“Bon Jovi? Nice,” I tease and throw up my index and pinky finger to make devil horns.
“Well, excuse me. Not all of us enjoy watching a bunch of men bouncing around stage in-synchronization and singing cheesy love songs, April,” Mom laughs. “Now, do you want to hear the story or not?” I nod for her to continue. “Your father and I spent the night together…no not like that so you can relax that disgusted face of yours. When I woke up the next morning your father was still sleeping. I watched him sleep and it was the most peaceful I’d ever felt, lying there watching him sleep. That’s the moment I realized that the idea of waking up next to him every day for the rest of my life was something I definitely wanted. In fact, the idea of not being with him for the rest of life was not a life I wanted to even consider,” mom says. She is smiling so contently she has to be reliving that moment with dad in her mind.
She is waiting for a reaction from me but this isn’t the story I was expecting. I assumed she would tell me some epic story about how their eyes met and her heart fluttered and she knew that her life was complete. But instead I got a story about how she creepily watched my father sleep and then mentally married him.
“Oh,” I reply trying to mask my disappointment. “Okay.”
“Why do you ask?”
There is no way I am going to tell her. If she knew what Jamie and I discussed on Christmas Eve she’d flip out and say things like, “Are you crazy? You’re too young to get married!” or worse, “Are you pregnant?” which according to my father is the only reason “Young people get married these days.” I tell my mother a lot but I think this I’ll keep to myself for a little while longer.
“No reason. I was just curious,” I lie hoping she won’t notice.
“Okay, well whenever you decide to tell me the truth I’m around.”
Ding dong! Jamie is right on time as always. I never get any extra time. Would a little tardiness kill him?
-20-
We’ve been driving for over an hour and we still haven’t reached our destination. I’m beginning to think Jamie has no idea where he’s going. We’re driving on some backwoods road with nothing but trees surrounding us. Mother Nature has brought in fog and I feel like I’m in the middle of a Twilight movie and Robert Pattinson is going to jump in front of the car at any moment.
“If you turn into a vampire right now I’m going to be really pissed off,” I tease as Jamie negotiates a sharp turn.
“Don’t worry I only drink the blood of the innocent and you, my dear, are far from that,” Jamie retorts.
I nudge his shoulder and stick out my tongue at him and it gives me more time to admire how handsome he is in that white button down, black slack and a blue tie outfit. Obviously we’re going someplace nice. This isn’t his typical I-don’t-have-a-style-wear and I know how uncomfortable he is in this kind of semi-formal wear. It makes me smile knowing that even though he hates it, he does it for me. Amber is the type of person who gets the boys like this. Although she’s never had a truly long-term relationship she has always had her boyfriends wrapped around her finger.
“Seriously, Jamie where the heck are you taking me?”
“I told you. It’s a surprise so you will have to wait.”
“Can you give me a hint? I mean will there at least be civilization?”
“Okay, I’ll give you a hint if you send me your book.” And that puts an end to that! I recently, by some miracle, have been able to get within a few paragraphs of finishing the book. But there is no way I am letting Jamie see it. He’s been bugging me for days about it but it’s the first thing I’ve ever really written and I don’t want my boyfriend reading something that is anything less than perfect. “I figured as much,” Jamie says as he turns the dial on the radio.
He’s been playing with the radio ever since we got in the car. He has very eclectic musical tastes. The last time I was in his car I went through his box of CDs and saw everything from The Doors to Britney Spears and he had even purchased the newest Backstreet Boys CD for me. Secretly I wonder if he bought it so he could listen to it when I wasn’t around.
“You should probably put on one of your thousand CDs. You have been messing with the radio since we left my house and haven’t found a decent station yet.”
“Fine, Miss Music Genius, why don’t you pick out something?”
“Okay, but remember you told me to,” I tease as I grab the Backstreet Boys CD.
“Wow I had no idea you’d pick that one,” Jamie says sarcastically.
