A #samplesunday post from Special Times, Special Summers

You may have heard me mention, via Twitter or facebook or possible Email, a novella that I wrote called SPECIAL TIMES, SPECIAL SUMMERS.  By my own reckoning, it's not a romance -- but it does contain a love story.  It is a coming-of-age story -- set at cabin where a boy spends his summer months.  And the boy has a great love for the cabin and lake.  But his life gets turned upside down by a new neighbor's daughter.  She's just a young child, almost 3 years younger than the boy.  But she plays the romance game -- she's a flirt.  And the boy quickly falls under her spell.

From Chapter 1, LET THE GAME BEGIN

        I  had not been swimming in a week. The whole week had been one continuous thunderstorm. Today, it was bright, already warm. And it was July 4^th; crowds were showing up
 already. Cherry Bombs, Firecrackers, Smoke bombs, and other Independence Day “Necessities” were now starting to go off regularly, the sounds echoing around the lake. Tonight, there was the big fireworks display on the south side of the lake. I didn’t have any fireworks, but tomorrow morning I’d search the beach. I was sure there would be leftovers. I grabbed my “Raft Master” goggles and fins and went out the door. I hoped the lake was warm. And I hoped that fish weren’t biting. At least, I hoped that they weren’t biting on me. I would soon find that I wasn’t the hunter, but the hunted. At least that is what it would appear to be.

The sand was surprisingly cool, but full of cockle-burrs. I had to watch my step, but glanced out at the raft. There was Steve, doing battle with his brother. Steve had the advantage. He was 3 years older than Adam, and 10 inches taller. Both had the same deep red hair, and the freckles to match. Kelly, neighbor to the east was there, assisting Adam. To no avail, however. Kelly, also a redhead, was handled as easily as Adam, both of them getting pushed into the water at once. Kelly was more boy-like than Adam was. Linda, Kelly’s sister, was just a year younger, and more voluptuous than Kelly. A complete contrast to her sister, Linda was the girl of the family. Raven-black hair, certainly more feminine in appearance but a lot stronger than she appeared, Linda simply sat on the raft taking a break from the game.

Suddenly, I heard a voice. Just a whisper, but it caught my attention. “Let’s go for a walk, Mike. I’d like for you to get to know me better.” I looked around for the source of the voice. Nobody was even close to me. Nobody was looking at me, or anyone else. I concluded that my imagination was playing tricks on me.

Checking the water temperature with my toe, I found it warm. I dived in, and did a breast stroke out to the 10-foot deep water where the raft was anchored. But my speed was that of a baby who was just learning to crawl. I took it slow on the short swim out, just observing the bottom and the fish. As I took hold of the ladder, I thought Let the game begin. It did. And my life would never be the same.

Fast Forward, from the Novel STSS..

I guess this will be the last from the book. No comments, no reason to continue. Up to you folks.

Fast Forward

It seemed like I had been introspective for more than an hour. That was when my dad aroused me from my journey to the past. But when I checked my watch, I found it had only been 15 minutes from the time I had first taken my place under the tree. He hadn’t yet begun to disconnect the water, or load the car, but he had most of the stuff ready to pack up. October meant that we would haul the boat up to the cabin. Now it was only 35 feet to the water. The lake had risen dramatically in the last year. One time, it had been 150 feet to the water. Now, only 35. Heavy rains over this last year really pushed the limit. The lake level itself had risen 4 feet in the last 5 years, and it was now just a foot below what some idiot at the DNR claimed was the “Normal High Water Mark.” All our efforts to get the government to step in, to lower the lake, had gone for naught. And in July, with the heaviest rains in years, I left the cabin saying “I’m abandoning a sinking cabin.” I had never realized how true that was going to be.

We moved the boat up to the cabin, and set it by the west side. Then we went back to the lake to haul in the 3 remaining docks that were still in the water. We slowly piled up the sections, moving everything to whatever area was dry.

My trip to the past had been delayed a bit, but by no means stopped. Memories of the past, bits and pieces of the years kept coming at me. As they passed in a blur, I recognized some images that I wouldn’t forget.

There was the first year: A tornado touching down in the middle of the lake on the evening of a hot June day. I remember the temperature’s high that day. 88 degrees. Humid, too. The tornado did not damage any cabins or houses, but blew a fleet of boats into the lake. After the storm, our neighbors and my dad went out to retrieve them.

Then, there was the thief--the one that “happened by” in the middle of the night, stealing motors, fishing equipment, oars, and grabbing any fish that the folks had caught. They “borrowed” dad’s boat, hauling their ill-gotten booty to the road by “Nellie’s” place, where they apparently took it away in a truck or van. I’d never know.

A memory of a rabid skunk prancing through our neighbor’s yard, ours, and the yards of two others surfaced. I could still smell that skunk, even if it had been 14 years since it came through. We had no choice but to eliminate it. We used a bow and arrow, finally stoning it to death with large rocks.

One year, we had lots of water in back. We filled with clean fill, believing we’d have a dry yard in the future.

Another year, I remembered, as well. I knew Diane, but she was nowhere to be found in the state, as she spent the summer on a ranch in Wyoming.

Snippets of friendships in the area came back to me over the time we pulled in the docks. Randy and Lori, a brother and sister from across the river in the cities, came into my life for a while. And their little brother--Martin, was it? I couldn’t remember. Cory, too. He had been a chess champ in school, and over this last year I had played him 6 times, losing 5 of them. He made grandmaster status a later in life. There was the young kid, Jeff, and his sister Millie. Those two had been pests. There were the neighbors to the east, and their kids although they moved away two years before. And then, of course, the old-timers with last names of Torbelli, Thomas, Webster, and Orville.

My thoughts seemed to be in a holding pattern, now. The last year, mainly. What little golf we played was being relived in my mind. Fishing, too. And I would be in the final year of college. The assignments, the papers; the memories swirled about me like a sandstorm. Life always seemed to have a way to lay me low whenever I accomplished something of importance.

Finally, the docks all in to the shore, I went back to my seat on the picnic table. Once again, I felt the warmth of the autumn sun, and heard the waves lapping at the shoreline. And my eyes fluttered closed…and I, once again, began to remember the old times, and I continued my trip to the past.

A Winter Promise

Chapter 10, special times, special summers.

A Winter Promise

As thoughts of summer faded, and autumn waned, I began to dread the onset of winter. The only things we could count on in the winter months were snow, and lots of days with sub-zero temperatures. Snow and cold. The first snow had come in on the Saturday following Thanksgiving day, and the total snowfall for that day was 6 inches. I was forced to shovel that blasted stuff. And just as I finished the sidewalk, the snow plow went through. Why, oh why, could that not have happened earlier? I was forced to do it a second time.

December was a month I loved and yet hated. I loved Christmas, but hated the snow, the cold, the expenses of December. My English class had been assigned reading for the vacation period. Of course, since I loved to read, I had already finished the book. I had actually finished the book more than 2 years ago. I just scanned the book to refresh my memory on the main points.

I had not talked to Diane or Karl since that last day in August. I had my address book and had to use it when I couldn’t remember their number. After I looked it up, I decided I would call right after Christmas. I had finished my shopping, but I wondered: Should I get something for Karl and something for Diane? I had some ideas what to get for Karl, if I went that route. But for Diane? I had absolutely no idea. And with only 3 days until Christmas I made a decision that I would send a card, instead. It was just to let them know I hadn’t forgotten them. I had never developed a friendship so quickly as I had with Karl. And I had never developed a crush on anyone--until Diane.

My thoughts turned to the new year. Diane’s birthday was still months away, Karl’s birthday was only a little closer. I thought about getting back to the lake again, the new summer. Oh, how I longed for an end to winter, even though it had just begun.

Oh, goodness. I realized I had a chance to get something for Diane for Valentine’s day, which was getting closer by the day. She was still very young as compared to me, the “old man.” What to get her, what to get her? Candy? I didn’t know what she would like. Flowers? A necklace, or a promise ring? Oh, give me a break, Mike, I thought. You still don’t really know this girl, and you want to give her flowers, candy, or jewelry? Are you nuts?

Finally, on December 30th, I called Karl. We chatted for nearly a half hour, just about school and the football game that was my team’s homecoming game. Karl and I discussed the new year, and the fact that he had recently had an appendectomy came out. It seems that he had his appendix burst while in school, and he was taken to the hospital. And it was on the day that the game was. What bad luck.

I asked Karl some questions about Diane. What was her favorite food, her favorite flower, her favorite candy? The confusion in his voice was obvious as he answered the questions. Diane had two flowers that were her favorites: Daisies were second only to the rose. And she loved Red roses. I made a mental note of that. Candy was a bit general: Chocolate. Well, who doesn’t like chocolate? As for her favorite food, well, she didn’t have one, but she was partial to seafood, especially shrimp.

That was lovely. Shrimp was one of my favorites. Karl volunteered her favorite song, an Elvis tune called “Love me Tender.” I wasn’t an Elvis fan, but what difference did that make?

Finally, I asked to have Diane come to the phone. Nuts, she wasn’t at home. I told Karl to tell her that I asked about her. Just so she would know I was thinking about her, of course. And I suggested that if she had the time, she should give me a call.

So, as the call ended, I took out my guitar and sat playing some of my tunes. It was this night that I wrote a song called “Don’t go overboard”, based on some advice that Wayne had given me months ago. But I didn’t apply it to me, I applied it to him as I wrote. And while his statement “Sooner or later, she will crush you” came back to me, I laughed at how wrong he seemed to be.

And I made a promise to myself. I would get Diane something for Valentine’s day. I would give her a little gift, a card, and ask her to be my valentine for a year. This was my winter promise, and I knew it was something I would carry through.

On December 31st, I received a call from Diane. It was shortly before midnight, but she was up like most people I knew would be. We talked into the New Year, and I loved every minute of it. I asked her why she didn’t tell me she was going to be at the game as a Cheerleader.

“I was a reserve. I didn’t know, but one of our girls got injured. I needed to remain open that night,” she said. It seemed logical to me, since my school did the same. She told me that this was her first year on the squad, and she planned to be on the squad for as long as they would have her. I wished her good luck for that.

