“Oh, you know what? We should go whale watching!” said Jenna excitedly. “We haven’t gone yet this summer.”
“For three days?” asked Sarah.
“No, no, not while the guys are fishing,” said Jenna. “All of us. Soon. Saturday.”
I was glad she turned to me then (would there ever come a time again when I just assumed “we” included me?) and asked, “Have you ever been whale watching?”
“Nope,” I said. I didn’t add that I’d spent last summer reading Moby Dick, and that the idea of spending any amount of time, be it three days or three hours, on a boat chasing a whale sounded to me about as sensible as going smallpox hunting.
“See!” said Jenna, practically jumping up and down in her chair, “Kate’s never gone whale watching. We have to go. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience, Kate.”
“So why are those of us who have already gone going again?” asked Sarah.
“Because, one, we cannot deny Kate the opportunity to have a once-in-a-lifetime experience,” said Lawrence. “And two, we’re total losers with nothing else to do.”
“Hey!” said Sarah. “Speak for yourself.” She reached across the table and pushed at his shoulder. Maybe I was imagining things, but it seemed to me that Lawrence blushed a little when she touched him.
“So, okay, Saturday. Whale watching,” said Jenna.
“Sure,” said Sarah.
“Most definitely,” said Lawrence.
“I’m in,” said Adam.
“Me too,” I said. The truth was, I didn’t really care about whales. It was a day spent playing footsie with Adam that sounded like my idea of a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
When Jenna suggested we all go for a walk on the beach after dinner, part of me really wanted to say yes. What could be more romantic than a walk on the beach with the guy you made out with just last night and desperately wanted to make out with again? But then I was like, what if he just walks ahead with Lawrence? What if we can kiss and play footsie, but only if no one knows about what’s going on with us? And then I was like, what is going on with us, anyway?
“I’ll go,” said Lawrence.
If the two of us were on the beach together and he didn’t take my hand or kiss me or anything, I was going to feel like such an idiot.
Better safe than sorry.
“Actually,” I said, “I’m kind of beat.”
And then, as if we were speaking some kind of secret code that nobody but we could understand, Adam said,
“I’m beat too. I can bring Kate home.”
I can bring Kate home. Suddenly these were my five favorite words in the English language.
“Thanks,” said Sarah.
“It’s stupid to bring three cars to the beach,” said Jenna. “Why don’t I drive and then I’ll bring you guys back here to pick your cars up.”
“You’re so environmentally savvy,” said Lawrence.
“She is,” said Sarah. “Jenna of the tiny carbon footprint. Oh, and Lawrence?”
“Yeah?”
“Shotgun.”
“You bitch!” said Lawrence, laughing. “You do this to me every time.” As we said our good-byes and I followed Adam over to his car, my stomach was jumpy enough for me to be glad I’d barely gotten half a dozen bites of lobster.
“Aah, the ubiquitous Subaru wagon,” I said, sliding into the seat just as my cell rang. “You don’t see too many of these around.” It was my dad calling, so I just hit IGNORE. Here’s who you don’t want to talk to when you’re driving alone with a guy you like: your dad.
When an opening in the traffic appeared, Adam gunned the engine to make the left onto Route 6. Over the course of my visit I’d learned this was just how people on Cape Cod drove, and I no longer clutched the sides of my seat and held my breath when it happened.
“Wow,” I said, checking out the sky through the windshield. “Look at the stars. I mean, not now,” I added quickly, what with his driving and all.
“I figured,” he said, reaching for my hand. He twined his fingers through mine, and we drove, neither of us saying anything.
When we pulled into Sarah’s driveway, both the main house and the guesthouse were dark. I decided to assume my mom and Tina were at a movie together and Jamie and Henry were at the driving range or out for dinner, rather than some alternative combination, e.g., my mom and Jamie at a movie together. After all, why borrow trouble?
Adam shut the car off, and I turned to face him. “Thanks for the ride,” I said.
“Glad I could be of help,” he said.