I blow a raspberry at him and allow myself to fall into the music. Maybe it will make this never ending car ride seem less like the beginning of a horror movie and more like a romantic evening. And if it’s not then at least, if I survive, I’ll have another book to write.
“We’re here,” Jamie sings as he puts the car in park.
“Where’s here? I can’t see anything but darkness,” I reply.
I recall a horror movie Jamie and I watched a few days ago about a couple who was lured out into the middle of nowhere for some secret party but when the couple arrived they were both slaughtered by the people living in the forest. When your boyfriend drives you to the middle of nowhere at night and you see no signs of civilization, you can’t help but let your mind wander.
“Trust me,” Jamie says and exits the car to makes his way around to my door. “You trust me, right?”
I do.
The restaurant is surrounded by a dense display of trees and shrubbery. It’s only about a five minute walk from the car to the restaurant but I am close to sending out a distress signal. Spiders greet us as they dangle from their webs and each time I see one I squeal and Jamie rumbles with laughter. I’m relieved that our woodsy adventure is over. The gravelly parking lot is filled, which means this place is going to be good.
“This is the first and last time I’ll ever interact that much with nature!” I shout as I shake off a moth that has taken up residence on my arm.
“Sorry about the trek but I wanted to keep a certain element of surprise to the night,” Jamie says. “Plus you look really cute when you’re running away from a bug. “As he wraps his arms around me we enter the small log cabin with the twinkling lights and enormous trees surrounding it and a sign that reads “Nana’s Little Paradise.”
-21-
“We’re like the youngest people in here” I whisper to Jamie.” Are you sure this isn’t a restaurant for a nursing home or something?”
I can smell the food being cooked inside. Garlic, rosemary and cooked tomatoes fill the air as we enter a small foyer where the hostess stands. The interior of the restaurant is not at all how I thought it would be. Tables spread out from front to back covering nearly every inch of the dining room. The room is flowing with conversation.
A petite woman with spiral golden hair greets us. “Good Evening and welcome to Nana's Little Paradise. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, under Clarke,” Jamie says glancing at the reservation book.
I can’t believe how many names are on the reservation list there must be at least twenty or so. How can this place be so popular when I’ve never heard of it before? I know every popular restaurant within a 50 mile radius of my home. Amber and I stayed up one night looking up stupid things, popular restaurants in Maine being one of them, and I didn’t see this place on the lists that Google came back with.
The hostess checks the book and stops midway down the page. “Ah, Mr. Clarke - table for two. Right this way.”
She grabs two leather bound menus and leads us to a table in the far right corner of the restaurant. It’s private and pushed away from the rest of the filled restaurant. When he made the reservation Jamie must have told them it was for a special occasion because our table is the only one with a votive candle floating in a heart shaped pool of water surrounded by rose petals. Jamie pulls the chair out for me and I slide onto the cushion. It is more comfortable than it looks. The hostess hands me the menu and does the same when Jamie takes his seat
across from me.
I keep glancing back and forth between the Chicken Picatta and the Penne ala vodka. Both seem equally delicious and if I were with my parents I’d probably order both and take any leftovers, not that there would be, home.
This is an Italian restaurant and it’s my favorite type of food. Jamie did exceptionally well with this choice.
“Everything looks so good,” Jamie says from behind his menu. “I’m not sure I can decide on just one dish.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I am relieved that he is as hungry as I am.
“Well maybe we can help one another out. Let’s pick out our top three dishes and share them. How does that sound?”
I’m supposed to be the dainty girl in the relationship who is sometimes sophisticated but always girly. If I agree to this deal then I know I’ll end up eating more than Jamie and he’ll think I’m a fatty. Amber always says that guys don’t like a girl who can eat more than they can. It makes us look like we’re just a few meals away from obesity. Eventually I am sure I will learn not to listen to everything Amber says about boys.