As we approached Valentine’s day, I began to search for something special for Diane. I really had no idea what it could be, but I would look and if I saw it, I would know it! That was the way I shopped. I picked out a card. I looked for 45 minutes for the right one. I didn’t want one that was too mushy, too funny, or suggestive. I wanted one that stated how I felt, without being ridiculous. I was about to give up when the one I wanted finally came into my sights. What a relief.

The present was harder. The obvious box of chocolates came to mind first. Then, I thought that maybe a cassette of some of her favorite music would be more appropriate. I started looking at jewelry, but I couldn’t explain to the girl behind the counter what I sought. I looked young, and there was no way possible I could explain that I sought something for a girl who was younger than I!

Finally, I had an idea. I purchased a small box of chocolates, and a bracelet. While neither item was really expensive, it ate away at my funds. When I got home, I carefully opened the box, and removed just one piece of candy. In that spot, I placed the bracelet.

I had recently earned my driver’s license. I called Diane on the 12th, and asked if she’d be around on the 14th. I purposely “forgot” to tell her it was Valentine’s day. She said she’d be home that evening.

I drove over to her house on the 14th. I was disappointed to find that nobody was home. I left the card, a note, and the box inside the door, and left for home.

My note read, simply: “Diane, will you be my Valentine?”

I didn’t sign the card, or the note. It turned out to be a error on my part. While I learned she got the items, she never realized who sent them. So much for my promise… but I would ask her during the next time I saw her, whenever that might be. I pledged to myself that I would not let her slip away. And I began to realize that this crush that Wayne said I had developed had become more serious to me than I could have ever realized. And once again, his words echoed in my mind. “Sooner or later, she will crush you.” Seven months had passed. There was no sign of that occurring, or that it would ever occur.

In the summer months, when I saw she was wearing the bracelet, I asked her where she got it.

“It was delivered anonymously, back in February. I still don’t know who sent it.”

I said, “Let me guess. It came with a Valentine’s card, a note, and you found it in a box of candy.”

“Exactly,” she said. Then the truth of it hit her. “Mikey! You were the one who sent it?” I nodded. We would spend the rest of that summer together in a very close friendship. No romance. Just a close friendship.

A little more from my book, SPECIAL TIMES, SPECIAL SUMMERS

The following is the last bit of the chapter called CLOSING A SUMMER.

I doubt that I'll post any more unless I get some comments, even negative ones.

I'll just go back to my normal rants. They don't get any comments either.

***

September. School was bustling. Assignments were being handed out , kids were complaining over the unfairness of the projects that they had received, or the amount of time they had to do them. Book reports, class projects, Math assignments, and the usual Cross-country practice: whatever it could be, the kids were getting it. But most important to the kids was the fact that homecoming was nearing. The game was one week from Thursday. Upon investigation, I found that Day Park would be playing arch-rival, and two time champ, Ellers! The Dynamite of Day Park would play the Eagles of Ellers this year. The Eagles had won two consecutive championships, and were undefeated for two straight years. They hadn’t lost this year either. And Day Park had never won a game against the Eagles. Their record against them? 0-33. Maybe this year was the Dynamite’s year.

When I got home that night, I called Karl and Diane. I asked if they planned on seeing the game. Karl said he’d not be able to attend because of a prior engagement. Diane, on the other hand, said she hadn’t known about it. Neither of us was a football fan. But I wanted to go this year. I told Diane if she wanted to come to the game, she’d have to let me know. Student ID was needed to buy a ticket at a reduced price. Or, an adult could show his license to show he was a Day Park resident. But nobody from Ellers would be allowed in, unless someone could sneak in under someone’s Student ID or that visitor would pay full price. And you can bet if anyone knew-- any visitor from Ellers would be hassled something awful.

After a few minutes, Diane declined my offer saying that she just wasn’t a football fan. I would find out the real reason at the game.

It was now football night, the night of homecoming. I watched the game with mild interest, even though football wasn’t my favorite game. Day Park kept the Eagles grounded for the first half. The score was 3-3 at halftime. There wasn’t a lot to cheer about for our team, nor theirs.

In the third quarter the Eagles flew high, scoring 21 points. One touchdown was scored on an interception. One scored on a major blunder by the defense when they allowed a 73 yard run. A fumble by the quarterback in Day Park Territory allowed a quick score for the third touchdown. It was 24-3, and some of the students started to leave. It was quiet, except for the Ellers Cheerleading squad. I looked at our plain cheerleading squad, and compared their technique to the Ellers squad. One girl topped a pyramid and gave a cheer through a megaphone. That voice sounded familiar. I looked more closely. Why, it was Diane! Why didn’t she say she was going to be at the game? She could have just come right out and said “I’m going to be there. I’m on the cheerleading squad.” She didn’t. That puzzled me. Maybe she thought she could remain hidden, or maybe she didn’t want me to distract her.

In the fourth quarter, the Day Park Dynamite exploded for 21 points. Score tied, Eagles with the ball on their own 26, and just two minutes left. Each team had a full allotment of time-outs.

With just a few seconds left, Eagles still had the ball on the Day Park 27. The team was 3rd and 8. Just 6 seconds left on the clock. The Dynamite would have to pray for a miracle. It looked as if the Eagles would remain undefeated. The snap. The kick was Blocked! It was picked up by Day Park, but the guy who grabbed the ball was neither a fast runner, nor sure handed. He dropped the ball. A player from the Eagles grabbed the ball, and the gun sounded. There were no overtimes back then, not during the regular season. While it wasn’t a victory, we had not lost. I worked my way over to the other side of the stadium, where I tried to get Diane’s attention. Some of the students looked at me as if I were a traitor. I couldn’t get Diane’s attention, anyway. She disappeared into the darkened pathway. And I was left, both rejoicing that we had not lost, and yet miserable that Diane had not seen me.

This was the last game of the summer season. I would not see Diane again for some time. And we would go, one last time, to the lake, to close up the cabin for the winter season. And the Ellers football team? Three time champ.

some more of the book...not quite a whole chapter.

I decided to cut this chapter down a bit. The posts have been long, and if anyone is reading 'em, I don't know about it.

Closing a Summer

The Lester Family left, as Karl had told me they would be doing. There were things to do in the cities, and they were things that could only be done in the cities. I never asked what they were, I didn't really believe it to be any of my business. We were already in August, and Dad had gotten called to go out of town, again. And this time, it was not just for a week but for two, and that meant we would have to go to the cities, as well. School was going to be starting again, soon. At the time, it was starting before Labor Day, and that meant we would have to prepare for autumn, and closing up in October. We wanted to stay for a couple more weeks, but it just wasn't possible.

We would still have weekends for the next month, but as the temperature grew cooler, we would have to drain the pipes, get kerosene for the space heater, and haul up the boat. We wouldn't be leaving for a few days, yet. We would have to leave Sunday about 2 P.M. or so. After all, we would have to wash things, get groceries, and all that sort of stuff which we hated to do. I would have to go shopping for school supplies. I needed clothes and shoes, as well, having added 7 inches to my height during the summer. I was now as tall as I would ever be, but I didn't know it then. I had grown 14 inches in the last 3 years. I was still young, and was sure I'd hit 6' 6". But my feet had grown, too, and I was getting very clumsy. If I wasn't tripping over my feet, I was dropping things. I just didn't seem to have the coordination I used to have!

I gathered my clothes, my guitar, and the address book. I would call Karl and Diane while we were stuck in hell, waiting for school to start. And that was one thing we agreed upon: School was hell. We all hated it, even though we did have favorite subjects. Karl loved History. Diane's favorite subject was Math, although I'd have sworn it was boys. My own favorite was Science. I learned Karl played Trombone. I played Saxophone. Diane was a singer, and was in her school choir. That was one thing that we all had in common: we shared a love for music. And that love of music bound us together very effectively. We wouldn't drift apart as long as we all loved music. I asked Diane if she'd be interested in singing in a band, if there was a singer's position available. She said she'd love to do that. I would ask Wayne if he'd accept a girl band member for a singer. But I wouldn't be able to do that until we got home, and that wouldn't be for a few days yet.

I turned my telescope up the hill to where Steve lived. Large truck in the driveway, and things were being loaded. I looked some more, and spotted a "For Sale" sign. And it was already sold. Although I had a problem with Steve, recently, I would go up and talk to him. After all, if they were moving, it would be proper to say Goodbye. I wasn't sure how he'd react after the battle I had with his buddy Ralph. Looking around the area, I did not see Ralph's car. So, I'd go up there soon. But I would check before I left, just to be sure Ralph hadn’t shown up.

I tried to play a little golf, but I simply didn’t have the desire for it. I didn’t want to read, either. There was nobody swimming, and fishing just didn’t strike my fancy, either. I was bored. It would have been different if Karl and Diane had been around. I could always count on a good golf competition, or Diane would make the day interesting in some way or another.

After about an hour and a half, I scanned the hill with my telescope. Ralph’s car was nowhere to be seen. I began my short trek up to Steve’s place. I would have to find some stuff out, and I would need to say goodbye. Steve had been a part of my life for a good number of summers.

I reached his place, and knocked at the door. As Steve came to the door and he saw who it was, his eyes narrowed. I could see he was still steaming over the situation at the swamp. I hadn’t touched him, though. I had wanted to tell him to get his hands off of Diane. The other guy had intervened, and I had defended myself against his attack. Steve really didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on. “What do you want?” he snapped.

This was going to be a tough situation, but I would try. “Steve, I didn’t come to apologize to you. I came to explain, and to say goodbye. Why didn’t you tell me you were moving?”

“I didn’t know myself until just a week ago. Dad got transferred out of state, and the company put the house up for sale. See, it’s not really our house, but it belongs to his employer. Now, you said you were going to explain something. Keep it brief, and be gone.”

“Steve, I know you want to know what happened that day at the swamp. Here’s the story, and it will be brief. I asked you to hang around Diane for a week, and find out what she thought of me. You did not report back, and at the end you kept seeing her. It wasn’t so much that as the fact that you seemed to be becoming romantically involved with her. Do you realize how old she is?”

“Yes. She’s 16,” was his reply.

“No, she’s not. You know how old I am. Karl is younger than I am, and she’s younger than he is. You are 18, and she is 13. Do you see why I was concerned?”

