AUTHOR'S NOTE: From this chapter onwards, sports figures will cease to appear in this story (only as passing mentions). Rejoice!
Legal Disclaimer and Crap: As always, I don't own the Raccoons. I would think of something witty to say or pose a question to the reviewers here, but since this is another long chapter, I feel I'd be better off leaving that out this time.
Chapter 5: Long Summer Days
Soon, summer came. As expected, I did well in all my classes. Bert had slacked off in some of his studies, but I had managed to help him, and he was able to pass all his classes. He was rather thankful for my help-as he told me, "Thanks, Ralphie. I don't know if I'd have gotten through all my classes without your help!"
As for that Indianapolis 500, Bobby Brunser indeed did get his win taken away and given to Mario Hendretti, but a few months later they voted to give Brunser his win back and instead fine him a large amount of money. What a dreadful mess. As for the driver badly injured, Danny Owlgais, he (much to our surprise) recovered and would return to race again.
Cedric had also come back home from UBC and we were now hanging out again, catching up on times we'd missed while we'd been at separate colleges. He was continuing to excel in his studies. When he came back, the first thing he showed us was his autograph book, which indeed was full of autographs of the race car drivers he met at Indy (all but perhaps five drivers had given him their autograph). He ended up giving it to Bert, who needless to say was thrilled to have Tom Sneva's autograph-which said "To my number one fan, Bert-Tom Sneva". Obviously Cedric had talked to Tom and told him about Bert. Bert nearly had a heart attack reading that. He still has the autograph book today somewhere around here (I believe it's under his bed).
It turned out we couldn't stay at our dorms in the summertime, so we ended up building a house deep in the Forest. This would later turn out to be our Raccoondominium, but of course, we didn't know that at the time. We needed to find jobs to be able to pay the rent for our house, so both Bert and I picked up summer jobs. I decided to work for Lassater's helping wipe off the tables (it wasn't a very lucrative job, I admit, but it did bring in a paycheck, so I couldn't knock the job), while Bert did some odd jobs around the forest, eventually working at Mr. Willow's store helping stack goods on the aisles. It wasn't before long that he started complaining that this job was too demanding, but when I told him we needed the money, he stopped complaining. We would put our money together to help pay the rent.
Since I was working at Lassater's, I ended up speaking to a lot of the customers, and one of those customers was, Melissa. We'd spoken a few times since we'd met there a month or so ago, but this was the first time she'd stopped at the café since I'd started working there.
I was cleaning up a table where a customer had knocked their coffee over and spilled it all over the place when she came in.
She waved to me. "Hi, Ralph. Fancy seeing you here. What are you doing here?"
"Oh, well, I work here now."
"You work here now? When'd this happen?"
"A couple of weeks ago. Since our first year at college ended my friend and I are now living in our own house out here, and I sort of needed the money to pay the rent for the place, so here I am."
"Doesn't seem like the best job, what with having to clean up after everybody's messes," she mused.
"Well, it's either this, or have no place to stay," I said.
"Ah, I understand. Wouldn't want that now, would we?" she said, giggling.
"No, we wouldn't!" I said laughing as well.
"So, Ralph. How did you do your first year in college? I think I did alright-I have only two more years to go!"
"I think I did reasonably well enough. My roommate, eh…not as well." As I said, Bert had slacked off somewhat-he'd been majoring in music and ended up in a music appreciation course, which meant he had to listen to music he had little to no interest in, such as classical compositions, and write reports on them (as it turned out, the teacher did not have much of an interest in rock music, having once played in a symphony orchestra, and thus the two of them butted heads from time to time).
"Well, that's good. Say, I haven't met your friend yet."
"Ah, no, you haven't." To be honest, I was a bit afraid to introduce her to Bert. You see, he'd said he'd stop teasing me about Melissa, but he hadn't really. The difference was that instead of calling her my girlfriend, he was now basically trying to find a way to set us up together. I was worried he was going to embarrass myself in front of her.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to meet your friend."
Uh oh. That might not turn out well. But, Bert and I had been planning to go fishing a few days from now. Perhaps I could invite her to come with us.
"Funny story. The both of us were going to go fishing this weekend. I don't suppose you'd be interested in coming along with us, would you?"
"Not at all. I'd love to," Melissa replied.
Now I did get pretty nervous. Nervous about what Bert was going to say.
"That's terrific!" I said, although not very enthusiastically.
"So what day are you going?" she asked, smiling.
"This Saturday," I said. That was two days from today.
"Okay then. Meet at my place, you can meet my dad."
"Where do you live? I don't know exactly where you live, you haven't told me." She hadn't, so I didn't know exactly where to go.
"Oh, that's easy! I live near Willow's store, maybe a minute or so away. You can't miss it."
"I'm looking forward to it." I just hoped Bert wouldn't mess everything up.
"Well, I've got to get going Ralph. My dad probably wants me home soon. It's nice seeing you again."
