Fools Rush In

Aware that some kind of response was required, I managed to say, “You made this, Joe?”

“Yup,” he answered. “I thought it would remind you of the Cape.”

“She doesn’t need reminding. She lives here,” Corey said with the logic of the young.

“Oh, yeah, I know…I mean…” Joe said.

“I love it,” I lied, finally snapping out of my shock. I forced a smile and kissed his cheek. “Joe, thank you. You’re so sweet.”

“It’s goddamn gorgeous,” Ethel growled.

Trish rolled her eyes. “This is from Avery and me,” she said, plopping a large, flat box into my lap and mercifully removing the lamp from my hands. It was a cocktail dress. Black, shimmery, expensive, gorgeous, one size too small and with a neckline that dipped toward my navel. Nothing, in short, that would ever leave my closet.

“Wow, Trish,” I said. “It’s, um, wow. Beautiful.”

“It’s Calvin Klein,” she said smugly.

“Yikes! Thank you. I’ve never owned anything like it,” I said, standing up and holding it in front of me.

“I know. I thought maybe you could use a little glamour in your life,” she answered, not unkindly.

“Um, thanks, Avery,” I said, my toes curling in discomfort at actually having to thank him. Still, Mother had raised me right.

“That will be gorgeous on you,” Mom said. “Joe, make sure you take her somewhere nice so she can wear that.”

“You bet, Mrs. Barnes,” Joe answered, smiling his heart-stopping smile.

A few hours later, we’d decimated my beautiful cake and the party had dwindled down to just a few of us. I said happy goodbyes to my friends and family and then went to help clean up a bit. Katie left, and then Danny and Sarah went to catch a movie, and finally, only six remained. In fact, just three couples: Joe and me, Sam and Carol, and Trish and Pink Pants. We sat out on the deck and watched the sky deepen and stars come out.

“Remember my thirtieth birthday, Sam?” Trish asked, giving him her thousand-watt smile.

“Uh, sure,” Sam answered. He began picking the label from his beer bottle.

“Sam took me on a surprise trip to the Caribbean,” Trish informed the others. “Remember, Millie?”

“Of course,” I said. “I came home from school to stay with Danny.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, it was so romantic. Wasn’t it, Sam?”

Sam just looked at her. “I guess so,” he answered hesitantly. Avery said nothing, just stared off at the sunset, obviously bored.

Trish turned to Carol with a pleasant expression on her perfect face. Oh, beware, Carol. “So how long have you two been dating?” my sister asked.

“Actually, this is our first date,” Carol said, giving Sam a little grin.

“Really!”

“Mmm hmm.”

“How did you meet?” my sister asked.

“I was going forty-nine in a thirty-five-mile-an-hour zone,” Carol answered.

“Oh, how typical!” Trish fake-laughed. “Has he strip-searched you yet?”

“Trish!” I rebuked.

“Maybe on the second date,” Carol said calmly. Sam smiled.

“I can’t believe you two are sisters,” Joe said, apropos of nothing, but mercifully changing the subject.

“Why not, Joe?” Trish asked, turning her attention to him.

“I guess I didn’t know you had a sister, Millie,” Joe answered. Trish’s smile faded.

“Well, she’s much older than I am,” I murmured, earning a venomous glare from said sister. I smiled back.

“So how long have you and Joe been seeing each other, Millie?” Trish asked.

“Just a few weeks, I guess,” I answered cautiously.

“Really. And how did you hook up?” she asked.

“Huh, let’s see,” Joe said, taking my hand. “How exactly did it start, Millie? Seems like we’ve been together forever.” He smiled at me.

“Well, we’ve known each other since high school,” I answered.

“That’s right!” Joe exclaimed. “I wonder how come we didn’t hang out then.”

I closed my eyes with dread. Sure enough, Trish’s fake smile grew maliciously genuine. “Well, of course Millie looked a lot different in those days….” she began.

“Oh, yeah? I can’t seem to remember,” Joe answered. “I wonder how I missed you?”

