Conversations With Jack & Diane
The Look
The forty-two foot sloop rocked gently, the afternoon sun
shinning hard upon her decks.
Under the shade of a huge beach umbrella, “borrowed”
from one of the local beach cafes, Jack lounged peacefully as the
Tuesday afternoon grew steadily warmer.
The Kilikina, which was the name of the sleek sloop, was
moored approximately one hundred yards off-shore, on the
southern end of Reed’s Bay, inline with Jack’s little beach
bungalow.
He sipped on a cool bottle of Corona Extra, the fingers of
his right hand holding a slice of lemon for chaser. Corona without
lemon was like a bird without feathers, for lack of a better analogy.
As he slowly dozed-off Jack never heard the rythmic
splashing of the approaching swimmer. Drifting ever deeper into a
blissful dream he was utterly unaware as the dripping form
ascended the rope ladder onto the highly polished deck, the
undulating sway of the craft casting animated shadows onto the
intruder.
With blade held firmly in hand, the invader closed-in on
the oblivious Jack. Closer and closer the silent character moved,
ever mindful of Jack’s every reaction. But there were none. He
was too far gone and swept away by his dream fantasy.
The blade moved still closer, it was but inches now from
Jack’s peaceful face. Than suddenly! With a swiftness akin to an
attacking kestrel, the blade careened into Jack’s face!
“What the!” he exclaimed, leaping from his dream, not to
mention his chair, and bolting upright onto his bare feet.
Diane tickled his face relentlessly with the long green blade
of grass, kikuyu grass, her beautiful, sundrenched face alive with
giddy enjoyment.
“Stop it!” Jack demanded, his expression one of total
annoyance.
Diane pulled her dancing hand back, holding it rigidly to
her side, a most irresistable pout sweeping across her flawless
face.
“You never let me have any fun Jack!” she scowled, her
indigo eyes glinting mischievously in the glowing sunshine.
“Fun is one thing,” Jack retorted. “But nearly giving an old
man a heart attack, is something altogether void of levity.” He sat
down heavily, leaning over and retrieving a cold bottle of beer
from the cooler. He twisted the cap and shoved it at Diane.
“Drink this,” he ordered. “Maybe it’ll ease that craving you seem
to have for driving me nuts!” He winked as Diane’s delicate
fingers encircled the frosty bottle.
She took a refreshing sip and sat down, placing the long
blade of grass on the tabletop.
“Do you really consider yourself old at forty Jack?” she
posed, adjusting herself comfortably in the small white, plastic
deck chair.
Jack shrugged, his bare chest gleaming with a thin veil of
sweat. “Oldest I’ve ever been,” he grunted, sipping lazily at his
own bottle.
Diane leaned back in her chair. “Did I ever tell you how
old I am Jack?”
“Sure,” he offered, his brow slowly furrowing. “Well at
least I think you have...” He sipped more beer.
“How many of those have you had already?” Diane
inquired, changing the subject for a moment.
“Don’t start with me Mother!” he growled, smiling slowly,
than taking a long draught, winking at Diane as he sucked away
the last of the foaming brew.
He pulled himself another one from the cooler, twisted it
open and took a quick sip before Diane could object.
She huffed, but let it be. “Getting back to the subject at
hand,” she frowned, eyeing Jack as he sipped more beer. “How
old do you think I am Jack?”
Jack nearly choked as he jerked the bottle from his mouth.
“Do you honestly think that I’m stupid enough to answer
that loaded question love?” He laughed generously as he placed
the bottle of beer on the table.
“It wouldn’t bother me,” she shrugged. “Whatever age you
thought I were.” She sipped daintily at her bottle of brew.
Jack leaned forward, his forearms dropping flush onto the
tabletop as he drew Diane’s gaze to his. He stared at her without
blinking.
“What?” she finally protested.
“I was just checking you out...” Jack replied.
“What for?” she pouted.
“To try and ascertain your age silly,” he chuckled.
“And...” she probed, cerulean gaze narrowing.
“And I would say...” Jack murmurred, taking the smooth of
her chin into his fingers and gently twisting her face from side to
side, inspecting closely. “Hmmm,” he uttered slowly. “You are
indeed a most perfect specimen of female substance,” he assured
her. “And so well preserved that it would be utterly impossible for
me to venture conjecture by way of a definite age.” He paused for
a moment. “Therefore,” he finally offered. “I will just have to
conclude that your age would range anywhere between...young and
younger still...”
“You’re just a big chicken shit!” Diane huffed.
“Yep...” Jack chuckled, guzzling the rest of his beer and
reaching for another.
“I’m thirty one Jack,” she admitted softly, her supple lips
parting slowly as she pushed the mouth of the bottle between them,
sipping the sudsing brew. “And I will be thirty one for the next
nine years,” she added. “At which time I will be turning thirty
two.”
Jack couldn’t help it. The humor hit him like a battering
ram and the beer upon his tongue sprayed forth like a rush of
crystal sprinklers.
“That’s disgusting,” Diane smiled, obviously amused by
Jack’s reaction.
“Oh shut up,” he frowned, wiping his chin with the palm of
his hand. He winked at Diane. “Wanna see another little trick?”
he queried with a smirk.
“I think not,” Diane quipped, blinking her eyes slowly and
pursing her lips. “Now, back to my original question,” she
pressed.