He went white. “13? Only 13? Wait a minute. You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”

“No, Steve. I am not. As God is my witness, you can ask Karl if you’d like. But those times you were kissing her…That made my blood boil!”

“Huh?” Steve asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Steve, I saw it. Three times, I saw it. Are you saying you didn’t? I didn’t have a camera available, or I’d show you what I saw.”

Steve sat down hard on the front step. “I don’t remember doing anything of the sort, Mike. You would think I’d remember something like that, wouldn’t you?” Steve’s shock at my statement made me realize what had happened. Diane had done it again. And this time, she had her victim forget, or maybe he had been hypnotized at the time, and didn’t know it!

“Steve,” I said, “Did Diane tell you what she’s studying? Magic and hypnosis. Did she show you a coin she twirled in front of you? Or did she speak in a monotone?”

Steve shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve been had, Mike. This is unbelievable. She did it to me. You called it. Monotone voice. She put her head on my shoulder, and spoke softly. I thought she was 16, and I trusted her.” He shook his head again, and repeated his first thought. “I’ve been had.”

I spoke quietly. “Steve, she did the same to me. But she didn’t have me kiss her. She’s confused the hell out of me, and I still don’t know what to do.” At this, I turned to leave.

“Mike, thanks for everything. And thanks for letting me know. You’ve been a good friend over the years.”

I turned back to him. “So, you aren’t angry with me?”

“Not any more. And don’t worry about Ralph. He doesn’t live around these parts. You’ll probably never see him again. If you do, just lay low for a while. He’ll leave. He’s just a bully, nothing more.”

I nodded. “Steve, you’ve got my address. Say you’ll keep in touch, mon ami.” Steve spoke French, and he knew that translated was “my friend.”

“I will, Mike. You can bet your dentures on that!”

I recognized Steve’s ploy as one last attempt to get our verbal sparring match started. “Dentures? Says you, Cat lover!”

As he turned to go in, I said “Steve?” He turned back to face me. “In a way, I envy you, and yet pity you.”

He looked puzzled, but thoughtful. “What do you mean?”

“I envy you because you got the chance to kiss Diane. But I pity you, because you apparently didn’t mean enough to her to allow to remember those kisses.”

Steve looked at me, a gleam of friendship in his eye. “In a way, I could say the same. I pity you, and yet I envy you. I pity you because you are a puppy on a leash and do not know it yet. And yet, I envy you. Diane will be here next summer, and the summers after. So will you. And you have all the time in the world…” He trailed off for a moment. “You have all the time in the world…to win her heart.”

As I started down the hill, I realized that I would probably never see Steve again. And as for keeping in touch, I truly doubted that he would. Summer vacation was nearly over. And we only had a few weekends left at the cabin for the year. It was time to think of closing down, gathering all our items, and heading home for a winter.

Revelation: Chapter 9

Revelation

The night was restless for me. When I dozed, the dreams haunted me like ghosts from the closet. And some of them were just plain eerie.

Have you ever had a premonition? I don't mean a lucky guess at a football score, or the fact that you managed to get a prediction of a ball player's home run. I mean a vision, a dream, or a feeling so powerful that you not only know the final score of the game, you know when the runs will score, who gets the hits, and in what innings. You get it so powerfully that when it occurs, you have a very strange feeling of deja vu, that feeling of "Hasn't this happened before?" or "Haven't I been here before?" I had a dream like that at some time during the night. And when the events happened that next morning, I wondered if I had developed a gift for prophecy.

I had a dream, but it was interrupted by the alarm clock. I had been working in the garage in the dream, and it had been 9:00 A.M. That's when Diane stuck her head into the garage. And that's when the alarm clock went off.

While we were having breakfast, Dad told me he was going to be clearing some dead trees on the property line. And he told me that he wanted to store the wood in the garage. The garage was a mess. He asked me to clean it out and straighten up the shelves. This wasn't exactly a request that he made. About 15 minutes later, I went out with my keys in my pocket, the key to the side door of the garage, and a frustrated mind. I had hoped to go fishing.

I unlocked the padlock which we had on the side door. I had a key to the knob. I had never realized that whoever the genius was who put the knob on had done it backwards. The keyhole was inside. I don't know why, either, but I turned the locking mechanism to lock the door if it was closed.

There was a knock on the door. Diane stood in the doorway. I looked at my watch. It was very strange. It showed just a minute or two before 9:00. I acknowledged her with a brief nod, and continued to clean the area where the log pile would go. Diane continued to stand in the doorway, confused or maybe just a bit hesitant to enter. Then she knocked again. "Mikey? May I come in?"

I stopped what I was doing, and gave her a hard stare. I considered what I went through yesterday. I really didn't need her around confusing me, stirring up my emotions. But I nodded. "If you wish," I said, and she seemed surprised at my cold tone. I knew that this was going to be difficult for me. What I was going to say, I didn't know. How she'd take it, I didn't know. I just knew it was going to be hard for me. And my suspicion was that she'd get defensive. I'd know soon enough.

"Mikey, what's wrong?" she asked. She seemed truly confused. Again, I gave her a hard stare. "Will you talk to me, please?" she questioned.

I kept my voice low, quiet. But I let a little of the annoyance which I felt creep into my tone. "What is it, Diane? Is there a reason for this visit?" I kept my face still, but I was scowling. I was letting her know that something was up.

She was somewhat taken aback at my tone. I could see it in her face as it registered confusion and surprise. She tried again. "Mike, please tell me what's wrong." She tried that pleading tone. This time I was successful in ignoring it. I kept my silence, waiting for the question I knew was going to come. I kept moving things to the side of the garage, not speaking.

"Mike," she said, "This isn't like you. Does this have something to do with yesterday? Would you mind telling me what that was all about?"

"Yes." My response was short. "And yes to the second question."

She tapped her toe impatiently. "Well?"

“You asked if it had something to do with yesterday. I said Yes. You asked me if I would mind telling you what it was about. I said yes. That means, Diane, I would mind." I watched as her eyes widened in surprise. I continued when she opened her mouth, cutting off anything she may have been planning to say.

"Diane, if you want to know what it was about you will have to answer a few questions for me. Is that agreed?" I said. She nodded. "I expect answers." I looked at the door of the garage. I now knew why I had set the lock. There will be a chainsaw running very soon. I would like it quiet in here." Then, I spoke in French “Je t'adore, Diane." I recognized the truth of those words. I did believe I loved her, but I know she didn't recognize the language. My statement could be misunderstood by someone who didn‘t speak French, and it did sound very English the way the words were said.

She closed the door. Then I asked, "Why did you close the door?"

She seemed perplexed that I asked that. "You said to shut the door."

I said, "No. I didn't. But that is what you heard. That's fine.” Then, I lowered my voice to a volume just above a whisper, and allowed it to take on a sinister tone. “In fact, I wanted privacy."

Her face showed bewilderment, and there may have been a touch of fear in her eyes. "Now, I have a little bit to say before I ask any questions."

I took a step toward her. I attempted to come across as menacing. It worked. She tried the door, and it didn't open. "Mike!" she cried. "We're locked in!"

"No, we aren't, Diane. I have a key. Now, I'm going to tell you something." I took another step and she backed away. "Recently, Diane, I have been awfully confused. Things have been topsy-turvy, and I haven't been able to figure out why. Until yesterday, that is. I began to think about what's going on. I've written more songs in 2 weeks than I had in 6 months. I've been singing more than I ever have before. I've been battling unfamiliar thoughts and emotions. I tried to find a common event, something that would account for all this. I reached one conclusion. There is only one factor in common with all of these events. One factor."

I took another step toward her. Again, she took a step backwards. "Would you like to know my conclusion?" She nodded, but said nothing. I circled around her moving in front of the door. Then I took another step but gestured at a chair. "Please sit down, Diane. This is going to take some explaining. But remember that if I ask you a question, I am going to expect an answer!"

I began my explanation. "There was one thing I found that all of these events had in common. I traced all of these things to one day. It was the day I saw you at the library. This gave me the only clue I had. And the one factor? You."

She swallowed. "Me?"

I allowed my voice to rise a bit. "Yes, you! You took out that hypnotist's coin. You tried to hypnotize me with it. You put it away. But you managed to hypnotize me anyway, didn't you?" She looked at me, saying nothing. "Diane - you succeeded, didn't you?" I said again. Still no response. "Diane," I warned her. "You did, didn't you?" She didn't respond directly, but she lowered her eyes to the floor instead of meeting my gaze. And her cheeks reddened.

"That's what I thought," I said. "You did. Why did you do it, Diane? Why?" I waited for a moment. "Diane, you said you'd answer my questions. Now, answer."

I had prepared myself for anger, laughter, and denial. But none of that applied. I was horrified when her eyes began to fill with tears. I had not planned on that, at all. And it was going to be a lot harder to continue this.

"Mikey... it was all meant in fun!" Her voice cracked a little.

"That's another thing, Diane. My name is Mike, not Mikey. I have let you call me Mikey. But my name is Mike. Do you understand?" At that, she nodded.

"All in fun, Diane? You hypnotized me without my permission, you invaded my mind, you planted suggestions without my knowledge. How do you suppose that makes me feel, Girl?" I let my anger come through, now, and took two steps closer to her chair. Her face paled slightly.

"What did you suggest, Diane? Tell me. I learned a few of your suggestions. What did you plant in my mind?" I backed off the two steps that I had just taken, and she seemed to regain some of the color she had just lost. But she said nothing. "Diane, you said you'd answer my questions. You'll have my full story if you answer them. Otherwise, you won't get the story, and I will tell Karl that I saw you kissing Steve!"

Her face went totally white. "What?" she gasped. "What are you saying, Mikey?" I shot her a hard stare and she remembered. "Sorry. Mike. What are you saying?"

"Diane, I saw it. I saw it, more than once! Was it his idea, or did you do the same to him as you did to me? Now, answer my questions!" I growled. "What did you suggest to me when you had me hypnotized for over an hour?"

"Mikey... I don't remember. It was a long time ago. I don't remember." Her voice cracked again, as if she was trying to hold back grief. I watched closely, waiting to see what was next.

