Ch 01 - girl on rebound meets guy on hunt
ALEX: Life on Edward's island is dull. The days start dull, stay dull and end dull. The restaurants are few and the bars are fewer. Isolated by a forty minute ferry ride, the island is all about families and small farms. Yes, there are commuters who ride the waters, but mostly the place is about locals three generations deep protecting their own. As a rule it takes 20 years of full time to become a local.
Edward's island to the knowing and Eddies to the less reverent, it is a fifty mile rock shelf pushed up by a retreating glacier. Potable water is the limiting factor that keeps the place rural. There are a few deep wells, expensive wells, but mostly there are rain water cisterns and low flush johns. Economic wise the island grows strawberries and kids with strawberry cheeks. Until Edwards finds cheap water it will remain a small town trapped in time.
The question to ask is why would a big city boy like myself chose to live on this quaint island? The answer as always is a girl. Women do seem to rule our lives. Her name was Molly.
MOLLY: My Romeo was a flop and I was mortified. That's how I explained it to Fran. What with her checkered past Fran understood all too well how the gossip mill kept abreast of all things island, everything from Junior's lost tooth to my lost pride was fodder for the phone patrol. That was the downside.
On the upside no one worries about locked doors and six to sixty, everyone hitchhikes. Entertainment wise the island sports wonderful beaches and year around sailing. There is an old folks' home, clay tennis courts and Roxies - the island hot spot. Most people go there for the food, a few for the bar and some for the work. It takes a lot of people to run a restaurant 16 hours 7 days a week. I was the weekday breakfast cook. The money is better evenings and weekends, but I was new to the kitchen crew, having spent my first eighteen months waiting tables. These things take time.
Did I mention Fran? Fran is my best buddy and confident. Mutt and Jeff they called us. She was round and I was tall. She was a list maker and I was a planner. In school she was B- and I was A+. We shared everything but dating. It seems no one at St Pete's was brave enough to date a chubby chick. Their loss, as I saw it, for Fran was wonderfully funny.
St Pete's, now there's a topic. St Pete's is the island church, an island school and an old folks' home - an all in one package. Father Rupert, our parish priest, hands out stale bread, grape juice and penances by the score. I must have of said a thousand Hail Mary's in my time, but then I was an over achiever in all things, including sin.
Back to Romeo, you haven't forgotten him, have you? Jeff and I had dated for three years. My plan involved a summer rental and a fall from grace. With Jeff's help this Summa Cum Laude kid would become a Mama Cum Loudly babe. It was to be a summer of nonstop sex.
But the plan flopped. It wasn't like I expected the Earth to move. I'm not some gothic heroine. But sexually speaking he didn't do it for me. Frustrated, I consulted my notes and tried again. When he turned brutal I knew my summer was ruined. The worst part was I had proudly proclaimed our romance consummation for all to hear and now everyone knew him to be a failure and me a fallen fool. The embarrassment was total.
So I cried on Fran's shoulder. A week later I bounced back with a new plan. That's how I came to sit in Roxies, wine glass in hand, listening to the music. What I had was a nice cabin, a quick mind, a nice body and a summer to kill. What I lacked was a man - one who could get it up and keep it up for however long it took. No Minute Men need apply. It was on this note Alex walked in the door. I gave him and his two cronies my best smile. Off islanders were at the top of my list.
ALEX: I met her at Roxies, a mid island food bar. Fred, Tom and I were out slumming -- looking for hot chicks, bourbon and beer. As the designated driver I headed east along the bay. I was thinking about beaches, sand, summer and bikinis. Edwards Island, Eddies, must have summer crowd. All the islands did, or so I thought.
She had dimpled cheeks, long red hair, a cute face and freckles. She was sipping wine and listening to the acoustic renderings of local artists. The applause was politely enthusiastic on this open mike night. I was reminded of a long ago crush I had for a second cousin. She too liked acoustic music and white wine. The crush was a kid thing, like spin the bottle.
MOLLY: "Call me Alex," he said, "Alex Andrews." AA, eh, I answered back with a tip of my glass.
He was a story teller, strong on satire. Caught up in his telling, I learned he and his two buds had come across looking for fun. Their mistake was not knowing the action was all off island. That and the ferries left roughly every three hours. The next boat out was ten thirty, but then Roxies was as good as any place to kill time.
Making the best of things Alex settled in at my side. Sipping wine we talked during microphone resets, about me, about him and about dating. "Single bars are the pits," he muttered. Tried want ads, I asked. His frown said it all. He was a man fed up with the gamers and games. He was here only because he refused to give in. "I know there's someone out there, I just can't find her. You got an older sister?" I knew he was kidding, and yet the question got me thinking. Until that moment I hadn't considered an older man - old being anyone over thirty.
I ran him down my checklist. Off islander - check. Handsome - check. Brainy - double check. Personable, humorous, witty and bright -- check, check and check. Dog kicker -- no evidence of. Sexy -- I needed a kiss to tell. Staying power - that too needed testing. Right then Alex was at the top of a very short list. Fact is, he was only one on the list. He had it right about dating being a tough racket. Getting him in the rack was going to take some doing. These off island romances are always tricky.
About ten he dashed out the door, but not before he left me his number. "I want to finish this conversation. Call me."
ALEX: She called me. I couldn't believe she actually called. Not two days or a week later, but that same night. She wanted to be sure I got home safe, that's what she said, but I could hear the interest in her voice. We talked half the night.
What followed were countless calls, a couple dates and some heavy petting. Two weeks in I realized the sex thing was a no go. It happened at my place. In high school jargon I was rounding second when she jumped up off the bed, threw open the closet and started trying on my clothes. She babbled something about us being the same size, but I took it for a duck. She had changed her mind. All I got out of it was a serious hard on.
I accepted this decision because of the twenty year gap, her off island phobia and because this was the first new friend I had made in ages. She was a welcomed breath of fresh air and an interesting friend. What evolved between us was a highly charged, platonic relationship. Other than an occasional quick kiss it was all talk and no show. Our common link was story telling. We both had designs on writing the great American novel.
MOLLY: I was nervous, nervous as hell. Every step of the way I found myself wanting to turn back. Was I crazy? Just what does a twenty year old know of seduction? Not much was the answer.
Thankfully the ferry ride and downtown shuttle went well. I fell in with an island crowd headed out for a night in the city. They knew me, but not well. It was mostly trash talk and gossip. Gossip fueled the island chat lines. Downtown we went our separate ways and I breathed easy, well easier.
The next bus was a neighborhood wanderer. Time on my hand, I watched the houses go by and thought about my high school sweetheart. Was this a rebound move, seducing Alex? Was I really truly over Jeff? Yes, I told myself. In the last few years I had worked my way up from waitress to cook and my savings had me only a year out from college. Yes the cabin rental had set me back, but as always I had a plan. Instead of Jeff sharing my bed and the rent, it would be Alex.
On the down side the cabin was half the size of his current place, one bedroom only, and it would be a long commute for him. On the up side the rent was cheap, it had wood heat and sat on five acres of view property. The best part was the bed. It was a double bed with brass rails. There are those who'd think both the cabin and bed too small, but I like cozy. I am all about cozy.
I fingered the contents of my pack. Everything was there: my night shirt, the books, three kinds of protection, a slinky nightgown, a change of clothes, a makeup kit and some of those little blue pills (don't ask). Extracting the smaller book I cautiously looked around before cracking it open. I was alone but for the driver and a self involved couple in the back.
