The Bounty

A friend of mine spends an inordinate amount of time in the woods. He was quick to remind me that this was his plan all along. “Cameron, out of all the APU guys, I knew what I wanted and I got it.” He is a park rangers and sports an acorn printed belt that he proudly displays after a few Jameson’s. His shirt pulled around his pink ears – he will not rest until you have told him, “I see it,” at least three times.
He came to visit me on Saint Patrick’s Day. I had not seen him in two years. He was a little weathered by summers spent in the Brook’s Range but his eyes were still little boy blue.

“Cameron did we make out in the parking lot of that bar in Fairbanks?”
“No, Christian.”
“But we did make out one time.”
“Yes.”
“It was on a roof, right? Freddy’s roof?”
“I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Of course I remember that.”

He is the only guy that has called my father’s practice looking for my phone number. He has done this twice. I always wonder how the conversation goes with my dad. They are both ex-alter boys. Perhaps there is some secret code – no doubt in Latin.
He loves the Seventies. I once tried to argue with him about Tom Petty trivia and my boyfriend said, “I wouldn’t mess with him. If there is anything Christian knows it is Petty.” Turns out he was right – Kim Bassinger is the dead girl in the “Last Dance with Mary Jane” music video.
After Irish car bombs, we went back to my apartment in Portland. Talking till 2 am – he desperate to seem grown up and me as equally desperate to seem relaxed/secure compared to my nineteen year old counterpart. He told me how he belonged in Alaska, 1976. How he listens to Neil Young driving patrols in his truck and how it feels right.
I turned on Pandora radio yesterday. He left an America radio station for me to listen to. Fleetwood Mac, “Landslide,” slipped next to me. I was in his truck looking out on Yellowstone’s vast, frozen woods. He is one of the landslides in my life. He shows up with a roar of good intention, youthful enthusiasm, danger, and an energy that won’t be denied. When I miss being a freshman in Anchorage all I need is Tom Petty and I am riding shotgun with Christian – relaxed and hopeful.