"You don't remember?” I questioned, keeping my voice low, and a little bit sarcastic. “Oh, I think you do. In fact, I am sure you do," was my reply. "If you'd like", I said, removing my own hypnotist coin from my pocket and holding it in front of her eyes, “I can try this to learn what you are trying to hide." I moved quickly to stand in front of her chair. And the tears that I saw forming earlier began to fall. I hated doing this to her. But I had to say it. It wasn't until months later that I would recognize that what I was doing was actually following Diane's previous suggestion about revealing my emotions to her.

I walked off a few steps. My back was turned to Diane, and I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket. Using a trick I learned, I formed a rabbit. Then I turned around and faced Diane again.

Her surprise at seeing the rabbit didn't stop her tears from falling. So, I vanished the rabbit, and used the handkerchief to dry some of her tears.

"Diane, let me ask you again: What did you suggest?"

She began hesitatingly. "I really don't know if I remember everything, Mikey... But I'll tell you what I do remember."

"Diane, I know a few of them. Self-hypnosis revealed them to me. But if you miss them, I will know."

"Ok." She sobbed a bit, and I gave her the hanky, with which she dried her eyes slightly. "Thank you, honey."

"Honey", again. But this time, there was no flirting tone, no mischief in her tone. This time, she meant it.

"Ok, Mikey. Here's what I remember: I asked you to sing for me. That was actually the first one I did. You've done so. You sing well, too. Another, I asked you to be open with me. I asked you to reveal your emotions. Be honest, open. You've done that, too. In fact, I think that one went too well." She paused.

"Did you tell me to be unable to remember all of them, Diane?"

"No!" she said. "No, I didn't say that, at all. I remember another one, that asked you to please me. I defined it a little more, but I really don't remember what I said, exactly."

"Okay, Diane." I looked at her. "I know you are being honest, here. Those are what I remember. Is there anything else? Anything at all?"

"If I remember any, I'll let you know. Okay, Mike?" She spoke softly, sadly, and carefully.

I remembered one possibility. "What about that phone call, Diane? The one when you predicted that I was the one on the line? What about that?"

"No. That wasn't one of mine. I just had a lucky guess, that's all." she said.

I pulled up a chair next to her chair. I reached out, and took her hand. "Diane, I'm sorry that I had to do this. But tell me: Why did you do it? Fun, as you said? Was there something else, something I don't know?"

"I don't know, Mike." She was still crying, and I reached out to dry her tears a little. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I guess I just wanted to prove that I could do it. I did that."

We sat together for a few minutes, and I continued to hold her hand. It was soft, warm. We simply sat, not speaking, just appreciating each other's company. Then I got up, and helped her up. She reached out, and I pulled her into a hug. We just held each other for a few moments, as I figured out what to say next.

"Diane," I began, "Now...you wanted to know what yesterday was about. I'll tell you."

"No, Mikey. You don't have to tell me."

"I promised, Diane. Please, just listen. When I saw you down at the swamp with Steve, and I saw you kissing him, and I saw you letting him put his arm around you... Something came over me. I don't really know what. I wish I could describe what I've been feeling. I don't know what to call it!" I said. "It simply made my blood boil, Diane. I don't know why. But in every case, it comes back to you."

Her eyes widened. "Mike, I do believe you are jealous!"

That caused me to think. "You know, Diane; I think you may be right. But... do you know Steve's sister, Denise?"

"We met briefly, Mike. Why?"

"Did you know, that she's only a year older than you-- and 4 months pregnant?"

"What?" she exclaimed. "You are joking!"

"No, Diane, I'm not. In a way, it was Steve’s fault. He set her up on a blind date, and that's what happened. Steve didn't protect her. And I was trying to protect you."

For the first time since I had known her, she was shocked silent. I went to the door, unlocked it, and opened it. The chain saw was loud. And I spoke just above the noise.

"Diane, I am sorry if I scared you, startled you, or worried you. Do me a favor, dear. Don't tell Karl about this, Okay?"

Once again, like the time at the library, she beamed at me. The tears in her eyes were now dried. She gave me back my hanky. Then she pulled me close. "Ok. I'll say nothing. But tell me, what did you say when I closed the door?"

"I said Je t'adore. It's French, Diane. I'm sure Swahili has a similar phrase. The English translation, Diane: I adore you. Or, maybe ... something stronger."

At that, she smiled. "I think I know."

She kissed me lightly on the forehead, and said a few words in Swahili. I couldn’t begin to guess what she said.

"What does that mean, Diane?" I asked.

"Mikey," she teased. "I can't tell you everything, can I? What would life be without a little mystery?"

"Diane," I said, with a note of warning in my voice. "What does it mean?"

She looked at me in such a way that my heart melted. And then she said something that I've never forgotten. "Forever, my love."

Alien Thought: (Chapter 8)

Alien Thought
The sky outside was a brilliant blue, so much depth to the coloring that the critic might say, of an artist who had painted it, “Too bright, too blue! What have you been drinking, anyway?” But in my world the sky wasn’t blue. It was a flaming, blood red. My anger was at a peak, and anyone who knew me would know that I would blow at the next person to cross path in the wrong way.
Steve. Even the mention of the name was enough to raise my blood pressure. Steve. The 6'2" hunk as Diane had recently called him. Steve. The heavy-set, and muscular football player. It was just too much for me to bear.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like Steve. He was a close friend of both Diane and me. We had been friends for years. We had gone frogging together. He had bowled against each other, played golf together. We had gone fishing together, played Chess. But this situation was unacceptable. He was now intruding upon my territory. Operation Superspy was over, and I had given him plenty of time to back off. He had not.
I was outside, and I noted that Karl was bringing stuff down to the boat. I wandered over to greet him. We talked for a few moments, and I learned that they would be leaving the cabin in about a week, for several days. There were some things that they had to do in town; things that could only be done in the cities. Then I got up my nerve.
“Is Diane around this morning?”
Karl didn’t reply immediately, and I had a feeling that he didn’t want to answer that question. Then he said, “No. She went into town with Steve.”
That name again! I clenched my fist. Karl noticed my clenched fist, I guess, because he looked at me a bit oddly and asked “Is something wrong?”
I forced my hand open with a little difficulty. “No, I just wanted to see her again,” was my reply.
He excused himself to allow himself to continue the loading of the boat. He and his dad would be going fishing. I went over to the mini-golf course in back, and began to play a few rounds. Time passed, as I watched for the familiar Chevy to pull up in the driveway next door. After an hour, I gave up, and went inside to read. But I kept an eye peeled for the car that would pull up. An hour passed, then a second. Finally, I saw the red Chevy that I had been waiting to see. Steve was driving, and Diane was sitting next to him.
“Good God!” I muttered. “Tell me it isn’t so!” They were sitting much too close to each other for just a casual chat. They sat for a few minutes, then Diane opened the door. Then, my worst fears became a reality. They were kissing. They both got out of the car, and they met in front of it. As I watched, they kissed again–a little too passionately for my tastes! This was not good. I felt as if someone had stuck a knife into my chest and was twisting it to make the wound worse. I didn’t breathe for a almost a minute as I began to see “Operation Superspy” as “Operation Benedict Arnold.” I had, apparently, been betrayed. Steve had betrayed me, and over a girl I knew better than he did! Or, at least, I thought I knew better. Apparently, that wasn’t the case anymore.
I closed the curtain. Since I was home alone at this time, I began kicking things. Throwing things. I pounded the mattress on the bed. Finally, exhausted, I stopped. But the red sky of my world had not dissipated. It remained, if anything darker and more ominous than before. Now, I sat, thinking, trying to figure out what I was going to do. I simply could not allow this to continue!
There was a reason, I rationalized. I had heard it through the grapevine, as the song had said. But I verified the truth of what was rumored, and knew the situation was true. The blind date that Steve had set up for his sister, Denise, had not been a failure. It was a disaster. Steve's sister was only a year older than Diane. And his sister was now 4 months pregnant. There was no way that I would let this happen to Diane, I resolved. Steve, my soon to be former friend, was the person who had played with fire. But it was his sister who had been burned.
Finally, I reached a decision. I would go to Steve next time I saw him, and I would, again, tell him to back off. It would not matter if he was with anyone. I would not let it stop me. If he didn’t back off, I wasn’t sure what would I would do. But, if worst came to worst, I’d kill him. I couldn’t take this. I would kill him.
I began to shake. What was I thinking? Murder? I didn’t want any part of that. It went against everything I believed. But that thought burned at my brain; a hot torch, a branding iron labeled “Kill.”
As the afternoon passed, and evening came, I watched the driveway of the cabin next door.
No car except the family car. I hoped that Steve had come to his senses. I did note that Karl and Diane had gone swimming. They had asked me to join them, but I declined, saying I wasn’t feeling well. It was true, after all. The cloud of jealousy, which I had not recognized as such, had settled over me, and I was still steaming over the kisses shared by Diane and Steve. Whether Karl knew of Steve’s moves on his sister, I didn’t know. I had no plans to ask. I didn’t know how to ask such a question. And I wasn’t really sure if I wouldn’t be termed a yenta for not minding my own business. So I let it ride, planning my next moves. Except, this wasn’t chess I was considering. What was coming over me, anyway? All this, over a girl. And I was confused, more because it was over a girl I had only known for a short time. Only since July 4th. And yet….
I couldn't think straight. And the flaming red sky of my world began to shade toward black.
The next day, I went for a walk. I was bird-watching. There were hawks, a lot of them, down by the swamp which was just a half mile away. I had originally planned to do some frog catching, but had decided against it. The hawks were more fun. One of them always would take exception to anybody who would be walking by. The lakeshore association had just filled in a road across the swamp two years back. He was still angry. He would dive at anyone. I had a pocket full of rocks to protect myself from an attack by that hawk. I stayed on the road, watching for him. He didn't seem to be around on this day. I threw some of the rocks at a few turtles, seeing if I could get them to enter the water.
Then, I heard voices. I ducked behind the cattails, and listened. I heard a girl's voice, low and melodious. It was Diane's voice. I couldn't make out more than a few words. I heard some rocks hit the water with a splash, and heard a couple of turtles splash into the water. Someone had succeeded where I had failed. Then, there was a boy's voice. I listened closely. As I peered through the rushes, I saw Steve, walking hand in hand with Diane. As another kiss was shared, I could not take it anymore. It was time to go over and tell Steve to keep his hands off of Diane.
I stood up, and saw that both Steve and Diane were facing the lake, rather than the road where I was. Steve put his arm across Diane's shoulder. And that was the final blow to me. I yelled across the swamp. "STEVE! I want to talk to you!" The anger in my voice echoed around the lake. Steve turned, and saw me. I began to run around the swamp, racing to confront Steve.
Shortly before I got to the other side, a car pulled up near Steve, and stopped. That big guy, the one who had tossed the firecrackers at me, was the driver and he got out of the car. I didn't know the guy's name. But I could see that he would be trouble.
I reached Steve and Diane. Diane looked at me curiously, as if wondering what was going on, why I was there. Steve spoke to me, saying "What's up, Mike?"
I responded tightly, through clenched teeth. "I said I want to talk to you." The anger in my voice grew worse. The vehicle's driver walked up to Steve, his back to me. He positioned himself between me and Steve, and turned, giving me an evil look. I was close to the swamp, just a few steps from it. And I noticed that he was just a step or two from a large, fallen branch.
"Is this guy bugging you, Steve?" he asked.
"Nah," responded Steve. "He's a friend."
But the big guy pushed me. He pushed me hard, and I fell. Picking myself up, I stood there and I hoped that Steve's comment would stop the fellow from causing trouble. I shook off some mud. And I returned the stare that he gave me. I uttered a curse in Latin. And it may have been a mistake. The guy pushed me again, even harder than last time. I stumbled backwards, stepping into the mud of the swamp.
Diane spoke up. "Ralph, calm down!" Now, I knew his name.
He muttered "Blasted idiot." And it was too much for me.
"Oh, yeah? You creepy S.O.B!" I replied, with my voice increasing in volume, pitch, and anger on each syllable I spoke. I took a step forward, and threw two punches. I threw a left to his stomach, and a right to his jaw. Then, I shoved with all my might, and he stumbled over the branch, falling. I knew that I wouldn't be able to count on Steve to help me. I turned, and I ran. I ran faster than I thought I would ever be able to run. I reached the beach in a matter of just a few seconds. Ralph had just gotten up, and was trying to start his car. I ran the rest of the way to the cabin, and sped inside. Nobody was home but me. I hastened to lock the doors. Then I went to my room, and there I allowed the tears of pain to fall. There was no choice.
I watched outside as the guy pulled up to the driveway. He knew where I lived, now. And it would be bad for me. As I watched, however, my parents pulled up, and I unlocked the door for them, while Ralph drove off.
Now, I locked the door to my room, and sobbed quietly. And I wondered what I would do next.
As I did, an alien thought one again entered my brain. But that thought was no longer a complete stranger. This time, I could not dismiss the thought so easily. I had to protect Diane. And, if it came down to it, that I acted on the thought.... then so be it. And the thought continued to burn at my brain. The thought didn't change. It still said "Kill."

