Different Paths Different Paths... She didn’t know that it was a homecoming of sort. They traveled north for the better part of the night. She slept off and on as He drove on trying to get a clear thought of why he was drawn to it. They were going to look out over the slate gray harbors and see what his ancestors had seen for a thousand years. His bloodline go back without exception to people that had lived on cold water harbors. Cold places like New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Galway Harbor. She went with him attempting to make contact with something in their recent past. Attempting to discover the days when they had a dream and a flow between them. These days they were more disjointed, more disconnected and neither of them were to blame. They came to find an agreement that they could live with, a reason to keep their connection in this life. Her past and her people were from the mountains. She was beautiful, dark and delicate, proud and hard headed. She saw life in the way of mountain people. She saw what was far off and planned far ahead and knew that distance was part of life. He saw the sea and planned for the day and knew only what was essential or practical for survival. His world was that you needed to touch it or it wasn’t for today. They followed the tourist signs and the carloads of families up the spiraling road to the summit of Cadillac Mountain. It broke into a parking lot with a vista of Bar Harbor. Bar Harbor was a fishing town that the rich found to be quaint and entertaining. A break from their lives in the city and a slow down to unite the family that they didn’t have time for in their world. They got out of the car and stood to see over the scrub brush, the laurels, hemlocks, and pines that made their stand on the rocky soil. It was a harsh place for anything. The soil was acidic and the granite covered most of the ground. Signs and guides asked you not to tread on the lifeless gravel and scattered plots of earth. The hope was that something would take root and help lessen the barren landscape. She went out ahead of him across the crest of rocks and towards the summit. The harbor lay below them, a panoramic view facing the East. Cadillac Mountain is a rarity in the Northeast, a mountain that actually drops into the sea. There are a scattering of islands and inlets as far as the eye can see. Today was overcast and the ocean looked dark and drab. In New England, the variance in sunlight has a profound effect on the character of the Atlantic. Sunny days you look out on an Emerald green Sea, Cloudy days are a gray or colorless mass of water. She hiked up to a plateau of granite that was spotted with either tourists or scrub grass. She turned and smiled before casting her attention to view below. It was a turning point in the day. The night before was a dark and dangerous time in the relationship. The mountain and the sea people in a futile fight for acceptance. There in the night, as always, was an abandonment of the ties gained in the day. The night was for other people, for the attracted and the self-assured. The Islands and the harbor were full this time of year. The people and the animals take full advantage of the short window of inviting weather. Soon it will be cold and unforgiving and plans need to be made to do your daily routines, but now life is easy and spontaneous. The air was crisp and a constant breeze blows a salty air towards the west. She stood a little above him and he watched her, as he was damned to do. Since the first day they met, He could take pleasure in the way she moved and the way she presented herself to those who might be looking. She put her hand on his shoulder and he could feel that the hate and disappointment from the night had finally ebbed. She needed so much and she didn’t know how to communicate it. He wanted nothing and needed to come to terms with how much he didn’t know about love and his needs… The day was their time and held promise and the fresh air gave a feeling of life. The plan was to have a weekend outside, to camp, hike, and enjoy all that that held. But the night had taken her toll. He was tired and worn but afraid to show it. Things often happened that way in their relationship. The good intentions were marred with the reality of disappointment of the night. The day, however bright lost some of its luster to the lingering feelings created by the night. They walked the crescent shaped trail as she talked of her family and the interactions that spill into their relationship. There was the typical trap of a gift shop at the end and they wandered in. Her mind drifted to her son and she held up a few things for him to see. The ride down the hill was uneventful and they both looked out the window and watched the spiral of the descent. The town was still bustling and he thought that they needed to create some kind of base to work from. She was attracted to the bustle and the shops and the people emerging from the shops that lined the street. They decided that each had some things to do and they left each other to themselves. The summer of that year was extremely hot and there had not been much of a rainfall. The typical water shortage warnings had come up and the radio would monitor the high electric usage that powered the relief that