Disclaimer: Everything I know about California, I learned from Google. The last time I was even in the States was 18 years ago, and that was Maine. And I don't own a single blond hair on either of their heads.
They headed out with Kirsten behind the wheel. Kirsten thought Ryan was being a little quiet, a change from the night before when they were at the ballgame.
"Is everything OK?" she asked him. "You seem quiet."
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ryan replied. "I just had a weird dream last night that I can't shake."
"A dream?" Kirsten asked. That explained why he was up in the middle of the night. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Ryan looked at Kirsten. "Not really." He most definitely could not tell Kirsten about his dream. He needed to tell her how he felt about moving to San Francisco, but not in relation to his dream. It bothered him that his subconscious equated Kirsten to Dawn; he didn't think Kirsten would appreciate it either.
Well," Kirsten considered, "do we have any of Seth's cards left? Did you want to do those?"
Ryan smiled. "Sure. I'll see what's next." He pulled the next card from the envelope. "Think happy thoughts. Tell about a happy childhood memory."
Kirsten and Ryan both got thoughtful. "Who wants to go first?" Kirsten asked.
"I will," Ryan said. "I think I was about 4. Trey would have been 10. I was outside, playing with my Power Rangers. Trey came by with his friends and stole my red one, 'cause he knew it was my favourite. He took off and I went running after him. He ran just fast enough so that he was always ahead but he stayed close so I wouldn't give up. I wasn't watching where I was going; I tripped on the sidewalk and smashed my mouth and got a big lip."
Kirsten interrupted. "Ryan, I thought it was supposed to be a happy memory. Please tell me this isn't your happiest memory from your childhood."
Ryan smiled. "I'm not done yet. I went crying back to Mom. She got a glass of apple juice and put an ice cube in it. Then she held me on her lap and we sat on the porch in the sun while I drank my juice so the ice was against my lip. See, it ended happy." Ryan paused. "Well, it ended happy for me. Trey might not agree. He got in big trouble when he got home."
"That was a nice moment with your mom," Kirsten agreed, "but I would hope you had some happy memories…" Kirsten wasn't sure how to finish her thought without offending him.
"That didn't involve anyone getting hurt?" Ryan finished for her.
"Well, yeah," Kirsten agreed.
"OK. You do your happy memory and I'll try to think of a happy memory that doesn't involve pain."
"Thank you," Kirsten said. "Can I say my happiest childhood memories are the years before Hailey was born?"
"No," Ryan grinned at her, "I think you need to be a bit more specific than that."
"OK. I used to love coming home after school and finding my mom in the kitchen. I'd sit at the table and do my homework while she got supper ready and I'd tell her about my day."
Ryan raised an eyebrow at her.
"What?" Kirsten asked.
"Your mom made supper?"
"My mom did a lot of things. We didn't have a maid or live in a mansion back then. My father was still building the business. We didn't always have money, you know."
Ryan shook his head. "I can't imagine Caleb not rich."
Kirsten smirked. "Neither can he anymore. I think that's why it took him so long to warm up to you. You reminded him of where he came from. But now I think you remind him of how he got where he did. He's really impressed with how well you're doing at The Newport Group."
"Kirsten, I get coffee. It's not that hard."
"No, you do more that that and you know it. Even Mike likes to work with you and Mike hates interns on principle." Kirsten saw Ryan's ears starting to turn red so she stopped embarrassing him. "But how'd we get there? You still owe me a happy memory with no pain."
Ryan was quiet. Kirsten started to worry that he might not have any memories, happy or otherwise, that didn't involve some sort of pain. Finally Ryan spoke.
"OK, Fourth of July when I was 6. Trey and I spent the afternoon in the backyard with our dad setting off firecrackers. Mom was making a picnic in the kitchen. Then we all went to the park for our picnic. Dad and Trey were playing catch. I had my first glove and Dad was trying to teach me to catch too.
"When it got dark, we all sat on the blanket to watch the fireworks. I got sleepy leaning on Mom, and Dad ended up carrying me back to the car when it was over."
Kirsten smiled. "See, that is a happy memory. And no one got hurt."
Ryan nodded. He didn't add that when they got home his parents started drinking. Or that Trey went into the backyard to set off more firecrackers and his dad got mad and hit Trey and broke his nose. He couldn't tell Kirsten that he couldn't think of a happy memory that didn't involve pain.
"Let's check another card." Ryan pulled out the next one. "What's a road trip without a rousing rendition of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall? Oh, he isn't serious, is he?"
"Come on, Ryan," Kirsten said. "We've done everything else so far. Don't wimp out on me now."
"I'm not a wimp. It's just…singing? Really?"
"You have a nice voice. I heard you singing with The Eagles the other day."
"I was not!"
Kirsten laughed. "You were, too! Come on, Ryan. Do you know the song?"
"Of course I know the song. Every kid sings it on a school bus at some point in his life." He looked at Kirsten, who looked back at him expectantly. "All right, I'll sing with you. But if you tell anyone…"
Kirsten laughed again. "You'll what?"
Ryan realized he couldn't threaten Kirsten. "I don't know," he said petulantly. "But we're not telling Seth that we did this card."
"OK. Your secret is safe with me, as long as you sing. But if you don't sing with me, I'll tell Seth how you sang at the top of your lungs."