“That’s a great question,” Trish answered. “Poor Millie was hard to miss, huh, Millie? You must have been fifty pounds heavier back then! And oh, God, remember those braces? And that perm? Oh, that was rich.” She laughed merrily at the memory of my horrible adolescence.

My face flushed as helpless anger rushed through me. Joe looked at me, surprised, and I felt a little flash of fury toward him, too. Did he have to set Trish up so perfectly? Carol politely looked out at the water, and Pink Pants stared at his drink.

“Well,” Sam said, rising and taking my empty beer bottle. “I always thought you were adorable. You’re a lucky man, Joe.” He gave me a grin, and I smiled gratefully back at him.

“I sure am,” Joe said, kissing my hand. Trish’s eyes narrowed, I noted with satisfaction. I didn’t have to be jealous of Trish’s high-school success when I had the two nicest guys around defending my honor.

“Avery, it’s time for us to go,” Trish announced, unfolding herself from the chair. “Sam, we’ll be back tomorrow to take Danny to brunch. And if he wants to come back with us to New Jersey for a visit, please don’t discourage him. Bye, Millie. Happy birthday.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE SUMMER UNCURLED and stretched like a sated, sleepy cat. Day after day, the sky glowed blue, the air was clear and dry. We didn’t get much rain, and every passing vehicle stirred eddies of dust along the roads. By the end of July, the leaves were grayish green, the ocean a balmy sixty-two degrees, and Joe and I were a couple. An official couple. We got together three or four times a week, and every time I saw that incredible face smiling at me, I shook myself mentally. It was real. I had done it.

Curtis and Mitch came down from Provincetown and gave him their four-star approval rating. They flirted mercilessly with him, but Joe didn’t seem to mind. But when I called Curtis and Mitch later to get the inside skinny, they didn’t say much other than to wax poetic about Joe’s beauty, leaving me with a slightly empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Another night, we went to my parents’ house for dinner. They knew Joe, of course, and Joe and my dad had even played poker a few times, so it wasn’t as uncomfortable as most of those “meet my parents” situations. Joe happily wolfed down three helpings of ham and scalloped potato dinner, much to Mom’s delight. He and Dad talked about potholes and traffic.

“Nearly got sideswiped by a goddamn minivan yesterday in Ben & Jerry’s parking lot,” my dad said through a mouthful of green beans.

“What were you doing at Ben & Jerry’s?” my mom asked suspiciously.

“Say, Joe,” my dad said, pretending not to hear Mom. “They’re taking bids on the library renovation. Gonna put one in?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks, Mr. Barnes, I did hear about it.” I smiled at my guy for his good manners. “But no, I’m not bidding on that one.”

“Why not?” my dad asked.

“Well, I’m pretty busy as it is,” Joe said. “Plus I’m working on my own place.”

“Which I’ve never seen,” I murmured.

“You will, you will,” Joe smiled. “But anyway, the library project is kind of a bi—I mean, you’ve got that whole board to answer to, and there’s a ton of paperwork you’ve got to fill out, cost estimates and schedules and stuff, so I just figured I’d pass. This ham is great, Mrs. Barnes.”

“Call me Nancy,” my mom sighed dreamily.

“Still, Joe, it’s indoor work over the winter,” my dad went on. “Guaranteed money, too, working for the town. Seems silly to pass up the chance.”

“I guess so,” Joe said mildly, winking at my mom. She sighed again.

I didn’t want to gang up on Joe, but Dad had a point. Carpentry was seasonal work on the Cape, and it did seem that Joe was a little remiss in not bidding for the library job. Still, maybe he had other projects lined up.

As Mom and I cleared the dishes, the guys went out in the yard to admire the new pile of topsoil Dad had ordered.

“So, Mom,” I said as we loaded the dishwasher. “What do you think?”

“About Joe? Not those wineglasses, honey. Those are hand-washables. Millie, he’s just darling.” She smiled warmly at me.

“Isn’t he?”

“Absolutely. And he always was such a friendly boy.” She removed a copper-bottomed pot I had recklessly put into the dishwasher and shook a little powdered cleanser into it. “You’ll lose the pretty copper shine if you let the dishwasher do all the work,” she said.