SuperSpy in Action (Ch. 7)

For those who have been patiently waiting, here's the continuation of SPECIAL TIMES, SPECIAL SUMMERS


Superspy In Action
I would normally sleep with my window closed. The strange sounds, the crickets, the owls, the frogs, the combined symphony would almost always keep me awake. If it rained, as well, Leaving the window open would invariably mean that I would be walking through a puddle on the floor. I hated it, and the two reasons I gave would always get me to shut my window. But, from time to time, either someone would open the window when I was asleep, the wind would blow it open, or maybe, just maybe, I would fall asleep before I closed it. Sometimes, I'd awake to find a face (Imagined) staring at me through the window, and I'd scream and slam the window shut. It was something I had never been able to shake, nightmares of an ugly face staring at me through the screen... and a hand with a knife ripping the screen open!
This morning, I woke about 6:30. I wouldn't normally wake at that hour. But I was hearing chatter outside. I looked out: Karl and Diane were playing a round, or maybe a second round, on the little course. Apparently, they either got in late, just before midnight, or early, like about 5AM or so. Whichever it was, I rose, and shouted "HEY! Have you no respect for the dead?" Then I laughed out loud. "Any Eagles?" I yelled over at them.
Karl raised a hand, all 5 fingers extended. Then he put 2 fingers up, and pointed to Diane, then 3, and pointed to himself. "WHAT?! I'm Coming out! Prepare to lose, amateurs!" I called. Before I went out, I marked the sheet that I had begun, a sheet on which I was keeping track of the holes-in-one that were shot. Karl was gaining, and Diane - Surprisingly, had shown a touch on the course - a touch that I never knew she had.
After about another hour, we called it a game, and began to discuss a possible fishing trip over to the rocky coast on the west side. That is when a car pulled into the Lester's driveway. Yep, that was Steve's buggy, alright. He got out, raised his cap to the 3 of us, and then called for Diane to come over to him. I noted the time, and realized that "Superspy" was now underway. I invited Karl up to the front of the cabin, and we went up front, and sat on the chairs that were in front of the house.
Karl seemed a bit uncomfortable I didn't know if it was because of the game that we had finished, if it was because of Steve's appearance, or something else was on his mind. It turned out to be the latter.
"Mike, I have a question for you, and don't be upset--after all, I'm trying to protect my sister."
"Well, I don't know why I'd be upset. You can certainly try to protect her. Remember, I have no brothers or sisters, so I won't know exactly what you are driving at, I suppose," was my reply. Karl sat back, looking at me, as if he were trying to figure out the best way to say his question, as if it were difficult to phrase.
Finally, he sighed. "Well, I guess it should just be said. What is the blazes is happening between you and my sister?"
I was startled. "What? What do you mean? There's nothing going on. Why in the name of Charlie Brown would you ask that?"
Karl sighed again. "When we pulled up to the library in Day Park, it looked like you were planning on giving her a tonsillectomy! She told me all about your chat, and everything you said."
Again, I was startled - and appalled! "Excuse me? Tonsillectomy? You've really lost me here, buddy! And all our chat was about was if I would sing for her! She did tell me that she was studying magic. And hypnosis, too, as she said."
Karl stared at me. Disbelief? What was he seeing? "You really don't know what I mean, do you? You have no clue at all."
I stood up. "Karl, I really don't know what is going on here! The charge you are leveling at me is... weird, to say the least! I don't know what you saw, or thought you saw, but I didn't have anything in mind. And what the blazes did Diane say our conversation was about, anyway?"
Karl remained seated. He covered his face with his hands, as if to relieve a pain that had occurred. He took a deep breath, and then released it.
"Come on, Karl... let it out. Just what the fig did Diane say, anyway?" I growled. He looked up, a bit shocked at my tone, I guess. I softened it. "Look, buddy... I really would like to know what is going on. Why this all of a sudden, anyway? And, just look a moment. Is Diane over here? No, she's with Steve!" I waved over at Steve, he nodded, smiled an ironic and mysterious smile, and took Diane's hand. Then they walked off to the east. That was surprising. He took her hand! What the heck, it wasn't that bad, I supposed.
"What she told me was probably exaggerated, Mike, " said Karl. "But I remember, too, what you said a while back."
AH! That was it. The game had him concerned, but he didn't know it was a game. I would have to phrase my wording very carefully, if I didn't want to lose my advantage over Diane. Then, Karl muttered something sotto voce, in that same language as I had heard him use before. This was my chance to learn something else.
"Karl, just what was that you said? The language isn't familiar. It's not French, Latin, or Spanish. What is it, when and where did you learn it? Do you know any French, Spanish, or Latin?" Now, I sat down again, and waited.
Karl replied, "No, we don't know any of those you mentioned. What I spoke is actually Swahili. See, my mom was a missionary for a while, and the language spoken in the area was Swahili. Diane and I were born in this country, but went over there at a very early age. We learned the language at the same time we learned English, and sometimes we lapse into Swahili. It's handy if you don't want anyone to know what you're saying!"
I laughed a bit. "The schools don't teach that language around here, that's for sure! Maybe you can teach me some of it, someday. There's a few phrases I'd like to know. And, I'm sure you can teach me how to cuss at people!"
Karl cracked up. He laughed for a good 5 minutes over what I said. It wasn't meant as a joke, of course, but it sure came out that way. As his laughing eased, I looked up, and saw that Diane and Steve had just returned, and that Diane was getting in his car. Sure, I thought. Go for a ride, keep her away from me for a while, Steve-boy.
Then, I reassured Karl. "Karl, let me tell you something. You can trust me with your sister. If I want to go out with her, or something, I will check with you. I've been told that dating a friend's sister can be a complicating factor in friendships. In fact, I'd more than likely be asking you to ask her for me. I'm not very comfortable around girls, and Diane tends to make me a bit more uncomfortable that you'd think!"
Karl gazed at me askance. "But, what you said..." he began.
"I know what I said, Karl. It's true, too. But don't let it cramp your style. I think Diane may be a bit too young for me. But when I want to find out, I will still ask you, first."
Karl seemed satisfied with what I said. I sat down again. He muttered again, quietly, and I spoke up, "Again, Karl? Swahili, again? What is it this time?"
"Just wondering if the fish might be biting today, Mike. It's still early, the lake is quiet. Do you suppose there's anything biting?" At that, he slapped his arm, swatting a mosquito.
"Aside from Mosquitoes?" I laughed. "It's possible. We've got some bait ready, if it's worth anything. If you'd like to try, just say so. I happen to know some of the best spots on the lake. I've spent a lot of summers here, already, and have figured the best locations." I pointed some of them out. "Over there, to the East, near the boat landing, out in about 25 feet of water seems best for Rock Bass, and Perch. To the south-- straight across the lake is another one. I've not had any luck over there, but it's said to be teeming with Pike. No Muskies in this area, though. Over to the west, there's a rocky floor. It gives a lot of Bass, generally Largemouth, I've seen only one Smallmouth bass in all my years here. There have been sunfish all over, and you've seen the carp jumping by now. So, which area would you like to try, Karl? If you'd like, just a little ways to the east produces some fair size bass, and just beyond the raft gives us some small pike and a few horned pout." At Karl's puzzled expression, I said, "Oh, that's the southern term. 'Bullhead', I believe, is the 'Yankee' term!"
"You mentioned something about a second lake, Mike. What's that like?" Karl asked.
"Never fished there. The channel was only opened a year ago, I've only rowed to the area, never actually into the lake. And I don't know anyone in that particular area, so I don't know what goes on with the fish!"
Once again, Karl muttered something in Swahili. Although I didn't know what he said, exactly, I guessed, and said: Ok, we'll go west. The horned pout I dislike. I prefer the battling bass to the wet-rag pull of the bullhead."
"I thought you said you don't speak Swahili!" he said. "But you certainly understood that statement!"
I laughed. "Just luck. I noted your eyes when I mentioned each area, and I saw you nodding when I mentioned the west area!"
"Oh," Karl responded. "I see. For a moment, I thought you were either lying to me about not speaking the language, or somehow you were picking it up awfully fast!"
I glanced at my watch. "I just checked the Solunar Tables yesterday for when the best fishing activity should be." Karl looked puzzled at the reference. "It's a table of predicted wildlife activity. It's very seldom let me down. It's not perfect, and I don't know what the formula is. I think it has something to do with the sun and moon, and I think it has something to do with the tides. I'm not really sure, of course. And my watch says if we leave now, we can get to our best spot just as the best time of day starts. In fact, This is the best time of activity for the whole week! There's another time when it will be nearly as good, but it's awfully late, and I really don't want to be out here at 11:30 tonight!"
Karl nodded at that. "How long does this active period last, Mike? Should we bring a lunch, snack, or a bottle of pop?"
"The table shows 2 and a half hours. You might want a drink, though. Snacks are fine, but we'd be back in by lunch time. So, use your best judgment. I'd row over, that will take a while. Fortunately, it's not windy, it would really slow us if it was! We better hurry--time's a wasting!"
