Oregon Coast Ch. 02

Being wealthy isn't as great as it sounds. I never tried being poor, of course; when your name is the same as one of Oregon's biggest timber companies that's not really an issue. It was always understood that the family money was just that: there to be taken care of, added to, and used as needed, but not ours to waste. The only thing worse in my family than wasting money was acting superior because of our luck in ancestors. I'll never forget the time my brother (who for a while we actually had answering to "Dumb Dave") tried to impress some airhead girls by making fun of the Hispanic laborers who were building Mom's new formal garden out past the pool house. Dad didn't say much- he never did- but the look in his eyes scared me. A couple weeks later Dad told me quietly that Dave wouldn't be going with us to sail the San Juan Islands when school got out, and we should find another crew member. When we saw Dave again, he had a lot of stories about the fish cannery in Alaska where Dad had sent him to spend the first half of the summer gutting salmon. He had callused hands, some expressions that almost gave our Spanish master a heart attack, and a deep respect for the hard working Mexicans who had shown him the ropes on the fish line.

Anyway, when I finished prep school I had enough money in the trust fund to go to Europe for a while. I had been All-American as a soccer goalie, and figured I should go take the European leagues by storm while I was hot. It took me a couple of years bouncing around the bottom levels of the UEFA to realize that being hot in American soccer was a long way from being a star in European football, and I just wasn't going to make it to the top with the skills I had. I went back to the US to finish college knowing that I didn't have to wonder for the rest of my life what would have happened if only had given it my best shot.

College was a bad fit socially, since most of the students were fresh out of high school and excited to be on their own away from Mom and Dad for the first time. I did my own thing, studied, and ignored the campus partying for the most part. After celebrating Hogmanay with the West of Scotland Football Association, a bunch of kids drunk on Keystone just didn't impress me.

One night I was walking back to my apartment across campus and encountered a bunch of said drunk frat boys who decided to make cracks about my Real Madrid jersey. I was annoyed- Real Madrid is a hell of a team and I had worked hard for that jersey, even though I never actually made the team. I told them to piss off, and they started making cracks about "soccer fags" and getting hostile. I was starting to wonder if I had gotten in over my head when I heard a deep voice behind me.

"Hey, guys, are we going to have a problem here?"

I looked around. The speaker was something over six feet tall and at least half that wide, none of it fat. His voice and smile looked friendly, but his attitude made it clear that if they jumped me he was more than willing to jump in and even things up. Typical loudmouths, they muttered some threats and disappeared. I stuck out my hand.

"Hey, thanks for the help!"

"It's nothing. I get tired of these stupid kids getting drunk and causing problems for people who are here to learn something."

"Well, can I buy you a beer anyway?"

"Sure, why not?"

That's how I first met Brian. We both had seen something of the world and were there to get our educations and move on. Brian never said much about his background, but he didn't appear to have a family that stayed in touch with him and occasionally mentioned dealing with the VA to pay his tuition. I once asked him how he got the terrible scars on his arm, and he mumbled something about "Afghanistan" in a way that discouraged me from probing further. He was a hell of a decent guy, though, and we quickly became friends. He got in the habit of coming home with me for the holidays, and we spent quite a few weekends out at my family's house on the Oregon coast fishing and doing the constant maintenance a beach house needs.

After graduation, he went to work for a good sized construction company and I took the place that was waiting for me in the family timber business. Brian appeared to be doing well, and Dad had already made clear, in his quiet way, that when he was ready to buy out the company he was to come to Dad for the money. Dad got where he is partly by being a good judge of character.

When we got out to the beach that weekend, we found my uncle's company running team already there. They're cool people for the most part, and we had plenty of space. Brian looked a little dazed after the introductions, but I didn't give it a lot of thought. Once we got to work on the deck we intended to fix, the reason became clear.

"Tell me about Jennifer!"

"She's a terrific girl. Sweet, smart, and you obviously noticed how pretty she is already. Toss me that pry bar."

"Catch. Some of those folks seem to think that you and her have something going?"

"Oh, some of those busybodies at Uncle Graham's ad agency think we'd make a good couple. Every time I go over there they manipulate me into taking her to lunch."

