Alison wasn't so mature or refined that she could help herself from judging Kevin just a little bit. It wasn't completely conscious, but it was snobbery. She told herself that she was an anthropologist visiting another culture; one so very different from her own. Her judgment of Kevin revolved around her conclusion that he could have done anything else with his life but instead he stayed in a small working class town in Maine. He was young and wasn't forced-as far as she could see-to work on a ferry every day, the same job in and out. He'd likely continue to do it until he was as old as the captain who currently ran the boat. It bothered her. If she could do whatever she wanted with her life, why couldn't he?
Still, Alison met him the next day for their date. He sat with her the whole 20 minute ferry ride from Portland to Peaks Island. It seemed like once the "asking her out" part of it was over and done with, he was more comfortable. During the trip across the bay he kept the conversation focused on her. Where she was from, what she'd studied in college. He asked about her family. Alison happily told him all about herself. She lived in Marin California-it's very, very beautiful-- she interjected many times. He was so interested that he wouldn't leave it at that, he wanted to know why it was so beautiful, what she loved so much about it there.
"The beaches are spectacular. Don't get me wrong, I like the beaches here in Maine," she said, "they're very dramatic, more subtle, I guess. And have their own unique feel-- but in California, in the part I live you have to drive over mountains that switch back, high up on a bluff along the coast. The ocean is royal blue and the hills are mostly green. A bright mossy green. The forest is right there on the other side of the road. Ferns are spraying out everywhere. When you finally get down to the beach-" she cut herself off. "There have been times it's felt like heaven."
"Really?"
"It is." Alison continued, "The fog will sit there right on top of the beach. You can't see the ocean but you can hear the waves. Everything feels still because you don't have any reference. You're in a foggy dream."
He smiled at her. "I can tell you're a writer." He said. "I can tell by the way you describe it. I'll bet you're a good writer too."
When looked at her and she noticed the emerald of his eyes. Alison could feel something stir inside of her. Was it the man or the attention?
"I don't know if I am," Alison said. "All I want, all the time is to be in a story. But it's a very elusive thing. It's like love. When you're inspired it seems like it will last forever."
He nodded. The light was taking on the beautiful hues of late afternoon when everything is touched with a warmth. The colors were vivid. The light was particularly lovely on the water.
"I like how it does that." Alison said as she leaned against the railing, used her hand as a visor as she looked out. "I don't remember that in California."
"What's that?" Kevin stood next to her, not too close but he looked in the same direction she did.
"The way the light sparkles. Not just metaphorically-" Alison turned to face him and he was closer than she expected. She stepped back. "Sorry. I didn't know you were right there."
"I didn't mean to startle you."
"No you didn't." She smiled. "I was talking about the way the light is on the water. It looks like little diamonds."
"I'm sorry to interrupt you," he said. He pointed ahead to the dock and the little island. "This is what I think is beautiful. Pulling into the island there. This time of day."
"It is." Alison agreed. "I never even noticed before." Alison looked up at the scene before her. It was remarkably picturesque and it was the feeling there more than the topography. It felt like home.
The tide was low and the wooden docks were tall above the water, the exposed wooden piling were stained dark, almost black at high tide water level. The houses dotted the background in unpredictable arrangements. People on Peaks Island owned larger lots, but the houses were not situated in an orderly fashion. They all had a similar architecture. Wooden, painted white or natural wood, wrap around porches and dormers. It was quaint. It was quintessentially New England. The boat was approaching the pier.
"I've got to go help. Do you want to wait here and then we can walk down and get the bikes together?"
Alison smiled at him. She nodded.
"OK." He started to walk away. He turned back to her and said "See you in a minute."
It made Alison feel special. She looked out over the island as she waited. Once the ferry had stopped, the warm afternoon air returned. It was a very hot day and even in those few minutes without the ocean spray and cold breeze, the handrail and plastic seat were growing hot. Alison stood up and leaned on the railing and watched all the people walk on to the ramp and then on to the pier. Once most of the people cleared out she walked down the stairs and saw Kevin there on the lower deck. He had both the bikes up against the side of the boat.
Kevin had a back pack on. "I packed a picnic."
"Oh Good." Alison said, "I have the wine." She patted her own backpack before she slung it over her shoulder.
