“For what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is beyond cool,” Barry says, readjusting his aviator-style sunglasses over the bridge of his nose.
“You don’t think I’m nuts?” I ask. Why did I think meeting at Great Adventure was such a brilliant idea when it would have been much simpler to suggest a drink at a local watering hole? And a much closer commute to the comfort of my bed if I’m stood up.
Shaking his head, Barry says, “I think you’re the coolest chick I know. If a girl did something like this for me, I’d ask her to marry me.”
Melanie rolls her eyes. “And all I had to do was swallow.”
“Swallow what?” Jessup asks.
“Never mind,” Melanie and Barry say in unison while I laugh quietly into my hand.
Giving me a hug, Melanie says, “Good luck, Mags. We love you.”
“I love you too,” I say. “Have fun. And thanks for doing this for me.”
Melanie says, “Anything for you,” and with a kiss on the cheek and a wave, I watch her and Barry walk away holding hands while their sons skip alongside them.
I take a sip from my water bottle and wipe the corners of my eyes. Even though I stored the bottle in the freezer overnight, the solid piece of ice has already melted, and the water is now room temperature at best. Bored, I pull my phone out of my bag to check Facebook. It’s approaching one p.m., which means I’ve been waiting for almost an hour and a half. In between searching the crowd for Doug, I’ve answered numerous texts from Melanie, Jodie, Amanda, and Cheryl, all asking for a status update. I replied with more than a little embarrassment that Doug hasn’t shown up yet. My mission has failed, which makes me a failure. I know they say “nothing ventured, nothing gained,” but if you don’t hit the ground running, you can’t fall flat. I wonder which is worse—living with the what ifs, or being full-on rejected without any room for hope or delusions.
I close my eyes and summon to memory a mental picture of the letter I wrote to Doug:
Dear Doug,
I told you I would find a use for this vintage 1970s stationery someday.
The first thing you need to know is I love you. I’m in love with you, and of this, I am one hundred percent positive.
When I tried to get back together in January, you wanted to know why I wasn’t certain about us before. I understand why you needed to know, but unfortunately, I didn’t quite know myself. I do now, and I’d very much like to tell you, assuming you still want an answer.
I’m enclosing a pre-paid entrance ticket to Six Flags Great Adventure. If there is any part of you that still loves me, or even if you’re just itching to ride El Toro, please meet me at the entrance any time between noon and 2:00 p.m. next Saturday, August 13th. I will be waiting.
Maybe it’s too late. I want you to be happy. If you don’t show up, I will assume you are where you want to be, and a future with me is permanently off the table. I will leave you alone for good if it’s what you want. But what I want, Doug, is you.
Maggie
What went through Doug’s mind when he read it? I like to think it touched a part of him that still hasn’t given up on me. I want to believe after reading it, he closed his eyes and was flooded with memories of the good times we shared together as a couple. I hope his curiosity about what I have to say overpowers the stubborn doubts he has about my feelings for him. But of course, I’m thinking like Maggie and not like Doug. If Doug has truly moved on, a note from an ex-girlfriend might elicit anger, not stir up buried feelings of love. When he thinks about the times we went to amusement parks together, he might choose to recall the way I whined during the long lines and hogged all of the water as opposed to the fits of laughter we shared at the end of each ride—our hair tousled and our faces flushed with happiness.
Glancing at my watch again, I note the time with despair—it’s almost 1:35. I should text Melanie for their location so I can meet them at their next attraction. I’ll paint on a temporary happy face for the sake of the boys until Melanie insists on leaving them with Barry so she can tend to me at the closest bar. I confirmed ahead of time that alcohol is available for purchase in the park—partly in case Doug and I wanted to celebrate our reunion with a toast, but mostly in case I was stood up and needed to drown my sorrows. I sadly suspect it will be the latter.
I am torn between complete devastation that Doug has truly moved on and anger he would put me through this—that he would let me come all the way out here and wait in the blistering heat if he wasn’t going to show up. One of Doug’s most admirable qualities, in my opinion, is how sensitive he is to the feelings of others. He would never intentionally kick someone who’s down. The Doug I know would have called me or, at the very least, sent an email letting me down easy, instead of causing needless suffering or humiliation. And since he is the one who insisted I get a full examination by a dermatologist every year because of my fair complexion and abundance of freckles, the Doug I know would definitely not want me to sit outside in the sun for longer than necessary. With this thought, I remove the container of sunscreen from my bag, cover my eyes with my other hand, and spray it along the length of my body—something I’ve done at least five times since arriving at the park. Even if the love Doug felt for me once is gone forever, there is not a cruel bone in his body.
And this is why, when I open my eyes and see him walking toward me, my eyes well up—not only with tears of joy over not being stood up, but with tears of relief that Doug is still “the Doug I know.”
I take him in as he approaches. He’s wearing brown cargo shorts and a graphic t-shirt, and he’s looking directly at me. He doesn’t appear nervous or excited, happy or sad, and I can’t gauge his emotions at all. When he stands before me, I choke out, “You came,” in barely a whisper. I swallow hard. “I’m so glad.” I study his face—his gorgeous, honest, and completely smoochable face which I took for granted for close to three years—and try to read his mind.
