“Yes,” I say in a tone that leaves no room for argument. “What about your family? Are you close?” I ask between bites of pie, in an attempt to push the conversation back on him. “I mean, you sound really close…”
Awkward. Why do I sound so awkward?
“There’s actually a big festival this weekend we’ll all be at—lots of food and music,” he says with a little smile. “All the little guppies will be splashing around with the elders looking on—”
Guppies.What a cute nickname for kids.
“That must be nice,” I say, wondering what kind of festival it is. My imagination swims with tables filled to the brim with food and laughter, of family coming and going, and the words ‘one more hug’ met with open arms. I’ve always wanted to be a part of something like that, but the idea of a family of my own has seemed too far away to bother to chase.
“You could come,” Gil says the words easily, not looking up from his plate.
“What? This weekend?” I blush. We just met, and he already wants me to meet his whole family?
“Sure.”
“Wouldn’t they think it was strange for you to bring home someone you met a day ago?” I ask. Family get-togethers seem like they should be reserved for serious girlfriends.
He shrugs, as if the idea is of no consequence. I don’t understand. Is he the type to bring a new date home to every party? My chest squeezes tight, and I can’t even blame it on heartburn.
“So long as you don’t mind my Grampy planning a wedding behind our backs, but everyone is always welcome,” he says grinning ear to ear. The idea of his family plotting to keep me around forever scratches an itch in my brain. He’s joking, I know that, but for a moment, it’s nice to pretend it’s a possibility.
“Can I think about it?” I ask and hate myself for not being able to make a commitment, especially when the feeling of wanting to be surrounded by warmth like that is as appealing as a freshly steeped cup of tea. But what I’m feeling is new; I’m not even sure if it’s real. I’ve known this guy for what… hours? I can’tmeet his family.
“Of course, Splenda, I didn’t mean…” The mock seriousness in his tone has me snorting again. Does this count as an inside joke? I don’t think I’ve had one of those since—
“You’re good, Sweet-and-Low,” I chirp, a flutter in my stomach when I meet his strange eyes. His gaze is expectant somehow; does he want me to talk more?
“Um, other things, let’s see…” I ramble. “I’m auditioning for a band next week. The first audition went well, and now, it’s just up to whether they like me in person.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
So many people. But that’s something even I know not to say on a first date.
“I’m happy for you,” he says. “You’ve always wanted that, haven’t you? To make music?”
I laugh. Am I that easy to read?
“Yeah.” I nod. “And if it works out, I’ll be joining them on tour—a dream come true.”
“A dream come true,” he echoes, paying the bill before I have a chance to even try to reach for my wallet. Just like that, we’re leaving together. I blush and thank him for the pie. Gil stops short before we reach the door.
“Now, just a moment.” He fishes a quarter out of his pocket. Gently, he takes my arm, guiding me over to the claw machine. “Which one did you have your eye on?”
He taps the side of the claw machine with his knuckles and gives me a knowing look.
My cheeks flush—this guy really pays attention. “You don’t need to…”
“Oh, I ain’t making any promises.” Gil holds my gaze with calm sincerity. “But I’ll sure as hell try.”
I’ve been caught. There’s no use lying about it now.
“The clown fish,” I admit, pointing to the orange and white stuffed animal that’s been staring at me from across the restaurant.
“Clown fish it is,” he repeats with a boyish grin. I watch as he eagerly slides a shiny silver quarter in the machine; not only does it come to life with lights and music, but I also think I might too.
Chapter 8
Journal
