Chapter 2 - Get to See the Girl

Nolan was sitting on the front porch of the house when Mike returned. He took one look at Mike’s face and broke into a wide grin of his own.

“So you met her, huh?” he inquired.

“Who?” Mike asked absently.

“Who? Geez man, where’s your brain?” Nolan chuckled, “Georgia Mitchell, of course!”

Mike set his groceries on the steps and sat down next to Nolan. “How can you tell?”

“Believe me, man, it’s not hard. There’s this look people get after they meet her. Guys, anyway,” Nolan replied, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his front shirt pocket.

“Like what?” Mike persisted.

“Like…” Nolan lit a cigarette and took a slow drag while he searched for the right word, “Like dumbstruck. Like she wasn’t what they expected even though they don’t know her yet.”

“That don’t surprise me. You still smoke?” Mike changed the subject.

“Yeah,” Nolan nodded and took another drag on his cigarette, “Don’t you?”

Mike considered this. “Actually, yeah. Give me one, will ya?”

“Here,” Nolan tossed a pack of matches and the cigarettes to Mike. Mike caught them and lit one, inhaling slowly and coughing a bit.

“You know, it’s just like I never left,” he commented.

Nolan laughed. “Like old times, eh?”

“Just about,” Mike laughed, as well, “Except we don’t need to sneak our smokes down by the creek anymore.”

“Speaking of, I hear Georgia likes to walk down by the creek,” Nolan said slyly, nudging Mike.

Mike elbowed him back. “Come on, man, why’re you tryin’ to push this chick on me? Why don’t you go for her, if you like her so much?”

Nolan raised his eyebrows and made a sarcastic noise. “Me? Man, she don’t want me. She knows I’m just the dropout mechanic who can’t even get a job in his old man’s garage.”

“Aw man, now that’s a lie,” Mike blew out a stream of smoke and looked at Nolan, “Or did your dad fire you?”

Nolan nodded a little sadly, looking at the ground. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” Mike was at a bit of a loss for words, “I’m sorry.” Nolan had never done that well in school, but he knew his cars. When he was sixteen, he’d dropped out and started working in his father’s auto repair shop. His father hadn’t liked the fact that Nolan didn’t finish school, but he kept Nolan on at the shop because Nolan’s mother knew that Nolan could get somewhere in the mechanic business if he had the experience and a leg up. However, the previous year, Nolan’s mother had moved out to take a job in the city, leaving Nolan and his father to fight with each other nearly every day over some pointless problem or another. Mike had suspected that it would only be a matter of time before Nolan wasn’t working at the garage anymore, he just hadn’t known how long it would take.

“Ah, well, you know,” Nolan flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette angrily, “I’m the dumb one, right? I suppose it’s my fault. I mean, I can’t really blame my old man for kicking me out. I’m combative and stubborn and I guess I just make everything worse by arguing.”

Mike couldn’t help but laugh. “Man, I’m the same way and I’m in a pop group.”

“Don’t remind me,” Nolan snapped, looking away.

“Oh no, now don’t take it like that,” Mike put a hand on Nolan’s shoulder, “I’m just tryin’ to make the point that it don’t matter how you are. You can make it if you want to. That’s where bein’ stubborn comes in handy.”

Nolan glanced back up at Mike. “Well, I was thinking of starting my own place if I ever get the money,” he admitted.

“Good for you,” Mike grinned a little, watching Nolan stand up and grind his cigarette out under his heel.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Nolan sighed, “Well, I’ll see you.”

“Sure,” Mike nodded. Then, “Hey Nolan?”

Nolan turned. “Yeah?”

“Is she really only seventeen?”

Nolan’s grin reappeared. “Yeah.”

Later that day, Mike was sitting at the window seat again, trying to work out a song. However, his mind kept wandering and he found himself strumming the same chords over and over, never really getting anywhere musically. Lyrics-wise, he had already played around with something about the town and lost the rhythm halfway through. He strummed his sixth G chord in a row, and found himself singing Georgia’s name. Surprised, he tried a different chord and sang it again. It sounded good, sitting in the air like that with the quiet hum of the guitar behind it.

