chapter 6 part 2

It had been years since he had been to the Bay Area, a place that felt like a foreign country compared to Southwest Ohio. Or maybe it was Southwest Ohio that was a foreign country to him these days. Even the sky is different in California. It is the light, an indescrible variation in color, contrast, and shine. Casey noticed it as soon as he stepped out of the airport, remembering not so much the quality of the light, but his time there with Anne. He had not foreseen such a rush of memories and feelings. Even baseball could not protect him.

Poor Oakland. Not the enemy A’s, but the city itself. The four of them would be staying in San Francisco, the city closer to perfection than any other city in the world. Oakland was the ugly stepchild of the Bay Area, forced to take the hand me downs of San Fran, the ugly corporate buildings, the crime, the ghettoes. Why would they choose to stay in Oakland, a city with nothing to do, when The City sat under that California light, its architecture, music, and character an accurate reflection of its respect for and celebration of life?

Every street was a reminder of her, every glimpse of the Golden Gate bridge, every cloud of fog. His reticence was not fair to Marin, and he tried to engage in conversation, tried to be close to her, but his heart! His heart and his mind did not have such a good relationship.

“Who was she?” Marin asked as they walked Fisherman’s wharf during the day of Game 3.

“Anne,” he said quietly, as if the mere mention of her name could shatter the wind off the bay. He stared out into the water, avoiding eye contact and hoping she would not continue.

“How long?”

“Nine years.”

“Wow.” She thought silently about it for a minute. “Mine was seven.”

“Yours?” He was thankful the focus had been taken off him for a moment, off Anne.

“Michael. He cheated.”

“So did Anne. Only I just recently found out about it. We broke up two years ago.”

“Four for me. I still haven’t gotten over him completely. We were supposed to marry.”

“Us too and me neither.”

“I can tell. You spent a lot of time together in this city?”

“We lived in Monterey for almost two years and came to the city on many weekends. Many, many weekends.”

“What happened?”

“The war happened. The war turned me into a beast. I pushed her away.”

“You were in the Army?”

“Yes.”

“Where was your permanent duty station?”

“Fort Bragg.”

“Hmm, interesting…” A frown crossed her face, as if she were putting together some sort of puzzle in her mind.

“What’s wrong?” Casey asked.

“Oh, nothing. Say, do you want to get some beers? I know it’s only one, but I know of a great place.”

“It’s never to early to start drinking. Especially when you’re trying to drown painful memories.”

“Amen to that.”

“She led him to the bar she had mentioned, which was in a part of town not overrun by tourists. They passed by a few Reds fans along the way who rejoiced at the sight of his cap, and an instant bond was formed between them, a feeling of kinship, even though they would never see each other again. The bar was a small place on a side street with a small sign above the door that read “Icarus,” the name of the bar he presumed. Inside was a darkness hard to imagine in the prime of daylight, and there were several people inside enjoying that darkness with drink and company. The two of them were intruders, strangers who could not avoid the inevitable stares and silence that befalls such an intimate kind of club. At least, Casey thought they were strangers, until someone shouted, “Marin!” which was followed by a chorus of recognition, and looks of envy were shot Casey’s way. There was the whole “I didn’t know you were in town” bit and the how’ve you beens, whatcha doin’ heres, and how’s Puritanlands. She grabbed Casey’s hand and pulled him to a corner table, shouting, “Manny, can you get us two Anchor Steams?”

She seemed to take a bit of pleasure in Casey’s confusion, like she reveled in the air of mystery in which she had just wrapped herself. She gave him that seductive smirk, the one that had drawn him to her in the store, the one that caused him to ask for her number, to ask her to accompany him to Oakland though he did not know a thing about her aside from the curves of her body. And here she was, introducing him to her strange, mysterious world, and he found her even more attractive.

“Are you from San Fran?”

“All over. We moved around a lot, but I spent a few years of my childhood here. My parents were from the area.”

She said “were.” That was a clue about her life, wasn’t it? That meant they were dead, did it not? Then they had something in common. She did not know anything about him, either, so the mystery was not all hers. Was it weird that he had asked here out here? Was it weird that she had accepted? Was it purely for sexual gratification that he had asked and she had accepted? They really seemed to connect and had none of those moments of awkward silence and gaps in conversation.

“This is my brother’s bar.”

“Oh, I see.” Is he here?”

“No, he’s in San Jose for the day – he owns another bar down there. I called him and am going to hang out with him tomorrow for a bit.”

Interesting. Is this why she agreed to the trip? Marin did not seem like the type to use people, so Casey relaxed, and they talked about San Francisco and less serious topics. Before they knew it, it was time to meet Sidney and bimbo at the ballpark.

“So, what do you do, anyway?” she asked him on the way to the stadium.

“I’m, um, in between jobs right now.”

“So how is it that you’re able to throw wads of cash around? I mean, there’s this trip, then you had it at the store, you bought that camera, and you’re not even working.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit personal considering we hardly know each other?”

“Well, I’m trying to get to know you better. And it matters to me. One of the biggest reasons Michael and I had problems was because of what he was into. He was involved in some sort of gambling ring. It grew too dangerous for me, and quite frankly, I don’t want to get involved with someone who is into shady ‘business’ again.”

Oops. What was he supposed to say? He tried to rationalize it. It was just a temporary thing, right? He eventually would get a legitimate job – he just needed a break from it all, just temporary, just temporary. She never had to find out, right?

“I have magic powers that allow me to predict the outcomes of baseball games – I’m making thousands off it!” She laughed, and he had avoided the conflict by telling the absurd and unbelievable truth. She could never claim he had lied to him if she ever found out.