The got on their bikes and started pedaling up to the main road from the dock. It was still hot outside. But, riding down the main road was much cooler, The tall maple and oak trees cast shade. The road followed the rocky beach. The breeze grew cooler on the other side of the ocean.
Kevin rode next to her and called out to Alison, "Do you have a beach in mind?"
Alison looked at him and smiled. She nodded.
"Ok." He said and let her lead them.
A few minutes later, Alison turned to him and smiled, "almost there."
She pointed to a wood shingled house, that sat back on a deep lot. A gravel, seashell driveway led down towards the water. As they rode their bike over the crunchy ground, towards the shore, you could make out the smaller wood shingled cottage. The shingles looked almost gray, more worn from the weather either because the house was older or because it was more exposed to the elements sitting down near the shore. Alison stopped and stood straddling her bike.
"This is where I'm staying."
He stopped his bike too. "It's pretty nice." He turned towards the larger property, "Is that the rental?"
Alison nodded and widened her eyes. "Can you believe it?"
"No. It's -- it's--wow." He looked up towards the house. "There's a widow's walk. Have you been up there?"
"No. What's a widows walk?"
"Up on the roof, the porch. Wives walked up there so they could see the fishing and whaling boats coming in."
"A widow was because some of them didn't come back?"
He nodded.
"is it still dangerous--being a fisherman."
"I guess sometimes."
Alison didn't say anything.
"Not too dangerous. Where to?"
Orange and yellow rays of light broke through the pine and maple trees.
"There's a beach down this path here. It opens to a really pretty private beach. I think it's private. I've never seen anyone else here except my neighbors in that cottage there. Just ours."
The leaned their bikes against the side of the cottage and started walking down the rocky path. The property was landscaped with flowering shrubs and flower beds. The smell of jasmine mixed with the salty sea air. The path was through a short patch of woods. it was cooled by the shade and the ocean breeze. They walked side by side. At the bottom, the path opened to a sandy cove. The sand was almost white and larger rocks were covered in wet deep emerald seaweed. Alison liked being out on the beach at low tide. She loved the primordial look of the seaweed and seeing the barnacles on the wet glistening stone. It was hypnotic -- the way the strands of brown and green sea grass danced gently back and forth in tide pools of sea water.
"You're right," she said. "It is pretty here in Maine. I love this place. I come out here in the morning and drink my coffee every day. Almost every afternoon I climb up on one of those rock and write."
He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her. He looked around and nodded. "I can see why you like it. Where should we sit?"
"If we walk a little further, there are large rocks, one forms a shelter, almost like a seat. It's up high.
As they made their way to the picnic site there were less sand and more stones until finally the rocks formed almost a jigsaw of long, flat formations. The furthest most spot was on the other side of a hill. It was secluded It was perched over the ocean.
"This is it." She said as she climbed up and once she made it, she moved over to make space for Kevin. The ocean lapped against the side and the color of the sky was growing richer, ready for dusk with an orange / pink hue.
She couldn't fully describe it; it was something about Kevin. Alison felt as though she'd known him since childhood. If she were to base a fictional character on him, he would have known the female protagonist their entire lives; he would have been secretly in love with her all those years since childhood. That moment, the two of them sitting there, comfortable yet a new kind of unfamiliar that would be the moment that he would have confessed that he loved the girl--as the character in a book.
There was a nice breeze blowing and there were several sailboats out on the water. That particular view went out as far as the ocean; infinite shades of blue all the way out to the horizon where several clouds seemed to linger. It was still light enough to see and would be for a while, it was only out 6:00. The sun was just sitting low in the sky.
Alison turned to him and smiled. "I brought Chianti. Is that ok?"
"Sure."
Alison removed the bottle and a sweater. She cushioned the bottle while she rummaged through the backpack. Kevin watched her. She retrieved a corkscrew and placed it by the bottle.
"I forgot the cups." She frowned. "We can just drink from the bottle. Is that ok?"
He nodded.
She took a gulp then handed it to him. He took a drink too.
"I have some bread and cheese too." She said.
He gave her the bottle and removed a small insulated bag.
"What's that?" she asked, taking another sip.
"Do you like oysters?"
She raised her eyebrows and grimaced a little. "I don't think so."
He removed a small Tupperware with ice cubes, lemon wedges and a dull looking knife. Then he removed a shell that looked like it was covered with barnacles.
Alison shook her head.
"They don't have oysters in California?" he asked looking down as he wedged the knife into the side of an oyster shell.