I thought her father was at work running his bar.
"Uh, isn't your father at work?"
"At work? No, the bar doesn't open until 7:30 at night." It was about one in the afternoon.
"Ah, well, I suppose I'll catch you Sunday, Melissa."
"Sure thing. See you later Ralph," she said waving as she left.
I was looking forward to going fishing with her. But on the other hand, I wasn't really looking forward to what Bert would have to say.
What was I to do?
Soon my shift ended and I went back home. Bert had already gotten off work (we both worked from 8:00 in the morning to 3:00 in the afternoon, 4 days a week; we had Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off), and greeted me when I came in.
"Hey Ralphie!" Bert shook my hand.
"Hello, Bert. How was your day of work?"
"I tell ya, Ralph, it was a tough one. Mr. Willow got a truck load of cereal delivered in today and it was my job to stack it all on the shelf. I tried to put it all up at once, and they all fell and I nearly got crushed under a bunch of cereal boxes. Fortunately, I was able to crawl out from under there and get them on the shelf. It was quite a day!"
I laughed a bit.
"Sounds like it. My day was pretty uneventful."
"Was it now?" Bert asked, suspiciously. It seemed he thought I had something to hide from him.
"Yeah. Nothing much happened."
"Are you sure?" he asked. I wasn't going to be able to just not tell him.
"Well, Melissa did drop by today…"
"So it must have been a great day for you, eh Ralphie?"
"Sure. I kind of…invited her to come fishing with us Saturday." I felt I might regret telling Bert that.
"Ah, good job Ralphie! You got a date!" Bert slapped me on the back.
"A date? I don't know what you're talking about, Bert."
"Sure, you do! I know exactly why you asked her to go fishing with us-you want it to be romantic. Don't worry Ralph; I'll try to stay out of you two lovebirds' hair." Not this.
"Bert, I have no idea where you got the idea that I have a crush on her, but that is not why I asked her to come fishing with us."
"It isn't obvious?" Bert said, surprised. "You always seem to look forward to seeing her."
"So? Maybe we're just developing our friendship. Doesn't have to mean we're in love."
"Maybe so," he retorted, "but it's at least pretty obvious you like her."
"She's my friend, nothing more. Why are you so interested in getting us together? You don't even know her." This was starting to really get on my nerves.
"I dunno, I'm just trying to help, is all."
"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like you not to."
"C'mon Ralph. You don't have to be so in denial." I was really about to lose my mind. I'd grown sick and tired of Bert doing this; I was getting ready to give him a piece of my mind.
"Bert, please, knock it off. I don't really appreciate this. I am in no hurry to be in a relationship," I grunted, "and besides, if I were taking her on a date, why would I take her fishing? I don't think there's anything romantic about going fishing."
"What would you consider romantic, Ralph?"
I'd never thought of that.
"Um…I don't know. Probably a nice dinner by candlelight or something, I don't know."
"Maybe that could be you and Melissa having a candlelight dinner someday. Don't you think so?"
I was getting ready to just ignore him and go watch television (maybe they had some good sporting event on), but I decided to lay it down first: "Bert, Melissa and I are friends. That is all, nothing more. Do you understand that?"
Bert continued to have a bit of a goofy look on his face. "Well, that's what your mind tells you Ralph. If you don't mind me asking, though, what does your heart tell you?"
I was definitely not prepared for a question like that. What did my heart tell me? I didn't know for sure. Was she in my heart? I had to look inside myself to know for sure. But I couldn't know for sure. I was dreadfully confused. Did I like her as a friend? Did I like her as more? I just didn't know what to say.
"I…don't know Bert. I have not thought about that. I'm terribly confused. I don't know what I think right now." I think he'd actually broken my brain.
"Ah, gee, uh, sorry, Ralph. I didn't mean to ask that."
"No, it's alright. I…think I'll just go watch TV."
That night, I had trouble sleeping. Bert's words were still ringing through my head. What does your heart tell you, Ralph? What does your heart tell you, Ralph? I could not honestly say. I liked Melissa enough, she was friendly and seemed pretty nice, but did I like her as more? I didn't know her really well, and we hadn't talked all that many times, but did I have some feelings for her I didn't know I had? Did she have those same feelings about me? It might go a long way towards explaining why she seemed so excited to see me. But it all didn't seem to make sense to me. I kept tossing and turning in my bed, as I just felt so confused and bothered. I eventually drifted off to sleep after a rather long time (it had to be several hours) thinking about this.
Saturday soon came and I'd managed to forget about what Bert had said. It was like he'd never spoken those words at all. I woke up that morning and prepared to go head out to meet Melissa at her place. Bert was still asleep, and I hoped I wouldn't wake him up. Fortunately, I managed to get out without tripping over something and waking him up. I jumped on my bicycle and pedaled over to Melissa's place. I'd actually sold my car once I found out I didn't have enough money to keep it, so I bought a bike instead. It was more environmentally-friendly.
