Barry's Story
In the summer of 2000 I had just started whitewater kayaking after a three-year hiatus. Martin re-introduced me to his friends Steve and Rachel who are also kayakers and happen to live close to a river I paddle frequently. On two or three different weekends I drove out to their house on Friday night, stayed and paddled with them on Saturday and Sunday, and drove home on Sunday night.
Steve, Rachel, Rachel’s sister Deborah, and I paddled on Saturday. The next morning we awoke to find a somewhat cool and rainy day. We all decided somewhat groggily that we’d rather sleep in, have a hot breakfast, and paddle some other day. Shortly after making this decision the phone rang. Some other friend of Rachel’s was going rafting on the same river we had paddled the day before but on a different harder section than any of us were prepared to kayak (it is much easier to run whitewater in a raft than a kayak). Four people had failed to show up for her trip, and she knew Rachel had a bunch of visitors. Did we all want to go rafting? Within five minutes, the previously almost-asleep group was packed up and out the door.
When we arrived, I was introduced to the raft-inviting friend: Heather. I certainly did not fail to notice that she was very attractive and obviously whitewater-oriented and outdoorsy, but had a date with her on the trip. I thought I was pretty lucky when everyone got assigned to rafts and I ended up in one with Rachel, Steve, Deborah, and Heather (and Heather’s date). I tried to be as impressive a paddler as I could for whomever might be paying attention. :-)
On the way home, in the car with Steve, Rachel, and Deborah, Rachel volunteered, “Hey, Barry, my friend Heather thinks you are really cute!” Oddly, for some reason I cannot explain, I figured that since Heather lived in western MA I probably would not see her again (even though we obviously had Steve and Rachel as common friends) and so even with this information she mostly slipped out of my consciousness.
Two and a half weeks later was Rachel’s birthday. Steve called to invite me to a party for her. I arrived fairly late after most of the other guests had left. The three of us hung out for a while until perhaps 8-9pm when, much to my surprise, Heather walked in! (Steve and Rachel still deny ulterior motive in inviting both of us to the party.) The four of us continued to hang out until 11pm when Steve and Rachel, having returned on a red-eye flight from California that night before, went to sleep. Armed with the inside information about Heather provided by Rachel, I asked if she wanted to go for a walk.
She said yes, so at 11pm we left the house and started wandering around town. Before we had even left the house’s front steps she asked, “So, are you and Deborah hooked up yet?” We weren’t, of course. Heather and I walked until 5am.
We spoke on the phone most nights the following week and the next Friday, on September 1, 2000, I drove out to Northampton to visit her. Roughly speaking, I did not return to Boston until five years later, with Heather in tow.