The charm of the entire ambiance is beyond fascinating to me. I simply adore the old town feel. It’s something we’ve tried capturing back home in Troutdale over the years but failed miserably. We could never come close being that we’re just outside of a major city. Leer County obviously doesn’t have that problem; they’re in the middle of Bum Fuck, Egypt.
While chatting with some of the locals, Drew and I find out that the closest big city just so happens to be the state capital. However, Sacramento is a little over four hours away on a normal day—and that’s normal as in ‘not a day when the beloved governor is bogarting the interstate’.
The folks from here are grounded and super friendly. Before today, I had a different impression of California. It doesn’t help that the media tends to give Californians such a superficial rep. There’s more to the state than Rodeo Drive, sleek cars that cost more than most houses, and emaciated socialites with huge Gucci shades obscuring Botox-injected faces.
There are places like Leer County that are simply back-to-basics communities. It’s a village where everyone knows everyone and neighbors still help neighbors. This is the kind of place where one would dream of raising their kids.
One local merchant had me taste her delicious homemade strawberry jam, which I ended up buying a jar of. Soon after, Drew and I venture over to the burrito stand. Thankfully, Mr. O’Brien lets me pay for my own meal this time.
Not only am I taking in all the wonderful sounds, sights, and smells of this small town, but I’m really enjoying my time with my travel companion He is a captivating stranger who certainly doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore. Hell, we just had our first argument not long before we got here.
The blowup from earlier appears to be a distant memory as he and I peruse the festival grounds, sharing personal tidbits about ourselves. I find out that Drew is a tech genius with a brilliant business mind to boot. He enjoys spending time with his parents and his younger brother, who is actually the same age as me. In turn, I tell him that my father and I have been each other’s rock ever since my mom passed away seven years ago.
In the midst of our talk, I begin to feel mournful. Not about Mom, since I believe she’s in a much better place. Oddly enough, my present sadness stems from being unable to recall the last time Jake and I spent time together like this. I don’t remember a time when it was just us at some park or outdoor event having a genuine heart-to-heart discussion. If we were ever someplace like a concert or a festival, we always had a posse with us.
This moment right here, right now with Drew feels…
Authentic?
We reach the area of the festival where rows of vendors peddle their creations in their individual booths. There’s fascinating artwork and sculptures as far as the eye can see. But what captivates me the most are the booths showcasing handmade jewelry.
“Sorry, I’ve gotta take this call real fast,” Drew sighs with his phone in hand. He’s visibly perturbed.
“Sure,” I respond, putting him at ease with a light smile. “I’ll be here.”
He leaves and I lose myself, browsing the stunning turquoise accessories at one booth. Rings, necklaces, hair barrettes, bracelets…you name it, they have it. There’s one item in particular I can’t seem to put down, no matter what other pieces catch my eye.
One hundred dollars? I sigh to myself. Talk about ‘sticker shock’. I keep looking, but I don’t have the heart to put the bracelet back down just yet.
“Quen?”
I startle when I hear a male’s voice call out my name close by. I’m thrown off because I literally saw Drew take off in a completely different direction than where I’m hearing my name. I look up from the bracelet in my hand and my eyes land on a guy standing behind the counter.
“Quen Waverly?” he asks.
I squint, confused. This guy looks to be my age. He stands at about Drew’s height…maybe even taller. He has brown flawless skin and very short, black tapered hair. But the one thing that’s most distinct about him is his full set of lips. Reality hits me clear across the head.
Holy fucking shit…
“Bobby?” I gasp, barely able to breathe. “Bobby Fisher?”
The eighth-grader, not the chess player. It’s my middle school English class crush, right here in the flesh. His signature All-American bright smile takes over and I have to lean against the table to keep from passing out. Dammit—he hasn’t changed one bit. Wait…that’s a lie. As if the universe hasn’t been cruel enough, Bobby Fisher is now hotter than ever.
Oh, fuck me.
“Nice—we’re both here in California! Seems like light years away from Troutdale, huh?” He chuckles with that unfair smile of his. “How’ve you been?”
I’m startled yet again when he breezes from around the counter with outstretched arms. After hesitating, I hug him back.
“It’s so good to see you,” he murmurs directly in my ear. I shiver in response.
We hug for a little too long, it seems. Finally, we pull apart.
“Hey…” I grin like a maniac, “…you’re…here!”
I can’t conjure up any other words that will make me look less like the idiot I appear to be right now. Of course, I’d bump into my middle school crush at some random ass festival in Nowheresville, California. That’s just the luck of my life. From one disaster to the next.
“Yeah.” He continues to smile. “I’m here helping my mom sell her jewelry.”
“Holy crap, your mom made all of these?” I gasp, reviewing the gorgeous items on display.
“Yep,” he says proudly. “What brings you here? Are you still in Oregon, or did you move here to Cali?”
“Still in Oregon. I was just here in the neighborhood and wanted to see the festival. I’m on my way to visit a friend at the beach. Carmel Beach, to be exact.”
“That’s cool,” he grins. “You done with college, yet?”
“Just graduated from U of O.”
“Nice.” He nods. “Since graduating UNLV a couple years ago, I’ve come back to Portland and have been teaching and coaching basketball at my old high school.”
“Wow—that’s great,” I respond with wide eyes. So, he’s still in Oregon, too, my brain states the obvious.
“Yeah. As you can guess, summers are pretty wide open for me, so, I decided to hang out with my mom. She and my dad moved to Vegas after retiring four years ago. She now enjoys traveling all over the west coast with her handmade jewelry, doing these types of festivals.”
“Everything here looks amazing,” I gush. “Your mom is super talented.”
“She just stepped away to use the restroom. She’ll be back soon. By the way, she hasn’t changed all that much since you last saw her in middle school.”
“Man,” I sigh at the fond memory of her. Mrs. Fisher had already looked so young back then.
“And you certainly haven’t changed,” Bobby adds with a much lower voice. “Well, except you’re even more beautiful than you were back then—which seems humanly impossible.”
Feeling beyond awkward, I suddenly clear my throat. Don’t get me wrong…I’m flattered by the sweet compliment. It’s just, I’m a little taken aback by it. I don’t recall the boy of my dreams from middle school ever paying me such a compliment. Granted, he was just a thirteen or fourteen-year-old kid, but still. Back then, I would’ve moved heaven and earth just to hear Bobby Fisher say what he’d just said to me.