"Fine!" Ryan relented. "I'll sing, I'll sing."
So Kirsten and Ryan started singing. "99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer. You take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall."
Ryan sang quietly and half-heartedly for the first 10 verses, but then he got into it. They got confused at one point and sang the forties twice (Kirsten stopped the second time they did 45 and asked, "Didn't we already sing this?" Ryan just shrugged and said, "What difference does it make?" and they kept going).
When they finished the last verse and there were no more bottles of beer on the wall, Ryan slyly looked at Kirsten and quietly sang, "No more bottles of beer on the wall, no more bottles of beer, go the store and buy some more…99 bottles of beer on the wall!"
"Now you're not serious, are you?" Kirsten asked.
"What else do we have to do?" Ryan answered. And so they sang it again.
Two times through that song was more than enough, so when they finished singing, Ryan pulled another card out of the envelope. "How about some real music instead of the caterwauling you two just did. Pop a CD in, relax, and listen to some tunes."
Ryan pulled the CD holder out and started flipping through the CDs. After Kirsten made him listen to that Harry Chapin CD, he was putting no consideration into what she might like to hear. He almost put Eminem in, but then thought again. It wasn't that he was concerned that Kirsten wouldn't like it; he was more concerned with having to listen to the lyrics in front of her. He finally settled on Journey. There was a possibility that Kirsten liked them too, but they were his favourite band to listen to when he needed to relax.
Ryan popped the CD in and then leaned back and closed his eyes. Kirsten glanced over at him and realized he was still tired from being up in the middle of the night. Kirsten tried to figure out what music Ryan had put on. She recognized it as music she listened to when she was younger but it wasn't one of her CDs. She tried to remember what CDs she had seen while she was flipping through them. Journey, she realized. Not a bad choice. At least this time he picked something of his.
Ryan had drifted off listening to the music. He started to stir as the CD ended and the car started to slow down. He sat up and tried to get his bearings. "Where are we?" he asked.
"Carmel-by-the-Sea," Kirsten replied. "I thought we could stop here and get some lunch."
"Sure. Where should we eat?" Ryan pulled out the California tourist guide that Kirsten had picked up at the hotel that morning, and flipped to the Carmel-by-the-Sea section. "How does Caribbean sound? I think the restaurant is just up ahead…" Ryan checked the address and looked at the street they were on. "Yeah, there it is. Bahama Billy's Island Steakhouse."
"Caribbean sounds good to me." Kirsten found a parking spot and they went in to the restaurant. Once they were seated, Kirsten started leafing through the tourist guide. "You know," she said, "when I was looking through this earlier, I thought Point Lobos State Reserve looked interesting. We could take a short trail. What do you think?"
"That sounds nice," Ryan replied. "But do you have the right shoes for walking through the woods?" Ryan was wearing his boots, but Kirsten had some sort of heel on, not exactly proper hiking footwear.
"I always travel with more than enough appropriate footwear," Kirsten proclaimed.
They drove the ten minutes from Carmel to Point Lobos. When they got close, Ryan noted, "We may get in for half price."
"Why would you say that?" Kirsten asked.
Ryan pointed to a sign. "It says it's only $4 if there's a senior citizen in the car." He grinned slyly at Kirsten.
"Hey," Kirsten protested, "I'm not that old. And I certainly don't mind paying the full $8 to get in." She frowned at him playfully. "So cut that out!"
They drove up to the Seal Point Parking Lot. As soon as they got out, Ryan pointed out to Kirsten, "Look."
There was a squirrel eating a pinecone about 15 feet away. He was intent on his meal and was ignoring Ryan and Kirsten. They were fascinated with the way he kept turning the pinecone. "His paws look like hands," Kirsten said. All of a sudden, the squirrel dropped the pinecone and scampered up a tree.
Kirsten and Ryan started down the trail. Suddenly they saw something dart into the woods in front of them. It looked like a bird, but it was bigger than the squirrel they had seen in the parking lot. "What was that?" Ryan asked.
Kirsten pulled out the brochure they had been given when they entered the park. "I think it was a quail," she said after looking through the paper.
"Wow, I've never seen a quail before," Ryan said.
"Me either," said Kirsten. "Well, I've never seen one alive before. Though they are quite tasty."
Ryan looked at Kirsten incredulously. "I can't believe you just said that."
"Why?"
"A beautiful bird walks by and you want to eat it."
"Well, you've seen cows before and you still eat hamburgers and steaks."
"I'm not saying you can't still eat quail; it just doesn't seem right to talk about eating quail in the middle of its home."
Kirsten laughed. "All right. No more talk of eating the wildlife."
"That's all I ask," Ryan replied.
They walked along in companionable silence, enjoying the solitude of nature, until they reached the first lookout at Headland Cove. Ryan looked out at the kelp beds and saw some otters playing together. Then they walked down the natural staircase in the rocks to the lower trail. They heard the sea lions before they could see them out on the rocks. They were barking very loudly and making lots of noise. They were amazing to watch. The sea lion would make its way clumsily across a rock, slip into the water, and then swim gracefully away.
Ryan leaned closer to Kirsten and said, "If you're lucky, maybe one will come closer and start a conga line, since you didn't get to do one with Lou Seal last night."
After watching the sea lions for a while, they headed back up the trail to continue the trip home.
TBC7