Alison watched him with the expression of a foreigner being introduced to an unusual culinary delicacy. Something exotic yet mildly repulsive. "We do." She said. "There's an oyster farm near where I live. "
Kevin stopped prying and kept his eyes on her. He examined her. Waited. "These are fresh."
She still had a look of apprehension.
"They're free range."
She laughed and had to cover her mouth so she didn't spit out her wine. "I didn't know oysters could range."
He shook his head.
Alison shrugged her shoulders. "They always seemed so slimy to me. Isn't there some kind of bacteria in them?"
He popped one open. He tossed the top of the oyster shell into the ocean. He retrieved a lemon wedge from the bag and squirted the juice on the raw oyster.
"I'll try it," she said. She moved closer to him and he held it out for her. She felt a wave of attraction as his arm made contact with hers as he handed her the shell, careful not to spill the juice. She held the shell as if the oyster were alive and would pop out at her. She kept it just from her mouth. "Just like this? Do I tilt it or?"
He looked amused. "You've never seen anyone eat an oyster?"
"Why is that so shocking? It's not something I ever wanted to witness. "
The wind blew a warm gust. "You just slurp it down in one gulp."
"Ok." She said. And when she did she was pleasantly surprised. the brine tasted like the ocean. It was refreshing and had only a hint of seafood. Mostly it was lemon and salt.
"I like them." She said as she tossed the other shell into the ocean.
It was nearly dark by the time they'd finished the food. There was a little wine left. The tide had pulled out exposed a larger stretch of beach, also jig sawed with large rocks. The gentle rush of the ocean mixed with the sound of pebbles and shells being pulled back in from the sand in the retreating wave.
"I wish we had some dessert," she said. She looked at him and when their eyes met, they stared at each other for a moment.
"Do you want to go back into town?" He offered.
"No really," she said.
"I have a snickers bar. Do you like those?"
Alison smiled at him. Her hair had come loose from the braid. She removed the elastic hair tie and shook out her hair.
"You look pretty." He said. He touched her hair and then moved it back over her shoulder.
"Do you want to kiss me?" Alison asked him, moving closer and looking into his eyes.
He smiled and looked down.
"Boys in California aren't like you." She whispered then moved closer to him and waited.
He looked up at her again. "Yes. I want to kiss you." He leaned closer and pressed his lips against hers. She could feel her heart beating.
"Why don't you have a girlfriend?" Alison asked. She pulled away and took a sip from the wine bottle.
He let out a breath and smiled. "I did."
"What happened?"
"High school sweetheart. You know how it is. You grow apart." He looked out towards the water. Allison couldn't tell if he still loved her.
"Did she cheat on you?"
He turned to her. "No. She didn't want to break up. She wanted to get married."
"At your age."
He laughed and shook his head.
"Why do you do that?"
"What?"
"You always act like what I say is silly."
"No. I just think you're adorable."
She blushed; it was out of character.
Alison thought he looked very handsome in that moment. The sun had fully set and the water under the moonlight resembled a painting. Deep blue with glistening reflections in unexpected places. There was a slight breeze carried in by every wave. She had the desire to go swimming, to feel the cool water as it rushed against her skin. She wanted to feel it all around her, be absorbed in the dark night, there under the full moon. Kevin leaned closer and kissed her again.
"Do you want to go back to the cottage?" She asked
"I need to make sure I get back to the ferry before 9:30."
"You could stay over." Alison offered. "We could fool around."
He looked startled for a moment then let out a laugh.
"What?"
He looked down and back up at her. "I think I'd like to get to know you better."
"Really?"
"We'd better head back." He started to gather his things back up. He shook the ice out of the small insulated bag. Alison watched him as he folded it precisely. There seemed something nautical about it, maybe the same strategy you'd use with a sail.
The second time she said it was less confident "'Seriously. Really? You don't want to stay over?"
He picked up the corkscrew and handed it to her. "This is yours."
She held her backpack open and he dropped it in.
"I like you, you know I do. I'm really into you."
"so?"
"It's kind of fast."
She stood up, frustrated. She held he backpack. "Kind of fast?"
"I don't mean you're fast. I just want to get to know you better." He stood and walked closer to her. "I really like you Alison." He moved her hair back from her face, but the warm wind blew it back. He kissed her and it caused an aching.
She had never been in that situation before.