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Sophie and I talked about playing together, but I had band practice and she had dance team and we couldn’t figure out a time that worked for both of us. And with our first show since I joined scheduled for next month, I’m busier than ever.
For the longest time, I wondered how I’d ever be able to be in a relationship with someone who knew so little about me. But the newness is what makes it exciting. It feels like I’ll never stop learning about Chase, like how he’s broken his right arm twice and unashamedly loves Maroon 5 and has a ring of freckles around his navel.
“How do you feel about boats?” he asks on a Saturday morning at the end of January.
I step onto my front porch to meet him but don’t close the door behind me yet. “Good, I think?”
“There’s this music store on Bainbridge Island with an incredible selection of vintage guitars. We’d have to take a ferry to get there.”
I haven’t been on a ferry in years, so I nod my agreement. “Before we go. Um.” I peek into my house. “My parents want to meet you.”
“I would love to meet your parents,” he says, and they are suddenly at the door.
“This is Chase,” I say, hoping my face isn’t bright red. “Chase, my parents.”
“Great to meet you,” my dad says, enthusiastically pumping Chase’s hand up and down. I silently beg him not to make a dad joke.
“Do you want to come in?” my mom says. “Can we get you a cup of coffee?”
“Actually,” I say, “we were going to catch a ferry. So we should probably get going.”
My parents trade a knowing smile.
“It’s like you’re worried we’ll embarrass you,” my dad says.
“Please. Embarrass him,” Chases urges, eyes twinkling, and I groan.
“How long have you had your license?” my mom asks, and proceeds to ask a number of other questions about his driving record, despite the fact that I’ve been in a car with him before. I guess those times, he was a friend from school. Now he is my boyfriend.
Once Chase passes her test, we’re on our way.
Even though it’s cold, we climb up to the top deck of the ferry. The wind plays with our hair, and we tug our coats closer to our bodies before deciding tugging each other close is much better. Forty-five minutes later, we’re back on land. Bainbridge Island is green and quaint, with mountains towering in the distance. In other words, it looks a lot like everywhere in the Pacific Northwest, but there’s a comfort in that. There are always trees, always mountains, always water.
The music shop is at the end of the main drag.
Chase pauses in front of it. “My dad and I used to go here all the time,” he says, and suddenly I understand, even more deeply, the appeal of this seemingly unremarkable music shop on an island an hour outside of Seattle. “It’s where he got all his gear. And then, once I saved up, I got my first guitar here.” He grins. “And, hopefully, my second guitar.”
The Doors are playing inside, and it’s not very busy.
“This is the one,” Chase says, pointing at a stunning emerald-green Gibson Les Paul. “Gorgeous, right?”
“I’m almost afraid to touch it.”
“Me too. Don’t look at the price tag. It’ll depress you.”
We wander around the store for at least an hour, playing instruments we do and don’t know how to play, browsing the massive record collection, talking, as usual, about the bands we love and how much they changed our lives.
Before we leave, Chase stops by the guitar again, grazing its lacquered surface with a few fingertips. “I’m coming back for you,” he whispers to it.
We spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the island. The entire day feels like a page out of time. I want to bottle up these feelings, these carefree days with him. When was the last time I experienced anything like this, the pure bliss of not worrying about anything? There are no urgent doctor’s appointments, no exhaustion, no exchanges, no specter of sickness.
It’s then that I realize I’ve never felt anything like this, and so I tell him.
“You are a really great person to be around,” I say as we stand together on a dock, gazing out at our city. “You know that?”
He moves his hands from behind my back to the sides of my face. “That’s . . . wow. I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
I laugh. “I’m serious. Can we do this every Saturday?”
