It was summertime at Lake Chelan. I was 12 or 13. My family and the Dehuffs were spending our annual or biannual vacation weeks lounging at the cabin or, more often, spending long hours with wind lapping at our faces, water pooling in the corners of our eyes as we sped along the lake in Pat and April's boat. I can still smell the leather seats mixed with lake water and fresh towels, hear the sound of legs as they peel off the white and blue chairs, preparing to launch into the water. There were always grapes. I liked that the April and Pat always packed grapes.
When we needed to refuel the boat we floated over to Kelly's Resort, a mainstay in Lake Chelan that offers waterfront access to guests, a small store with ice cream, and gas for boats. The gas part of this story is important. Kelly's relied on seasonal workers to staff the gas station, who inevitably turned out to be young and male, and most of the time, the nature of their job did not require shirts... I loved getting gas.
This particular summer, there was a specific gas station attendant often on duty. Now, there is the speed at which light and sound travel, the speed at which electrical pulses in our brains transmit signals to our nerves and other neurons, and, much faster than all of those, there is the speed at which a 12 year old girl can fall completely in love with a charming, curly-haired, board-shorts donning teenager. April was very observant and immediately caught onto this. One day at the dock she asked, "what's your name?"
"Raven,"
Oh dear god, he had a name? This only intensified the crush for Seneca and I. From then on, "Raven" became a frequent topic of conversation; April would giggle and smile at us girls, no doubt finding immense humor in our affliction. She would say his name in a melodic, teasing way, laughing all the while, and joking about when our next gas station visit would be. We may have broken a record for number of visits to Kelly's that summer.
April loved these small chapters of our innocence and youth, she found them hilarious. I really appreciated that. By acknowledging that she saw me, that she could see right through my feigned nonchalance as we pulled up to the gas station, when secretly I was fervently scanning the dock for a mop of dark curls, made me feel seen, like the labyrinth of adolescent emotion could be humorous and exciting. I doubt I ever spoke a word to Raven that summer, but the memory of April's joy at the silly crush is a fond one.