Anne’s dominance of his sentiments did not extend to the confines of Oakland’s stadium, as they had never been there together and Marin was helping to keep her out for a time. He could not help by worry about her finding out what he was doing, and he often had to pull Sidney to the concourse to tell him what was going to happen. It was all rather stressful, but he had fun nonetheless – it would take a lot to ruin a Reds World Series game. The Reds lost the game, no suspense there, but the game was interesting up to the end, even making Casey doubt his feelings about the outcome. The Oakland fans were brutal, shouting obscenities at them and even throwing peanuts until bimbo went to fetch a security guard. Then, of course, came the after game chemistry project with Marin.

A thick fog conquered the next morning, potentially thwarting Casey’s plans to roam the city with his camera. Marin was going to spend a few hours with her brother, and they would meet up for a late lunch. His window of time to himself was short, but the fog forced him to change the plan. Rather than going to the high points of the city to take photos, he had to stay on the ground, under the fog, focusining on people rather than pretty scenery.

Native Americans once believed that cameras captured a person’s soul. They were right, to an extent. Casey looked into their souls through his lens, making copies with light and bent plastic, immortalizing single moments in time in a way unlike anything God had every done since fossilizing dinosaurs. Photography is truth, undeniable evidence of personality and emotion. Through the lens, he saw things he would never have noticed had he been looking at rose colored pretty scenery. He saw indignity manifest itself in homelessness. He saw helplessness in the eyes of drug addicts. He saw insecurities in stock brokers and bankers. It was not all negative, though. There were love struck couples, proud mothers, and playful children. He saw idealism, ambition, and hope.

He captured the image of a man in an Army field jacket pushing a shopping cart full of possession up a steep hill. How did he get that jacket? Was he a veteran? How did he become homeless? What was in the cart? Could he make it up the hill? Where was his family? Casey had no answers to these questions, but he did have the truth at that particular point in history. The man was struggling to push the cart up the hill. His weary face told the world he was tired of pushing, tired of struggling, tired of fighting just to survive. There were lines on his face that made him older than he actually was, lines that measured the time to death rather than the time from birth. The light and lens saw this, recorded it, turned it into a timeless story.

Casey had seen war, but his was not that different from the struggle of the man. Imagine the indignity of begging, the frowns, the stares, the get a jobs. There were different kinds of suffering, he supposed. The juxtaposition of the armies of homeless in the city with one of the highest costs of living in the world was startling. Click, click.

Hundreds of images were stored on his camera by the time he was supposed to meet Marin, and he trekked to the meeting pint somber and more in touch with reality. The fog began to thin, he snapped a few scenery photos along the way, and by the time he reached his destination, the sun was shining in every sense of the word.

She had chosen a place owned by a friend of her brother’s, a stuffy bistro indentured Casey would have never considered. Marin’s brother eyed him with scrutiny, an older brother, no doubt, watchful, suspicious of Casey’s intentions. The lunch was rather uncomfortable as the brother was persistent in his questions. “In between jobs” was not a satisfactory answer, nor was “I’m not looking until after the Series.” An alarming sensation slithered slowly into his mind, an idea, a worry that perhaps his association with Sidney, that the profitable sorcery of his imagination was producing a shroud of sinister mystery about him, enough to cause Marin’s brother concern. Why else would he have reason to distrust him, why the questions, the frowns? It seemed much more than protection – there was a hint of preemption in his voice, an offensive cast over his words, subtle but threatening nonetheless, as if he were trying to repel Casey, to ward off his advances towards his sister. It certainly was a different kind of battle, one fought in an extra sensory field, and Casey scowled at the implication that he wasn’t good enough for Marin.

She had seemed so powerful, so confident, even arrogant until he saw her next to her brother. Her power paled in comparison to him. Perhaps it had something to do with the Italian in them. That imagination of Casey’s ran through mobster movies, stereotypes, and clichés until he laughed out loud.

“What you laughing at?”

“Oh, nothing. Say, can I take a photo of you tow?”

“Sure,” Marin replied. “Why?” asked her brother.

“Oh, well, I bought this new camera recently and am learning how to take photos of people…”

“New camera? Looks expensive. Can you afford that, being unemployed and all?”

“Not to worry, I have a sizeable savings.”

“Who’s your father?”

“What? I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“I assume that since you seem to have money, you come from money, so who’s your father?” he replied like a bully. He had some nerve.

“First of all, I don’t come form money, I earned what I have.” Did I? “Secondly, my father is dead, and thirdly, I don’t appreciate your questioning or your tone.”

“If you’re going to date my sister…” he stood up.

“Frank, sit down.”

“I just asked if I could take your photo. What’s your problem?”

Marin pulled him down and kicked him.

“Are you a reporter or something?” he asked.

“No. You know what? Forget it. I won’t take your picture. I just thought you guys might like a photo together. Forget I asked.” Frank’s face softened Casey’s standing up to him must have changed his mind or something. He relaxed, sat back, took a sip of Chianti.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just, she’s my sister, you know? I don’t’ want her seeing just any guy. Come on, take the photo.”

“Sure, sure,” Casey said with a wave of te hand and withheld satisfaction. It was his turn to be suspicious, but he would refrain from the questions. He snapped the family portrait, finished his wine, and was happy to see it was time to head to the ballpark. A Reds win was just what he needed to recover fro the uncomfortable lunch.

Marin apologized for her brother’s behavior on the way there, making excuses for him that Casey ignored. He remained silent as Marin fretted about what had happened. There was a tension between them, but it was not the good kind. Some seven dollar beers and some baseball later, he was over it. She put her arms around his and laid her head on his shoulder sometime around the fourth inning, and though his initial reaction was to pull away, truth was she was turning him on, so he let her stay there until his arm went numb and he escaped to the bathroom.