Peaks Island

Chapter 2

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.