At that, we went off to gather our gear, and whatever we thought would be good. Clouds were gathering, cooling the day. The little weather station I had indicated a temperature currently in the mid-70's, humidity on the rise, and the barometer was falling, indicating that rain was likely later this day, either around dusk, or early morning. I grabbed a radio, a couple of bottles of Orange soda and a bottle opener. Then I picked up my gear and went to the boat. Karl was a few minutes behind me. As we shoved off, I absently noted that Steve and Diane weren't back yet. Steve was going to do well as a spy. I laughed lightly as Karl and I headed to the west shore, the rocky floor of the lake.
There are times when you wish you had good luck. Today wasn't an exception to that, at all. We sat for 3 hours, with barely a nibble on the bait. But we listened to the radio, talked about school and what we'd be taking in courses the next year. After a while, my thoughts turned to Diane. I wondered how much Steve was learning, and what I would know. It was around noon when I suggested that we call it quits, and go in. Karl agreed, and I moved up to the anchor line, to begin the retrieval. It was then a big speedboat came racing by, setting our boat rocking. I waited for the waves to die down, and started to pull up on the anchor again. As I did, the same boat came racing by, again, bearing straight down on us. The driver swerved off at the last second, missing us by a matter of a few yards. Karl and I could hear the guy's laugh. "Get that guy’s boat license number if he comes by again!" I screamed over the roar of the motor. But the boat roared off to the south side of the lake, leaving Karl and me shaking our heads and trembling a bit.
Karl muttered something. Swahili, again, I guessed. Possibly a curse. I said a few nasty words in French, and uttered a Latin epithet. "This idiot is doing us no favors, Mike," Karl groaned. "Let's get out of here before he comes back.
I responded, "Yeah. You told him to go to hell, didn't you? I gave him a few nasty words of my own. What do you think? Drunk, or just plain stupid?"
Karl seemed surprised, "You seem to be picking up the language, Mike. You hit it exactly."
"No surprise! I said the same thing in French. Great minds think alike, you know!"
We laughed. Karl kept his bait in the water, trolling the bait behind the boat. I rowed back, and we reached the raft area, when Karl's pole bent... "WHOA! Mike, I've got something!"
I quickly dropped anchor, and got the net. Karl battled that fish for 10 Minutes, finally getting it up to the boat. It was a beautiful Largemouth bass, I took out the scale. "6 and a half pounds. You really got a big one there!"
Karl was shocked at the size of the fish. "I've not seen a bass that size before!"
"I've not, either, " I said. "But 6 and a half pounds is not a record around here. And the world's record is over 3 times this size!"
We docked the boat, and Karl and I went different directions. He brought his fish and equipment up to the cabin, while I stayed on the dock, trying my luck. I heard a familiar "Vroom" of Steve's car and determined by the sound that he was just leaving. I wondered if Diane was with him, or if she had was now at home. And I found myself wondering what Steve might have learned. I would walk to his place later, to find out.
It wasn't long until I found the dock shaking, rumbling under running feet. I turned to see Diane running at me, full tilt. I had nowhere to dodge if she planned on pushing me in. I'd have to do a nifty leap to avoid being pushed, and not fall into the water.
Then, it happened. She stepped on a bad board. It broke, and she began to fall, giving a brief cry of alarm. Somehow, and I will never know how, I got there and grabbed her, keeping her from falling into the water, or onto a couple of protruding nails that I had just noticed. She held onto me for a couple of minutes, then let go. "Thanks, Mikey. If you hadn't been there...." she said, then trailed off. Then she muttered something in Swahili, like Karl had done.
"Yes," I said. "I agree completely. You really DO need to be more carefully when running on a dock, Diane. This is the prime example, and it was nearly a lesson painfully learned." I pointed down at the nails which protruded from the dock. "See? If you hadn't fallen into the water, you would have landed on those. I'll repair them later. Until then, Please, be careful!"
She looked at me, and blanched. "I didn't know you knew Swahili!" She was obviously remembering the conversation with Karl, which I hadn't understood. But it was plain that she thought I did.
"I don't," I replied. "But it seemed a logical conclusion, considering what you just did. Besides, as I told Karl, earlier: Great minds think alike!"
Now, it was her turn to laugh. It started as an aborted giggle, but then turned into a roaring belly-laugh, the likes of which I had never heard before. I wondered how far it could be heard. When she finally was able to control the laugh, and paused for breath, there were tears in her eyes. "Thanks, Mikey!", she gasped, still out of breath. “I really needed that!"
"Well, why did you run all the way down here, anyway?" I asked. "There must have been some reason, and if it wasn't to push me in, what was it?"
"Lots of reasons," she replied. "But I wanted your input on something. Tell me about that hunk!"
"Hunk? Hunk of what, Diane?" I queried. I had never heard the term used like that. Although, at that time, I felt a slight tightening in my chest, and had a gut feeling what she meant.
"Hunk of what? You are a card, Mike! No, I mean that adorable fellow, Steve! He's asked me out, and I want to know more about him!"
My heart sank into my shoes. He asked her out? On a Date? This was not in the plan as I understood it! She was calling Steve a "hunk"? Well, this must have been in his plan; I would talk to him tonight about this unexpected turn of events.
"Well," I said, "I can tell you quite a bit. But, isn't he just a little leery asking you out? Isn't he concerned about the age difference?"
She laughed at that. "No. He thinks I'm 16."
"HUH? You certainly don't look 16 to me! How did you convince him that you were?" I asked.
"Easy!" she said, removing an ID card from her pocket. "This convinced him."
"Diane!" I exclaimed, shocked. "You with a FAKE ID?!" She shushed me.
"Shhh! Not so loud!" she said.
"Diane, I don't believe it. I ought to tell your parents! That is going to get you into trouble, sure as the devil!"
"Please, Mike. Don't say a word. PLEASE?" she pleaded. Darn it! That same tone I couldn't resist. She had me with that tone, and she knew it. Reluctantly, I nodded.
"Ok, Diane. I won't say a thing. But, promise me you'll destroy that thing in the near future. Someone will ask you for an ID, and you'll take it out, and they'll know it's a fake. Believe me, you'll be in trouble!" I sighed. She hesitated. "Diane, promise me," I warned. She reached out, and made an "X" across her heart. Then she did the same with me. I took that to mean she would do so. I never did see the fake ID again.
So, I told her about Steve, as she requested. Captain of the Football team, and star Strong Safety. Smart, but quick to make judgments. He was a chess player, and member of the high school swim team. He was very well known in town, and loyal to boot. Steve was all that. I told her what I could. But, it was troubling to me. Steve could have told her everything. Diane could have hypnotized him into telling all, too. But she was asking me about Steve. As I summed up Steve's biography, I felt nervous, edgy. Something was wrong. I did not know what, but that feeling permeated my soul. Something was wrong.
I went to Steve's about 7:30 that night. He had little to say, but he explained away the date without a moment's hesitation. And what he had learned in the first day of "Superspy" wasn't much. He still had time, and I knew he'd make the best of it. But he requested the rest of the week without having to report. It seemed like a reasonable request, but it still gave me an uncomfortable feeling. But I let him have his request.
The rest of the week passed slowly: too slowly. Having Diane around would make time fly, but when she wasn't around, things seemed too slow. Karl and I would play golf, fish, swim, or play cards. He didn't play chess, so I let my game slide. But time dragged. I would be very happy when the week was over, and Diane was back at the cabin and joining us for golf, and other things that made life so fun during this summer. Without her around, I felt empty. I mentioned it to Karl, who simply shrugged. I did attempt to learn more about him, his family--and Diane. I asked if he could teach me a few phrases in Swahili, the language he still used from time-to-time. But he seemed reluctant to do so. I guessed that even though we had become friends quickly, he felt uncomfortable teaching another language. Maybe, he just didn't want to give up an advantage. Or maybe he didn't think he could teach it correctly. Either way, I decided that I would check the library for any possible way to learn the language. I didn't know much of the others, even though I did know some phrases and words in Latin, French, and Spanish. Swahili would certainly be my biggest challenge!
I wrote a letter to Wayne. I told him what was going on, and invited him to the cabin if he had a chance. I gave him more information than I had ever given anyone in my letter. I told him that the week had seemed so empty. I did get a letter a few days after I mailed mine, but he simply restated what he had previously said. To sum it up, he said "Be careful. Don't go overboard." And, he repeated that statement that had been with me since he first made it: "Sooner, or later, she will crush you."
Finally, the last day of "Superspy" was reached. I breathed a sigh of relief, and hoped that Steve would tell me all I needed to know that evening. I saw his car drive by that evening, but he didn't stop. And Diane was with him, again. Ok, the day wasn't over yet. But now, I felt left out. I felt deprived. And I felt neglected. There was something else, too. I could not identify the emotion. It was there, and it was strong, but it was not familiar. There was a bit of sadness, as well.
Over the next few days, the pattern of feelings continued, and Steve kept seeing Diane. I had asked him to stop after 5 days. He hadn't reported in, he hadn't told me anything, and he was still seeing Diane. Anger was now eating away at me. And I still didn't know what to do. And that's when I realized; Steve wasn't going to back off.