people sought. Today was a pleasant relief, cool with the hint of rain; not a threat but he watched the sky. But tonight would be cold and camp would have to be made. For anyone with enough sleep this is not a discouraging thing. The cold makes for a deep and primitive night out under the stars. The camp takes some effort but can make a man feel like he has staked his ground. She wandered off to do her shopping and his eyes looked towards the large inn that anchored the harbor. He made his way through the crowd and looked for a room for the night. He thought to hell with the camping and the fear of not having a good night sleep again. He came for and wanted the outdoors but the expectations that were in front of him caused him to relent. He took a room at the Bar Harbor Inn. He had to have some sleep; He needed to shut down for a while. She was one of the sea of people that wove through the small streets picking up mementos and creations from the local artisans. He wandered through the crowds looking for the telltale yellow that she was wearing. He always had a way of finding her; she threw off a signal. He could be busy with head down and he could always sense that she was near. He could pick up the slightest change in the air when it came to her. The Bar Harbor inn was a throw back to the days of the vacationing wealth. A Victorian style inn that was expanded and added to as needed over the years. The staff was pleasant and professional but surely people born in the surrounding area. The room was comfortable and clean with the emphasis on the bed. Sleep in the northeast is as important as nightlife is to places closer to the equator. The sea people work hard and play hard and look at sleep as a luxury. It is essential for well being but the day needs to be finished in order to partake in the stuff. The day (and the night before) was too much for him to follow his rule. He needed to sleep even though the day was not done. They made love and her smell and skin and promises of love allowed him let go and to recharge what was taken away. She took him fleetingly to a higher place that was warm and secure and full of hope. She then took over his dreams, she took over his senses, she led him to sleep and he fell in to her. Sleep was the woman that seduced him and she was his way of getting there. They awoke and he was feeling like a man his age should. The brightness of the day had faded and the dry leaves of the trees outside the window fluttered in the light breeze. She had not had enough of the village and persuaded him to take a few minutes more. He followed back up the long driveway to the edge of the shopping area while they held hands and talked. She had found a spot in her mind for things that she had admired during the day. His involvement would be in negotiation and acceptance. The night had come and the streetlights had started their glow. He watched her walk, and touch, and take in the things that interested her. He followed and he watched and secured all the things around her. The target for the night was a beautiful pair of masks that had nothing to do with this place. A set of primitive art from a place with jungle and jungle sounds and jungle colors and jungle fears. More errands were planned while she thought and looked and the familiar lines formed in her forehead. He was willing to negotiate the price and she probed him on his approach and what his exact words would be. The negotiation never took place; she offered and retracted the intention within seconds. She walked off into the crowded street of shoppers. The night was here. He wandered back to the hotel for the dinner that was to be at a set time. In to the charming hands of the Maitrde, off to the table by the window. The restaurant was the only five star offering in 500 miles. It was positioned to watch the yachts and the docks and the dark islands in the bay. People came from all over, guests, locals looking for that special night and the newly in love. He was seated and approached with the look of someone with a scar. He decided that the hollow feeling in his body might be partly from hunger and decided to fill it with a good meal. There it was, another night of watching other people do what he longed for. Another night where the priorities of the mountain and the sea people clashed and left disappointment. He stared out of the harbor and watched the moonlight dance and sparkle off the dark water. It is so simple for him to see that this was the way it is and it will always be. The center is not in the middle; it is following her around like he has tried to do. He looks at himself in the reflection of the window and then down at his own hands on the wineglass. He looked around the restaurant and watched the interaction of people and he wondered why it looked so easy. He is a good man he says and confirms that he deserves better. He needed to get her back to the city were they met and he would first thing. He needed to let this relationship, this intoxicating mist to dissipate. They would never be together and he finally realized it after Bar Harbor. He would never fully recover from her beauty and her promise. She would end it as she had learned in the mountains, knowing that she was right about him all along.
Copyright © 2003 William S Patten |