I soon found her house-it was within a minute's ride from Willow's store. I got off my bike and knocked on the door.
"Hello?" I asked. "Anybody home?"
No answer at first.
I knocked again.
"Hello, is somebody there?"
The door opened and a middle-aged raccoon with greying fur and an eye patch on his head covering his left eye stepped out. I presumed that this was Melissa's father, Mr. Mulligan.
"Yes," he said, in the gruff voice I'd heard over the phone numerous times before when Bert had prank called his bar, "what business do you have here?"
"I'm here to see Melissa. We were supposed to go fishing today."
"Erm? Oh yeah, that's right. She told me about ya. C'mon in."
Mr. Mulligan guided me into his house. It was a fairly nice house, a little better off than mine. There were hockey and football posters all over the house.
He stood at the stairway and called: "Eh, Melissa, your friend's here!"
I heard her call back, "Just a minute, Dad, I'll be right down!"
So we sat down at the table.
"So, uh, what's your name again, kid?" Mr. Mulligan asked me.
"Uh, Ralph Raccoon, sir."
"Ralph Raccoon? You aren't by any chance Art Raccoon's boy, are ya?" So it was exactly as I thought-my dad was a patron at Mike's Beer Emporium.
"Yes, Art Raccoon is my father. I take it he's a frequent customer at your bar?"
"Semi-frequent, yes. Often talks about his boy being in college and that he'd better make something of himself because his future depends on it." I chuckled. That was my dad, alright. He'd always hoped I'd end up becoming rich or famous so he could retire comfortably from his job working in upholstery and spend the remainder of his days with a beer bottle clutched in his paws.
"Sounds like him alright."
Soon Melissa came down. "Hey there, Ralph." She waved to me and sat down next to me. "So, I see you've met my Dad?"
"Yes, Melissa?" I said to her. "We were just talking about our families."
"So, Ralph," Mr. Mulligan said, "you from the Forest originally?"
"Born and raised here, Mr. Mulligan." I didn't know at the time that I was born in Montana.
"Please, Mr. Mulligan was my grandfather. Call me Mike."
"Oh, sorry, Mike." I replied. It seemed he didn't prefer things being so formal.
"So what about you, Mike? Where are you from originally?"
Mike thought to himself for a minute, then answered. "Louisville, Kentucky, United States of America."
"You're from Kentucky? I've never been there," I said. I had no idea her dad was born in the American South.
"Kentucky's an alright place, wouldn't go back there for a million dollars, though."
"Ralph, you'd probably never guess this," Melissa spoke, "but my grandfather was a whiskey bootlegger."
Whiskey bootlegger? That was interesting. "I take it you were born during the American Prohibition, Mike?"
"Yeah," he responded. "Yeah, I was. Alcohol was outlawed back then and my dad would drive these souped up cars to haul illegal moonshine to paying customers. He had to outrun the law many times."
"When where you born?"
"1939." Mike said.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," I asked earnestly, "but didn't the American government repeal Prohibition before that?"
"Yeah, but not every county in every state agreed to those terms." Mike said, matter-of-factly. "Some counties chose to remain dry and keep booze outlawed. Said it would tear apart families and turn men into demons or some bullshit. I happened to be born in one of those counties."
"Ah, I see."
"Now you see why my dad's a bartender?" Melissa asked.
"I think so."
"Yeah. My dad died real young though, suffered a heart attack when I was 7 or 8. Shame. If he'd lived, I imagine he probably would have gone on to race in NASCAR."
I knew very little about NASCAR (other than the fact that it was predominantly a US-only sport, and that it was primarily popular in the American South), but from what I did know, I knew that it had been founded by such bootleggers who decided to compete against each other to see who was the best of the best, and thus, a new sport was born.
"Fascinating," I replied. "So, what made you leave America?"
"Ralph," Melissa replied, "my dad's a…draft-dodger."
"Draft-dodger?" I was surprised.
"Yeah, that's right. I am a draft-dodger. It was the 1960s and 'Nam was going on back then. The government was drafting all of us young ones into the army to go fight and die for our country because it was the 'patriotic' thing to do. They told us the only good commie was a dead one. I remember one song by Country Joe Fish or whatever-the-hell-his-name-was, going 'Whoopee! We're all gonna die!' or something or other. And it was just like that. A lot of the kids I grew up close to? Ended up coming back in wooden boxes. They got shot to death out there by the Viet Cong."
"Gee, Mike, I remember hearing about all that on the news when I was a kid. I knew it was pretty hopeless and grim over there, I didn't know it was that bad."
"Well, it was and then some. I was scared. I didn't want to go over there and die, I'm no hero. So I tried to get out of the draft by saying I was gay."
"I imagine that didn't work, did it?" At that time, the US Army didn't allow anyone who was openly homosexual to participate in combat. I didn't necessarily think that was right of them, but that was a rule they had.