“Oh, I don’t know if I can eat that much but if you want to order more than one dish I promise not to judge you,” I reply. What a load of crap.
Jamie cocks his head and gives me a crooked smile as the waitress introduces herself.
“Welcome to Nana’s. My name is Margaret and I will be your waitress this evening. Are you ready to order?”
“Not just yet” Jamie says putting on a slight British accent. My mother would be so proud.
“Take your time. I’ll be back,” she says as she waddles away.
Jamie browses the menu and taps his finger on the glass in front of him. “CLINK”! His glass tumbles off the table and shatters into fragments. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it” says one of the busboys who is standing to the side as everyone turns to see who the loud culprits are. We should be embarrassed but instead we burst into uncontrollable laughter. “You would think they could be more well-mannered” we hear a middle-aged couple say as they stare at us from the next table.
“We’re like freaks at a circus” Jamie says to me.
“I know”, I reply; “the ones who have two heads and six limbs. I’ve been to fancy restaurants before. When I was fourteen-years-old my parents took me to Disneyworld for my birthday and booked us a table at Victoria & Albert’s, you know, a five-star gourmet restaurant in the Grand Floridian Hotel. There was a dress code and a seven-course meal. It was a luxury I wasn’t used to but even there, surrounded by wealthy adults, I still felt less judged than I do tonight”.
Margaret returns to take our order.
“They’re just jealous of us,” says Jamie.
As I go to pick up my water glass Jamie says “Whoa, whoa! What are you doing? “Placing his hand over my glass he says “you can’t drink yet. First we have to make a toast.”
“Are you ready to order now?” Margaret asks.
“Yes, I think we are, right April?”
“Yup, I’m good,” I reply and turn toward Margaret. “I’ll have the penne ala vodka please.”
“And I’ll have the chicken piccata,” Jamie says gleefully as he hands Margaret the menu.
As our waitress shuffles away Jamie raises his glass and it’s time to toast. I raise mine but I’m a little too anxious and end up spilling some of it on the back of my hand.
“Here’s to you and the past six months of our lives together and here’s to having many more anniversaries in the years to come,” Jamie toasts and pauses and looks at me with those blue eyes. Ugh those eyes. “So tell me honestly, why you won’t let me read your book?” he asks setting his glass down.
“Jamie,” I whine. “I told you it’s not ready.”
“But you said it’s almost done, right?” I nod. “Okay, so you promised that once it was you’d let me read it and I think almost done is close enough. It doesn’t have to be edited or anything. Trust me I won’t judge you. Besides you’ve seen the essays Mrs. Honor assigns us, they read like a five-year-olds journal. I am sure your book is great.”
He’s incredibly persuasive but if I show him the book he’ll think its crap and then any confidence he had that I could become a New York Times Bestselling author will disappear. He’ll become another naysayer and I can’t handle that.
“No, Jamie, not yet. I promise as soon as I think it’s good enough to be read you’ll be the first person who reads it but for now trust me when I say it’s not ready.”
“Let’s call this a difference of opinion then,” Jamie says pouting. “But you can’t keep your work hidden forever, April.”
“I know and I promise you will be the first person who gets to read it.”
Jamie winks and mouths, “Promise?” I nod.
“So did you hear Erik is having a big party tomorrow night?” Jamie asks.
Shit! I think I’d rather go back to talking about my book.
-22-
Erik Marshall was the first friend, aside from me, that Jamie made when he first arrived in Perkins Harbor. When Jamie isn’t with me he is at Erik’s either playing video games or some sort of sport. Erik’s parents are also loaded. His dad owns half of the shops in The Cove and his mother won some big settlement in court when she sued her ex-husband for slander. He is one of the “popular kids,” and before Jamie came along he was the hottest guy in school and every girl, including myself, had a crush on him.
