“Me either,” I admit. “What else? It seems like you’re trying to do it all.”
“I’m doing as much as these old bones will let me do. I think tomorrow I have the day off, so I’ll go lie on the beach with the only book I brought with me and fall asleep halfway through the first page. I’m seeing some turtles this week, and, oh, I don’t know what else. I need my planner.” He chuckles.
“I’m doing the turtle thing too,” I say. “And a lighthouse hike and a sunset sail.”
“Well that sounds fun,” he says.
“I’ve already done the ‘sleeping on the beach’ thing, so it’ll be nice to get away from the resort.”
“Have you been enjoying your vacation?” he asks just as I’ve taken a bite of food. I nod enthusiastically, and realize that doesn’t feel good to do, so I nod a little less enthusiastically.
“You know, I thought I saw you the other day around here with a boy. Well, a tall man, very strapping lad,” Walter says. “I think you said you came here alone, but it seems you’re making friends.”
“Oh, that’s just…that’s Miles.”
“I see…?” he says skeptically.
“Miles is my—” My ex? My friend? All of the above? “Well, he’s my ex-boyfriend. From college. And now I guess we’re friends,” I say. Miles and I aren’t exactly friends, but we aren’tnotfriends.
“You’re giving yourex-boyfriend the time of day?”
“I know, I know. I’m too nice.”
“Is there such a thing as too nice?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I think sometimes I can be. I don’t like to make a fuss.”
He studies me again while working on his beer. “Life is way too short not to make a fuss. My wife of forty-seven years was the same way. She started to make a fuss the last few years before she died. She used to say, ‘Hot dog! I should have been more fussy.’”
“Hot dog?” I say with a chuckle.
“Just a phrase us old fogies like to say,” he says and gestures to a passing waiter for another beer.
“I had grandparents, Walter, and they never said ‘hot dog’ when they could say ‘holy shit.’”
Walter acts like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. He slaps his knee and throws his head back in a giant, booming laugh. He laughs until the waiter brings that beer and finally wipes the corners of his eyes and straightens. It definitely wasn’t that funny, but his reaction has me smiling at the very least. I’mglad I left my room today; this was worth whatever pain my little field trip might cost me.
“How much have you had to drink, Walter?” I tease.
He dismisses me with a chuckle and a wave of his hand, taking a sip of his beer. “I’m on vacation—I’m not counting!”
“Well deserved,” I say and hold up my water glass, which he clinks his beer against.
“Now, I’m not trying to be nosy, or overstep here, but you’re not hanging out with that boy because you don’t want to be fussy, are you?” Walter asks.
“No, no. I like hanging out with him,” I say, only realizing how true the words are once I’ve said them out loud to someone else.
When did that happen?
Was it when he apologized in the middle of the pasta-making class? Was it during the beach party when I chose to talk to him? When we danced? Surely it was before I chose to get in a hot tub with him, and it must have been before we kissed…
I don’t know if I can name the moment. I do know that I started to enjoy seeing Miles. And that I am starting to hope I will see him by chance.
“Good,” says Walter. “You’re too old to be hanging out with people you don’t like.”
“Did you just call me old?”
“I sure did. Your school years are the only time in your life you can get away with hanging out with people you don’t like. You don’t know what you need in a friend group and even if you do find people you like, you’ll only keep one or two for life. By the time you’re in your twenties, it’s time to whittle that friend group down to the people who are most important. And it’s never okay to spend time romantically with someone you don’t really like.”