But what about Georgia? What could he possibly sing about a girl he’d only just met? A girl he’d only seen? “Love at first sight” wasn’t exactly a creative subject for a song, much less a topic for reality. Mike sighed and stared out the window at the cloudless sky. The weather was so perfect; what was he doing inside? Leaning his guitar against the seat and getting up, Mike decided to take a walk.

After strolling aimlessly for about a half an hour, Mike found himself down by the creek. It was a small creek, narrow enough to jump over, but it bubbled and rushed along like it had dreams of being a river. Mike sat down on the back with his notepad and stared at the water. It was so clear that he could see every rock at the bottom, every weed that floated by, every enterprising fish. Struck by a sudden inspiration, he began writing a poem. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice when someone came up behind him.

“What are you doing, Michael?”

Mike started and looked up. Georgia was standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“Uh, n-nothin’,” he stammered, tucking the notepad back in his pocket.

“You were writing something,” Georgia persisted.

Mike sighed. “All right. I was tryin’ to write a song. The lyrics, anyway.”

Georgia’s serious eyes scanned Mike’s face. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Mike replied, thinking what a strange first conversation this was.

“I could tell,” Georgia nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off Mike as she sat down on the bank next to him, “You had a very intense look on your face.”

“Well, you know…music,” Mike laughed uncomfortably. Georgia’s gaze was making him nervous. He’d never seen eyes like that before, and they were very disconcerting.

Georgia seemed to sense this and looked out over the creek. “I heard you playing yesterday.”

“Did you?” Mike asked as evenly as possible.

“Yes,” Georgia nodded again, “I couldn’t hear the words, though. I was upset about that.”

“Ah,” Mike was silent for a moment. Then an idea struck him. He turned to Georgia. “Wanna take a walk?”

Georgia smiled and Mike noticed how her eyes lit up. “Yes, I’d like that.”

Mike got up and offered Georgia his hand. She took it and he helped her up, and the two began making their way down the bank of the creek.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Georgia said after a few minutes’ silence, “Mostly from Finn.”

“Yeah, well none of it’s true,” Mike joked.

Georgia smiled softly. “That would certainly be a shame. I like hearing the Monkees on the radio.”

Mike found himself bristling. “That’s not all I am.”

Georgia stopped and looked at Mike. She stood about five-foot-four to his six-foot-one, so she had to look up quite a bit to get a good look at his face.

“You’re being combative,” she said matter-of-factly, “Why?”

“I…” Mike trailed off, trying to think of how to explain, “I guess I just thought I could be away from that, at least while I’m here.” Georgia’s eyes were searching his face again.

“Be yourself, you mean,” she said suddenly.

Mike started a little. “Yeah. That’s it exactly.” Georgia was getting right inside his head, and that was nearly as disconcerting as her gaze. Nolan had been right about Georgia’s initial appearance and effect, but it was becoming increasingly clear to Mike that Nolan knew nothing else about the girl. It seemed to Mike that, after a few minutes of quiet searching with those intense eyes, Georgia could know more about a person than he knew about himself. Mike suddenly realized that Georgia was speaking.

“I suppose I can understand that,” she was saying, “It’s nice when people make the effort to try and get to know you instead of just relying on what you seem to be.”

“It never helps to be thought of as just another pretty face,” Mike commented. Georgia was silent and Mike thought that he might have struck a nerve. Georgia was quite pretty, and had probably gotten branded “the cute girl” more than once. After all, look at Nolan and his claim that Georgia was “hot”. It must have been hard to live in a small town and have the universal star problem: not being able to tell if people like you for yourself or your face.

Looking around, Mike saw that he and Georgia had reached a small clearing where the creek made a sharp left and disappeared into the trees. The water hurried around the bend, babbling to itself and almost seeming to blend into the background, making the apparent silence more full.

“Reminds you of a song, doesn’t it?” Georgia said softly.

Something stirred in Mike and he looked down at Georgia.

“Would you like to have dinner?” he found himself asking.

Continued