"Nope, it sure as hell didn't. Didn't fool them, they realized I had a little girl and had been married. So I decided to burn my draft card, take the money I had, take my little angel with me, and fly to Canada so they couldn't draft me. I gave up my American citizenship and became a naturalized Canadian. Ended up in Prince Rupert for a while. We decided to move here to Evergreen Forest because the city was too big and crowded for my taste and the patrons I had at my bar were too seedy for my liking. Been nice living here. But," he said, nervously, "Ralph, I must tell you something. I can never go back to America. I dodged the draft, I broke the law. If I ever do return to the US they'll probably arrest me and throw away the keys. I live in fear they might come up here and get me one of these days."
"I don't know if they'd arrest you now," I said, "Vietnam has been over for years, I'm not sure if they'll even prosecute you these days. I believe if I read the news correctly, the American President promised amnesty to all of the draft-dodgers."
"That's correct," Melissa said. "I remember hearing about that."
"Perhaps you're right," Mike said, "but I just can't ever go back. I've been here too long; it's become my home country. You understand, right?"
"Sure." I did understand that, it had to be very hard for him to talk about that, and I didn't mean to stress him out. "Sorry if I bothered you asking that question, Mike."
"Nah, it's alright, kid."
"So, what happened to your mother, Melissa?"
"My mother died when I was just a tiny kit," Melissa said, sounding fairly sad. "I think she died of breast cancer, I'm not sure. The one thing I am sure of is that I don't remember her at all. I don't know what it's like to have a mother, I'm not sure you can understand what that's like. All I have are some black and white photographs of her. I wish I had memories to go along with them." She sighed.
"I'm sorry, Melissa." I did feel kind of bad for her, it had to be pretty hard growing up without a mother or a mother figure. Cedric knew what that was like; his mother had also died when he was a baby.
"No, no, it's okay, Ralph." She said, smiling again. "I figured you'd have to find out sooner or later."
"Funny story about her." Mike started saying, to no one in particular. "Her mother was a lot like her. She used to have a big camera with her and wanted to work for the press. I met her right towards the end of high school. One thing led to another, we ended up dating, we ended up screwing," I grimaced upon hearing that (I didn't particularly want to know that much!), "and she ended up getting, ah, knocked up. Kind of got forced into marrying her. It was one of those shotgun wedding type things. You know what I'm talking about?" That was more than I felt I needed to know.
"I, I think so."
"Sadly by the time Melissa was born, she was already starting to suffer from cancer. It was too late for us to try treating it, plus it was waaaaaaay outside what we could even begin to dream to afford. She ended up wasting away and dying. I was devastated. I've never been with a woman since."
I actually felt pretty sorry for Mike.
"Never?"
"No, never. I've met many women but there was never one like Allie." I took it that that was her mother's name. "You know what I mean, when you find that one woman you couldn't possibly imagine living the rest of your life without?"
"I can't say that I do." I wasn't honestly sure I'd met that woman.
"Well, trust me, kid. You'll know when you find her. You will definitely know."
"Dad, isn't this a bit much?" Melissa asked. "I don't think Ralph needs to know our complete family history or anything yet, you just met him."
"Oh, you're right, honey. Sorry. Didn't mean to carry on like that."
"No problem, Mike." I said.
"I bet you're wondering why I'm wearing an eye patch." I didn't particularly want to know, I had not asked that because I did not want to get on his bad side.
"I would have asked, but I thought it might offend you."
"Nah, not it all. You see, I was a real dumbass kid. A real dumbass kid. I was 5 years old and got into my dad's guns. I was playing with one of his guns and I pulled the trigger. It went off and blew my eyeball out. Still got the bullet in my skull. I ended up getting it stitched up. Wanna see?"
"No, thanks," I replied. I did not want to see something like that right now.
"It's not that bad," Mike said. "Here, I'll show you." He took off his eye patch. He wasn't kidding-his left eye was indeed sewn shut.
"Dad!" Melissa shouted. "Please, put your eye patch back on, Ralph doesn't need to see that!"
"Sure he does." Mike said, putting his eye patch back on. "I show that to everyone."
"I wish you wouldn't," Melissa said, shaking her head. "My dad," she said to me, "sometimes I just don't know about him."
"I know exactly what you mean."
"Well, it's been nice talking to ya, Ralph, but I figure I should let you and Mel go off and have your little fishing fun. No need to keep you two listening to boring old me."
"Okay," I said, "but I do have one last question for you, Mike. What is it like being a bartender?"