Doug nods. “I would have been here earlier, but there was an accident on I-95.”
“I hope it wasn’t serious.”
“No Jaws of Life, so it could be worse.” He smiles.
I adore his smile, especially the pronounced dimple in his left cheek. “It certainly could.” The one year I spent Thanksgiving with Doug’s relatives, we passed the Jaws of Life three times on our way to Long Island. We measured the intensity of car accidents by the absence or presence of them ever since.
“In any event, I’m here now.” He holds his ticket out to me. “Should we go inside?”
I let out an involuntary gasp of surprise. “You don’t want to talk first?”
Narrowing his teal eyes at me, Doug says, “I haven’t decided if I’m here because I want to see you or because I want to ride rollercoasters. I figure we can talk while waiting in line. That way, if I don’t like what you have to say, at least there will be a ride at the end of it.”
I gape at him, not knowing how to respond.
Doug offers a bemused smile and gently pushes me toward the entrance. “After you.”
There is no line to get into the park, not surprising at this late hour of the afternoon. My stomach rumbles, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m hungry for the sugar-laden delights offered at many of the stores inside the park or if it’s nervous energy. In any event, I hope Doug can’t hear it. I rehearse my speech to myself while occasionally taking sidelong glances at him. His focus is straight ahead, and he seems to know where he’s going. He’s walking briskly in the direction of Adventure Alley, and I have to double my steps to keep up.
Stopping in front of a ride called the SkyScreamer, he says, “We’re here,” and looks up.
I follow his gaze toward the rotating gondola ride. “Is this new?”
Still staring at the ride, he says, “It’s a couple of years old. They got rid of the old swing ride, and I know you like to ease your stomach into these things
. And your nerves.”
He heads to the end of the line, and I follow him. “Thanks. I need to get used to the motion on all of these rides. Can’t go directly to a crazy rollercoaster.”
Smirking at me, Doug says, “I know. I’ve accompanied you to amusement parks before.” But then he showcases his dimples again, and I know he’s teasing. Leaning his back against the metal fence encasing the line for the ride, he crosses his arms against his chest. “You have something to say to me?”
“I do,” I say, as my heart begins to pound against my chest. I take a deep breath and swallow hard. Motioning to the bottle of water peeking out of the backpack Doug never leaves home without, I timidly ask, “Can I have a sip of your water, please?”
Handing it to me, Doug says, “Where’s your water? You need it on a day like today.”
I take a long gulp, hoping it’s enough to keep my throat from drying up while I say my piece. “I drank it while waiting for you.”
“I didn’t mean to be so late. I’m sorry.”
I pat him playfully on his upper arm. “Just admit you were trying to punish me by waiting until the last possible minute to show up.”
His mouth a firm line, Doug says, “That’s not the way I roll, Mags.”
I feel the blood rush to my face. Perhaps this is not the time for me to initiate playful teasing banter. “Of course it’s not.” When Doug doesn’t respond, I take it as my cue to continue. “You asked me what our problem was, and I said I didn’t know. I know now.”
Doug nods, urging me to continue. The ride has ended and, as a new set of people get on, we move closer to the front of the line.
I try to remember my speech, but my memory has escaped me like a soap opera character suffering from amnesia, so I wing it. “There was no problem with us, and there was no problem with you. There was a problem with me. Let’s face it. I didn’t grow up with good role models for relationships. My father behaved more like a distant uncle, and my Aunt Helen and Uncle Walter’s idea of a conversation was him asking for a second helping of roasted potatoes, and her saying he’d have no one to blame but himself if he dropped dead of a heart attack. Which he did. It’s not a great excuse, but I learned everything I know about falling in love from books, television shows, and movies, where everything is drenched with conflict and angst. The couple always experiences so many highs and lows before they ultimately have their happily ever after.” I pause to take a breath, and I eye Doug’s water bottle longingly.
He hands it to me without a word.
I take a few sips and then continue. “I know how ridiculous this sounds, Doug, and I’m mortified.” I give the water bottle back. “The thing is, I never felt those crazy highs and lows with you. I was never nervous or anxious around you, and you never made me feel like I had to work hard to get your attention. I never worried you wouldn’t call me again, or that you’d leave me for another girl. You never made me cry. I didn’t have sleepless nights freaking out over you. There was no drama.” Ashamed by my confession, I drop my eyes to the ground for a moment before forcing myself to face Doug head-on. “I thought somehow the absence of this anxiety meant I didn’t feel enough for you. But now I know what we had is the definition of a healthy relationship.”