Chapter 6

Solving a Puzzle/Birth of Superspy

I am a fast reader, and I always was. I learned speed-reading at an early age, and used it a lot. It came in handy when I settled to read the hypnotism book. The book was only about 100 pages, I was done with it in a matter of minutes. I left a note on the kitchen table, saying I wasn't feeling well, was going to sleep and didn't want to be disturbed. Some truth in that note. I didn't want to be disturbed. Sleep, that was another matter. And the confusion I felt was enough to make me ill. And, from the book, self-hypnosis was easy, and I had myself ready to solve my puzzle.

I began to put myself into a hypno-state. As I went deeper into it, I suggested to myself that I would be able to remember if Diane had succeeded, and what she may have suggested to me. After what I guessed was about 10 minutes, my mind released the secrets.

Diane had managed to hypnotize me. I made a suggestion to myself that she would not be able to do so again, unless I suggested she try. But the suggestions she made remained difficult to bring up to the surface. Finally, I stopped trying so hard, and just let myself drift. That's when the suggestions began to bubble to the surface of my mind. Interestingly, there were only 3 that came to mind.

The first was "Release your emotions, reveal them to me." That really didn't bother me at all. I was the type to release my emotions anyway. I had a hot temper, and could be very moody at times. Nothing to change in the suggestion, I let it go.

The second suggestion was more straight forward. "Sing for me." Well, I had planned on that, too. All she had done was reinforce what I had planned. I would write a love song just for her, and I hoped she would join in singing it. Of course, I knew nothing about love. But I doubted that she did, either. So, again, there wasn't much to do.

The last suggestion was a bit cryptic, even if a straight suggestion. "Please me." I couldn't help but wonder what that meant. Was that why I called her "Dear", instead of "Diane"? I could please, alright. But what was meant? Since the suggestion seemed a bit odd, and a bit too suggestive, I squelched it. I replaced the idea, with something different. "Play along, but carefully. Don't lie, or lead her on. Simply accept, and respond appropriately." I searched my mind for any thing else that seemed wrong, or new. There was nothing else. I looked for anything, any clue as to what I might have said in my hypnotized state. There were no clues. I had been in the trance for over an hour, but I had no idea what I might have said, or done. Either it was nothing done, or Diane had managed to erase any trace, and very effectively. I suspected that unless I asked her, I would never know. But there was no way that I was going to ask, and give up my slight advantage that I had gained.

I roused myself from my hypnotized state, and went to the magic store a half mile away. I bought a hypnotist's coin, and a few tricks. I would be ready if Diane tried to sneak into my mind again with her ploys. Not this time, I pledged to myself. I will learn the truth.

That night, I wrote 3 songs. Two of them were based on advice Wayne had given me. One was a love song for Diane. I kicked myself for writing it, especially on such short notice. Then, I called her number. No answer. I guessed she was still out-of-town, at the funeral, or possibly on the way back and had not yet reached town. There was no way to find out.

I took out my microphones, my recording stereo, and 2 eight track tapes. I played for 45 minutes, listening to my songs for 45 minutes afterwards. I added my harmonies, and then listened again. Satisfied, I put my guitar back into its case, put the tape with the guitar, and then called Wayne. I asked if we were still practicing tomorrow, and he replied in the affirmative. I told him I was bringing my tape, he could listen to my songs, and tell me what he thought of them. We agreed on a noon practice time, and we said our goodbyes. It was late, I wanted to get ready for bed. But something kept me up. It was late, but I dialed the Lester's number one more time. This time, Diane answered, and I was astounded when she answered with "Hi, Mikey." I hadn't said a thing. Her display of telepathy caused me to flip out!

"How did you know it was me, Diane?" I asked. "I didn't say a word! You simply couldn't have guessed!"
"Oh, Mikey, I have my ways, " she teased. "I knew it was you! You're a few minutes later than I expected, though! Were you on the phone? Is that why you are late?"

"I promised to sing you a song, Diane. Do you have the time to listen to one now? I know it's late, but I have the time to play, if you have the time to listen!" She said that she had the time, and I took out my guitar. Then I sang. I sang the song I had written, the one which I called "Wandering for Love". I poured all my emotions into it, played with more feeling than I could ever have done in private. The song lasted about 5 minutes, then I played the final notes, and picked up the receiver which I had placed in front of the amp. My microphone had been hooked up to my amp, so I was easily hearable.

"Well, Diane, what do you think?" I asked. "When I wrote this, I was thinking of you." I thought See what you've done to me, Diane? Mike, you've got to get a hold of yourself!

Diane sighed, from the other end of the phone. I couldn't tell what type of sigh, however. "It's wonderful, Mike," she said. "Do you have more?"

"I will play you more when you get back to the cabin," I said. "You are the only one who I've ever played for, aside from my group leader. My group leader wants to record it tomorrow. I've already put it on tape for him."

She sighed again. "Good night, Mikey." Then she said something in that language that she had spoken a few days before. "Usingizi nafuu, angu penzi."* Or something like that. Before I could ask her to repeat it, or what it meant, or what language it was, she had hung up.

Before I settled down to sleep, I wondered again how she knew it was me calling. I recalled her words, "You're a few minutes later than I expected, though! Were you on the phone? Is that why you are late?" Very unusual. How could she have guessed that it was
me, or that I was on the phone? Now, I began to suspect
that when she had hypnotized me, that was a suggestion. She had wanted me to call at a specific time. She had wanted me to sing. Now, I realized that I had done it again. I was a fly in a spider web's; the spider homing in on my vibrations. The whole thing was becoming plain.

It was time for sleep. I dozed off in a few minutes, and the dreams of Diane began again. Would I ever be able to control them? Or was this my own personal Waterloo? I awoke once, to find that I had become tangled in the sheets. I straightened them out, then went back to sleep.

Next day, I was awakened by my alarm. I showered, and true to form, I would sing in the shower. But today, I couldn't even sing a note. I tried to speak, but I had no voice at all. Oh, that was great. My voice was barely a whisper. I called Wayne, telling him what I could -- and it wasn't easy. Wayne told me he'd stop by and pick up the tape I had made, He drove, I didn't. Then he told me to call the doctor. I had that done for me, but the only thing I was told to do was rest my voice. The doctor was filled with appointments for the day, I couldn't get in. But I was told if my voice wasn't better by late evening, I was supposed to go in the next day. Not likely! I would be going back to the cabin tonight, and I had no intention of staying in town another day. Mom mixed up an old-fashioned honey and lemon deal that was supposed to help my voice. Then she walked a short distance to a neighboring pharmacy to ask the druggist about what could be done. Whatever she got worked, though. I began to get my voice back by about 3PM.

When Wayne stopped in to get the tape, I tried to apologize for my voice going out. He dismissed it, said he had developed the same thing just a week earlier. Some bug was going around, apparently. He told me that he'd listen to the tape, and transfer what he could to the reel-to-reel that he had set up. He also told me that he would add his bass part, dubbing in what he felt was best for it, adding other vocals, or piano if appropriate. I gave him a lyric sheet with chords for the songs on the tape, and then went back inside, to sleep some more. But I found myself thinking of Diane, again. This was not good, I thought. But I couldn't get my mind off her. Finally, I formulated a final plan, my way to get space, and learn what she was really thinking. I decided a spy would be the only way I could really learn what was going on. Steve immediately came to mind. He owed me a favor, a big one. The previous year, he had been accused of vandalism and theft. But I had been his alibi, and it was soon determined that someone else had been the guilty party. When I got back to the lake, I would talk to Steve.

Dad pulled in from his long trip at about 4:30. He was tired, but said he wanted to get back to the lake, because it was so relaxing there. I tossed my suitcase in the car. Then, I grabbed my library books. And, for the first time, I picked up the guitar and amp, and stuck them in the back seat. I had never taken them to the lake before. I had song ideas floating around in my head, and I wanted to write them down, with chords. And, of course, I would sing for Diane again. After all, I had promised.

Traffic was very heavy that night. A terrible accident on the highway had shut it down, and we were forced into an alternate route. But, I didn't even look at the area, didn't look at anything except my notebook, in which I placed the lyric for 6 different songs, that night alone!

Then, I closed my eyes, and hoped that we'd be early enough for me to go up to Steve's place and talk to him about what I wanted. But, by the time we pulled in, it was late, there had been just too much traffic on the road that night. There had been an accident on the alternate route, as well, so when we arrived, I knew it was too late to go up to Steve's. I'd have to do so in the morning. It would give me a little more time to determine exactly what I wanted Steve to do. Sleep took me quickly, and it was a dreamless night, for a change. I would awake well rested, clear mind, and alert enough to tell Steve just what I wanted.

I walked up to Steve's about 9:30 AM. Something odd was going on. I then saw the sign "Garage Sale." Steve was behind the selling table, but greeted me quickly, and asked his dad to take his spot for a few minutes. We walked off to a quiet spot.

"So, what's shaking, Mike?" he asked.

"Well, Steve, I hope you can do me a favor this next week. I need you to be a spy for me."

"Spy? On whom?", he asked. "what's the deal, and why do you need a spy?"

I told him what I wanted. I said that I needed him to hang around Diane for a week. I needed to know what she thought of me, or if I was just a game to her. I gave him a short list of "code words", and suggested that we meet daily, to get me informed about what he had learned. Steve laughed a bit.

"This is one job I will truly enjoy," he said. I summed up the whole situation, and then gave a final word. "After 5 days, or so, I want to know everything you may have learned about Diane, and what she thinks of me. Then, back off. I'm going to have a go at her, game or not."

