Looking Through The Lens

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ryansylander/www/

Chapter 1

Back Home

There are a million untold stories in the world.  Why do I think I should tell mine?  Nostalgia for that which is lost?  To remember those people who shaped my life for a time, and then drifted away like a drop on a windshield?  To share my past and thus relive it along with someone new?  All of those and more I suppose. 

My name is Matt.  (Hi, Matt.)  Despite my best attempts to the contrary, I now lead a relatively normal life.  Well, maybe.  Somewhere between now and way back then, when I thought I would party hard and die young, I found a soulmate to guide me out of what was quickly becoming a living hell.  Oh, there were great moments, for sure, but the downward spiral staircase was about to become a neck-breaking freefall, until she stepped in.  For that I will always be deeply indebted to her.  Fortunately for me, we have committed to each other for life.

Everyone has a screwed up family, including me.  But that’s life.  I have little memory of my life early on.  It just isn’t accessible.  My mate can remember many things from age two.  I think I may have three or four memories from before age six.  The rest of it is buried somewhere deep.  Since childhood is where you first start being molded into a person, for better or for worse, that’s where I should start.

I don’t know when I realized I didn’t have a normal family.  Somewhere back in elementary school, I think.  Kids start asking questions when you have two moms, and then that makes you start asking questions yourself.  And the answers aren’t easy (or at all complete) at that age. 

Sometime back in the heyday of the late sixties two women and a man found love between them.  In the summer of 1975, Sarah Birch and Melissa Jackson each had a child fathered by Chris Garibaldi.  That would be me and my sister Lara.  The full version of this compelling story is one I only found out much later in life.  But that’s another tale altogether.  Still, a brief history would be helpful.

Soon after my sister and I were born, Sarah and Melissa moved from the hustle of New York City, where Chris had a wildly successful business in art and antiques, and they took Lara and me to the Catskill mountains about three hours north of the city.  Four days of the week, Chris stayed in our New York apartment for work, and made the commute home each weekend.

My father died on the highway one night when Lara and I were almost two.  By all accounts it was a quick death.  He was 30.

I can’t imagine what it was like for Sarah and Melissa.  Lara and I have no recollection of that time.  By the time I came out of my childhood fog, my father’s death was a wound that had already been healing for a while.  After a short court date, the woman who had hit my dad’s car settled, and between that, the proceeds from my dad’s business and insurance, and a sizeable monthly rental check from our New York apartment, my parents were able to raise Lara and me only having to work part time.  My mother, Sarah, worked as a ski instructor at a local resort.  Lara’s mother, Melissa, was a chef at a nearby hotel during the winter and summer seasons.

There are a million beautiful places on the earth.  But the Catskills hold a special place for me.  No matter where I’ve been or what I’ve seen, when I come back to these mountains and their woods, I feel more alive than ever.  I am fortunate to have grown up there.

Our cabin was buried in the middle of 80 acres of quiet forest.  A stream ran by the house, fed by a pond about a quarter mile up a trail from our house.  The cabin was rustic but well-built.  Lara and I each had our own bedrooms on one side of the house.  On the other side, my parents had a giant bedroom, and there were two guestrooms.  A large high-ceilinged central room served as our kitchen, living room, and dining room.  We also had a decent sized guest house in the woods about 50 yards behind the main house.  That had two bedrooms and a common room with some couches, and a small kitchen.

As we grew up, we went to school like everyone else.  Though having a 200 yard long driveway means you don’t really have neighbors, we found kids our age to play with.  Life was normal to me. 

At some point, I started growing conscious of the fact that I had two mothers and no father.  Lara and I didn’t know any differently at first, but the other kids in school did.  At first it was curiosity.  Then over the years it grew into teasing, and then there were the typical comments as we grew into an age where we started losing the innocence of youth. 

When it comes to teasing, if it’s not one thing, it’s another.  And as with all things among the young, eventually things get old and something new is more interesting.  And admittedly, as a youth I was pretty clueless.  So because of all those things, I somehow got into a state of denial about my parental situation.  I loved both my mothers as my own, and they were incredibly caring for both Lara and me.  But I avoided thinking about what it meant to have two mothers, as I started becoming aware of what it means to be with someone. 

Every summer from as early as I can remember, Lara and I would go down to Montauk, a town on the tip of Long Island, and live for three weeks with my aunt and uncle, Beth Jackson and Hans Birch.  Hans was my mother’s brother, and a good looking bon-vivant.  He taught tennis at a few of the large hotels to the rich city folk that came out on vacation.  Beth was Melissa’s sister, and had the same adventurous streak that her sister had.  They had a small house on the beach a few miles out of town.  Hans and Beth had met through my mothers’ relationship, and the four of them were close.

It was in Montauk in July of 1989 where I would offer to start my story in earnest.

“Turn that crap off!” I yelled at the guy in my dream.  I rolled around for a minute and figured out I wasn’t dreaming.  Music was vibrating my room like a cheesy dance club.  I threw a shoe across the room at the wall in frustration, as sleep slipped away.  It was useless.  Lara was blasting her new Madonna “Like a Prayer” cassette which Aunt Beth had gotten for her birthday.  I can’t listen to this crap, I thought to myself.  My tastes ran towards Led Zeppelin and Hendrix, and most of the music from the last few years wanted to make me throw up.

