A Year Straight (19 page)

“Hey lady!” He gave me a kiss. It felt natural to greet him like this. “Come in for a sec and meet my little sister. She's leaving for college next week.”

Little sister ? I panicked and reached around to the back seat. I grabbed my most accessible layer: a black zip-up hoodie from the Lexington Club, a San Francisco lesbian bar. It was eighty degrees out, but last night's low-cut dress was not quite family appropriate. Theo held my hand as we walked up to the house. On the front porch, he flung open the screen door, stepped aside, and placed his hand on my lower back, letting me in. And so I met his sister, looking like a nutcase in a sweatshirt in the middle of summer (not to mention the illustration of the topless tattooed babe on the back). His sister was adorable; a younger, female version of Theo with more freckles. She shook my hand warmly.

I let Theo drive us down to the beach, though he'd never
driven a stick shift before. He stalled several times but didn't grind the gears once.
This could work
. He parked, and we kissed in the car before getting out to wade across the shallow channel to the beach. The water was waist high, rushing past us and out into a saltwater pond that eventually met up with the sea. Rowboats with names like
Littleton, Whitehurst,
and
Finn
carved into them lined the shore.

“Can't we just take one of these?” I asked, reluctant to wade across. Swimming in Theo's pool at midnight was one thing. Wading through a muddy pond in a bikini in broad daylight was another.

“No such luck.”

I waited until he had walked past me before I kicked off my flip-flops and pulled off my dress. Of course, he paused to let me by.

“Ladies first.”

The current was strong enough to keep me focused and therefore less self-conscious, but not strong enough to carry me away. I focused on the trail at the other side of the pond that would lead us up and over the dunes. Theo carried the towels, and I struggled to suspend the picnic bag above water. The water was getting deeper and deeper. Suddenly, a ruckus sent a ripple our way. A loon had landed.

“Hey lady, don't let that good-looking bread get soggy.”

“Don't make me laugh and I won't,” I said, picking up the pace to distance myself from him.

We strolled along the beach in search of the perfect spot. Walking beside him, a feeling of familiarity washed over me, like we'd been walking side by side all along.

“How about up there by the dunes?”

“Perfect.”

We each grabbed one end of my old dorm days tapestry and laid it down on the warm sand. I opened the bag of carrots, then the hummus, cheese, and bread.

“These don't really exist, you know,” Theo said, picking up a baby carrot.

“What do you mean?”

“They're just big carrots that they cut down to this size.”

“For real?” I examined my carrot.

“I'm afraid so.”

And we ate. A carrot dipped in hummus. A bite of bread and some cheese. Some bread, some cheese, and some hummus. When a bug landed on my side of the blanket, in full-on city girl fashion, I shrieked. Theo flicked it off, and it landed on its back in the sand. Distressed, its little legs flailed to find the ground. Theo got up, walked over, bent down, and coaxed the tiny insect onto its feet. When it finally flipped over, it flapped its wings a few times and flew away. I was soaring, too, on the possibility that Theo might also treat me with such tenderness. We lazed around on the beach blanket, eating, laughing, and kissing for hours.

“I'm sorry I didn't call you back for a couple of days,” I
said, drawing a circle in the sand with a twig. “I got freaked out about our age difference at first, but then I decided to get over it, and I have.”

“Good.”

I got up to walk to the water, and Theo grabbed onto my ankle and scanned me from head to toe. I squirmed, feeling exposed standing there in my bikini. And then he said, “Mmm, I didn't know a woman could have so many curves.” I ran the rest of the way to the water.
God, I love this man!

Later, on the way back to the car, he stopped me by the path to the parking lot.

“You know,” he said, sifting through the top layer of sand with his foot, “the strangest thought crossed my mind as I watched you take the food out of the grocery bag.”

“Yeah?”

He was silent for a moment, and when I looked back at him he smiled, shook his head, and said, “I thought: I want this woman to feed my kids.”

“I don't think so!” I kicked some sand at his feet and continued toward the parking lot. Then I turned around and said, “You're the cook. You'll be feeding the kids.”

That evening we met up with the rest of the kitchen staff at Sal's house for a trash can clambake. While Theo and the other cooks tossed everything from seaweed to corn to beer into the pot, I had a moment to catch up with Alexis.

“It's funny,” she said, observing Theo. “I knew him and
I knew you and I adore you both. But the two of you together never crossed my mind until I saw you side by side. Now it makes perfect sense.”

When the clams were cooked, we all scooped heaping portions onto paper plates and sat cross-legged on the patio. Theo was the last to sit, having helped serve everyone else. He sat down next to me, his knee touching mine.

“Hey, Theo,” Sal said, mouth full, taking a swig of his beer. “Didn't you guys do clambakes at that place you worked at in Maine? How was the food there?”

“Well,” Theo said, swallowing. “Let's just say if you want a nice catfish, order the grouper.”

Everyone burst into laughter. Alexis hunched over in hysterics. I didn't get the joke; cook humor, I guessed. People continued snorting and chortling. I already knew that Theo made me laugh, but apparently he made everyone else laugh, too. Theo, seeing my confusion, explained that restaurants are often caught serving up more readily accessible fish in place of what's on the menu. I smiled to myself and continued to chew. You don't always get what you order.

I
prolonged my trip in order to spend another three days with Theo, transferring from the fancy inn to a little duck-themed bed-and-breakfast nearby; less scandalous and less pricey. Everything, down to the toothbrush holder, had ducks on it. The sheets, towels, curtains, accent pillows, area rug, doorknob: ducks. From the balcony, we could see ducks in the yard below. The ring tone on the phone was
quack quack quack.

“Hello?”

“Hey it's me. I just got off work.”

“I'm hungry.”

“Well it just so happens I'm holding a bag of food for you.”

