by Chris Keane
“No worries. It’s only normal for a guy to check out a half-naked chick, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“My dad will see your grandmother in a minute.”
“Your dad?”
“I mean the doctor. My dad is the doctor.”
“Got it. Do you hang out at the lake a lot?”
“Have a seat.”
“Right.”
The doctor came out. He was tall and broad, with curly red hair speckled gray. A short old man in a charcoal black suit hobbled behind him. “Shoot me straight, Doc. Am I gonna make it?”
Dr. Sewall patted him on the back, smiling. “Well, the odds are good. But the goods are odd!”
They both chuckled as the old man slowly made his way to the exit.
Dr. Sewall turned back towards the waiting area. “Hello Mrs. Elton. You can come on back now.”
As she pried herself out of the chair, Gram exclaimed, “Isn’t he handsome? I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers.”
“Gram!” Dante replied, hoping no one else heard her.
The waiting period for Gram to come back out seemed to go by in a blink. Before Dante had a chance to craft another reason to talk to the girl, he heard Dr. Sewall call, “Angie!” She vanished from the front desk. A minute later the doctor emerged and quietly led Dante back to his office.
The office was cramped and overflowing with documents and random books. Some of them were medical or alternative medicine, while others seemed totally out of place. He had a bunch of books on Salem and several conspiracy-theory books on American history. There wasn’t the typical wall of degrees either.
“Your grandmother is exhibiting some signs of dementia.”
“Huh?” Dante said, still getting his bearings.
“Her mind is beginning to fail her.”
“Nah. She’s fine. She’s just getting old.”
“I’m afraid not. I asked several basic questions and she couldn’t answer them.”
“Like what?”
“The president, the month, the year, the day…”
“Well, she doesn’t pay too much attention to that stuff. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Listen. She asked me where my wife was. My wife died five years ago. Your grandmother was at the funeral.”
There wasn’t much Dante could say or do. He felt blindsided. He just nodded his head politely and went back to the waiting room where he found Gram standing by the door.
“See you next time,” Gram said to Angie as she exited.
Dante just waved, unable to come up with a decent parting line. On the porch, Gram yelled, “Well, she certainly is developed! Huh, Dante?”
But Dante just covered his face with his hand in embarrassment and headed for the car.
4
connection
Dante needed a new thought, anything to distract him from the cycle of self-deprecation he had been in since his failed encounter with the girl at the doctor’s office. She was like a full moon in a clear summer sky, wherever he went she seemed to follow him. And no matter how often he gazed upon her mysterious beauty, it remained totally out of reach and unknowable.
She had a name now: Angie. But a name just made things worse, playing into the ridiculous fantasies torturing him day and night. He pictured the two of them exploring a tropical island, having sex on the beach, even standing up at the altar together! Sometimes in the heat of night, from the deepest regions of his brain’s gray matter, an image of theoretical kids flickered. The whole thing was unhealthy. Dante needed to redirect his mind somehow or risk descending into madness.
He battled the oppressive summer heat and humidity the whole way down the hill to town, arriving soaked in sweat. At least, the old library was easy to locate, sitting reverently at the end of the main street, like a tombstone for the written word. He trudged up the steep brick steps, past a faded American flag flying high from a rusted metal pole. The library’s cloudy windows were plastered with paper flyers for swap meets, Civil War reenactments, and Fourth of July fireworks. Above the door, a cracked wood sign read “This nation will remain the land of the free only so long as it is the home of the brave.” Real Americana!
Back home, Dante had always avoided libraries because they seemed to have only old and dated versions of pretty much everything. But this one seemed to have no versions of much of anything. The moldy texts with yellow-tinted pages, were mostly town records and black-and-white photo books of holiday parades, sprinkled with some horrendous school summer reading classics. Of course, there was no Wi-Fi connection, but he did manage to spot a 90s-era PC set up in the back corner. The computer monitor, a giant vacuum-tube paper weight, nearly took up the entire desk.