"It's a good job," Mike answered, smiling a bit. "I get to meet all sorts of fascinating people. And low-lives. But…" he said, now looking a bit upset, "I'm getting sick and tired of these smart-ass kids prank calling me asking for the guys and gals with the funny names and crap. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. I get sick of having to ask for the 'I. P. Freeleys', the 'Mike Hunts', the 'Phil Miazes', the 'Ima Weiners', and the 'Jacques Strappes'. I get these all the damn time. Sometimes they call asking if my refrigerator's running. But the worst ones call up and say 'Hi. Is Mike Mulligan there?' And I say, 'Yes sir, that's me. What do you want?' And those snot-nosed little jerks say, 'Mike Mulligan, can I borrow your steam shovel?' Bratty little assholes. I can't stand them. I'm scared to think what the next generation of children will look like. I can't imagine what I'd do if I found out one of them was dating my little darling, I'd KILL THEM, I tell ya, I'D KILL THEM!"
I knew what he was talking about. When I was a young kit, I remembered reading a kids' book called Mike Mulligan And His Steam Shovel. It was about a raccoon by the name of Mike Mulligan who owned a steam shovel (I couldn't remember much else). I felt pretty bad for him, no man deserved to be pestered like that while trying to make a living.
"Wait a minute," he said, suddenly getting angry. "You're not one of THEM, are you? ARE YOU?" His tone of voice had gotten downright ugly.
"No, no," I said. I thought stuff like that was disgraceful and woefully immature. "I would never do anything like that. That is below me. I don't think it's polite at all to prank call someone."
Mike's tone of voice changed back to his usual gruff tone, "Well, good on you, kid. Nice to see a kid who has some manners to him. I'll tell you what. You're alright Ralph."
I took that to mean he'd taken a liking to me. So I shook paws with him. "Thanks, Mike, I do try."
"Tell you what, kid. You ever got a problem, come to old Mike. I can try to help ya out."
"I don't think that'll be necessary, Mike, but thanks anyway."
"You're welcome, kid."
"So, are we ready to go Ralph?" Melissa asked me.
"Sure, Melissa." I was really looking forward to this. "I'll go get Bert up, come meet us by the dock at Evergreen Lake. See you in a bit."
"Okay, see ya there Ralph."
I rode back to my house to find that Bert had already woken up and was watching Saturday morning cartoons on television.
"Haha!" he said, laughing at one of the characters on the TV. "That Nestor. Couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag!"
"Bert, I'm ready." I said, as he hadn't noticed me yet. "Do you have our fishing poles?"
"Sure do, Ralphie. Is your girl ready?"
I sighed, but I'd already started getting used to Bert saying things like that. "Sure. I told her to meet us at the dock, by our boat."
"Goodie! Can't wait to meet her." Bert said.
"Oh boy." I had a feeling this might end badly.
"Well, alright then." Bert said, as he shut the television off. "Let's go have some fun!"
We took our poles and headed towards Evergreen Lake. It was a beautiful spot, and we would have a lot of good memories of this place. Though personally, my favorite fishing spot of all time was our old fishing hole. It's a shame that Milton Midas crook completely destroyed the entire fishing hole by dumping his toxic sludge into there. I was happy to see him get locked up in the local jail; he got exactly what he deserved. I only wish they'd have given him longer than they did. How could somebody do such a horrible thing? I don't think I'll ever quite understand.
We had a boat set up at our dock. Bert and I had built it together-well, actually, I did most of the work building it. Bert's role was primarily christening it the "S. S. Raccoon" with a bottle of cheap whiskey (we couldn't afford champagne). Usually, Cedric, Bert, and I would go out to the middle of the pond to go fishing, but today, Cedric couldn't join us, as he had business to attend to with his pop. (Probably helping Cyril count the money he'd lost due to his…disastrous, to say the least, excursion at Indianapolis.)
Sure enough, Melissa was waiting there for us. She was wearing a fishing hat. "Hi, Ralph!" She waved to us. "So this is your friend?"
"Yes, Melissa, this is Bert Raccoon. Bert, Melissa Mulligan."
They shook paws. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Bert," she said. "Ralph told me about you."
"Ah, Ralphie boy here told me a lot about you. Much of it was very flattering, I might add…"
"Really?" She smiled.
"You have no idea."
I hoped Bert wasn't suggesting what I thought he was.
"That's sweet of him," she said, sounding pretty happy. "I heard from Ralph that you were a bit of a troublemaker. Is that true, Bert?"
"Who, me? I don't look like a troublemaker, do I?"
"It's hard to say."
"Well, rest assured, I most certainly am not."
"I'll take your word for it. Ralph, what is Bert majoring in?"
"Ah, music. He wants to be the next Ritchie Quackmore and be like Deep Blue and tour the world by storm with his amazing guitar prowess." Those were exactly the words he'd told me not too long ago.
"You'd better believe it, baby!" Bert then proceeded to imitate the finger-flashing guitar style of his heroes. Melissa and I both laughed.
"Not really my style of music," she admitted, "but I'll have to see you perform to believe it. You'll have to show me sometime."
"I can do that no problem," Bert said enthusiastically. "Ralphie here can be my drummer. Isn't that right, Ralphie?"
"Uh huh." I said, though admittedly, I didn't really enjoy playing drums. "I can drum pretty well, I think."
"I'll have to see you two play myself."