I thought Adam was about to lean forward and kiss me, but instead he reached out with his hand and carefully traced my lips. It felt really nice, like a cross between sexy and friendly. Then he moved his hand to the back of my neck and gently pulled me toward him. For a second I worried that he might be thinking I was a lame kisser, but then I had my hands in his hair, and I was too busy kissing him back to worry about anything.
“Wow,” he said when we finally came up for air. He leaned his forehead against mine. We were both breathing kind of fast.
“Yeah,” I said. “Wow.” “I had a great time tonight,” I said. “Me too,” he said. He kissed me again. “I can’t stop kissing you.” Apparently I couldn’t stop kissing him either because that’s what we sat there doing until we heard the crackle of a car pulling into the gravel behind us. We separated just as Tina’s car pulled up next to ours; even the fact that only she and Henry, not my mother or Jamie, got out couldn’t dim my happiness.
Adam rolled down his window, breaking the spell. “Hi, Tina,” he called. “Hi, Henry.” “Is that Adam?” said Tina. She came over and poked her head in. “Hi, guys.”
“Hi,” I said.
Henry came and stood next to the car. “You want to come in for some hot chocolate?” he asked. “It’s cold out.”
Adam shook his head. “No thanks,” he said. “I’ve got to get home. Sarah should be here soon. They went to check out the beach.”
“Okay,” said Tina. “Well, good night.”
They headed inside, arms around each other’s waists.
Adam turned to me, and we started making out again, but I was a little nervous that my mom would pull up behind us any second. Even if she didn’t actually catch us, she’d be sure to wonder why we were sitting in the car.
“I should go,” I said. Our lips were still touching, so it came out kind of muffled.
“Don’t go,” said Adam, kissing me again. “Wait, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” I asked. It was like I wasn’t sure what the word meant. “Um … I don’t know. I don’t have any plans.”
“Do you want to go to Provincetown?” He was kissing the side of my neck. It was extraordinarily hard to focus on what he was saying.
“What?” I said.
He kissed his way up to my ear, then whispered, “Do you want to go to Provincetown with me tomorrow?”
His lips tickled against my earlobe, and I giggled, not just because of the tickling but because I couldn’t believe he’d just asked me to spend the day with him. Me. Kate Draper! “Really?” I said.
“No, I’m joking,” he said. “Yes, really.” And then we kissed again. “Okay,” I said. “Okay,” he said. Our foreheads were pressed together and we were both smiling. “I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Not until the afternoon. I’m yours until four.”
I liked the idea of Adam being mine.
“So I guess I’ll see you at ten,” I said.
“I guess so,” he said. I pulled myself away from him and undid my seat belt, then stepped out of the car. As soon as I did, Adam rolled down my window.
“Hey,” he called.
I leaned into the car.
“You’re awesome, you know that?” he said.
“Am I?” I asked. I didn’t mean to sound coy, it was just so … crazy. The whole thing. I mean, no
guy had ever told me I was awesome. Over the years guys had told me I was nice. And smart. And funny. But awesome? Awesome like, I love kissing you awesome?
Not so much.
“Yes, Kate,” he said. “You are awesome.”
I winked at him and turned away, heading toward the house. I didn’t know if it was Adam’s saying it or just an accumulation of the night’s overall perfection, but the fact was, I’d never felt so awesome in my entire life.
THE WHOLE IDEA of the musical has always confused me. I mean, how is it realistic that a person would suddenly break into song for no reason, like, Hello! I am so excited to be on the train now. But honestly, all morning that’s exactly what I felt like doing. I am eating my breakfast on this beautiful day! Has there ever been such a beautiful day? Hooray! Hooray! Sarah had already left for the historical society, and I was sitting on the back deck, with my mom and Henry and Tina and Jamie when I heard Adam’s car pull into the driveway. I was in such a good mood I hadn’t even been irritated with Jamie when he’d refilled my mom’s coffee cup earlier.
I stood up. “I should go,” I said.