"And you don't like her?"

"I think the world of her! We realized after the first couple lunches that we just don't have any romantic attraction to each other. She calls me sometimes when she needs someone to go to some social function with her, and vice versa, but that's as far as it goes. I guess people see us together at those things and jump to conclusions."

"You telling me a girl that looks like that can't find a date? I can't believe that!"

"More like she gets tired of men constantly chasing her. She's got her own life going and she's not man-hungry like a lot of these girls. She doesn't seem that interested in dating."

Brian was grinning.

"And you can't take those weird girls you like to date to high society functions!"

This was an old jibe, and I knew it was a loser for me, but I couldn't just let it go.

"Look, just because I got tired of those finishing school clones I grew up around doesn't mean I date weird girls!"

"Really? What about that one who HAD to show us the tattoo on her butt?"

"It was on her hip!"

"If it's even partly covered by her Pikachu panties she doesn't need to show it to people she just met! What kind of grown woman wears Pokemon panties anyway?"

"Uh... a cute one? What was Doc Miyahara getting so upset for, anyway?"

"He wasn't upset, he was trying not to crack up! He said later he had seen those same characters on the back of trucks in Japan when he was visiting over there."

"Don't tell me..."

"Afraid so. She said it said "beautiful flower" or something like that? Doc says it's actually Japanese for WIDE LOAD!"

I had to laugh at that.

"OK, I give up. That girl with the WIDE LOAD on her hip in Japanese was a little odd. Where's the tape measure?"

"Here. Yeah, I can just see your mom's reaction if she had decided to show off her butt tattoo at one of her parties!"

"Hip, not butt! I still remember Mom's reaction the time one of Dave's dates tried to show off her pole dancing skills. I don't need to see that again!"

Brian was an adopted son as far as Mom was concerned, and had privileges to criticize members of the family. In fact, I suspect she would have swapped Brian for Dave if she could have.

"They gave up on Dave acting like he had any sense a long time ago, but they still have hope for you. Why don't you pick out one of those preppy girls who won't give me the time of day and give them some grandkids like Mom's always talking about?"

"Seems to me that Bitsy Monroe gave you a lot more than the time of day last New Year's!"

"I'm not gonna confirm or deny that anything happened. Still, when I called her up the next week, she said that she'd had a lot to drink and didn't remember anything, and hoped I was gentleman enough to forget it too."

"Ouch. Sorry."

"I'm not. Who wants to deal with a sloppy drunk? I was just being polite. Anyway, you're avoiding my question."

I took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the deck.

"You know why those girls like me better than you? They think my last name would look awfully good next to theirs on a platinum Amex card! They figure any girl who marries me will be set for life. That's actually true, but I don't need a woman who's just interested in my money."

Brian sat next to me and popped the lid off his Black Butte Ale.

"You think your money is the only thing you have to offer? Maybe some of them just like cocky jerks!"

"Thanks, asshole. How do I know the difference, though? Anyway, come help me carry the lumber from the truck. We're wasting daylight here. Talk to Jen. Like I said, she's a great girl, but isn't a flirt. Don't take it personally if she's a little standoffish."

Oddly enough, Jen came wandering into my room as I finished getting dressed after my post-construction shower.

"Hey, kiddo, what's up?"

"Lots of people around here this weekend. Who's this Brian guy?"

"My best friend from college. Really solid guy."

"Yeah, he looks it. How come I never met him before?"

"Since when do you want me introducing you to new men? Why, you like them big?"

Jen turned a little pink.

"Hey, I was just curious! Don't jump to conclusions."

"Well, Brian's single, sober, solvent, and sane. One of the best people I know, and Mom wants to adopt him. Give the guy a chance if you're at all interested, and you won't regret it."

"Hmmmm...."

Jen looked thoughtful, kissed my cheek, and walked out without saying anything else. I kept my mouth shut- a girl's entitled to a little mystery- but I noticed that the two of them seemed to spend most of the evening deep in conversation. The next morning Jen was glowing and Brian couldn't stop smiling, and the looks they were giving each other when they thought no one was watching nearly set the house on fire. I don't need to know what, if anything, happened that night, but it didn't surprise anyone that they quickly became an item.