It was early.  I looked at my watch.  Too early.  I lay in bed for a few minutes hoping it would stop, before giving up and trudging over to Lara’s room. 

“Hey!”  I banged on the door.  There was no answer, so I opened it and walked in.

“What the hell!” I yelled.  “I was trying to -  Oh, hey, Julie.  Didn’t know you were here.”

Lara and Julie were sitting on the floor in their bathing suits staring up at me.  I was suddenly aware of my near-nakedness as well, standing there in just my boxers.  I shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds.

“Hi, Matt,” yelled Julie after a second.

“Don’t you knock?  We could have been changing,” said Lara, irritated.

“I tried to, but you couldn’t hear with all this noise.”

“What?”

I went over to the tape player and turned it down.  Much lower than necessary, but I was trying to make a point.

“I said, I knocked but you couldn’t hear with this crap turned up so loud.”

“Big words coming from someone who just last year asked to borrow my True Blue album,” said Lara, reaching for the radio and upping the volume.  Julie looked down and giggled.

“What are you talking about, that was like three years ago, and it was for school,” I said, suddenly wishing I had stayed in bed.  I pretended to yawn, but felt my cheeks reddening.

“Whatever.  That’s why you played it like a hundred times a day.”

“No I didn’t so shut up,”  I said.  Julie was still giggling.  I decided to make an exit before I turned any redder.  “I guess I’ll get some breakfast since sleeping is obviously over.”

“Bye.  Close the door.”

I slammed the door and returned to my room.  If I had known Julie was there I would have put on a shirt and shorts.  I looked in the mirror.  My latest growth spurt left me tall and thin.  Too thin.  I needed to start working out more, I thought.  I had gotten my dad’s Italian sharp-cut looks and olive skin, but was missing his powerful build.  People told me I had his body, but I just didn’t see it.  To me I looked like a stick, nothing like the broad-chested and well-proportioned man in the pictures we had at home.  I sighed.  It didn’t matter how I ate or worked out, I couldn’t keep up with the vertical growth. 

I was in a surly mood as I ate breakfast.  We had gotten in late the night before because of thick traffic on the highway, and I had looked forward to a morning of sleeping in.  My mothers and Beth were chatting on the screened-in porch.  They pretended to sympathize with me over the sleeping issue, but a glint in their eyes told me that they didn’t feel that bad.  I rejected their offer of a nice cooked breakfast and instead served myself a pitiful bowl of cereal and milk, with a side dish of some throbbing bass drum coming through the walls. 

Finally the music stopped.  I sat back in my chair and looked out at the Atlantic, feeling anxious.  My heart was still pounding from the music.  The sudden silence was a relief. 

I’m not much of a beach person.  Sand and saltwater are just uncomfortable to me.  Still, for a few weeks of the year it was cool to lounge by the water, breathe the sea air, and get some sea fishing in.

“C’mon, Matt, we’re going to the beach,” said Lara as they bounced out into the kitchen.

“I’m too tired,” I said petulantly.

“You’re such a wuss.  It’s after nine o’clock.  We’ve been up for like two hours.”

“Well, I need my sleep.  Otherwise I get grumpy.”

“Obviously.  See you later then.”

I grunted and went back to staring at my cereal.  Julie followed Lara out to the porch, giggling. 

Eventually I cleared my head and decided to enjoy the day, especially since none of the women in the house seemed to be catering to my bad mood.  I still didn’t want to be around Lara and Julie, and Hans was out teaching lessons, so I decided to go hit the pier and try some fishing. 

There’s just something about fishing, be it in a stream, lake or ocean.  Some people like to curl up with a cup of tea, or read a good book, or watch the sunrise; they use that time to think and appreciate the moment.  I love fishing for those reasons.  It’s meditative.  There’s nothing like standing in the stream, casting out a fly at sunset into a deep pool, and just listening to nature and breathing in life.  Mosquitoes notwithstanding.

The pier was empty when I got there.  I walked the 100 yards out to the end, baited up the line and cast out.  I had a few hours before lunch, so I settled into my chair and relaxed out of my morning funk.  An hour and a bucketful of pan fish later, it was getting hot, so I started packing up.  Plus, someone was coming down the pier.  After having some old dog talk my ear off for two hours last year I usually preferred having the pier to myself.  If I wanted to hear talking I could go home and listen to my aunt and mothers go on all day.

“Any luck?”

“What?  Oh, hi.”  I looked up at a cute girl in overalls smiling down at me.  I quickly stood up, kneeing my bucket and sending it flying in the process.  A jet of water splashed up at the girl, but she nimbly dodged it.  The fish scattered over the pier boards and started flopping around.

“Oh, crap, sorry,” I said, scrambling for the fish.  Idiot! I thought.

“I take that to be a yes,” she said, laughing. 

The girl grabbed for them too, and we gathered them up, but not before half had fallen through the cracks and back to their home.  For the second time that day I felt my face heating up. 

“Well, there goes lunch,” I said, half to myself.  I felt retarded as I put the last fish in the bucket and stood up, more carefully this time.

“You can get some more,” she said.

“I guess.  It’s getting hot though,” I said.  I felt awkward, so I started busily cleaning my fishing rod. 

“Well, you’re in a long sleeve shirt.”