I study Doug’s face. I’m not sure he’s convinced, so I press on. “But please don’t mistake the safety for lack of passion. I love kissing you. I love sleeping in your arms. I love your hands. You have great fingers. I love your control and how unselfish you are in bed. Not surprising, since you are unselfish in life.” I look at him pleadingly. “Doug, I love you. I’m in love with you, and it’s not because I’m lonely and it’s not because I’m forty.” I withhold a giggle, thinking about Harry Burns’ speech at the end of When Harry Met Sally. “It’s because you’re the absolute best person for me, and I think I’m the absolute best person for you. Who besides the two of us would rather postpone a trip to Cape Cod than miss out on hearing J.J. Abrams speak at the 92nd Street Y?” I pause momentarily, remembering the time we delayed a vacation for just that reason. “I asked for a break, and you didn’t want to give it to me, but I don’t regret taking it. Without that break, I don’t know if I would have learned what love is, and love, Doug, is you and me. My greatest mistake was not comprehending what I had until I lost it, but I promise to never take you or us for granted for the rest of my life if you’ll take me back.” I stop talking, satisfied I said what needed to be said. The rest is up to him.
As Doug opens his mouth to respond, the conductor of the ride (who’s probably a college student on summer break) yells, “All aboard!” I was so singularly focused on bearing my soul to Doug, I didn’t notice us moving up the line, and now we’re at the front.
Doug and I make our way over to a vacant two-person swing-like chair and sit down. Without saying anything, Doug straps us in, pulls the safety bar across our chests, and we sit side by side with our feet dangling.
After the conductor checks to make sure everyone’s swings are secure, we start to slowly swirl and revolve around the tower in the center of the ride. We begin to climb, and the higher we go, the faster we spin, my ponytail slamming against my neck as it blows in the wind.
Doug has yet to utter a word, and I can’t resist the urge to turn my head so I can see him. Noting the red in the whites of his eyes, I gasp and reflexively look straight ahead. Either he got dirt in his eyes, or he’s shedding silent tears. Another covert glance at him confirms he’s choked up, and I hope beyond hope it’s because he still loves me, and not because he’s despondent over having to reject me again.
As if reading my mind, Doug answers my question with one move. His right hand covers my left one, and his fingers entwine with mine in an all too familiar display of affection decidedly missing from my life for the last year. I cock my head in his direction, and he winks at me. Unable to hold back, I beam at him. We smile goofily at each other until the swing slows down, and we descend to the ground.
While the other passengers jump off of their swings and rush to the exit and to the next thrill ride on their agendas, we remain sitting. Leaning over me, Doug releases my strap and slowly brings his face closer to mine until we are forehead to forehead. Unmoving, he whispers, “I love you,” and plants a butterfly kiss on my nose.
I close my eyes and murmur, “I love you too,” as his lips touch mine. As the kiss, gentle at first, deepens, Doug holds my face in his hands. I reach up and run my fingertips along his earlobes, one of his erogenous zones.
Alarms ring around us, and even with my eyes closed, I see flashes of light. I wonder if these are the fireworks you’re supposed to see when you kiss your soul mate. I reluctantly break away to catch my breath, and that’s when I see them. Everyone in line—from small children and their young parents, to pimple-faced teenagers, to grandparents—is watching us while the conductor waves his foghorn and flashlight in our faces. “Now that you’ve come up for air, do you mind getting a room so we can start the next ride?” he asks with a smirk on his face.
I bite my cheek, suppressing a giggle. Doug jumps from the swing first and extends his hand to me. I accept it and climb off the swing. Not letting go of each other, we offer mumbled apologies and hightail it to the exit against a backdrop of applause.
“I’m positive this is the best burger I’ve ever had,” I say to Doug fifteen minutes later. Famished, we made our way directly from the SkyScreamer to the Great Character Café in the Fantasy Forest section of the park for a late lunch.
Doug plucks a fry from the plate we are sharing and dips it into a paper cup of ketchup before biting into it. Looking at me doubtfully, he swallows before saying, “You sure about that? I can name at least ten places in the city with better burgers than these. I think the reason you like it so much is because we’re essentially eating inside a giant ice cream sundae.”
I follow Doug’s eyes as he muses appreciatively at the fiberglass moldings in the s
hape of ice cream and candies. “You might be right,” I say, nibbling on a fry. I scoot my chair closer to him and place my free hand on his thigh. “But there’s another reason.”
Twirling a piece of hair that had escaped my ponytail during the swing ride around his finger, Doug says, “What’s the other reason?”
“I’m just really happy, and food always tastes better when I’m happy,” I say assuredly.
Doug reaches into his backpack and pulls out a map of the park. Reading it, he says, “New England Hotdogs is in Loony Tunes Seaport. We can test your theory on relish.”
I make a sour face. “I’ll pass.” I hate relish, and Doug knows this.
Doug laughs for a second, and then his face turns serious. “I’ve missed you so much, Mags.”
I swipe my hand lightly along his cheek. “I’ve missed you too. So much.” My gaze rests on his chest. “Have you been working out?”
A film of pink painting his cheeks, Doug says, “Sort of. Lindsay was addicted to the gym, so I started going and got into it.”
My face drops at his mention of the L word. “About that.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m so unbelievably thrilled and relieved and stoked and a gazillion other positive emotions that we’re back together…” Scrunching my forehead, I say, “We are back together, right?”
Doug plants a soft kiss on my lips in answer.
I take a deep exhale. “Good.”
Doug smiles.
“But I don’t want to be the reason you don’t have children. I’m not saying I definitely don’t want children, but I’m not in a rush, and I should be at my age. I don’t want you giving up your dreams for me.”
How Do You Know? Page 24