“Refresh my memory,” Jack urged, refilling his mouth with
the heady brew.
“I asked if you really considered yourself old at forty?” she
informed.
“Well now,” Jack thought, leaning back in his chair and
lifting his feet onto the table, crossing them at the ankles. “Let me
see,” he frowned.
Diane sat quietly, waiting for her friend to come up with a
good story. She smiled as she enjoyed the warmth of the aging
afternoon, her body massaged by the gentle sway of Kilikina’s
decks.
“Okay,” Jack finally offered, shaking Diane from the
comfortable carress of the rolling sea. He planted his bare feet
back on the deck and sat forward in his chair. “I can tell you
exactly how old I feel...” he assured her.
“Do tell,” she nodded, taking the transitional opportunity to
lift her own feet up onto the table in a posture of carefree
relaxation.
“I had dinner with a friend the other night,” Jack began.
“What does that have to do with anything Jack?” she
prodded.
“Drink your beer, be quiet, and I’ll tell ya,” he instructed.
Diane pouted again and took a slow sip of beer, blue eyes locked
on Jack. “Anyway,” he continued. “She was someone I’d met on
the beach, about a week before this dinner date. We’d talked a
couple of times over the telephone. There was a chemistry you
know..”
Diane nodded knowingly. “And...”
“Well,” Jack continued. “I had this feeling you know. And
ahh...I just couldn’t seem to shake it.”
“What kind of feeling Jack?” Diane pressed, her expression
narrowing with concentration.
“Hard to explain,” he offered, sipping a little beer.
“Well try, won’t you?” Diane urged.
Jack stared up at the underside of the huge canvas
umbrella. “Ok, I’ll try.” He squinted his eyes as he searched for
the right words. “It was like an empty feeling,” he began. “And
ahh...I sat there with nothing to say to this beautiful young
woman.”
“Exactly how young?” Diane asked, her posture leaning
forward ever so slightly as she waited for the response.
“Twenty-five,” he answered.
“Well that’s not so young,” Diane shrugged. “At that age,
she was fully a woman I’m sure.”
“Yes she was...Is...” Jack nodded. “But still fifteen years
my junior.”
“Big deal,” Diane shrugged again, a certain huffiness in her
tone.
Jack leaned back in his seat. “I detect a level of anger in
your voice,” he smiled, grasping Diane’s gaze. “Could it be that
you’re jealous?”
“Don’t be absurd!” Diane snapped, a bit too much protest
in her response. She shrank back in her seat.
Jack smiled mischievously. “Not even the tinniest bit?” he
pressed, the smile widening infectiously.
“Not in the slightest,” she assured him, unwilling, or unable
to consider even a minimal of admission.
Jack shrugged. “Oh well,” he smiled. “Shall I go on
than?”
“Please do...” Diane nodded, the mouth of the beer bottle
resting on her lower lip as she spoke.
“As I sat there, in the company of this young, beautiful,
intelligent woman, I realized that my time for such rendezvous had
passed.”
“How do you mean?” Diane frowned.
“I mean...” he explained. “That the spread of years that
existed between she and I could never be made up. All the things
that she has yet to experience in life, I’ve already lived through.”
He sipped his beer. “And the funny thing about knowledge gained
through experience. One seems compelled to advise those who are
yet to face it. And take a wild guess at what kind of response one
inevitably gets?”
“I don’t know Jack. Tell me...” Diane insisted.
“Belligerence,” he assured her. “The arrogance of youth
immediately takes offense to what it percieves as condescension.
Although no such thing was ever intended.” He leaned forward.
“She was angry with me because I dared to try and bestow the
wisdom of my own mistakes upon her.” He waved his hand in an
effort to admit clarification. “But that is not a bad thing. That
reaction of youthful arrogance. It’s the way it should be.”
“So what was it about that reaction that made you feel
old?” Diane quieried, still not sure of Jack’s point. If there was
one that is. After all, Jack has been known to ramble without any
particular point as an ultimate goal.
“It was the LOOK,” he announced.
“The Look?” Diane frowned. She did have the most
exquisite frown Jack ever saw.
“Yes...” he assured her. “That look of contempt. The same
look I gave elder folk when I was young. It was like a cathorsis of
sorts. I had been denying my advancing years for a while now.
And it took that ‘Look’ to get me to consciously accept what I
am.”
“And what exactly are you Jack?” Diane asked, her
expression one of anticipation.
“I’m a forty year old man who is no longer considered on
the upside of life, but rather on the downside and sinking fast...”
He chuckled sardonically as he finished off the sweating bottle of
Corona.
“That’s crap, and you know it,” Diane chastised.
“No it isn’t sweeti,” he assured her. “My best days are
behind me now. And I’m beginning to come to terms with that
fact.”
“Just because of some silly look you got from a young
woman over dinner?”
“Indeed,” Jack acknowledged. “It was the look of youthful
contempt.” He smiled. “I remember it well. But now, it no longer
resides on my face, but instead upon the faces of those who look
upon me...”
There was no more to be said on the matter. They enjoyed
the graceful approach of the evening as it shimmied down across
the timeless sea, the gentle rock of Kilikina massaging their
thoughts...
The End
Unpublished Works © 1997 GJB
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