“Yeah, it was cooler when I got here.”  I looked up at her.  Her eyes…  Her eyes were alight with laughter.  There was so much life in them.  I stared for a second, or more, and she stared back before I realized what I was doing.  I returned to packing my tackle box.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” she said, baiting her rod.

“Um, I just got here last night.”

“From where?”

“I live in the Catskills.”

“Cool, I go skiing up there a lot.”

“That’s cool.”

There was an awkward silence as she cast out her line.  I finished packing up my stuff, and stood up.  I wanted to stay, but I had just made a show of putting all my stuff away.  It would look stupid to unpack now and start fishing again.

“I gotta go.  Good luck,” I said quickly.

“Bye!” she said without turning.  I stared at her for a few seconds, hoping I could see her eyes once more.  Then I picked up my stuff and walked back to my aunt’s house.  The whole way I berated myself for not staying, and cringed every time I thought of knocking the bucket over and almost getting her wet.

Hans had the grill going when I got back home and my fish were welcomed.  I left out the part about losing half of them.  I was lost in thought, replaying the bucket scene over and over as I sat around the table eating.  Maybe everyone thought I was still in a bad mood from the morning, but at any rate no one said anything.  I’m generally a quiet guy anyway, probably because I grew up with three females.

Hans was stuffing himself with fish and potatoes.  He ate like a pig, but still was very thin.  He looked like a tennis player.  He had short blond cropped hair, a lean but tough build, and deep green eyes.  His ancestry, and my Mom’s, was German and Norwegian, and they both looked it.  My Mom was statuesque.  She had the same green eyes and blond hair, although not as much of the sinewy toughness of her brother. 

I looked around the table.  Melissa was chatting with her sister.  They both were somewhat petite, had long straight hair and well-toned workout bodies.  Their eyes always looked like they were hiding some mischief.  Usually they were.  Lara had the same mischief in her eyes, though she looked more like our father, with black hair and rounder eyes.

Julie had joined us for lunch.  She and Lara were deep in shallow conversation, so I took the opportunity to look at her a bit more.  I avoided looking at her in Lara’s room that morning, so I hadn’t noticed, but she had really matured since last year.  Her sandy-blonde hair was now shoulder length and styled a bit wavy, and it framed her face.  In a good way, I thought.  Last year she had been somewhat gangly and young looking, but her face and body had filled out in the right places and she actually looked good.  I took in her features for a few moments.

“Earth to Matt!”  Aunt Beth said.  She looked at Julie and then at me again.  “Pass the potatoes, please?” she said, her eyes twinkling.  How long had I been staring at Julie, I wondered.  Luckily Julie hadn’t noticed.

The next morning I got up at seven.  After a long night of reliving my clumsiness with both Julie and the mystery girl on the pier, I decided to go to the pier again and see what would happen.  I rushed out of the house with my gear, ignoring my Mom’s calls of “Did you eat anything?”

By eight I settled into my chair and started mulling over what I would do if she showed up again.  A bunch of scenarios that seemed really dorky were pretty much all that came to mind.  Eventually I decided to just play it by ear.

About an hour later I saw someone coming down the path to the pier.  Part of me wanted to dive into the water and hide, and the other part was excited.  But as they started walking down the pier, I realized it was a man.  I decided to pack up and head out.  If I was going to make a fool of myself again, I certainly didn’t want to do it in front of anyone else.  I packed up, feeling disappointment surge over me.  As I passed the man on the way back to shore, I looked ahead and felt like screaming.  The girl was walking down the pier.  I cursed to myself. 

“Hey,” she said, stopping by me.  “How was the fishing?”

“Uh, it was alright.”  I tipped the bucket and let her look in.  I had about 12 fish. 

“Well that should be enough for two,” she said.

“Nah, they’re pretty big, I think five people,”

“Well, if you make it home with all of them, then yeah,” she said, suppressing a laugh.  I felt a blush spreading over my face.

“Thanks a lot,” I said, looking at the floor.

“No, no, I was just teasing you.”

“Oh, OK.”

“Well, I better get them while they’re out,” she said, heading down the pier.  “Bye.”

“Bye.”

I looked after her.  So much for the cool dialogue I had hoped for.  I sighed and made the walk home feeling something in my heart I had not felt before.

The next two days sucked.  I went to the pier both days, and even though I caught more fish than usual, I left after three hours when she didn’t show up.  I still felt hopeful, but frustration was setting in.  Why hadn’t I asked her name, asked if we could hang out again, asked a million other questions, instead of grunting out two word answers to everything she said?

“Matt, are you OK?” Melissa asked me the afternoon after my second pier-girl no-show.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I shrugged.

“You seem preoccupied.”

“I’m OK, really.”

“You haven’t really been into the beach this year.”

“I guess.”

She gave me a long look.  I stared at my hands and fidgeted.

“If there’s anything wrong, you can always talk to me, right?”

“I know, Mom, I’m fine right now.  Just tired.”

“OK, sweetie, I love you.”

Luckily she let it go at that.  What would she help anyway?

The next few days I stayed home and played my guitar, and started to lessen my sudden obsession with the girl at the pier.  Playing music took my mind off of her and I started being able to function normally.  I even hit the beach a few times with Lara and Julie, and a guy named James.  I hated having to be in my bathing suit in front of Julie.  I kept thinking as soon as I got home I would have to hit the weight room more.  But as a trade off I got to look at her run around in her bikini.  A few times I even launched the girls up out of the water, and admittedly I liked the touching that it afforded.  Julie had very smooth skin.  More than once I had to stay in the water longer than them to cool down a burgeoning erection.

