living. She said that was true and she could understand that, but we have to go on. And when I asked why, she said what about Martin, what would Martin do, as I was all he had left now, and he was all I had too.
And when you think about that, itâs right I guess, and sometimes you donât go on because you really want to, you go on for someone elseâs sake. And when you do, after a while, the happiness slowly comes back into you, and you want to be alive again, just for the feeling of it, because itâs nice and you might even be happy â not that youâll ever forget. But I donât think he remembers or knows any of that. Thatâs the difference a couple of years makes. It can make all the difference sometimes, just being a little bit older.
Not that Iâm getting all sentimental and dewy-eyed (thatâs another of Peggyâs expressions; I sound like her sometimes and have been
unduly influenced
by her, which is another of her sayings). I mean, heâs my brother and all that but I have hated his guts on occasions and he can still really get on my nerves and I have even wished he would drop dead. But Peggy says thatâs normal and when we get to City Island weâll meet other girls and boys who have had similar experiences. So all because you feel like murdering your brother occasionally, thereâs no call to feel bad about it, as thatâs what people do.
Oh well. I donât know. I donât know if I really want to go to school or what I want. Lifeâs been so strange and sometimes so sweet and peaceful. Itâs been just us for years and years, me and Martin and Peggy, and old Ben Harley across the way, making sure to come over for birthdays and other celebrations, always bringing you a small present though nothing special, just something heâd carved out of a piece of driftwood or a polished stone or a bracelet made of sky-clam shells.
And now here we are, going out into the world, and weâve only gone a short way and it already seems full of crazies â at least if Angus the self-styled Toll Troll is anything to go by. If heâs what you meet when you go looking for an education then I can see the benefits of ignorance all right.
But anyway, Iâm talking on again. Peggy says itâs lack of company that keeps me talking, as I donât have anyone around me with something new to say that I havenât heard before, so I just go on talking like Iâm on overdrive. Stream of consciousness, she calls it. She says Iâll find out what that means when â
Yeah. Youâve got it. When we arrive at City Island and get an education.
I promise I wonât mention that again. No, well, I donât exactly guarantee â but I promise Iâll try. Do my best. Peggy says thatâs all you can do.
Anyhow again. We left big Angus behind us and we sailed on. Peggyâs boat wasnât huge, but it was decent-sized. It had six berths down below and you could easily sleep another six or more on deck â which was where I liked to sleep most of the time. Itâs cooler there and nicer, as long as the bugs donât bite. When you get a midge bloom though, youâve got to take cover or theyâll eat you right down to the pimples. The only thing that will keep them off is an application of old Ben Harleyâs private stash. That repels most living things, so Peggy says.
There are other hazards to sleeping on deck too, of course. You can wake up and find a couple of sky-fish nibbling at your feet. They like to eat the dead skin off you, which is OK for a quick pedicure. The trouble is, they donât know when to stop and when they run out of dead skin, theyâll start in on the bits of you that are living. But you always wake up before they get to eat much of you. And you can always keep your sandals on.
The other thing you need to sleep on deck is something to cover your eyes as itâs always daylight up
And when you think about that, itâs right I guess, and sometimes you donât go on because you really want to, you go on for someone elseâs sake. And when you do, after a while, the happiness slowly comes back into you, and you want to be alive again, just for the feeling of it, because itâs nice and you might even be happy â not that youâll ever forget. But I donât think he remembers or knows any of that. Thatâs the difference a couple of years makes. It can make all the difference sometimes, just being a little bit older.
Not that Iâm getting all sentimental and dewy-eyed (thatâs another of Peggyâs expressions; I sound like her sometimes and have been
unduly influenced
by her, which is another of her sayings). I mean, heâs my brother and all that but I have hated his guts on occasions and he can still really get on my nerves and I have even wished he would drop dead. But Peggy says thatâs normal and when we get to City Island weâll meet other girls and boys who have had similar experiences. So all because you feel like murdering your brother occasionally, thereâs no call to feel bad about it, as thatâs what people do.
Oh well. I donât know. I donât know if I really want to go to school or what I want. Lifeâs been so strange and sometimes so sweet and peaceful. Itâs been just us for years and years, me and Martin and Peggy, and old Ben Harley across the way, making sure to come over for birthdays and other celebrations, always bringing you a small present though nothing special, just something heâd carved out of a piece of driftwood or a polished stone or a bracelet made of sky-clam shells.
And now here we are, going out into the world, and weâve only gone a short way and it already seems full of crazies â at least if Angus the self-styled Toll Troll is anything to go by. If heâs what you meet when you go looking for an education then I can see the benefits of ignorance all right.
But anyway, Iâm talking on again. Peggy says itâs lack of company that keeps me talking, as I donât have anyone around me with something new to say that I havenât heard before, so I just go on talking like Iâm on overdrive. Stream of consciousness, she calls it. She says Iâll find out what that means when â
Yeah. Youâve got it. When we arrive at City Island and get an education.
I promise I wonât mention that again. No, well, I donât exactly guarantee â but I promise Iâll try. Do my best. Peggy says thatâs all you can do.
Anyhow again. We left big Angus behind us and we sailed on. Peggyâs boat wasnât huge, but it was decent-sized. It had six berths down below and you could easily sleep another six or more on deck â which was where I liked to sleep most of the time. Itâs cooler there and nicer, as long as the bugs donât bite. When you get a midge bloom though, youâve got to take cover or theyâll eat you right down to the pimples. The only thing that will keep them off is an application of old Ben Harleyâs private stash. That repels most living things, so Peggy says.
There are other hazards to sleeping on deck too, of course. You can wake up and find a couple of sky-fish nibbling at your feet. They like to eat the dead skin off you, which is OK for a quick pedicure. The trouble is, they donât know when to stop and when they run out of dead skin, theyâll start in on the bits of you that are living. But you always wake up before they get to eat much of you. And you can always keep your sandals on.
The other thing you need to sleep on deck is something to cover your eyes as itâs always daylight up
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