Theo and I spent every possible moment in my room. We ate and slept, and didn't sleep, and in the morning we pressed “snooze” on the duck alarm clock, spooning through
countless nine-minute increments of bliss. We were well behaved at first, spending most of our time talking. Following my string of one-night stands, it felt nice to take it slow and get to know one another one anecdote at a time. That lasted thirty-six hours.

When I had to leave the Vineyard, I went kicking and screaming. But I had to get back home and tie up some loose ends. Like work, for example, which I'd neglected for days, remotely working my remote job. On the morning of my departure date, Theo didn't make it any easier to leave. He drove me over to his house, where he made me huevos rancheros from scratch. I marveled from my stool as he chopped tomatillos and onions into minuscule cubes for the salsa. I savored every bite of my breakfast and nearly missed my ferry for all the smooches we snuck in down to the last minute. Had there been one more red light on my way, I would not have made my boat.

Once on the road back to New York, my phone service returned, and I called Megan. I left another message.
New Yorkers never answer their phone,
I told myself, trying not to imagine reasons she might be mad at me. TJ, forever Jersey at heart, picked up on the first ring.

“Dammit, you're alive ?” she said, sounding out of breath. “I was hoping to inherit your apartment.”

“Sorry, that goes to my brother. But I'll leave you my tea collection. Hey, I'm on my way back to the city. Entertain me. This drive takes forever.”

“I would, but I'm on my way to meet up with a girl.”

“A girl ? But it's only 5:00 p.m.”

“Yeah, well we're meeting up for a walk through the park first. Her idea. Then we're going to some new vegetarian restaurant in the Slope.”

“The park? You? Then dinner? That sounds like a date. Are you feeling okay?”

“In fact, no I'm not. I've changed outfits twice. What's wrong with me? I think I turned into you while you were gone.”

“Either that or you're whipped. Who is she?”

“You don't know her. We met at bingo night. I should have been going out without you a long time ago. I think you were cramping my style. So, white T-shirt or shirt and tie ? Either way I'm wearing my leather jacket.”

“It's a zillion degrees out. Don't wear the jacket.”

“But we're taking my bike.”

“She agreed to get on that thing?”

“She's already been on it six times.”

“Six times ? How many dates have you been on? It's only been ten days. You are such a lesbian.”

“Whatever, asshole. T-shirt or tie?”

“Tie. Wow. I think your news is more shocking than mine,” I said.

“What's your news? You knocked up? I coulda told you that would happen.”

“No, jackass. But I did meet a guy. A funny one. Even funnier than you.”

“Impossible. Look, I'd love to continue with this chitchat, but I gotta go meet Antonella.”

“Antonella? An Italian girl. I always knew you were in love with me.”

“This is the sound of me hanging up on you.”

 

 

I FELL SWIFTLY back into my New York routine, trotting up and down the subway station stairs and weaving my way around tourists. All the while, I had my phone in hand, tex-ting my friends and pretending to myself that I wasn't waiting for Theo to call. I knew he worked crazy hours and had limited cell phone service on the island, so for the most part I remained calm by focusing on the memories of our time spent together. But when, on the fourth day, I finally called and he didn't pick up, I did what any sane, grown person would do. I deleted his number from my phone.

My mind went wild with possible scenarios. Maybe he met someone else. Maybe he lost his phone. Maybe something happened at work. Maybe the island is under water. Maybe he realized I think too much. Maybe he thinks I'm too old. And then the phone rang and it was him. I jumped when I heard his custom tone, the xylophone melody that sounds like something profound is bound to happen.

“Hello?”

“Hey lady! You're on the ferry on your way to see me, right?”

“I wish,” I said, putting my phone on speaker so I could continue tearing open the plastic bags on the counter before me. “Actually, my friend Megan is about to get here. We're ordering in from my favorite Thai place.”

“I'm jealous. More of the food than of spending time with you.”

“Of course. I really miss Mad Martha's mint chip. How's the Vineyard treating you?”

“It was better when you were here.”

“I was trying not to worry when I hadn't heard from you,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh, sorry babe. Things have been nuts at work all week. And you called while the Jets game was on. They won!” Right. Football. I hadn't thought of that.

“Hey, will you be home later?” I asked. “I really wish I could talk to you right now, but I can call you back when Megan leaves.”

“I should be around. Call me on the landline,” he said. “And hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

I dumped the food from the takeout containers onto plates, my pumpkin curry looking much more appealing than Megan's
gooey yuzu stew. I don't like my food slippery. I portioned out the cucumber salad and opened the dipping sauce for the order of dumplings to share. Megan buzzed my door at precisely eight o'clock. She was always prompt, like me. We hugged in the doorway, a little tighter than usual. Megan flipped her shoes off and started talking before she even sat down.

“Oh my God, girl, I missed you. I'm sorry I went MIA, it's just, there was something I had to do, and I had to do it on my own.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jared. I know you hate him, and that if I asked your opinion—”

“
Hate
is a strong word,” I said. “It's true that I've never thought he deserves you, but the heart has a mind of its own. Trust me, I know. So I'm sorry if I—”

“I quit.”

“You did?”

“Yep. And I told him where he can stick his iPhone.”

“Yes!” I gave her a high five. “Phew, because I really do hate him.” We sat down in front of our feast.

“Yeah. I had really lost myself there. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“You weren't.”

“I got obsessed with wanting him to want me, and I didn't stop to realize that I don't really want him.”

“We all do it.”

“And you know what the worst part is ? He tried to turn me against you. When I told him I didn't want to waste my time with him anymore, he said that you were planting your feminist ideas in my head. Amazing, right?”

“Ah yes, me and my outlandish ideas, like that women should be treated with respect. Cheers to unreasonable standards!”