Summer story Every summer, my family and I found ourselves in the same cottage on the river. Every summer, a new family rented the cottage next to ours. After the previous disastrous summer, I told myself that nothing would come between me and the bass swimming in the cool river waters. Plus, what were the chances of another “Sheila Mant” renting the cottage next to ours? The first few days, like always, all I wanted to do was fish. The huge bass from the prior trip still haunted me. I wanted to catch the enormous bass. Not just any bass, the bass. I knew that if that same bass took a bite of dangling bait from my hook, I would hook it and reel it in. Nothing was going to distract me. I specifically remember the third day of my trip. I was sitting on the docks with my fishing rod limply set off the side into the still water. “No action today,” I told to myself “it must be too hot.” I pulled my feet out of the water and decided to walk around. As I came to the cottage next to ours, I realized I hadn’t seen anyone in it since we had gotten there. I walked around to the side and lookad inside. Nothing. I could tell that none of the bass were going to bite that day. I reeled in my cast and sat the pole up on the dock. I peeled off my sticky shirt and jumped in the water. It was so quiet that day I swear that my splash could have been heard a mile away. Right as I was swimming back up to the dock and going in for dinner, I saw a silver van pull up to our neighboring cottage. “Kids,” I immediately thought. Sure enough, twin little boys probably about seven screamed out of the car. The quiet days of the river were over. As I pulled on my damp wadded up shirt, I saw three more people get out of the car. I strained my eyes and made out the figures of a mom, a dad, and a girl probably around my age. Standing up as tall as I could, I walked by the cottage with ease. Not one of them noticed; they were too busy unloading their multiple suitcases out of the trunk of their car. Based on how many bags they had, I could tell they were going to stay for at least a week, maybe even two. I walked in the slider door of my cottage and put the new family out of my mind for the rest of the night. I deiceaee to wake up before dawn on my fourth day. It wasn’t so hot early in the morning, and I still hadn’t caught a bass worth bragging about. Expecting solitude, I was surprised to walk out and hear footsteps. They were fast paced and belonged to a runner. Looking around, all I could see was a shadowy figure since it was still too dark to see much. I sat on the dock and casted my line. I waited for a bite. I waited for the runner. It bothered me that someone was out there before me; someone beat me out to my river. About the same time as the runner came into clear sight, my line went racing farther towards the center of the river. This one was a big one, I knew it. I forgot about the runner. I leaned forward and hooked the fish. Pulling as hard as I could, I reeled the fish in. As I reached down and gave the line a final yank, the fish came out and hit the dock. The fish stared at me; she was a beauty. Right then I heard a panting breath and footsteps come up behind me. I must have looked scared when I turned around, because the girl I saw getting out of the car the previous night quickly said “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just finishing up my run and noticed you caught a fish. A big fish I assumed, noticing the struggle you had.” “Well, you’re right. She is a big one.” My finger pointed at the fish flopping miserably on the dock. The girl laughed. I was off to a good start. “I’m Ronnie” the girl told me. “Ronnie?” I blurted out, without thinking. I didn’t mean to sound rude, but I had never met a girl named Ronnie. “Veronica, but no one calls me that but my mother” she quickly added. “Don’t let me distract you from your fishing; curiosity brought me your way. I’ll see you around?” “Of course” I couldn’t help but say. I brought the fish up to the cottage and put it in the fishing ice chest we kept by the sliding door. The sun had come up, and I realized I was sweating. I dove into the water and swam. A few hours passed before Ronnie came out, cleaned up and dressed. She did not look ready to go swimming. In fact, her thick brown hair was loosely braided down her left side and she wore jean shorts with a bright red tank top. She was pretty, I clearly remember thinking. I swam closer to the bank and asked her where she was going. “I’m going into town to go shopping.” “Oh, okay, see you around” I yelled back. I really didn’t see much of her for the rest of the week. All I knew about her was that she went running every morning, went into town ever day, and never got into the water. What an odd way to spend your vacation at the river. I kept thinking of ways to get her attention. Obviously, I hadn’t completely learned my lesson from the previous summer. Fishing was one of the most important things in my life, but being a fifteen year old teenager, clearly girls always were the first priority. I had caught a lot of fish, two or three big ones, but nothing major. Nothing was as big as the bass from the previous summer. “Should I go on an early morning run tomorrow?” I asked myself, as I floated lifelessly on the surface of the water. That was too obvious. I thought about going into town, but I really had no desire. I didn’t want to shop, and I had no idea how I would ever be able to find Ronnie. I just waited. She came home every afternoon, but never did she get into the water. One afternoon I finally walked up to her and flat out asked “Why don’t you ever get into the water?” “Me? Oh…umm…I just haven’t felt up to it.” “Oh just come on. Get in!” Ronnie looked nervous. I was making her uncomfortable. I let the topic go and suggested that we hang out under the big oak tree that grew between my cottage and hers. We talked for at least a few hours. I quickly learned that she was smart, athletic, charismatic, and funny. Oh and of course, she was pretty. After two more days of simply hanging out, I asked her again to go swimming. I did miss getting in the water and swimming all day, and I only had a few more days before I had to leave. Ronnie finally agreed and went inside her cottage to change. When she came out, I swear I stopped breathing. She wore a cute pink and yellow bikini and let her hair down. As she walked toward me, she had a weird look in her eyes. “Well, are you going to get in, or just stand there?” She stared at the river without blinking. “Yeah…” she replied hesitantly. She sat down and stuck her feet in the water. I kept watching her, and was shocked when she pulled her hair off and I discovered that she wore a wig. She lowered herself off the dock and into the river. Ronnie obviously noticed that I was surprised, and started to explain. “I guess I should have warned you. I am battling cancer right now. Everything looks promising, but they still want to do more radiation, hence the wig.” “Why…why didn’t you tell me?” “It never came up.” She had a point. It took me a while to realize it was the same Ronnie swimming with me that I had been talking to for the past few days. She was the same person, with or without her hair; with or without her cancer, rather me knowing that she had cancer. We continued to grow closer as friends, but nothing more. I realized that for once, I was happy being just friends with a girl. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, or because she had a bad personality; she had all of that and so much more. Sheila Mant was gorgeous and beautiful, but Ronnie was better than her in so many ways. That summer, I learned another valuable lesson. Beautiful people are much more than a pretty face and a nice body. Beautiful people are those who are strong and have great characters. My problems in life seemed so small and immature compared to Ronnie’s. She had cancer. The cancer had taken away her hair and some of her confidence, but she still managed to live her life as normally as possible. I never would have known she was battling cancer if she hadn’t taken off her wig that summer day. Ronnie was so strong. That summer, I learned the importance of looking beyond the exterior of a person and looking deep inside their heart and soul.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Jul 2013 06:33:53 +0000
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