We were even less surprised six months later when they showed up for dinner with the gang with a diamond on Jennifer's finger and Brian grinning like the village idiot. All he had been able to talk about since that first weekend was how great Jen is, and while we gave him a hard time about it, the truth is we all liked her and figured he was a lucky SOB.

Brian walked in my back door a few weeks later looking stressed.

"Hey, John, if Jennifer asks I'm not here!"

"Trouble in Paradise?"

"Nothing serious. I'm still so crazy about that girl I can't see straight, and I can't wait to marry her. Getting there is about to kill me, though!"

"How so?"

"You know that apartment complex we've been building out in Beaverton? The roofing subcontractor flaked on us and I've been out there all day with a crew racing to cover the roof sheathing before this next rainstorm hits. Now Jen wants me to go look at china patterns or flower arrangements or some damn thing. I guess telling her that whatever she likes is fine with me isn't good enough. I mean, I lived on MREs out of the bag for nine months straight in Afghanistan and now I'm supposed to care what the plates look like? I just can't do it tonight!"

"Well, there's Guinness in the fridge, although I still say only a barbarian drinks it that cold. SportsCenter will be on in a couple minutes. Grab a beer and I'll call out for pizza."

"Thanks, man, I owe you for this."

"Keeping the groom sane is part of the best man's job. Don't worry about it."

The doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, and I grabbed my wallet and went to answer it. I cultivate a reputation with the local pizza joint as a big tipper, and they take good care of me in return. Instead of a high school Mario Andretti bearing a Meat Lover's Special, though, I found Jennifer on my porch. She had a friend with her- a Gothy looking dark haired girl I had seen around her house once or twice- and steam coming out her ears.

"Don't even try to tell me that Brian's not here, John! The big jerk's truck is out back!"

The Man Code is strict. If I could save a buddy from having his girl mad at him I had to do it.

"Look, Jennifer, this is all my fault. I, uh, asked him to come over..."

"Oh, give it up! You men and your stupid Code!"

Well, smart women can be a mixed blessing. She brushed past me and found Brian looking trapped on the couch.

"Brian, you knew we were supposed to go look at china patterns tonight! You know how long I've been waiting for you? If you aren't serious about getting married, just say so and we'll call it off!"

The look on Brian's face was painful to see. This had gone far enough. I grabbed Jen's arm.

"Come out on the deck with me. Now!"

She went along semi-willingly.

"OK, Jennifer, listen to me for a minute. First, he was just telling me before you got here how much he loves you and can't wait to marry you."

She was starting to relax a little.

"Really?"

"Ever since he met you you've been all he can talk about. I've never seen a man so totally head over heels as he is over you. It's almost disgusting."

A smile was starting to fight its way through her angry expression.

"Second, lighten up on the guy! This wedding stuff is a female show; he doesn't care if it's under a bridge or bigger than Princess Diana's as long as he ends up with you. Don't assume he doesn't care about the marriage because the fooferaw goes right over his head!"

The smile was winning out.

"Third, look at where he is. He started from nothing and is well on his way to building a solid future, and he's doing it for you. If he knocks himself out at his job it's because he wants a better life for you and the children you'll have someday. He's showing how much he loves you in his own way."

Now she was really smiling.

"Finally, would you really want a guy who's obsessed with flower arrangements and china patterns? I know some like that, and they wouldn't have kept the satiated smile on your face that you've had since you met Brian!"

Now she was laughing.

"OK, OK, I see your point! I guess all this wedding stuff has my perspective messed up. Now let me go so I can go apologize to the big dope!"

Brian saw her coming and stood up like a man facing a firing squad. She marched right up to him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him like she was trying to melt his fillings. He looked startled but caught on fast and didn't fight his good luck. Eventually she pulled back and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"Brian, I'm sorry. This wedding planning stuff has me going nuts. We need to take a break from it. Finish your beer and let's head back to your place. Your shoulders feel like you could use a good back rub!"

I caught Brian's eye over her head. He silently mouthed something like "I REALLY owe you!" He wasn't dumb, though; he grabbed her hand and got out of there as fast as he could. I shook my head and turned back to find the other girl eyeing me with disdain. I put on my best smile.