"Certainly, Melissa," I said. We chatted for a little bit and then we got ready.
"Got all the fishing poles, Bert?" I asked.
"Check."
"Tackle box?"
"Check."
"Okay, then. Let's cast off!"
We set off from our dock and rowed to the middle of the pond. We set up our rods. I had built my own rod myself, Bert had sent away for a fancy rod (his family had more money than my family did), and Melissa was using an old fishing pole.
Bert had his set of fancy bobbers and fishing lures he would put on his hook to catch fish with. I never went fancy like that though-for me, the only proper way to fish was with the good old fashioned humble earthworm. I'd actually gone and dug some up yesterday and put them in a can to preserve them for today.
"Ralphie," Bert said, "you can use one of my bobbers. Works wonders, ya know!"
"No thanks, Bert. You can have your fancy fishing lures-I'll stick with my good old earthworms." I put the worm on the hook and cast my line.
Bert muttered to himself. "How old-fashioned."
I looked to Melissa. "Say, Melissa. Do you want to use some of my earthworms?"
"Sure, Ralph. I don't mind."
"Okay," I said, pulling one of the worms out of the dirt in the can and handing it to her.
"Uh, Ralph," she said, nervously. "I'd rather not touch that."
"Oh," I said. "Well, may I put it on your hook for you?"
"That would be very nice." So I stuck the worm on there, and she cast her line.
We were all sitting back, with our lines in the water. Bert was holding his rod with his foot, being a bit of a show off.
"I bet I can catch more than you, Ralphie!"
"I doubt it Bert. Any luck yet, Melissa?"
"Not yet, but we'll see soon enough."
Soon enough I found myself getting a bite. "Ah, a bite! I have a bite!"
"Reel it in, Ralphie!"
I managed to reel the fish in. It was a catfish.
"Uh oh, a catfish!" Bert said.
"Oh dear. Those things can jab you with the barbs in their whiskers." I'd known, I'd gotten jabbed by a few before and it really, really stung.
"If you don't mind me asking, you two don't keep any of the fish you catch, do you?" Melissa asked us.
I answered, "Nah. We throw them back after we catch them! It wouldn't be right to keep them-if we did, there'd eventually be no more to catch!"
"That's good. Those fish shouldn't go to waste," she said.
"Hold on, Ralphie, I'll get it off the line for ya!"
"Uh, Bert, I don't think I need your help, I can do it my-" but Bert interrupted me.
"No, Ralph, I insist!" He grabbed it rather carelessly and got it off the hook…only for it to jab him with one of its barbs.
"!" he shouted, as he flung the fish back into the water. Rather far, too. Melissa and I both had a good laugh.
"I don't see what's funny, guys," he said, looking a bit upset.
"Oh, nothing." I said.
"Maybe you should be more careful next time." Melissa said, winking at him.
"Eh, I suppose."
I soon caught a few more fish and tossed them back. Bert and Melissa hadn't had any luck yet catching anything, but soon enough, Bert got a bite.
"Hey, guys!" he shouted, ecstatically, "I got one! I got one!"
"Come on Bert, reel it in! You can do it!" we both cheered.
Bert tried his hardest to reel it in…unfortunately, the fish was too crafty. It managed to break his line.
"Oh dear…The fish ate my line."
"That's no problem, you have more, don't you?" Melissa pondered.
"No, I'm afraid not. I'll have to go home and put some new line on this. I guess that's all the fishing I'll be doing today." He sighed.
"It's alright Bert, maybe you'll have better luck next time." Melissa said.
"I sure hope so."
Hours passed and Melissa and I had caught a few more fish, but nothing really spectacular.
It was now close to dusk. I'd decided to call it a day, but Melissa still had her rod and reel in her hand, still trying to catch the big one.
"Sure you don't want to throw in the towel yet?" I asked her.
"Give me ten more minutes, Ralph, I think I might get a good one yet!"
"Okay then. Bert, start rowing back towards the dock. It's almost nighttime and I don't think we need to be out all day and all of the night. We need to get back before Melissa's dad ends up chewing me out."
"Oh, you wouldn't want that now, would you? Worried you might not get to see her again?"
"I suppose so."
Suddenly, Melissa jumped up. "Oh, I've got a bite here! Wow! It's a big one too!"
Bert put the oars back down.
"Can you reel it in?" Bert asked.
"May I help you, Melissa?" I asked, thinking she might need some help.
"Thanks, but I think I have it!" she shouted, as she struggled to reel it in.
After a few minutes of fighting with the rather large fish, she finally managed to haul it in.
"Wow!" I said. "A-a-a largemouth bass?" I was very impressed.
"I didn't even know those were in this lake, we never caught one before!" Bert said excitedly. "And you caught one! And it's big too!"
"Wow. I really did it!" Melissa said, also very excitedly. "I caught a largemouth bass!"
"Good job, Melissa!" I said, congratulating her.
