I whisper it. “It’s only you that can fuss, though. No one else.”
“It’ll be hard for me to fuss over you when you’re in a different hemisphere.”
I think of the airport departure lounge and it doesn’t give me the same tingle. Bus, train, and plane routes branch out in my imagination from every international airport I’ve arrived in. All I feel is tired. “Don’t you want to go places?”
“I’m not brave like you, Darce. When I take a vacation, I’ll start small.” He smiles like he feels foolish. “The beach in front of your parents’ house was as close as I’ve come to a vacation in years. And I didn’t even get in the water. Sad, I guess, to someone like you.” He eases back from me. “Maybe we can get a life together sometime, before you leave.”
I didn’t expect that. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t done this in a long time. But you’re the best person I know to teach me. Let’s just go get a drink to celebrate. Two weeks into the renovation. I need to talk to you about something important.”
I stiffen in terror. “Oh fuck. Just tell me now.”
He shakes his head. “Trust me.”
* * *
IT’S OUR FAKE date night. Tom wants to talk to me about something, and I think it’s something important, and related to the sexual fog we’re blundering around in. I have never been this nervous waiting for a man.
He’s talking to some guys at the side of the house. They are all looking up at the roof. It’s hard to get used to the fact that my house is now a group project. One of them says something that makes Tom’s head turn toward me.
“Yeah, this is not a girl you keep waiting,” I hear him reply. “Call me if you have any problems.”
“Don’t make me drag you,” I call out to him.
“She would,” he says with a laugh. There’s some hand shaking and now he’s walking up the driveway to me in his clean get-a-life clothes and I think about how being an adult suits him.
As a teenager, he was sweet and straightforward, with zero idea of his own appeal as he hauled himself out of swimming pools while every girl—and some of the boys—in the bleachers paused their music and leaned forward. Looking back on it, I was insane for him.
Now he’s got this huge shape that I can’t get used to, all stacked smoothly into his clothes. His stomach is flat under the waist of his nice jeans and with each step the denim goes tight across the thighs. There are so many steps up the drive. By the time he reaches me, I need a defibrillator.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. What are they doing?” I watch as some ladders are unfolded against the side of the house. “They’re here on a Saturday? That’s weird.”
He herds me up the drive. “They’re just doing some more assessing. We don’t need to be here.”
“Well thank goodness for that, because I’m taking you out to get a life.”
It’s funny, I almost feel like Loretta is here in this moment. If I turn my head just right, she’s at the front door, watching us. A throb of anger surprises me. She told me I should let him go. She bought me a plane ticket. What was so bad about me that I had to be removed? Before I hurt this good, pure person?
“Let’s take a cab. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you remotely drunk.” I try to picture what he might be like with a little less self-control. Can he dance? Can he kiss?
“I’ve got an early start,” he says, like
he does every night of his life. His hands are on my waist, I’m given a lift and a boost into the passenger seat, and by the time I’ve caught my breath from the contact we’re driving down Marlin Street.
He glances to me. “Please don’t say we’re going to your bar. I’d like to remain alive tonight.”
I point and he follows my direction. “We’ll go to Sully’s. Let’s have a drink, and we can practice flirting with a few strangers. And then you can bail me out of jail.” He laughs at that and I change the radio over and over. Every song is about hearts. “Have you heard from my brother today?”
Tom sighs. “Of course I have. Many times. Your photos are the only thing keeping him from getting on a plane.”
“What will you do if he shows up?” I turn in my seat, just to watch his profile.
We’re at an intersection, and I watch him as he waits, one hand on the shifter. What a luxury to be able to close my eyes and feel the careful turn of the car; no squealing tire or digging my nails into the side of my seat.
“If he shows up?” Tom considers the question. “I’ll do what I’ve always done. I’ll deal with him.”