A week after we had arrived, I headed back to the pier again to catch some lunch.  Some of my apprehension about possibly seeing her came up again when I saw the pier, but I ruthlessly squashed it down.

It was getting hot, and when I saw some people on the end of the pier I considered turning back.  But I was in the mood to fish so I walked out there anyway.  About halfway there I heard someone yell behind me.  I turned to find her walking quickly to catch up with me.  I suppressed the urge to jump over the edge of the dock.

“Hey!” she said brightly, as she plopped her gear down and caught her breath.

“Hey.”

“I thought maybe you went back home,” she said.

“Nah, just had some stuff to do at the house.”

“I’m sorry I teased you the other day, I hope you are not mad.”

“No, it’s fine, I was the one who knocked my fish over like a retard,” I said, wincing at the memory.

“That was pretty funny,” she said with a small laugh.  “Want to fish together?”

“Sure.”

We headed down the pier.  I grew anxious as I started worrying about what to say.  The girl seemed relatively comfortable with the silence, but by the time we reached the end of the pier my head was a jumble of stupid things I probably didn’t need to say out loud.  We set up in a corner away from the other people there.

“Um, you weren’t here the last two times I was here,” I blurted out.  Great, now she thinks I’m a stalker.  But everything else to say that came to mind seemed worse.

“I had to work.”

“Oh.  Where do you work?”

“Down at the fish market.”

“That’s cool.  What do you do?”

“Everything.  Mostly cleaning and selling fish.  My parents own the place.”

“Nice.  Which market?”

“Martin’s.  It’s down by the shops on the water.”

“Yeah, I know which one.  We buy fish there a lot.”

We baited up and cast out.  I was hoping the fishing would ease my nerves, but the silence felt even more uncomfortable.  Finally I started thinking straight and remembered she skied.

“So where do you ski?  You said you ski in the Catskills often.”

“Well, not as much as I’d like.  Usually we go to Windham, or Hunter mountain.  Sometimes we go up to Vermont.”

“That’s a long ride.”

“Yeah, but we go for a week at a time.  Do you ski?” she asked.

“Yeah.  Same places.”

“You’re lucky to live nearby.”

“Yeah, it makes it easy.  We live about 10 minutes from Hunter.”

“Hah, looks like I’ll be taking home some lunch!” she said, pulling on her reel.  She pulled in a fish and plopped it in her bucket.  I looked at her for the first time as she smiled at me.  Her eyes were beautiful.  That’s all I needed to see to suddenly start feeling better again.

“Don’t you get all the fish you want through your store?” I asked, snapping out of my stare.

“Sure.”

“So why do you fish?”

“Why do you fish?” she echoed.

“I don’t know,” I said slowly.  “I guess I like the peace, it’s fun, I can catch my own food, lots of reasons.”

“Mm hmm.”  She cast out again.

I looked at her when she didn’t answer.  “What about you?”

“Same.  Hey, two-zero.”

“What?”

“Got another one.”

Indeed, she pulled up her second fish. 

“I didn’t know it was a contest.”

“It’s not.  But I’m still winning,” she said, smiling at me.

We spent the next hour in relative quiet, with occasional small talk.  I never was good at one-on-one spontaneous conversation, particularly with girls my age.  If you got me talking about something I knew about, like music, I could go on for a while.  But otherwise, I just didn’t know what to say.

Eventually, after she had caught about 11 fish, she decided to head home.  I had caught 3, even though we were on the same bait.  That’s how it goes though.  We walked back to the shore and then stopped when I had to turn down the beach to go home.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” she asked.

“Um, sure, in the morning.”

“Oh, then I think I’ll come in the afternoon,” she said.

“Oh, OK.  Maybe I’ll see you some other time then.”  I studied my tackle box, feeling my stomach sinking to my feet.  I looked up at her when she laughed out loud.

“I was just kidding.  Don’t take me so seriously!”

I felt heat in my face. 

“I’ll come tomorrow morning.  What time will you be here?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  Maybe nine.”

“Cool.  See you then!”

I stood there amazed as she left.  Had she just said she would come in the morning?  She turned and smiled once before going around the corner and disappearing.

I practically ran home.

That afternoon I was floating on air.  Melissa noticed.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked as we lounged on the beach. 

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen you this happy in a while.”

“Had a good fishing morning, I guess.”

“Really.  Three fish is a good fishing morning?” she asked, suddenly more interested.

“I caught more but didn’t bring them home.”

She looked at me.  I avoided her stare, suddenly getting the feeling that she knew what was going on when she smiled and got that mischievous look in her eyes.  Before she had the chance to probe any further I got up and went to swim in the waves.

Julie and Lara were splashing around, looking bored.  The waves were small and they weren’t having any luck trying to ride them.  I waded out and tackled Julie.  She let out a surprised squeak.  My hands brushed across her breast, but I didn’t care.  After I threw her through the air, I gave my sister the same treatment.  They came up spluttering. 

“Matt!” they both yelled, splashing me.

“Don’t splash me!” I said, sending jets of water their way.

