"No, I can't go sailing today. I have friends coming over," Elizabeth said.
Debbie lifted her sleepy head off the pillow.
"Hold on. Debbie, do you want to go sailing?"
"Yes." Debbie had perked up instantly upon hearing the word "sailing."
Elizabeth knew everyone in their high school class which graduated almost ten years ago.She still kept in touch with Rick Homesly, who was now on the phone and wanted to go sailing this Labor Day, ten years later.
On a snowy morning in November, Debbie sat on the school bus as it stopped at a white farmhouse and red barn amidst sprawling lawns, hills and a pond in the back yard. The new snow had just started to fall. A curly haired blond boy with blue eyes and a bright fresh face stepped up.
"It's a nice day," he said in quiet reverence, to the bus driver. Debbie watched the new snow as it slowly fell around him.
She never forgot that memory of the boy she graduated with, yet never got to know. Such was the case with most of the others in her class of 1980.
And now, here in Elizabeth's sister's apartment in Connecticut, she had the chance to go sailing with him.
"He probably won't pay for anything but he's fun. I'll give you a couple of hard-boiled eggs to take with you because he's impatient. He's a real baby about waiting. See if you can get him to drive you back here afterwards. But he can be a baby about having to drive," Elizabeth instructed her.
"He's here. Do you mind if I finish my toast? Then I'll be ready," Debbie asked politely.
He entered the sunlit kitchen. A slap-happy grin on his face, his hair had lost the blond color and was cut close to his head, the curls gone. He was clad in fishing gear, Debbie thought, a flannel shirt and cut-off jeans.
"So, you live in New York? I was up there at the Big Kahuna."
"I know that bar. I've been there twice. I can't believe he's been to the Kahuna!" Debbie said excitedly to Elizabeth over the breakfast table.
"If she comes back mad at me, don't blame me," he said to Elizabeth, as they got into his car.
His mother had lunch already made for them. Debbie stared out the big picture window. Suntan lotion, baseball caps, hooded sweatshirts, everything was packed.
"Do you want a straw hat?" his mother asked.
"No,' Rick insisted. "It'll fall off."
"My parents. They're from upstate New York. They don't have a clue." He explained.
Debbie admired the red barn, the pond, the acres and acres of sprawling lawns and hills.
"It's nice, " she said.
"Oh, you like that? I would've showed you...In the summer, we have otters."
"I didn't know there were otters on land."
"Freshwater otters. The pond is man-made."
"Oh, yeah?"