"Thanks, Ralph. I brought my camera just in case something like this happened. Here, Bert, take my camera and let's get a picture of this beauty." She handed her camera to Bert.
"Okay, I'm zooming in." Bert said as Melissa held up the fish she'd caught.
"Come here, Ralph, I want you in this picture with me!" she said to me.
"Me? Well, okay." I said shyly as I stood next to her.
Melissa put her other arm around me and smiled. I smiled too, rather sheepishly.
"Okay," Bert said. "Say, peanut butter soda!"
"Peanut butter soda!" the both of us said. The camera flashed.
Bert took a look at the photo on the camera. "That is a good photo of you two," he said.
Melissa took a look at it. "I think so, too. I should get this developed. I'll give you a copy once I do, okay, Ralph?"
"Sure thing." I said. Today had been a great day. And Bert hadn't horribly embarrassed me, as I'd feared.
We tossed the bass back and we rowed back to the dock where we tied the boat up. Bert went back home, while I escorted Melissa back to her house (I figured I'd at least be a gentleman).
"That was some day, wasn't it Ralph?"
"Sure was. Haven't this good a day in a while."
"If you don't mind, Ralph, I'd like to do this again sometime."
"Really?"
"Sure, it was a lot of fun," she said, grabbing my paw. I blushed a bit.
"Uh…what are you doing?" I said, nervously.
"You're walking me home, remember?" She said smiling.
"Yeah, that's right." I said, still a little nervous.
We walked on for a little ways. "I hope your dad isn't going to be too mad we were out until it was almost totally dark."
"Nah," Melissa said, reassuringly, "he won't be. He's at work by now, remember?"
"Oh, wait, that's right." I had totally forgotten what she had said a few days ago. My brain was all mixed up now.
I walked her back home.
"See you soon, Melissa, hope we can do this again sometime."
"Wait a minute, Ralph!" She shouted. "You don't want to stay for dinner?"
"Uh, dinner?" I said, really surprised. She wanted me to stay for dinner at her place? No, I had to be imagining this. Was I? I pinched myself. Nope. I wasn't dreaming.
"Yes, dinner, silly." She said, laughing a bit.
"Erm, uh, are you sure?"
"Of course I am. I figured it'd be something nice. I thought about this while we were fishing, Ralph."
Suddenly those words Bert had asked me a few days ago were ringing in my head again.
"What does your heart tell you, Ralph?" I gulped. Not this again.
I must have been just standing there for a minute or two, because Melissa called from the kitchen, "Ralph, are you coming in or am I going to have to bring the food out here to you?"
I snapped out of it.
"Heh heh, sorry, I must have been lost in thought." I said as I walked in.
Melissa was cooking using her father's stove.
"You cook? You didn't tell me," I said.
"Of course I do! I learned to cook all by myself," she said, proudly.
"What's for dinner?"
"Tonight, I'm making flap-jacks and eggs."
"Flap-jacks? For dinner?" I was confused; I thought that was always a breakfast food. But at least it would be better than something with peanut butter involved in it, which is what I usually had to look forward to.
"I say, why not? There's no rule saying you can't have them for dinner." While it was…unusual, to say the least, she was right. I supposed you could have them for dinner.
"You're right," I said.
Soon, our meal was ready.
While we were eating, we made some small talk.
"What do you think about Bert?" I asked.
"Bert? He seems like a nice guy. A bit different though."
"Yeah, I know. I've known him since I was a kid, though, I know him pretty well. At least, I think I do."
"Never met someone interested in music like him before."
"He's been interested since he was a kid. He loves the guitar masters and wants to be just like them."
"Do you think he'll make it, Ralph?" Melissa asked.
"You want me to be honest?"
"If you don't mind."
"Honestly….no. No, I don't. I just can't see him being the big rock star he thinks he's going to be. I just don't see it, I really don't."
"Well, I wish him the best of luck," Melissa replied.
"I do too." I said. "He's had my back so many times, I've lost count. I feel I'm sort of indebted to him, in a way."
"I never had a friend that close. But I think I have one now-you."
"Really, now?" I answered, a bit surprised.
"Yes, I do." She said, smiling broadly. I found myself staring into her eyes for a moment.
"You don't say," I said, nervously. I seemed to be pretty nervous right now. I could tell she was sensing that.
"Ralph, you don't have to be nervous. Nothing bad's going to happen," she said, in a reassuring tone.
"Sorry, Melissa. I apologize if I seem a little awkward."
"It's okay. I don't mind, really, I don't."
We chatted a little bit more and soon we had finished our dinner.
"I had a lovely time today, Ralph. We ought to have more days like this."
"I think so, too." I replied. "But I think I need to get going soon, or else Bert will be wondering where in the world I've gone off to."
Speak of the devil, the phone rang. "Hold on, I'll get it," I said.
It was Bert on the other end, but it was obvious he was trying to make this a prank call at first. "Hello, is Mr. Freeley there? His first initials are I. P."