"Hi, I'm John. I know I've seen you around, but I'm not sure I know your name."

I might as well have said "Hi, I'm Gary Ridgway!" She looked down her nose and spoke flatly.

"Lydia."

I eyed her a little. Under the black spiky hair were big green eyes in a delicate face, and a smoothly curved body under the odd black clothes. A very pretty girl, actually, if you looked past her deliberate efforts to look strange. Not that it looked like it was going to matter to me.

"Uh. Listen, you want some pizza? Looks like I'm not going to have all the guests I thought."

"No. I have to go."

And out the door she went. It was strange- I know I don't look like Brad Pitt, but most women don't hate me on first sight either. A minor mystery at best. I grabbed a slice of pizza and went to check the World Cup rankings on satellite. As soon as I found the channel the doorbell rang. There was Lydia on the porch.

"I just realized that Jennifer took off with the car keys. Can I call a cab?"

"Don't bother. Let me grab my keys and I'll drive you home."

"Well, if you insist."

Nothing seemed to melt her ice. I couldn't see why a girl as sweet as Jennifer hung out with this snob, but I never claimed to understand women.

When I found my keys, I remembered that Dave had borrowed my pickup and left me his Porsche 911 until he brought it back. Most girls don't mind a ride in a 911, but Lydia obviously wasn't most girls.

"You want me to ride in this?"

"It's what I have at the moment, unless you want to wait until my Rolls Royce gets back from the shop. Sorry if it isn't good enough for you!"

She finally looked a little ashamed of herself.

"Sorry, I'm just not used to cars this fancy. I'm more into bicycles myself."

"It's just a car. My brother's, actually- he borrowed my pickup and left me this."

"So you're more the pickup type?"

"Ever try to tow a boat or haul firewood with a Porsche? It's not easy, believe me!"

Her smile suddenly made clear how striking she really was. She could have given Jennifer competition in the looks department if she had made the effort. That was the only smile I got that night, though; when I pulled up to her place she just said "thanks", got out, and went in the house without looking back.

It turned out that Lydia was one of Jennifer's housemates and was scheduled to be in the wedding, which was why they were running around together that night. I saw a lot of her over the next few months as the big event started to come together. To everyone else, she was friendly and charming. Me, though, she still treated like something she had to scrape off her Doc Martens. Once I overheard something about "rich smartasses" that might or might not have been about me. The fact that the description fit on both counts didn't explain the whole thing to my satisfaction. She wasn't just a weird chick with a pissy attitude; she was a genuinely kind and witty young woman and smart as a whip. It was only me that she couldn't stand.

Lydia really didn't own a car, and Jennifer kept assigning me to pick her up for all the activities and events that kept happening as the wedding approached. It was easier because I could just toss her mountain bike in the back of my Ram 2500 and drop it at her house when I dropped her off, which would have been complicated with the little Hondas and Toyotas her girlfriends drove.

One afternoon I had to go to the high school where she taught English to get her. I had been out in the woods all day cruising timber, and was dressed in my dirty boots and Carharts. The sun was out for a change, so I dropped the tailgate and sat on it reading a book as while I waited for class to let out. Pretty soon I was surrounded by a small crowd of teenagers. The faces were every color known to man, but kids are kids the world over.

"Nice truck, man!"

"Thanks. I work in the woods and it's good for dirt roads."

"Whatcha reading?"

"Henry Thoreau. It's a book called 'Walden' about a year he spent living in the wilderness in a cabin he built himself. He was kind of the first environmentalist."

"Cool, I guess. Whatcha doing here?"

"I have to pick up Ms. Lydia. You guys know her?"

That got a big, enthusiastic reaction. Apparently they all had her for one period or another and loved her class.

"So are you her boyfriend?"

"Not hardly. We're friends with a lot of the same people and I'm giving her a ride to meet some of them."

One big red headed kid pushed forward aggressively.

"Well, why not? You don't think she's pretty? Not good enough for you?"

This fifteen year old tough guy was ready to punch me for disrespecting his favorite teacher. I stopped myself from laughing just in time.

"Do I look blind to you? Of course she's pretty, and she seems really smart and kind too."