“I see.”

“So, Millie, honey, are things serious with you two?” She scoured vigorously.

“Well…we are seeing a lot of each other.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“And we get along just great.”

“Do you, honey? Wonderful, because that’s what’s important. Once the newness wears off, you need to be able to talk to each other.”

“Are you and Dad that way?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said, flashing me a quick smile. “We have plenty to say to each other. And we still have a lot of fun together.”

I started to put a wooden spoon into the dishwasher, but Mom tut-tutted at me. “Nothing wooden, hon. Especially not those wood-handled knives.”

“Right.” I wondered why they had the damn appliance at all.

“Millie…” There was that cautionary Mom voice.

“Yes, Mom?”

“Well, honey, I hate to say anything, but, well…”

“What is it, Mom?”

“It’s just…well, Joe is a sweet boy and all…but I have to wonder if he’s really…enough for you.”

I was torn between love and irritation. “Oh, Mom. Joe is great! Don’t you think every parent wonders if a guy is good enough for their little girl?”

“No, not always. We always thought Trish was pretty damn lucky to get Sam.”

The pot I was wiping slipped out of my hands and bounced on the floor. I looked at my mom sharply, but she was scouring the sink, oblivious to my shock. “Well, there was that little matter of Danny,” I said, retrieving the gleaming pot.

“Yes, of course, but still…that’s not really the point. We’re talking about you and Joe.”

“He’s a good guy, Mom.”

“I know, sweetie. But is he good enough for you?”

I didn’t really know what to say. Mom wondering if a man, any man, was good enough for me…I’d have thought she’d have been planning my wedding by now. But it was sweet, kind of.

Dad had his turn next. Joe and Mom cleared the coffee cups and dessert plates (strawberry-rhubarb crumble, which I’d had to fake eat, because I had gained back three pounds since dating Joe and didn’t want to start the downward spiral into fatness again). From the patio, my dad and I could hear Mom and Joe laughing in the kitchen.

“So, baby, does he treat you okay?” Dad and I were sitting next to each other, and he picked up my hand.

“Sure, Dad. He’s great.” I smiled in the semidarkness and squeezed his big hand.

“Anything you want to tell your old man?”

“Um, like what, Daddy?” Like, I’m not a virgin? Like, It’s still not great but it’s getting better?

“Oh, I don’t know, punkin. Are you happy?”

“Sure, Daddy.” I squeezed his hand again to reassure him.

“You sure?”

“Yes, Dad. Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. If Joe’s good to you, then that’s all I can ask, right?”

Why were my parents so…unthrilled? Joe was charming, gorgeous, polite, good-natured and had a blue-collar job. What more could they want?

Their lack of enthusiasm stuck in my mind. Was there anything wrong with Joe that I didn’t know about? No, of course not. I had a master’s degree in Joe. And maybe it was just natural to wonder about things as the first blush of our relationship wore off.

ONE SATURDAY, JOE AND I went fishing together. We drove up to P-town at the absolute crack of dawn to borrow his friend Sal’s boat. Of course I’d had to get up while it was still dark to beautify before Joe pulled into my driveway. On the ride up, I slumped against the truck window, staring out at the fog as Joe whistled softly, his three-legged dog curled between us. We parked on Macmillan Wharf, grabbed a cup of coffee from a nearby shop and walked down to Sal’s little power boat. Trying not to spill my precious coffee, I gingerly climbed onboard, failing to notice the dampness of the seats until it was seeping into my shorts. Tripod leaped in beside me, nuzzling my arm so that coffee sloshed out of my cup and into the bottom of the boat.

“Naughty puppy,” I said, stroking his head as Joe started the motor.

“You ready?” he said, smiling at me. I smiled back. He really was so delectable. The Cape Cod Tourism Council should feature him in their ads. He adeptly steered us out of Provincetown Harbor into the choppy bay. I turned and watched the picturesque, weather-beaten buildings of P-town’s shoreline grow smaller.

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