The ancient whir of the dial-up connection broke the silence. Dante tapped his foot and banged the keyboard spacebar impatiently as he waited. Dialing. Contacting. Disconnected. Dialing. Contacting. Disconnected. Dialing. Contacting. Disconnected. “Shit!” He screamed, as Angie appeared out of nowhere, holding a stack of books.
“Boo!” She yelled.
“Ah!” Dante popped off his seat, and then turned to find her, hovering over him with her hands waving frantically in front of her face.
“Man, you’re easily startled,” she quipped, chuckling.
“Yeah. You need the PC?” he asked.
“No. Just browsing.”
“Are you sure? I’ll be happy to give up my seat for you…” Dante asked. A smiled formed from the sides of her lips.
“Nope,” she said, her eyes wandering down to her arms lugging books that included The Shining, Salem Witches, and Kama Sutra: The Ancient Art of Love.
“Cool picks,” Dante noted.
“Yeah. There isn’t much of a selection. But I make them order whatever I want, since my dad gives them free medical.”
“I’m trying to email my parents. I need to update them on my grandmother.”
“How is she feeling?”
“Well, her head’s healing up okay But there are bigger issues.”
She frowned, nodding her head. “Yes. My father told me. You know, up until now she’s been great, but this time I could tell something was off. Can’t you give them a call?”
“Not really. They’re in Europe. It’s complicated.”
“Hmm. You’re not going to have much luck with that old relic. Why don’t you come use the computer at my dad’s office?
“Really?”
“Sure. He won’t mind. As long as you stay off the porn sites,” she said, with a devious tone.
Dante felt empowered, huddled over a keyboard tray with his dream girl reading about thousand-year-old sexual secrets a few feet away. With a gleam in his eyes, he wrote a scathing rebuttal to his parents’ fridge note. He definitely didn’t want them to rush home anymore, because that would mean he would be expected back in Jersey. But he told them every gory detail of Gram’s health issues, hoping to make them feel guilty for leaving. It felt so liberating to send a bile-filled email to his parents, knowing they were too far away to do anything about it. He chuckled to himself as he hit send, and then leaned back with his arms over his head. He leaned too far, flipping the chair over onto its back.
“Shit!” Dante hollered.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. I just fell. No big deal.”
Dante pulled himself off the ground and stood looking at Angie. He couldn’t help but stare at her. She was so beautiful. Everything about her was perfect: her delicate face, her green eyes, her fiery red hair, her bright smile, her full lips. He really wanted to tell her!
“Hey? You okay?” She asked.
“Yup.”
“Sure? Cause you’re kind of freaking me out a little.”
“Yup. I’m fine.”
“So…you emailed your folks?”
“Yup.”
“And…you’re good now?”
Dante stood there like an idiot for a minute until finally getting out, “I’m gonna go ‘cause I�
��m good now. Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
On his way toward the door, he bumped into Dr. Sewall, who turned to Angie. “Everything okay out here, hon’?”
“Yeah,” she answered, nonchalantly.
“I heard a crash,” he said.
“Yeah, that was nothing.”
“Weren’t you just here yesterday?” he asked Dante, who smiled and nodded.
“Good! Guess my mind isn’t going on me yet. What can I do for you, son?”
“I’m here for your daughter…um, she let me use your computer so-”
“--But he’s all finished now,” Angie said.
Dante, sensing a blatant cue to leave, stepped out onto the porch and into the parking lot. He really didn’t want to go back to his new home at Gram’s. He didn’t want to bounce around his tiny bedroom all afternoon replaying events in his mind, wondering how he could have been smoother. He wanted to just get it over with and ask her out. If she said no, well, then that was that.
His heart raced as he trudged back up the steps to the house. The pressure-filled moment reminded him of SATs and final exams and all the other things that can come crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. At those critical moments, nothing you’ve accomplished up to that point matters: it’s do or die.
