Being wealthy isn't as great as it sounds. I never tried being poor, of course; when your name is the same as one of Oregon's biggest timber companies that's not really an issue. It was always understood that the family money was just that: there to be taken care of, added to, and used as needed, but not ours to waste. The only thing worse in my family than wasting money was acting superior because of our luck in ancestors. I'll never forget the time my brother (who for a while we actually had answering to "Dumb Dave") tried to impress some airhead girls by making fun of the Hispanic laborers who were building Mom's new formal garden out past the pool house. Dad didn't say much- he never did- but the look in his eyes scared me. A couple weeks later Dad told me quietly that Dave wouldn't be going with us to sail the San Juan Islands when school got out, and we should find another crew member. When we saw Dave again, he had a lot of stories about the fish cannery in Alaska where Dad had sent him to spend the first half of the summer gutting salmon. He had callused hands, some expressions that almost gave our Spanish master a heart attack, and a deep respect for the hard working Mexicans who had shown him the ropes on the fish line.
Anyway, when I finished prep school I had enough money in the trust fund to go to Europe for a while. I had been All-American as a soccer goalie, and figured I should go take the European leagues by storm while I was hot. It took me a couple of years bouncing around the bottom levels of the UEFA to realize that being hot in American soccer was a long way from being a star in European football, and I just wasn't going to make it to the top with the skills I had. I went back to the US to finish college knowing that I didn't have to wonder for the rest of my life what would have happened if only had given it my best shot.
College was a bad fit socially, since most of the students were fresh out of high school and excited to be on their own away from Mom and Dad for the first time. I did my own thing, studied, and ignored the campus partying for the most part. After celebrating Hogmanay with the West of Scotland Football Association, a bunch of kids drunk on Keystone just didn't impress me.
One night I was walking back to my apartment across campus and encountered a bunch of said drunk frat boys who decided to make cracks about my Real Madrid jersey. I was annoyed- Real Madrid is a hell of a team and I had worked hard for that jersey, even though I never actually made the team. I told them to piss off, and they started making cracks about "soccer fags" and getting hostile. I was starting to wonder if I had gotten in over my head when I heard a deep voice behind me.
"Hey, guys, are we going to have a problem here?"
I looked around. The speaker was something over six feet tall and at least half that wide, none of it fat. His voice and smile looked friendly, but his attitude made it clear that if they jumped me he was more than willing to jump in and even things up. Typical loudmouths, they muttered some threats and disappeared. I stuck out my hand.
"Hey, thanks for the help!"
"It's nothing. I get tired of these stupid kids getting drunk and causing problems for people who are here to learn something."
"Well, can I buy you a beer anyway?"
"Sure, why not?"
That's how I first met Brian. We both had seen something of the world and were there to get our educations and move on. Brian never said much about his background, but he didn't appear to have a family that stayed in touch with him and occasionally mentioned dealing with the VA to pay his tuition. I once asked him how he got the terrible scars on his arm, and he mumbled something about "Afghanistan" in a way that discouraged me from probing further. He was a hell of a decent guy, though, and we quickly became friends. He got in the habit of coming home with me for the holidays, and we spent quite a few weekends out at my family's house on the Oregon coast fishing and doing the constant maintenance a beach house needs.
After graduation, he went to work for a good sized construction company and I took the place that was waiting for me in the family timber business. Brian appeared to be doing well, and Dad had already made clear, in his quiet way, that when he was ready to buy out the company he was to come to Dad for the money. Dad got where he is partly by being a good judge of character.
When we got out to the beach that weekend, we found my uncle's company running team already there. They're cool people for the most part, and we had plenty of space. Brian looked a little dazed after the introductions, but I didn't give it a lot of thought. Once we got to work on the deck we intended to fix, the reason became clear.
"Tell me about Jennifer!"
"She's a terrific girl. Sweet, smart, and you obviously noticed how pretty she is already. Toss me that pry bar."
"Catch. Some of those folks seem to think that you and her have something going?"
"Oh, some of those busybodies at Uncle Graham's ad agency think we'd make a good couple. Every time I go over there they manipulate me into taking her to lunch."
"And you don't like her?"
"I think the world of her! We realized after the first couple lunches that we just don't have any romantic attraction to each other. She calls me sometimes when she needs someone to go to some social function with her, and vice versa, but that's as far as it goes. I guess people see us together at those things and jump to conclusions."
"You telling me a girl that looks like that can't find a date? I can't believe that!"
"More like she gets tired of men constantly chasing her. She's got her own life going and she's not man-hungry like a lot of these girls. She doesn't seem that interested in dating."
Brian was grinning.
"And you can't take those weird girls you like to date to high society functions!"
This was an old jibe, and I knew it was a loser for me, but I couldn't just let it go.
"Look, just because I got tired of those finishing school clones I grew up around doesn't mean I date weird girls!"
"Really? What about that one who HAD to show us the tattoo on her butt?"
"It was on her hip!"
"If it's even partly covered by her Pikachu panties she doesn't need to show it to people she just met! What kind of grown woman wears Pokemon panties anyway?"
"Uh... a cute one? What was Doc Miyahara getting so upset for, anyway?"
"He wasn't upset, he was trying not to crack up! He said later he had seen those same characters on the back of trucks in Japan when he was visiting over there."
"Don't tell me..."
"Afraid so. She said it said "beautiful flower" or something like that? Doc says it's actually Japanese for WIDE LOAD!"
I had to laugh at that.
"OK, I give up. That girl with the WIDE LOAD on her hip in Japanese was a little odd. Where's the tape measure?"
"Here. Yeah, I can just see your mom's reaction if she had decided to show off her butt tattoo at one of her parties!"
"Hip, not butt! I still remember Mom's reaction the time one of Dave's dates tried to show off her pole dancing skills. I don't need to see that again!"
Brian was an adopted son as far as Mom was concerned, and had privileges to criticize members of the family. In fact, I suspect she would have swapped Brian for Dave if she could have.
"They gave up on Dave acting like he had any sense a long time ago, but they still have hope for you. Why don't you pick out one of those preppy girls who won't give me the time of day and give them some grandkids like Mom's always talking about?"
"Seems to me that Bitsy Monroe gave you a lot more than the time of day last New Year's!"
"I'm not gonna confirm or deny that anything happened. Still, when I called her up the next week, she said that she'd had a lot to drink and didn't remember anything, and hoped I was gentleman enough to forget it too."
"Ouch. Sorry."
"I'm not. Who wants to deal with a sloppy drunk? I was just being polite. Anyway, you're avoiding my question."
I took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the deck.