My mom looked up from reading her paper. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Do you want a ride?”
“No, my ride’s here. I mean, my friend’s here. I’m going to Provincetown with my friend today.” I purposely left out any gender-identifying pronoun. I didn’t think my mom would suddenly freak out about my spending the day with a guy she didn’t know, but you can never be too sure.
“Sounds like fun,” said Jamie.
I heard a car door shut. I had Adam’s sweater and my bag by the front door so I wouldn’t have to keep him waiting.
“Enjoy,” said my mom.
I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t going to get a whole cross-examination from my mom about who I was going with and what time I’d be home and had the person had his/her driver’s license for at least thirty years.
It was almost too good to be true.
“Thanks,” I said. “You too.”
“Have a great time,” said Henry. “Are you going with Jenna?”
Damn! So close. “Oh,” I said. “No, actually. I’m going with Adam.” Saying his name felt so nice. Adam. Adam.
AdamAdamAdam.
For a second everything seemed to freeze. The screen door to the front of the house opened and then slammed shut.
“Kate?” called Adam.
Was my mom going to throw a hissy fit?
“I’ll be right there,” I called. Then I held my breath for a count of three. But all that happened was Adam appeared. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he said, spotting me through the screen door. He came out to the deck, then said hello to Tina and Henry.
“This is my brother, Jamie,” said Tina. Jamie stood up, and he and Adam shook hands.
There was a pause, and then my mom said, “And I’m Jane, Kate’s mom.”
Oh my God, how incredibly lame am I?! “I’m so sorry,” I said quickly. “Adam, this is my mom. Mom, this is my”—I hesitated, but I don’t think anyone else noticed—“friend Adam.” Were we friends? I mean, we didn’t actually know each other all that well. Then again, we’d had our tongues in each other’s mouths. So in some ways we knew each other very well.
Honestly, the whole thing was so confusing it was enough to make you wish you lived in a Jane Austen novel, where you practically couldn’t even go for a walk alone with a guy unless you were engaged to him.
“Hi, Adam,” said my mom. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hi,” said Adam. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
“Well, I guess we should go.” I said it kind of abruptly, but I couldn’t just stand there with everyone making small talk. Nobody else seemed to find the scene playing out on the deck awkward, but I was nervous enough to wish I were wearing one of those special deodorants that promises to never let them see you sweat.
“Sure.” My mom smiled at me in this really understanding way, like she knew I was kind of freaking out. I made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t say anything mean to her for at least twenty-four hours. “Have a great time.”
As Adam and I sat at a red light on Route 6, I tried to figure out what had made me feel so weird when he was saying hello to everyone. The thing was, I’d never had a boy meet my parents before. I mean, a quick hello to my mom wasn’t like meeting the parents in some kind of big significant way; but still.
“Your mom seems nice,” said Adam.
“Thanks,” I said, and I was so relieved that I actually giggled a little. Then the light changed and he hit the gas and we were on our way.
Provincetown was founded in 1727, which, when you think about it, was a long, long time ago. As we walked the tiny streets, I couldn’t believe how many houses were squeezed together in such a small space or how beautifully they were designed and decorated, with elaborate flower gardens on plots the size of postage stamps, and bright multicolored porches sporting rainbow flags.
“I love all the rainbows,” I said. “They’re so colorful.” We were walking along Commercial Street, people watching. There were families eating ice cream and women dressed in outlandish dresses handing out flyers for nighttime shows, and lots and lots of young guys in great shape. A few were so muscular I wondered if there was some kind of Olympic tryout being held nearby.
“I like the rainbows too,” he said. “They’re a good symbol.”
“Yeah,” I said, too engrossed in everything to really register what he’d said. A second later, when his words sank in, I asked, “Wait, symbol of what?”
Adam stopped walking and turned to face me. “Are you serious?” he asked.
I racked my brain. Pink ribbon—breast cancer. Yellow ribbon—remember our troops. The letter P with a line through it—no parking.
“I’m serious,” I said. “Give me a hint.”