"Bert, no need to try to be funny now. I'm right here."
"Ralphie? What are you doing at her place still? You should have been back over an hour ago."
"I'll explain later," I said, "wait a minute. How do you know this number?" I didn't know he knew her phone number.
"We do have a phone book, you know…"
"Never mind. I'll see you in a bit."
"I can't wait to hear your explanation," Bert said as he hung up the phone.
"That was Bert, wasn't it?" Melissa asked.
"Yeah, yeah, it was. He wants to know where I've been alright. I have to get going. See you later, Melissa."
I went to shake her paw goodbye, but much to my surprise, she instead wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. "Huh, what?" I said, totally surprised.
"See ya later Ralph." She said, as she let go of me.
"Uh, bye." I said.
A thousand thoughts were going through my mind as I walked back home.
As I opened the door, Bert greeted me.
"It's about time you showed up," he said.
"Sorry, Bert. Melissa…eh…sort of invited me over for dinner."
"Oh, so she made you dinner, eh?"
"Yes, she did."
Bert suddenly got excited. "Did it involve peanut butter?"
"No, Bert, it did not involve peanut butter. It was a just a few pancakes and some eggs. Not much more."
"Was it," he said grinning, "romantic?"
"I don't really know, Bert." I honestly didn't know.
"Tell me the whole story," he said.
I told him the whole story, alright.
"Well, Ralph, I can say this for sure."
"What's that, Bert?"
"She definitely likes you. A lot, it'd seem!"
"Are you sure?" I couldn't honestly tell. I was really confused.
"Yes, I am. Think about it Ralphie. She grabbed you by the hand. She made dinner for you. She gave you a hug when you left. Doesn't it all add up?"
It would make sense, but I couldn't honestly tell whether she really liked me or was just being really friendly. "I'm not sure, Bert."
"How can you not be sure? It's that obvious."
"I don't know, Bert, maybe she was just being nice."
"Sounds a little more than nice to me, but suit yourself." Bert said as he was watching his late night sitcoms.
"I have one more question for you, Ralph." He said, grinning again.
"What could that be?" I was worried what he might ask.
"When are you going to stop being in denial?"
"In denial about what?"
"You love her. Don't you Ralph?"
"I do?" I said. I wasn't even sure what to say, I was so terribly confused again. I didn't know what was going on at all.
"Of course you do. You make it too obvious, and I think she can see that too, but I'm not sure." Bert said.
"We're nothing more than friends."
"If you think you're nothing more than friends that's all the two of you will ever be. You have to make a move Ralphie! Strike while the iron is hot!" Now he sounded exactly like my father.
"I have absolutely no clue what you're talking about, Bert. You're not making any sense."
"You really are clueless sometimes, Ralph."
"I don't think so. I'll be up in my bedroom listening to some of my old vinyls."
"Fine with me. I'll be down here, I can't miss my show!" Bert was laughing at something funny on the TV that I didn't notice.
I sat on my bed and listened to a few of my old records by some of my favorite groups. These included The No Album by No, and A Night At The Races, by King. But I could barely focus on the music I was listening to, all the things that had happened today were going through my mind, still. So after A Night At The Races, I just decided to go to bed.
But once again, I found myself having trouble going to sleep. Those words of the past few days were all troubling me:
"What does your heart tell you, Ralph?"
"You know what I mean, when you find that one woman you couldn't possibly imagine living the rest of your life without? Well, you'll know when you find her. You will definitely know."
"Come here, Ralph, I want you in this picture with me!"
"I thought about this while we were fishing, Ralph."
"I never had a friend that close. But I think I have one now-you."
"Think about it Ralphie. She grabbed you by the hand. She made dinner for you. She gave you a hug when you left. Doesn't it all add up?"
"You love her. Don't you Ralph?"
Aaaaaaaargh. This was all too much for me to bear. This would end up driving me mad sooner or later.
I ended up just sleeping on it.
END CHAPTER FIVE
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is, officially, the longest chapter I have ever written of anything, ever. Yet, I think this is definitely my best chapter so far. I was actually going to make this longer, but I decided to save the second part of this chapter and make it the next chapter.
The song Melissa's father mentions is the infamous "I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixing-To-Die Rag" by Country Joe McDonald and the Fish. An extremely anti-war song. Most famous for being performed with at Woodstock, complete with the infamous "Gimme an F! Gimme a U..." (Well, you get the idea) chant. Many people at Woodstock said it was the highlight of the whole festival.
Anyways, it looks like Ralph is starting to go through, as the great band Queen once said, that "Crazy Little Thing Called Love." (And so is Melissa, it would seem). But what is Ralph going to do about it? Will Ralph ever stop being in denial? Will he ever realize his true feelings? (Of course he will-SPOILER ALERT, not really) How does he realize his true feelings? But first, what will become of a trip to the city to visit his brother, George, and his family?
Anyways, read and review, as always!