Friday
I'd neve been to Bar Harbor before, though I'd spent some time elsewhere in the state as a kid; Maine was a go-to beach spot for those of us who grew up in suburban Boston. Since moving out to New York for school, though, I hadn't been back, and this was a very different Maine from the small oceanside communities I'd known. The center was a busy tourist destination masquerading as a quaint New England town - lots of gray blue siding and whales and ocean motifs, but all a little too cute and busy, with a mix of high-end restaurants, trinket shops, boutiques, and other stores catering to a crowd with money. That was something I didn't really have. I was 25, and while I wasn't broke, I wasn't exactly miles from it. I was doing okay, though, splitting time between a full-time teaching job and gigs doing portrait photography on the side. Since splitting up with Amy a few months ago I was eating takeout less and saving more, once student loans, rent, food, bills were out of the way. But there was no way I would have been out here had I been doing it on my own dime.
Amy. The split had been the right choice, though it had taken me a bit to admit that we hadn't really worked for some time. I was over that part of it by now. But over the last month, the celibacy had hit me hard in another way: regular access to good sex for six years was a hard thing to shake. At the same time, I'd never dated as an adult - hell, I'd basically never 'dated' at all - and my first couple attempts over the last couple months had fallen flat. All of this left me frustrated as hell, in all the meanings of that word. Maybe this would help clear my head.
I was here for a five day photography workshop in and around Acadia National Park. The trip was my birthday present, from my parents who not-so-slyly tacked on an "optional" visit with them after this part of the trip was done. After my sister and I had gone off to college, they'd started coming up here regularly; they did have that kind of money. My dad, a lawyer, was also an avid amateur photographer, and had connected with a group that led photo tours in the area. I had dabbled in landscape photography but had never really had the time or equipment to do it right. Now, though, armed with a loaner superwide lens to complement my own kit, I was off on a five day experiment.
Once I'd gotten my fill of downtown, I walked back to the hotel. I washed off quickly and took a glance in the mirror: six foot frame with a full head of dark brown, nearly black hair. I had always been thin, but a renewed post-breakup commitment to regular workouts over the last few months had given me more definition. I looked damn good without a shirt on. I looked damn good in a close-cropped beard, too, which was a recent addition. I was, as I heard my mother say in my head, a catch.
I put on jeans and a nice polo for the group dinner, at a bar and grill across the street. I realized as I walked that I hadn't really thought about who else might be part of this tour. I was a functional introvert - I could hack crowds, parties, and small talk, but usually didn't seek them out. In this situation I'd have to deal with it, I told myself as I entered.
I was a few minutes late. Off to the right there was a bar, and to the left a seating area with a posterboard on an easel announcing our tour dinner. My eyes trailed past it to a long table, and about eight other people... all of them at least twice my age. Of course, that made sense. This kind of trip was made for retirees, not 20-somethings. Still, I felt a bit of apprehension, unsure how well I'd fit in with this crowd. I had no problem keeping my own company, though, so I shrugged it off.
I picked up a nametag and met the tour leader, a local photographer named Kelly who was in her 50s and had the slightly leathery look of someone who had spent most of their days in the sun. She was friendly and we chatted a bit as I wrote out the nametag - Aaron, New York. I wandered over and found a chair at the table. There was room for twelve, and with eight already seated I was among the last to arrive. I idly wondered if we were expecting anyone else.
I'd just gotten my beer when my answer arrived. Two women swept in, and the older one apologized to Kelly for their lateness while the younger of them looked around. She was strikingly beautiful, with wide brown eyes and sharp features. Her chestnut hair fell down a long neck, down below her shoulders. She looked to be in her early 20s, with a slight but athletic build that her bright blue sundress showed off nicely, if not revealingly. She spent a moment on her nametag, giving me a chance to admire an outstanding ass. I couldn't quite make out the name from across the room, and spent a bit too long looking - she caught my eye and flashed a little smile, but with a glint, something more behind it. I smiled awkwardly and turned back to the table as one of my table-mates - Hank, I'd learn later - finished a gregarious story to light laughter. The latecomers took the last seats at the far end of the table.