He pulled on the door a few times but it wouldn’t budge. There was a small doorbell, so he tried it.
Angie opened the door. She didn’t look pleased. “Come on, dude. You’ve just gotta use a little elbow grease!”
“I thought it was locked.”
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I want to know if you will go out on a date with me.”
“Huh?”
“I’d like to take you out, you know, formally.”
“Well, if you’re talking about getting-dressed-up, sitting down at a nice restaurant, and watching some chick flick, then no.”
Dante’s face fell. “Oh.”
“But...if you just want to hang out, I guess that would be okay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. But right now, I’ve got to get back to work.”
Dante made it halfway down the steps before turning back. “Are you sure you want to hang out with me? Really sure? I really need to know, it’s important.”
“I guess...like I said, I’m not going on a date or anything, but if you want to hang out with me that would be okay.”
“So you’re sure?” he asked, with a desperate look in his eyes.
“Yeah,” she replied, unenthusiastically.
“Positive?”
“Christ!” she screamed. “I have a lot of work to do. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
“Ok. Bye. Wait...when?”
“Listen. I’m going hiking in the morning. Six AM. Meet me out front. Don’t be late. I won’t wait!”
5
woodlands
Dante woke up in a panic. It was just before 6 AM. After midnight, he had given up trying to fall asleep and gathered together what he needed for the hike. Then came the critical error: stretching out on top of the covers thinking about Angie. He had no recollection of shutting off his cell phone alarm, yet it hadn’t gone off. With little hope of making the most important date of his life, he threw on some clothes and sprinted out of the house like a madman.
He hadn’t seen Gram in over a day, but he didn’t exactly have time to bring her up to speed on the latest developments. About halfway down the trail it occurred to him that he wasn’t wearing any deodorant. This was not a good omen being that he was in the worst shape of his life, and the sun was already baking the mud-caked ground. He would definitely stink like a pig. What else could go wrong?
As Dante approached their planned meeting spot, Angie took off running. “Angie!” Dante screamed. But the girl from the woods just kept right on going.
Seeing her leave without him was more than a little disheartening. But based on the time he had left Gram’s, Dante figured Angie had waited at least fifteen minutes.
He sprinted down the trail after her, with a stitch piercing his side. Off in the distance, Angie was still moving but had slowed down considerably. Seeing an opportunity to catch up, Dante went full-speed, until he was trotting right beside her. “Hey,” he gasped. Angie didn’t respond; she looked straight ahead without acknowledging him.
Finally, when woods grew dense, and the trail narrowed, Angie turned to Dante and sneered, “You look like shit rolled over twice!”
“Sorry!” Dante replied, “I overslept.”
“Well, that’s nice. But I don’t have all day.”
The hike started pleasantly enough, strolling through the cool dew-covered ground under a canopy of trees. Periodically, Angie would point out small plants and mushrooms. With child-like wonder, she said things like, “See this? This will cure dry skin,” and “This makes for a great antidepressant.” Unlike the Jersey girls back home, she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty for the cause. If something looked promising, she would get down on her hands and knees and dig.
One thing was immediately clear: the girl was good. She spewed a stream of scientific facts, as Dante listened with a not-so-intelligent look on his face. He remembered reading an article in one of Kurt’s magazines that had advised, “Don’t put a girl on a pedestal if you want to win her over.” But Angie’s knowledge was vast and her beauty striking; it was tough to fake ambivalence.
Unfortunately, Dante wasn’t retaining anything. It was too hard to concentrate with her bouncing around in a red sports bra and black spandex shorts that left little to the imagination. Dante sighed as Angie bent over to stretch, sending her round butt riding high in the air. Then, without warning, she snapped her body upright, rolled her long red locks into a ball, and took off walking again.
“How do you know all this stuff?” he called, trying to sound casual.
“Books. My dad. Random shit that I come across on the Internet.”