After Jamie and I became a couple his friendship with Erik was a little awkward for me. Last year I told Penny Hamill, my art partner, that I had a crush on Erik. Big mistake because immediately after class ended she ran to tell him and before the day had ended the entire school knew. I couldn’t look in his direction for months. Now that Jamie and I are together and he and Erik are close friends its only natural that our paths should cross again, although I have done a good job of avoiding it. Each time Jamie will ask if I want to go with him to hang out with Erik I will come up with some believable excuse not to go and for the two parties that Jamie was able to convince me to go to I found a way to avoid seeing Erik.
“April, did you hear me?” Jamie asks. “About Erik’s party?”
“I feel like he is always having a party of some kind. It’s Friday let’s celebrate. Oh I just got an A on a paper, time for a party! That kid has every excuse to throw a party and his parents never say anything to him. I don’t get it,” I reply.
“Any interest in going?” Jamie asks, his voice filled with hope.
As much as he claims he doesn’t care about Erik’s parties I know that he does. Erik always has some kind of spiked drink and a lot of fried-greasy foods, something Jamie doesn’t get a lot of at home. His parents are health nuts and only allow organic and good-for-you foods in their home. Even his dog, Diogee, is given all natural foods. I think Jamie is embarrassed by the fact that his parents haven’t exactly left “hippie-dumb,” as he puts it. I don’t think my parents have escaped “hippie-dumb,” either. They’re all about love, peace and living in the world as one. It’s a little strange considering their teenage years of rock and roll, sex and drugs. So far Jamie’s parents don’t seem like the type to go on about love, peace and living as one.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I reply as I browse the room hoping to see the waitress bringing our food over. I want a distraction. Every new party we go to is one more step closer to having to talk to Erik and make an awkward situation ten times worse.
“Do you not want to go?”
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to,” I allow my voice to trail off.
Jamie’s face contorts. He’s disappointed. I hate disappointing him. It is just as bad as when you do something wrong at home and your parents say, ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.’
“Then what is it?”
Do I just suck it up and tell him the truth? I mean it was practically two years ago that I had a crush on Erik it means nothing now. I’m not the first girl Jamie ever liked or dated. He had a past just
like I do and neither of us can put the other at fault for anything we did before we met, right? But it could make things more awkward if I tell Jamie the truth. If he knows that I used to have a crush on his best friend it could ruin their friendship. But if he finds out from someone else he’ll think I was keeping it from him on purpose and this will lead to suspicion that I’m not over Erik.
Oh thank God. “Here we are. Penne ala vodka for the young lady and Chicken picatta for the gentleman,” Margaret says as she puts our dishes in front of us.
I move some of the more overcooked pieces of pasta around on the plate before I take my first bite. I knew it. It tastes even better than it smells. The sharpness of the tomato sauce mixed with the tangy flavor of the cooked vodka is intoxicating.
“So,” Jamie says taking a bite of his chicken, “why don’t you want to go to Erik’s party? Do you not like him or something?”
Damn, damn, damn he didn’t forget. I have to tell him the truth, I suppose. This sucks! I can’t even remember why I had a crush on Erik in the first place.
“Okay, but if I tell you please promise that you won’t get mad and weird.”
“Mad and weird about what?”
My stomach is like a Ferris wheel that’s spinning out of control and I can taste bile building in my throat. This shouldn’t be that big a deal it’s not like I still have a thing for Erik. Jamie dabs his forehead with a napkin and takes a long sip of water. I take a deep breath and put my fork down and fold my hands in my lap so he doesn’t see them shaking.
“Like two-years-ago, way before we met, before I knew you even existed I kind of, sort of, had a crush on,” I pause trying to steady my voice. I sound like a radio with a dying battery that has been submerged in water. “Erik. I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner but I didn’t want you to be mad or think that I still harbored any feelings for him, because I don’t. It was a stupid and meaningless crush. And well, he found out and it was just really awkward and embarrassing. But he means nothing to me now. The only person I want to be with is you. You’re more than just a crush and you know that.”
The Tragedy of Loving Jamie Clarke Page 13