The situation turned difficult when they decided to gang up on me.  Not that I was complaining.  Having Julie try to wrestle me underwater was definitely not a problem.  I could feel her breasts pressed into my back, her legs around mine trying to trip me up.  My sister was pulling on my neck from the side, and eventually we all splashed into the water. 

After a while I waded away, as I couldn’t really control my arousal anymore, and there was great danger of a stray hand touching something which would give it away.

The girls made chase for a bit, but I was too fast and eventually settled about 20 feet from them.  The girls whispered conspiratorially for a while, with occasional giggles.  I just enjoyed the water and watched the people on the beach, pretending to ignore them.

“OK, we won’t splash you if you don’t splash us anymore,” said Lara after some time.

“Sure.”  I kept my distance.

“C’mon, truce.”  Lara held out her hand.  I looked at it warily.  I had cooled off down below, so I waded back to them and shook her hand.  “Truce.”

They started talking about Madonna, probably just to rile me up.  I was in such a good mood though, I even joined in the conversation.  Imagine that.

After a brief silence, Lara announced she had to use the bathroom, and waded out.  Julie stayed behind.  Suddenly I felt some nervousness.

“You’re in a good mood,” she said. 

“So.  It happens sometimes.”

“I like it,” she said a bit coyly.  I shrugged and gave her a small smile.

“Sorry about that first morning, I didn’t know you were sleeping,” she said.

“It’s not your fault, Lara knew I was sleeping.”

“Did you really borrow her True Blue cassette?” she asked after a pause.  Great, I thought.  My favorite topic.

“Yeah, I admit it.  I borrowed it.  I was like eight, I didn’t know any better.”

“You were not eight!  That album only came out a couple of years ago.  I was 12 when I got it, and so were you then.”

“Whatever.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Cute!?”

“Yeah, you were into Madonna,” she said with a giggle.

“Not really.  It was a brief phase.  Like one or two days.”

“That’s not what Lara said.”

“Next topic,” I said, not liking the direction of the conversation.  Normally I would have wanted to crawl under a rock, but my mood was still high so I shrugged it off.

“OK.  What’s the next topic?”

“Anything but Madonna.”

“How about Duran Duran?”

“Give me a break!”  I retorted, but I knew she was kidding when I saw her smile.  She had a great smile, it lit up her face.  I hadn’t paid attention before this summer, but she was really pretty.  Her light freckles accented a cute face with big brown eyes.  I boldly looked at her for a few seconds before self-consciousness got the better of me and I looked back to shore.

“Where is Lara?” I asked.  “She’s taking her time.” 

Julie shrugged and looked at me.  I shrugged and turned back to the shore to look around.  Suddenly I was underwater.  I breathed in a big gulp of air.  The problem was I was underwater.  I flailed about, coming up and coughing out a bunch of sea water.  My eyes, throat and nose all burned from the salt.  Julie was laughing hard and shaking water out of her eyes.  Maybe they were tears of laughter.  I coughed for a while, and spit up a last bit of sea water.

“I thought we had a truce!” I said, clearing my eyes.

“You and Lara did,” she corrected.

“So this bathroom ploy was just to get me back?”

“Maybe.”

I splashed her with water.  That started another huge water fight, which continued with me tackling Julie into the water, gripping her waist tightly.  Lara returned somewhere in the middle of the fight, and eventually the girls overwhelmed me with water so I headed out to the sand.

“Wuss!” cried out Lara, as the girls yelled in victory.  I ignored them and headed in to get some soda and clear the burn. 

As I sat on the porch, I watched Lara and Julie talking and occasionally looking up at me.  They’re probably planning their next water fight, I thought.  I was looking forward to it.

After dinner, I went to my room to play some music, and watch the sunset from my window.  I was interrupted by a knock.

“What?”

The door opened and Julie and Lara came in.  They closed the door, which struck me as odd.  They also had a beach bag with towels in it.

“I’m not going back in the water,” I said, before they could say anything.

“C’mon Matt, let’s go to the beach,” said Lara.  She pushed the towel aside and showed me the bag.  I looked in and saw the top of a bottle.

“Where did you get that?” I said quietly.

“Julie’s brother bought it for us.  He bought us two bottles of Jack Daniels this afternoon.  C’mon, let’s hit the beach.”

Julie’s brother Jack was 21, and reportedly a party animal.  He had had some run-ins with the law, involving minors and alcohol.  I guess he hasn’t changed, I thought.

I hesitated for a second.  Lara and I were no strangers to drinking.  When our mothers had guests over for parties in our house, Lara and I would often have a few friends over ourselves, and hang out in the guesthouse.  We had a source of alcohol through a schoolmate and kept a stash of beers and liquor in a cairn in the woods.  Usually my quietness led me into drinking heavily at these get-togethers, and although I could sneak into my room through the side house door and avoid the questions of my mothers, I usually felt like crap the next day.

“I don’t know, Lara.”

“Don’t worry, everyone is going out tonight to a bar.  We’ll be back before them.”

“Alright.  Let’s go,” I said, still a bit reluctant.

I vowed to control myself.

Sure enough the next morning I felt like crap.  I rolled over in bed, trying to get some moisture back in my mouth.  It was useless, I was totally dehydrated.  I was also tired and felt like my room was on springs.  Finally I got up to get some water from the bathroom. 