After we ordered food, we did a round of introductions: our names, where we lived, what kind of photography we did or were interested in.
"I'm Aaron, I'm a high school teacher in Utica New York. I do portrait photography but want to broaden my horizons some." I started. We went down the table. Sue and Gary from New Hampshire seemed nice enough if bland in a really particular suburban New Hampshire way; predictably, they were birders. Lisa from Vermont was about sixty, artsy, thin and gregarious, and loved landscape photography - had even sold prints. Hank was a retired engineer from Boston and a general hobbyist. Tim and Craig, a couple in their 60s from Portland, were semi-pro, selling photos online and at local art shows. Ken and Yvette, an Asian couple from Connecticut, were also semi-pro. The two women at the far end looked at each other, and the youngest spoke first.
"I'm Jessica, and this is my mom Pam. We're from central Mass, near Worcester. We're both newbies as far as photography goes - we're trying to get into it together." Kelly welcomed averyone, and reminded us that this trip was for any photographer no matter the skill level.
Dinner arrived and we dug in, eating around the conversations - what we did for a living, where we lived, the like. I couldn't really make out much of the conversation at the far end - Hank was a loud and frequent talker. The folks closer to me mostly talked among themselves about family, kids, grandkids. I took it in without saying too much. As I finished up my food, Lisa turned to me to ask about teaching. I told her a bit - I'd just finished my third year as a high school history teacher, which came with a decent pay bump and some job security.
"And the old photography club advisor just retired, so I'm taking that over next year - that's one of the reasons I did this, to get more experience with landscape work."
"Well, I'm happy to be a sounding board!" she said, finishing a glass of wine. "So," her tone shifted a bit, "do you have a girlfriend?" Out of habit I almost said yes, but then froze. She misinterpreted that one. "Oh, I'm sorry, or boyfriend? "I'm prying, of course, but... well, I'm old and I've had a couple of glasses of wine, and manners are stupid." We both laughed.
"No, sorry, I paused because I recently split up with someone. My ex-girlfriend. About four months ago now."
And that launched us into The Story, which really wasn't much of one. Amy and I had met in college - my sophomore year, her freshman year. We got together quickly and stayed that way through graduation. I was in a five year dual teaching degree program, which meant we graduated the same year. We got a place together in Utica and that's the way it stayed for a couple of years, until one day, it ended. She said the words but we'd both been feeling the distance. We parted amiably, and had been in touch a bit, but not much. We were just different people than we'd been. As I told the story, Lisa nodded in a way that told me that wasn't a particularly unique experience. She started in on a story about her own college boyfriend. As she talked, I caught Jessica's eye again - she'd been watching me this time.
After dinner, Kelly announced she was sticking around at the bar a bit longer, and we were welcome to join. Hank loudly agreed, while Ken and Yvette pardoned themselves, back to the hotel. Lisa, Gary, and Sue were deep in conversation about bird feeders as I got up and moved over to the bar, but realized that Jessica and her mom were no longer in sight. Assuming they'd left already, I ordered another beer and checked my phone - nothing but a text from my mom asking if I made it okay. I finished a quick reply as my beer arrived. I had just put down a credit card when a voice spoke over my shoulder.
"I guess we're the ones bringing the average age of the tour down under 55." I turned to see her behind me, smiling that smile again. "I'm Jessica." I shook her hand.
"Aaron. And yeah, we do seem to be crashing the old folks' party - at least you brought your own." She laughed, and I decided I liked the feeling.
"Yeah, my mom - we'd been talking about a trip together for a while, and things came together for this."
We traded vital information - school, jobs. She'd graduated the previous year, from a college near Worcester - a psychology major, thinking about med school. She lived with her mom and worked as an administrative assistant at a local hospital while she decided where the rest of her life was headed.
"So what made you two choose this?" I asked, as my beer arrived. "And," I motioned to the bar, "do you want something? On me." Be bold, young man.
