Ghosts

I had a strange thing happen last night. I thought of something I hadn't thought about in a long time.

Duane.

When I was growing up in a town in West Coast Canada, I lived in a quiet neighborhood half a block from the ocean.

I must have been 13 when it started. I'm not sure how it started. All I know is that I spent a lot of time looking out my window. I had a cute neighbor that I would keep an eye out for and there were always good looking guys playing street hockey in front of my house.
Duane was a kid who was older than the ones that played hockey, maybe 16. He occasionally hung out with them, but mostly hung out with a jerk that would sometimes screech through the neighborhood with his base-pumping-truck.
He must have seen me at my window looking out into the night because a kind of obsession started.
He would sit across the street and watch my window, and I would sit at my window hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

He would let me know he was there with a simple whistle, high-note, low-note.

I remember one episode where he climbed up onto a building roof and then into a big tree where he must have had gunpowder or sulfur because he lit it on fire in his hand. He almost set the tree on fire. I freaked out when he left without noticing something was burning. He eventually returned, saw it and put it out.

I gave my very first strip show for him. I remember feeling the rush of undressing in front of the window while he was watching.

He started leaving notes for me on my windowsill while I was sleeping. I would leave one for him the next night as a response. I have no idea what we wrote, I'm guessing things like, what's your name? and I like you.

I eventually moved when my parents split up. Years had gone by maybe 3 or so. I was 16 I think. It was a rocky period for me. I left a note on my window warning him that I'd be moving to another house. The next day he came by during the day. whistle. And by note he asked me to meet him at the ocean that afternoon.
I was scared, but full of adrenaline.
It was the first time I saw him by day and so close up. He was tall, lanky, typical teenager, not terribly attractive, but not ugly. I was embarrassed. He was awkward. He held out a little stuffed animal, a white puppy with a colourful birthday cone on it's head. He said "here, this is for you". I'm pretty sure I refused it at first but he got the worst look on his face so I said "alright" and took it.

That was the last I saw of him.

I'm sure he wanted to say more. Thinking back I was pretty harsh with him that day. I didn't make things easier for him. I wonder where he is now.