“Shit!” I said, looking at my watch.  It was nine-thirty.  At nine I was supposed to meet the pier girl, as I’d started thinking of her to myself.  Lara came out of her room and looked like hell.  From the looks of the guy in the mirror, I figured I looked about as good.  I suddenly felt resentment towards her for dragging me out and bringing the bottle.  She closed the bathroom door behind her.

“I feel like crap,” I said pointedly. 

“You’ll live,” she said, sitting down to pee.

“Thanks, I didn’t know that,” I said.  I took a few deep breaths.  “I gotta go.”

“I’m almost done.”

“No, I have to go out.”

“Where?”

“Fishing, I was meeting someone there at nine,” I said, before thinking.

“Who?” she asked, suspiciously.

“Um, some dude I was talking to yesterday,” I said, perhaps a bit too quickly.  “He plays guitar too,” I added, hoping the story would ring more true.  I wasn’t really sure why I had lied in the first place.  My sister and I were close, but somehow I didn’t feel like telling her about the pier girl.

“Cool.  You should have thought of that last night and set an alarm,” she said.

“Yeah.  But I don’t know if I would’ve set it right.”

“Me and Julie and James are going to take the bikes and ride around later.  Do you want to come?”

I looked at her for a second.  Even though Lara and I hung out back at home, it was more because we had the same friends.  And usually when we came to Montauk, she and Julie would do their own thing.  So why all of the sudden were they inviting me to hang out with them?  And James seemed to be hanging around an awful lot too.

“I’ll see what’s going on.  I don’t know if I can ride a bike today.”

“We’re going at three, so be back by then if you want to go.”

She went back to her room.  I showered quickly and tried to remove the cobwebs from my head.  Finally around ten I grabbed my stuff and headed to the pier, hoping it was not too late.

When I got to the pier I was relieved to see someone at the end.  As I got closer I saw that it was her.  I felt excited, but also nervous since I was over an hour late.

“Hey,” I said, as I approached.  She turned and looked at me.  There was no anger in her eyes, I thought, relieved.

“You’re late,” she said.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

“I don’t think I can fish with you.”

I stared back at her.  There was no laughter in her eyes either, I suddenly noticed.

“Um, why?  I’m sorry, I overslept.”

“You said nine, and I already got nine fish, so I think I can’t fish with you.”

I stood there for second, fidgeting with my fishing rod.

“OK, I’m sorry.”  I bent down and picked up my stuff, red-faced.

She looked at me for a second, and then burst out laughing.

“Didn’t you hear what I said yesterday?” she said.

“What?” I said, confused.

“Don’t take everything I say so seriously!”

“I didn’t – I didn’t know, I thought maybe you were pissed at me or something.”

“I was just teasing you.  C’mon, get your pole ready, you have a long way to catch up.”

I got my pole ready and cast out.

“So, long night last night?” she asked.

“How did you know?”

“Your eyes are red.  You look tired,” she said.  “And you’re an hour late.”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” I said.

“Good party?”

“Nah.  Just hung out with my sister and her friends.  They had a bottle of Jack, and things…, well, things got out of hand.”

“Ah.”

There was a brief silence.

“How old are your sister and her friends?”

“Fourteen.”

“So how did you manage the alcohol, steal it from your dad’s liquor cabinet?”

“Um, no, Julie’s brother got it for us.  For her, actually, and she shared it with us.”

“Julie is your sister’s friend?”

“Yeah.  Her brother is 21 and he bought it.”

“Jack Laetsch,” she said simply.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Sounds like him.”

I looked at her.  Suddenly she seemed much older than me.  I felt like a five year old talking about the candy I stole.

“How old are you?” she asked, as if reading my thoughts.  I hesitated for a moment, tempted to inflate my age.

“Fourteen also.”

“So you and your sister are twins?”

“No.”

“Wow, your Mom had you really close together.”

“No, we’re about a week apart.”

She looked at me with a quizzical look.  Then she realized.

“Oh, so she’s your step sister.”

“Yeah, like that,” I said quickly.  I felt uncomfortable explaining my family situation after the teasing it had brought when I was younger.  The girl must have sensed it because she changed the topic back to my lateness.

“So you went out partying with two girls and some whiskey, and then you stand me up in the morning?”

I was about to make some lame excuse when I looked at her.  This time all the mirth was in her eyes, and I remembered what she had said.

“Yeah, that’s it exactly.  I’m a busy man.”

She laughed.  “You’re funny.”

I didn’t think I was particularly funny, but I was happy that she thought so.

We spent the next two hours hanging out.  Eventually, after she had caught 26 fish, she put her rod down and asked to sit in my chair, since I was standing at the rail.

“Help yourself,” I said, “I have a long way to go.”  I had only caught three.

“You know, you suck at fishing,” she said.

“What!?”  I looked at her, and again saw the mischief in her eyes. 

“I caught almost 20 in the last two hours.  You only have two fish.”

“Three,” I said defensively.

“Alright, three.  That’s still weak.”  She was right.  I turned and gave her a level look.

“I usually have better luck.  I think you must be bad luck.”

“Ouch, that hurt,” she said pouting.

“Sorry, I was just kidding,” I said quickly, feeling bad.

“I know, I was just joking back, silly.”  She let out a giggle.  I let out a breath, somewhat exasperated.  Her teasing was merciless.

She stood up and stretched.

“I have to get to work.  Take some of my fish,” she said, grabbing her bucket.