Steve tipped his hat over his eyes, and said "This is a job for Superspy!" We both laughed and code named our little scheme "Operation Superspy."

* According to the computer program Universal Translator 2000, this means “Sleep well, my love.” I do not vouch for accuracy.

Chapter 4, Special Times, Special Summers

I'll take a breather from the Book shortly. I got something else to write about.


Mr. Lonely Hearts

It was evening, about 8PM, when we got home. There was no mail, of course, but that didn't matter. We did have a phone, and I would use it shortly. I knew precisely who I'd call. But, just then, the phone rang. I answered and found it was exactly who I had planned on calling. Great timing.

I had joined a band. Wayne was our leader, the lead singer, and bass. Truthfully, I never knew how I managed to get into the band. I loved to sing, but I preferred to do it in private or with a large group, like a choir. Wayne, however, wanted me to write songs, play guitar, sing, and everything that could be done. I really didn't know much of the guitar system, and had less experience on guitar than I had on a flutophone. But Wayne had wanted me in, and I joined up. Our drummer, Andy, a tall fellow who hated to sing was in the group, but only if he could refrain from singing. Jack, our other guitarist, was the most skilled of the 3 "minor" members. He played guitar, and drums as well. He sang, too, but he wasn't a loud singer. And he had already written a song that would soon become our standard.

Wayne asked me if I could come over the next day. He wanted a full practice, but neither Jack nor Andy could show. I could, however, and I told him I would be there. The band had no official name, yet, but we had ideas. We had hopes and dreams. And we had similar tastes in music. A "Jam", of just the two of us. I would have to be there at 11 AM. I could take the bus, ride a bike, or walk, but handling a bike while carrying a guitar was not an easy task. And walking 4 miles to the other side of Day Park didn't sit well with me. So, I settled for the bus as my transportation.
It was late, I settled down for sleep. Dreams, many dreams, came at me from out of the night. And yet, every one of them was somehow related to Diane. Memory? Or something else? Golf, swimming, the whole of July 5th, Diane, Diane, and more Diane. One dream had to be of the future; Diane was wearing a full length dress. I had never seen her in a dress. And, more disconcerting: It was a long, white dress. A wedding dress, perhaps? Again, I didn't know. I awoke early, and wrote all the dreams down in my journal. Then, I took out my guitar to practice just a bit before leaving for Wayne's place. I found it hard to concentrate. But I practiced some of our songs, and left for the bus stop at 9.

I carried a notebook. I used it now and then, to write things that I thought might someday be put to music. While waiting for the bus, I wrote down a lyric to a song that I would forever remember. I knew, right away, what my chords would be, and where they were changed. Just a few chords in the song as it would be written. The song was a ballad, about finding true love. Wandering, looking, and finally finding it, over the third hill. I found that I had written it on Diane's birthday. I didn't realize it for a year, although I learned her birthday about a month later.

Upon arrival at my destination stop, I got off the bus, and walked the last 2 blocks. It was not quite 10, so I was a bit early. I hoped Wayne wouldn't mind. Stopping in front of his parent's place, I took in the design of the house. Sure, I had been there before, but not in daylight. And not in the summer months. I simply examined the siding, the porch, the doorway, and the basement entry, which I would be using. Finally, I walked up to the door and rang the bell.

Wayne answered the door. "Mike! You're early!. Come on in, we will listen to a couple of records before practice. Welcome to the home of 'Lockjaw, Inc."

"Lockjaw?" I asked. "Is that the name you decided on? Truthfully, I think it sounds a little tight-lipped. But, I know, that was one that we mentioned as a possible name. I guess it will be easy enough to remember."

Wayne's taste in Music was quite varied. He had stuff from the top 40, and more albums than I could imagine. He preferred stuff from the "English Invasion," but I wasn't much of a top 40 fan at the time. Yet, we listened to some good stuff by some English groups for about 30 minutes, while Wayne took out his sheet music, and I got the book. He tuned up his guitar, rather than the bass, explaining that the bass parts, although needing practice, would wait, because the guitar parts were more important. I had some trouble tuning my instrument, so he took it from me, and tuned it up properly. Then he saw my open book with my lyric and chords. He picked it up.

"Wandering for Love? Rocker?", he inquired. He started a fast beat with the chords, but I stopped him.

"No. It's softer, a ballad. I'd almost call it country music, without the fiddles and crazy accents." I began to play, singing the tune as I had imagined it. It was a slow waltz time, and when I finished, he said that it had some promise.

"Just thumb strumming? What did I tell you about that?" he asked. "You have to loosen your wrist a bit. A good rhythm guitar has to be fast, not slow." I shrugged. What could I say, anyway? There wasn't too much I could say!

We started with Jack's tune. Another soft one, but quite involved. The beat had to be just right, and the strum also had to be just so, or the song wouldn't work out. We sang a good harmony, even though I wasn't really familiar with the lyric, because it was Wayne and Jack who sang it.

Then, Wayne said we'd switch to a rocker, a song by the Beatles. I didn't know the song, so he played it on the record player for me. Ok. I understood.

When we started, the music didn't sound right. Too discordant. Just plain wrong. Wayne stopped playing, and looked at me.

"You seem a bit distracted, Mike," he observed.

"Not at all," I said, although he was correct. "Why do you say that, anyway?"

He got up, came over to where I was sitting, and looked at the music book. "Well, I guess the biggest reason is that you are on the wrong page! That is not a good sign, if you ask me."

I groaned. He was right. I was on the wrong song. There was no sense in denying it. "Ok, ok. Yes, I am a bit distracted. Let's try again."

Wayne put down his guitar. "Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can help."

Wayne, being a couple years older than I, had much more experience, and certainly more wisdom than I did. He could also see the cause of my distraction. I hadn't told him a thing. Yet, he understood immediately. "It's a girl, isn't it?". I nodded, reluctantly. "That is trouble, my friend. Big trouble. Talk to me!"

I told him the story. From day 1, but of course day one had been just a couple of days ago. I watched his face. First, he showed disbelief. Then, it was incredulous look. Then it was envy. As I finished the story, it was understanding and perhaps a bit of sorrow. He nodded. Then, I told him what I was thinking.

He said, "Affairs of the heart are something I have some experience in. How old is this girl? Your age, maybe a year older? If you are going to play this game with her, you better be close to the same age."

"No. She's almost 3 years younger than I am, Wayne. She's not even a teen, so far as I know."

His jaw dropped. He was speechless. He closed his mouth, opened it again, closed it. It was almost 2 minutes before he said anything. But when he did, he really let loose.

"Are you mad?" he thundered. Nobody was home, but I was wondering if someone had heard. "You must be! She's way too young!! Insanity. You've gotten yourself into big trouble!" I fancied that I heard glasses rattling in the cupboards, plates falling off the table.

Then, he calmed down. "Friend, you have big, big trouble. You've developed a crush. And on a girl who's 3 years younger than you. This is bad news, I tell you. And you want to play along? You must be out of your mind. But I cannot advise you how to get out of it. I can only tell you this: It's your heart. You're entitled to risk it." I wrote that down in my book. Then he continued, "Don't go overboard, my friend. This can never last. Girls that age are trouble, and they know little of the way of the world. But let me say this: There's a reason that they call your situation a crush. Do you know why?" I shook my head. "Because that is what is going to happen, believe me. Sooner or later, she will crush you."

I protested. "She's not that type. Her brother wouldn't allow it. They are very close, and I know for a fact that he is quite protective of his baby sister!"

Wayne shook his head. "No way. It's trouble, I tell you. Listen to this song, and remember what we've just said." A Beatles song started up. The first line, "She's got the devil in her heart." And the reply, "She'll never hurt me; she won't desert me...."

"It's not like that," I said. "Just remember what my social life is like. You've been on a heck of a lot more dates than I have. Of course, even if you only had one, you'd still have been on more than I! While I grant you that you have a heck of a lot more experience, you don't know her! Until just now, you didn't even know her name! And I admit I barely know her, but I know her better than you do!"

Wayne began plucking the strings of his guitar. I didn't recognize the tune, but he said "I can only tell you what I have. Don't go overboard. If you are going to play this game, you must be careful. Remember what I said: There is a reason that it's called a crush. She will, sooner or later, shatter your heart. And you know what that means."

I nodded. "Two of my friends. One is now in treatment for drug addiction, caused by a broken heart. The other--suicide. I like to think I am more stable than that."

"Don't be so sure, Mike. When it comes to love, things get a bit mixed up." Wayne then looked at me and said something I won't forget. "Believe me, Love messed with my head, too. It screwed me up, big time. That's why I wrote this song."

The melody he played was strange, haunting. He just played a melody. No words. Just music. It seemed to be a dirge, nearly a funeral march. The tune stays with me to this day. As far as I know, he never used the tune for any of his songs. Yet, I would, I promised myself-- I would use the tune for a lyric. I would let him use it, and maybe, someday, he'd have a hit.

He went to the Piano. Sitting down at the keys, he said, "This is what the whole thing sounds like." He played. It was the same haunting, flowing, dirge-like melody. The harmony was a minor chord, the counterpoint was death itself mixed into the music. After about 5 minutes, he stopped. And he turned to me. "Let's hope it doesn't come down to that for you."

"That piece you just played. Does it have a title? It's absolutely great! I mean, It's just unbelievable. You WROTE that? When?"

"Before I met you, Mike! 3 years ago, when Jackie threw me over. No, no title yet. Death of a Dream, maybe. But I've never really given it much thought."

"Death of a dream? Too morbid!", I said. "How about ‘Goodbye to the dream‘?".

"Good!" he said. "I'll add a lyric later. Or, maybe we can work on it together. I'll give you part credit for the words, buddy."

We had some lunch, talked about music. I considered a new plan of action for my way to deal with Diane. A while later, I had my decision made. I knew how I would proceed, but I would have to plan it out carefully. But now I knew what I had to do.

Wayne and I talked and played for hours. In fact, he and I co-wrote two songs that day. I also wrote down some of what he said, and would use his advice for starting lyrics on what I would write.

We talked, played, listened to music for several hours, and then it was time to go. I caught the 4:30 bus, and headed home.