“Got anything to cure BO?” Dante blurted out, immediately regretting it.
“Yeah, a shower,” she quipped. “There’s a cold spring up ahead, that will do the trick.”
Feeling the mist from a rapidly-flowing river, as Angie waxed poetic about the surrounding foliage was pretty surreal. Dante watched in awe as she seamlessly moved across jigsaw-puzzle gray rocks that formed a zigzag pattern to the other side. Before she hit land, she spun around in the air, facing him with her hands resting on her hips. “Your turn!”
Dante glanced down at his clunky shoes and the choppy water rushing by. Whatever Zen feelings he had gleaned from the first leg of their hike instantly vanished. He was now right back in the fire. He timidly moved to the edge of the water and stretched out his right leg toward the first rock. One. Two. Three! Dante hopped to the first rock without issue. He wiped the sweat from his brow and eyed up the next one. Success!
“Hurry up!” she called, with a taunting tone.
Dante studied the third rock, eyes squinting, teeth gritting. His best guess was he would land about a foot short. There was only one way to find out. “Here goes!” Dante leapt across, landing one foot on the rock, the other landing on a rock below the surface of the cold mountain water. He lifted his submerged foot out balancing on the other for what seemed like forever before finally squaring himself in the dead center of rock number three.
“Keep going! Long way to go!” she yelled.
“Hold up! I’m coming!” Dante replied, as he hopped over the next two rocks and landed on the muddy edge of the river bank. His shoes were drenched, but he had made it.
They continued along a vague semblance of a trail. It probably had been a decent mode of travel at one point, but now it was littered with obstacles: falling trees, red clay mud, and random animals that gave Dante pause.
“Pick up the pace!” Angie shouted.
Dante transitioned from a labored walk to a trot. His eyes scanned the ground, as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his t-shirt.
Angie moved swiftly, head tilted upward, w
ith her wide eyes taking in her surroundings like a sponge. “How are your rock climbing skills?’ she asked.
“Eh,” Dante muttered, his lip curled.
“Up here gets tough. The trail fades into slate rock. It’s really only for regular climbers. If you want to head back, now would be the time.”
“Nah, I’m good,” he replied. Dante was far from good. He was exhausted from lack of sleep and from running, not to mention whatever acrobatics he had done so far to keep up.
“It’s your funeral,” she quipped.
By the time he saw the spring, Dante was drenched in sweat. Without warning, Ashley jumped in, landing a cannonball and splashing Dante as she entered. “This is so refreshing! I love natural springs. No crap like the stuff that grows around the lake.”
“Yeah, I bet it doesn’t have chlorine burning out your eyeballs either…” Dante muttered, lingering at the edge of the water.
“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Come on, I can smell you from here!”
“I’ve got nothing to wear.”
“Improvise.”
He reluctantly took off his jeans and T-shirt, and followed her into the chilly water wearing only old brown boxers. “Oh shit!” Dante cried, paddling furiously.
“You can’t swim?” Angie asked.
“Well, a little. But I thought I would be able to stand. Besides this water’s cold!” he whined, hugging the muddy edge.
“You’re a real delicate flower, huh?”
“I’m just not into swimming,” Dante countered quickly.
“We’re about halfway there, I think.”
Dante wondered if going forward would do more harm than good. What would Angie think if he just crashed and burned? The water had cooled him down at least, leaving him feeling somewhat revived from the first leg of the journey. He smiled as he watched Angie splashing around in the water, doing her own version of synchronized swimming. For the first time in a very long time, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Angie swam to shore and started walking again. As she had warned, the climbing got much more difficult the farther they progressed up the hill. There was barely any traction on the slate rocks at all. Even Angie slowed down at times, crawling on all fours up the slanted grade. As they ascended, Dante’s heart race. His hands became clammy, his sweat dampening the rocks below. He plodded upward, until he started to get overwhelmed by the height, and he just froze — like a hermit crab clinging to the side of a cage.