“Um, thanks, but I can catch my own fish.”

She looked up at me with a doubtful look, and then grinned, putting her bucket down.

“Suit yourself, then.  I’ll be here tomorrow at nine.”

“Cool, I’ll come by too.”

“Great.  Maybe I’ll see you, maybe not!”  She walked off down the pier before I could answer.

That afternoon I went to help Melissa with some errands.  We had to get some supplies from the hardware store and some food.  I didn’t think anything of it until we stopped for some fish at the market.  Martin’s Fish Market, I realized only after we were on our way in.  I thought about waiting outside, but that would have been odd, since I always liked going in to see the fish selection.

Naturally, the pier girl was working the counter.  She spotted me right away and smiled mischievously.  I pretended to study the fish intently.  She finished with the customer ahead of us, and my Mom and I stepped up.

“Hi, can I help you?” she said cheerily to my Mom.

“We need some fish, what’s fresh?” asked Melissa.

“Oh, we have lots of good stuff today.”  She ran down the haul from the morning, as my Mom nodded. 

“No luck at the pier this morning?” she asked pointedly to me.

“No,” I said sheepishly. 

Melissa looked at us.  “Do you two know each other?” she asked, with a touch of surprise and humor in her voice.  I had a feeling she already knew the answer.

“Um, yeah, she was on the pier this morning when I was there,” I said. 

“Yeah, he was having some trouble catching fish.  When I left he only had two.”

“Three,” I said lamely, half to myself.

“I offered him some of mine, but he refused,” she continued.

My Mom eyed the exchange with a grin.  Fortunately she must have sensed my discomfort and she placed her order.  The pier girl set about getting the fish while I shifted about.  She rang us up, and I thought I had escaped relatively unscathed.  As we said goodbye and turned to go, she called out to us.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, don’t be late again!”

Despite a strong urge to run, I managed to leave at only a quick walk.

As expected, the car ride was uncomfortable.

“So, you ‘caught some fish you didn’t bring home’ the other day, huh?” my Mom said with a grin.

“What?  No, that’s not what I meant, I mean, she was there, but we just talked for a few minutes, I don’t know her really.”  I sounded pretty stupid, I thought to myself.  “She showed up again this morning too,” I added.

“A few minutes, and you already have a date setup for tomorrow huh?”

“It’s not a date!”

“I was just kidding.  I’m glad you found someone to fish with who is your own age.  She’s cute.  What’s her name?”

“I don’t know.”  I realized that we never asked each other our names.  I had thought of it a few times that morning, but it seemed too late.  Like we were already beyond names, and to ask now would be stupid.  Like asking a waiter how much your dish cost after you started eating it.

“Does she play guitar?”

“What?  I don’t know.” I said, confused.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Lara anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“She mentioned you rushing off to meet a guitar player this morning.”  Another mischievous smile crossed my Mom’s face, when I glanced at her.  She never looked at me though.

“Oh, yeah, he never showed up,” I said, pretending to yawn.  I was really trying hard to stifle the butterflies in my stomach.

“Ah.” 

Fortunately we arrived at the house before I dug myself in any deeper.

At three, the girls convinced me to come on their bike trip.  I was feeling relatively steady so I went along.  Lara and Julie were fairly well recovered from the night before, surprisingly. 

Last night we had ended up out on the pier, where there is a little gazebo halfway to the end.  James was there already.  We could watch the sunset from there, and hang out and hit the Jack.  Two hours later and most of the bottle gone, we headed back up the beach to our house.  Julie was staying the night with us, so we hung out on the porch for a while until the adults returned, at which point James left out the back and we retreated to our rooms to sleep and avoid any questions.

“Was your friend pissed?” asked Lara, as we biked along the beach road.

“What?” I said absently.

“Your friend you were meeting.”

“Um, no.  Actually he didn’t show up.”

“Shame,” she said.  “You should have stayed in bed.”

“I guess.”

The bike ride was enjoyable.  I was starting to find that spending time with Julie was a lot of fun.  I could make her laugh, and she seemed to enjoy having me around.  Lara didn’t seem to mind at all either, and she and James seemed to be getting pretty close as well.

The next morning I had set my alarm, so I was at the pier at eight-thirty.  She was already there, line in water. 

“You’re late.”

“But you said …”  I stopped when I saw her grin.  I was learning. Slowly, but I was.

“Was that your Mom yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“How come you didn’t tell her about me?”

“Um, I don’t know,” I said.

“You could have at least introduced us,” she said with a glint in her eye.

“Um, I don’t know your name.”

“Ah, right,” she said knowingly.

I waited as she looked at me.  I returned the stare.

“So?” she said.

“So what?”

“Are you going to ask my name?”  I could sense the friendly challenge in her voice.  I felt like teasing her for a change.

“I don’t know.  Maybe I won’t.” 

“C’mon. I know you want to know my name.”  I did.  But I felt like playing around with her, now that it had become a talking point.

“Nah, I don’t need to know it.”

I went to bait my hook, acting nonchalant. She looked at me for a moment more, considering something.

“Fine, suit yourself, Matt.”  I managed to skewer my finger with the pointed barb, and winced in pain.  She knew my name?!  I pretended nothing happened, though a drop of blood formed as I pulled the barb out.  I heard a suppressed chuckle from her as she saw me lick my wound.

