“But what if it turns out to be great? What if it helps us understand our kids better? Or, I don’t know, just generally expands our minds. I was thinking, if you were there with me, it would be okay to try it. You’re a man of God, and you’re not a fearful person. You’re the opposite of the usual kind of minister.”
She could hardly have said anything more warming to his heart and loins. An early dusk was gathering, snow whitening the metal surfaces along the road, slush mottling the sidewalks. It was the best of days again.
“I don’t think my wife would be interested,” he said.
“Okay. Just you and me and Kitty, then.”
While he groped for a plausible reason to exclude Kitty as well, Frances gave him a playful little kick on the hip.
“Unless you don’t think we need a chaperone,” she said.
Among the revelations of the night before, in the front seat of Tanner’s VW bus, had been the excellence of lips. In the past, Becky’s lips had mostly just annoyed her, by being chapped or by wearing off her lipstick unevenly, their sensitivity in spin-the-bottle situations a matter of ticklishness and grossness. Only when they found their way to Tanner’s lips, which mirrored hers but had their own unpredictable volition, did she discover their connection to every nerve in her body. His mustache was at once plushy and sharp-bristled, his tongue shy at first but then less so, his teeth unexpectedly close to the action. Every sensation was a novelty, every angle of contact subtly different. The reality of kissing Tanner Evans was shockingly much better than the idea of it. She could have done it for hours, insensible of the discomfort of twisting sideways on the passenger seat, if they hadn’t been interrupted by noises in the parking lot.
“Hey, that’s Tanner’s van,” they heard a girl say.
In the imperfect darkness, he pulled away from Becky and cocked an ear. The voices of the girl and a second girl receded, presumably heading into the back room of the Grove.
“We should get out of here,” he said.
Having thrown herself at him, Becky understood his not wanting to be caught with her, but to her the hazard of being caught was thrilling. She drew him close and kissed him again. Moments later, the voices were back.
“Tanner?” the girl called, approaching the bus. “Laura?”
Tanner jerked away and peered out the window. Catching his panic, Becky bent over double and tried to hide her face in her hair, but it was obviously insufficient cover. She groped behind her, felt the Navajo blanket that was draped over the passenger seat, and pulled it over her head. From under its dusty woolenness she heard Tanner rolling down the window.
“Sally, yeah, hey,” he said.
“Are you guys coming in?”
It was Sally Perkins, Laura Dobrinsky’s good friend.
“Yeah,” Tanner said. “Yeah, I’m just helping a friend here for a second.”
Through the wool, Becky could feel Sally Perkins’s eyes on her ridiculous blanketed form.
“Laura’s not here?” Sally said.
“Uh, no.”
“Marcie and I are celebrating, if you felt like joining us. She just turned legal.”
“Yeah, um. That sounds—yeah.”
“See you inside?”
When Sally was gone, Becky sat up giggling and shrugged off the blanket. “Oops,” she said. This would have been a natural moment to ask about the status of Tanner and Laura as a couple, but he was giggling, too. For now, Becky thought, it was enough to share a secret with him, to be his partner in crime. She already had a sleepless night’s worth of new sensations to process and relive, and it seemed unwise to overstay her welcome. “You should go inside,” she told him.
“I don’t even like Marcie Ackerman.”
“It’s okay.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You do like me?”
“Yes! Why do you think I came down here?”
“So maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Definitely. We could—” He slumped. “Actually, tomorrow’s not so great.”
“I don’t have anything all day until the concert.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing. I have to work until four, and then we’ll be setting up.”
By we he meant his band. He meant the Natural Woman. Becky’s nerves, hypersensitized by kissing, were defenseless against her disappointment.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “What about Friday?”
“Friday’s Christmas Eve. Clem’s coming home. I’ll be busy with my family.”