Dolly All the Time(49)
“Tell,” Christopher says.
“It’s barely a story,” I say. “Though they never stop bringing it up. When I was thirteen, I was temporarily burned out on fish, so I decided to roast a chicken.”
“She bought it, found a recipe and everything,” my dad says, grinning.
“Nowhere in that recipe did it say to take it out of the plastic before cooking it,” I say.
Christopher is laughing again and this gets Gus going.
“It smelled so bad.” My dad wipes his eyes. “For days.”
Stewart says, “When I was little I brought a skunk into the front hall because I thought it was a kitten. Trust me, we’re still talking about that.” He raises his wineglass to me, and Christopher starts laughing all over again.
“At Eight Oaks?” Gus asks.
“?’Fraid so,” says Stewart. “He sprayed, and for a week people were coating the carpet on the front stairs with tomato sauce. We made a game of sliding down the banister to avoid it, and Oscar broke his arm. It was a whole thing. We eventually replaced the carpet, but we never stop bringing it up.”
When we’ve finished dinner Gus takes the plates into the kitchen and returns with the chocolate cake. “Too soon?” he asks with his most impish smile.
“No, perfect,” I say.
“You made this?” Stewart asks.
“She made it this morning and wouldn’t let us have any,” says Christopher.
“Oh please,” I say, passing plates around. “You had three blueberry muffins for breakfast.”
Stewart takes a bite. “Wow,” he says. “This is amazing.” I have been baking for years, but watching Stewart’s eyes as he eats this cake turns baking into something erotic for the first time. His mouth on the tines of the fork, the way his eyes dip closed. It’s too much.
The next words that come out of the mouth I’m staring at are: “Would you want to go to a Red Sox game this summer?” Stewart is speaking to Gus, who immediately stops eating.
“Are you serious? Of course.” He turns to me. “Could we?”
“Sure,” I say, as if I’m the generous one.
“We could all go,” Stewart says. “Which game would you like to see?”
“Any game,” Gus says.
Stewart looks at me and then back at Gus. “They can’t all be the same to you. Pick one you’d really like to see.”
Gus looks to me for guidance. I’m sure he’s waiting for me to tell him to figure out which one the cheapest game is, or he’s thinking he should go with a game that’s at the most convenient time for everyone else. I have been making decisions along these lines for my entire life. I can’t even say I prefer tea over coffee. I don’t know why I think not asking for things is a virtue. I don’t know why I think I’ll get extra points on my deathbed for going without. I want Gus to say what he wants, to know it’s okay to want everything he can imagine.
“He said any game,” I say. “Who would you like to see?”
“Well, the Yankees, obviously,” he says. My dad makes a yikes face and Stewart laughs.
“I’ve been dreading that one, but let’s do it. Three weeks from Saturday, I think.”
“Seriously?” The smile on Gus’s face.
“Freddie? Christopher? Are you guys in?”
Christopher shakes his head. “Too loud.”
“We’ll stay here and see if we can see you on TV,” my dad says.
“Invite Clay if you want,” Stewart says.
Gus is furiously texting Clay, Stewart takes another bite of cake, and I am melting from the inside out.
* * *
Stewart: Thanks again for tonight Me: Thanks for coming, it was fun
Stewart: I have a bunch of work to do tonight, but I was thinking about doing that sunset cruise tomorrow. Something to look forward to. Can you do that?
Me: Yes
My heart is racing, and if I type any more words, they will have exclamation points after them.
Stewart: Sun sets at 8:41 tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7
Me: Great, thank you
Stewart: Good night Dolly He texted my name. He could have just said good night. I text Naomi: Not only did he eat my cake like he was making out with it, he texted “Good night Dolly.” That’s more than just good night, right? Feels different?
Naomi: HE LIKES YOU!!! The absolutely unnecessary excursions, the effort with Gus, the totally pornographic hand-holding. Come on Me: There’s something between us and it terrifies me
Naomi: Because he’s so hot his body may burn you into a pile of ashes?
Me: Ha ha. You know what I mean. A person could fall for a guy like this
Naomi: A person could do a lot worse. Maybe it’s time to let go of your tragically low expectations Me: We’re going on his boat tomorrow night. Sunset
Naomi: STOPPPPPPPP!!!!!
Chapter 19
My dad and Gus are inside, doing the dishes, and Christopher is on the porch swing when Stewart pulls in to the driveway at seven the next evening. He gets out of the car and waves to Christopher and then opens my door for me. I’m in a yellow T-shirt dress and sneakers. I tuck my hair behind my ear, my new habit, and smile out the window as we drive.