“Ah, first one today,” she said cheerily as she pulled in a fish.

How did she know my name?  I couldn’t remember if maybe I had said it the first day, though I doubted it.  A million thoughts went through my head as I finally got my line together and cast out.  In the confusion of thoughts I forgot to let the reel catch out and the line whipped around and caught up in a tangled mess around the rod.  My bait flew off the hook and into the ocean.

“Nice cast!” I heard her say.  I groaned.  The familiar feeling of a beet red face was creeping up on me.  I didn’t know what to say so I stayed quiet and went about untangling my line.  My playfulness disappeared as quickly as my sinking bait.

By the time I was ready to fish again ten minutes later, she had already caught three more fish, each of which she loudly announced with glee.  Despite her endless teasing, there was such fun in her voice that I couldn’t help but laugh with her when I managed to tangle my line again. 

“I give up,” I said, plopping down in my chair and dropping my rod to the deck with a clatter.  “So what is your name?”

“You said, ‘I don’t need to know it,’” she mimicked in a low voice.

“Alright, so I did.  I do want to know, though, I was just playing around with you.”

“So am I.”

I resigned myself to the fact that I had lost control of my own game.

“OK, so at least tell me how you knew my name.”

“I don’t know.  Is your name Matt?”

“Well, yeah, you said it earlier.”

“I guessed it,” she announced emphatically.

“No way.  That’s impossible.  I must have said it the other day.”

“Nope.  You never said your name to me.  I’m just a good guesser.”

“Do you always tease people like this?”

“No, just you,” she said simply, as she reeled in another fish.  She flashed me a smile I couldn’t help but return.

That afternoon as I sat on the beach, I wondered what was wrong with me.  After two hours of everything from random guessing to outright pleading, I still didn’t know the pier girl’s name.  My game had backfired badly.  I was being constantly teased, and did foolish things left and right around her.  And yet I couldn’t stop thinking of her.  I had no idea of her name, her age, or anything.  All I knew is she worked at her family’s store and she liked to fish, and somehow managed to make me forget how to fish.  I had brought home one fish that morning.  She had taken 12 home, although she had offered to share.  Despite her teasing, my obsession with the pier girl threatened to return.  In reality, it probably already had.

The next few days she had to work, so I hung out with Julie, Lara and James quite a bit.  Julie and I somehow ended up spending time alone together, and even through the haze of my fascination or obsession with the pier girl, I began to think she was flirting with me.  On the one hand, I was thrilled to possibly have some sort of connection with her.  But at the same time, thoughts of the pier girl weighed on me heavily.

I had fun with Julie, but didn’t give any sign that I was open to anything beyond having a good time.  I turned down an offer from Lara and her to hit the gazebo and the other bottle of Jack, since I was going to the pier early the next morning to see if the girl would be back.  We had left the time up in the air.

When I went to the pier, I was relieved to see her down at the end.  I walked the length of the pier quickly.  I chuckled when I passed the gazebo and saw an empty bottle of Jack Daniels in the corner under the bench.

I spent the morning fishing with the pier girl.  My fishing luck was as bad as usual when I was with her.  But I had had some time to think, so I felt much more relaxed around her, and didn’t react to most of her gentle jibes.  The morning passed with a mixture of small talk and periods of quiet.

When we had had enough fishing, we walked back along the pier together.

“So tomorrow, then?” I asked her as we approached our parting point.

“Is that an invitation?” she asked coyly.

“I guess.”

“Well, Matt, I actually am going away tomorrow with my family, so I will have to decline.  I will miss it, though.”

“Oh,” I said.  I felt a tightness in my stomach.  “How long are you gone?”

“A few weeks.  We are going to see some relatives in Pennsylvania and Ohio,” she said.

“Well, we are leaving in about ten days, so I guess I won’t see you when you’re back.”

“That’s too bad, I had a good time fishing with you.”

My insecurities started surging up again, so I felt like leaving before I said something stupid.  It wasn’t like we were going out, but I suddenly felt very lonely, and needed to be alone.

“Yeah, me too.  Maybe I’ll see you next year,” I said.

“That would be nice.  I better go or I’ll be late for work.”

“OK.  Bye.”

“Bye,” she said.  She came over and gave me a kiss on the cheek, and a bright smile.

“Cheer up, you still have a week to practice your fishing so you can challenge me next year.”

I laughed despite the hollowness I felt inside.  As she walked away, I called out to her.

“Hey, what is your name after all?”

She stopped and looked back, the life and laughter full in her eyes. 

“I’m not telling,” she said, with a grin.  “But, that reminds me, this is yours.”

She opened her fishing box and pulled out a folded paper, which she unfolded and placed on the ground. 

“Bye, mister Matt Jackson-Birch.”

I stood there for second as I watched her walk away.  I felt like asking if I could come to Pennsylvania too, but obviously it was an absurd thought.  As she turned the corner, I walked over and picked up the paper, staring at it for a second.  It was my fishing license.  Somehow she had taken it from my tackle box.  Actually knowing me I probably had forgotten it on the pier one day, and she had found it and used it to her advantage.  I knew she hadn’t guessed my name, but now I knew how she had found out.  I stuffed the license back into my tackle box as I looked longingly at the corner she had disappeared around.

I sighed and walked slowly home, wondering if the pit in my stomach would go away before we left Montauk.

Forward to Chapter 2

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