He thought for a second. “Okay,” he said, “‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’”
“The Wizard of Oz!” I shouted, glad I’d gotten it on the first try. Then I looked around. “The rainbow is the symbol of The Wizard of Oz?”
Adam started laughing. Seriously laughing. Like, hysterically. A few times he tried to stop, but then he’d start again. He was laughing so hard he could barely squeak out the words, “Friends of Dorothy.”
Adam’s laughter was contagious, but I still had no idea what he was talking about. “Who is Dorothy?” I asked. “Do you mean Dorothy Gale? From The Wizard of Oz?”
“Is that her last name?” asked Adam, who’d finally calmed down enough to speak. “Gale?”
“Yes,” I said. “But why are these people friends of hers?”
You could tell Adam wanted to start laughing again, but he restrained himself. “The rainbow is a symbol of homosexuality. Like, it means a place is friendly to gay people or that it supports a gay lifestyle. It comes from The Wizard of Oz—the idea of being happy somewhere else. You know—”
“Somewhere over the rainbow,” I finished, feeling like the biggest hick on the planet. So it wasn’t that there just happened to be a lot of hot guys running around without their wives or girlfriends in Provincetown. There were a lot of gay guys in Provincetown.
“Right,” he said. “Somewhere over the rainbow. Also, Judy Garland is kind of big in gay culture, but I’m not exactly sure why.”
“Wow,” I said. “You must think I’m about as sophisticated as a Big Mac.”
He draped his arm around me. “Don’t sweat it,” he said. “I imagine you don’t have a lot of rainbows in Salt Lake City.”
“Not so many,” I said.
We walked along for a few minutes before he said, “Weren’t all the transvestites we passed kind of a clue?”
“What transvestites?” I asked.
“Oh my God,” he said, squeezing me to him and kissing the top of my head. “We’d better get some lunch.”
Halfway through lunch at a bistro overlooking the water,
Adam’s cell rang.
&nbs
p; “Hey, Lawrence,” he said, picking it up.
While he talked, I looked around the restaurant so it wouldn’t seem as if I were eavesdropping on his conversation. After what Adam had told me, it was pretty obvious that there were a lot of gay men in Provincetown. Sitting at a restaurant where at least half of the tables were populated by all male groups or couples made me feel kind of cool. I felt like going up to them and saying, You know, this is my first meal in a gay restaurant in a gay town. I’m from Salt Lake City. Obviously I didn’t, but being in a place that was so casual about gay people just added to the excitement of being with Adam. It was like he hadn’t just taken me to a new town, he’d taken me to a new planet.
“Sure, man, I understand. Don’t worry about it … . You know, if I can swap some days off with one of the other interns, I can do it … . So coming back Wednesday or … Yeah, let me just ask around … . No, I’m in P-town, I’m working later … . Yeah, I’ll call you when I know … . Okay, sure … . Great.”
Was it weird that he hadn’t said he was in P-town with me? Or would it have been weird if he had said he was here with me? Between my not knowing what to call Adam and forgetting to introduce him to my mom and being worried that he didn’t tell Lawrence he was having lunch with me, I was starting to feel in need of a Web site called firsttimedaters.com. Or maybe instead of writing a novel, I could write something like, “Your First Relationship: When it Starts, What it’s Called, How to Deal.”
If other girls out there were even half as clueless as I was, the book was sure to be a best seller. “So,” said Adam, flipping his phone shut. “What do you want first, the good news or the bad news?”
“Um, the bad news.”
“Okay, Lawrence has a family reunion thing the weekend we were supposed to go fishing, so we’re going to try and go tomorrow. Which means we can’t go whale watching with you guys.”
Was that all? I was a little sad not to get to go whale watching with Adam, but I’d been afraid he was going to say something like, Lawrence needs a heart transplant, so I’m going from lunch directly to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota for the rest of the summer. But it was nice knowing you.
I could live with a three-day fishing trip.
Girlfriend Material Page 11