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And thus ends A Proposal, Part 2. A Proposal, Part 3 to be concluded...
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
A Proposal -- A Short in Three Parts
~ First written on December 2nd, 2005 to my now wife, Julie Anne McKown and broken into three parts and shared today in honor of our four year anniversary. Happy Four Year Anniversary Jules!~
I want to tell you the story of a boy, my Julie Anne, a boy who was saved by the girl in his dreams. This boy, who we shall call Cameron, was born in a small fishing village that sat on the edge of a mighty sea. His father, like many of the men in his time, was a fisherman by trade. His mother, like many of the women in her time, married at a young age a man she thought she could someday tame. But after the births of her two sons, Cameron and his little brother Luke, the day came when she realized that the wife of a fisherman she could never be. When Cameron was barely old enough to know the feeling of loss, his mother packed her things and left the boys' father to raise them. And so the years passed, measured by the tides of the sea -- the tides that carried the boys' father away and the tides that returned him home.
Cameron was always a boy older than his years and took easily to the task of raising his brother during their father's time away. But before long the two boys were both old enough to take to the sea themselves. With the small wooden skiff their father helped them to build, Cameron and Luke were soon spending their days just off shore, learning the life and the love that was passed to them from their father. By the time the boys were in their teens, they were already supporting themselves with their catch. Their father was proud of his sons. Whenever the three of them were at home the family's house was filled with laughter and stories. Most of the time, however, the house was quiet -- even ghostly as it collected dust and cobwebs in the long days and months of the fishing season.
A Proposal, Part 1
I want to tell you the story of a boy, my Julie Anne, a boy who was saved by the girl in his dreams. This boy, who we shall call Cameron, was born in a small fishing village that sat on the edge of a mighty sea. His father, like many of the men in his time, was a fisherman by trade. His mother, like many of the women in her time, married at a young age a man she thought she could someday tame. But after the births of her two sons, Cameron and his little brother Luke, the day came when she realized that the wife of a fisherman she could never be. When Cameron was barely old enough to know the feeling of loss, his mother packed her things and left the boys' father to raise them. And so the years passed, measured by the tides of the sea -- the tides that carried the boys' father away and the tides that returned him home.
Cameron was always a boy older than his years and took easily to the task of raising his brother during their father's time away. But before long the two boys were both old enough to take to the sea themselves. With the small wooden skiff their father helped them to build, Cameron and Luke were soon spending their days just off shore, learning the life and the love that was passed to them from their father. By the time the boys were in their teens, they were already supporting themselves with their catch. Their father was proud of his sons. Whenever the three of them were at home the family's house was filled with laughter and stories. Most of the time, however, the house was quiet -- even ghostly as it collected dust and cobwebs in the long days and months of the fishing season.
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It was on one such day during the summer of Cameron's 17th year that the two brothers found themselves lounging comfortably in their skiff as they awaited the fish. Slow days were a common thing for a fisherman. And so Cameron lay with his back against the stern, his head resting on the side of the boat. His eyes were closed. The sun was warm against his face and he could taste the crisp, salty air on the soft breeze. These days were his favorites and he found himself smiling because of it.
"So, I got some pretty heavy news last night." The sound of his brother's voice floated to him from the bow of the skiff. Cameron opened his eyes. His brother sat his opposite, his knees pulled up, his hands clasped together. Cameron noticed that Luke's right knee was trembling as his brother looked at him.
"What's up?" He asked. Luke took a deep breath.
"Hannah is pregnant."
Hannah was Luke's high school sweetheart. Cameron liked her well enough. Sometimes he wondered if his brother did though.
"Wow. Congratulations." He said. His brother was quiet. A seagull squawked overhead. Luke looked out to the watery horizon.
"Thanks." He said. The two brothers sat in silence for a time before Cameron asked, "what are you going to do?" Luke kept his gaze seaward but there was moisture in his eyes.
"I asked her to marry me." He said. Cameron wanted to say something. He wanted to say anything. But as the minutes drifted out of his reach he knew that there was nothing he could say.
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That night Cameron dreamed. He dreamed that it was a soft, starry night on the bay and that he was walking alone on top of the still waters that felt so much like home to him. It did seem odd to him that he was walking on water, but in his dream reality he found it difficult to reason why. As he walked with his back to the shore he found himself wondering in awe at the stars that domed him above. They were not the stars that he knew. There were entire foreign constellations that danced for him like bits of luminescent in the dark waters of a quiet cove. Feeling the surrealness of his surroundings, he looked back behind him anxiously. His fears were realized when he saw no land where a moment before there had been the village that was his home. Spinning in panic, the boy saw only water in every direction. Being a man of the sea, he looked up to the stars then, thinking to find his bearings. But there were no stars either, only darkness.
The boy was running suddenly. Tears began to stream down his face. He ran faster. His legs were burning. His breath came with difficulty. But he only ran the faster. As his tears spilled off his cheeks and collided with the sea, his feet began to sink into the dark waters. The faster he tried to run, the faster he sank. The water was at his knees when a green light caught his eye over his left shoulder. Instinctively the boy turned toward the glow, knowing that it was his only chance.
By the time he was close enough to the glow to see that it was coming from just below the water's surface the waves were now lapping at his thighs. And then he stopped. Forgetting about the water, the darkness, the running, the tears, the boy stared in astonished wonder at the source of the green light. At his feet, lying face up, just below the surface was the most beautiful brown haired, brown eyed woman that he had ever laid eyes on. Her skin was a dreamy, soft shade of pale that sent chills down the backs of his legs. She wore a brilliant green gown that drifted over her shapely figure. The boy was awe struck and had to visibly shake himself from his trance.
It was then he realized that he was no longer sinking. In fact, the bottoms of his feet were not even in the water now. It did not matter in the least to the boy anymore. Without hesitation he plunged head first into the cold sea.
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Cameron awoke to the quiet solitude of the night with a start. His heart was beating as though his chest would burst. His cheeks were smeared with moisture. His back was sticky with sweat. Luke lay in the bed next to him, sleeping peacefully. But Cameron did not sleep a wink the rest of the night and by the time the sun crested the eastern horizon he had decided that he must move to the city that very day. And he did. By the next night Cameron was sleeping in a crisp, clean hotel bed in the big city. On the other side of a draped window were the sounds and sights of a life he had never known existed. But in his sleep there was still the silence of the night and the waters of the bay and a brown eyed girl dressed in green.
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Thus ends A Proposal, Part 1. A Proposal, Part 2 to be continued...
