On the Rocks(102)

“Bye, you pain in the ass,” I said to Bobby as I hugged him. “We’ve come a long way in a few months, haven’t we?”

“Well, you enjoy talking to me now, and I actually remember your name, so yeah, definite progress was made.”

“When will you be back in Boston?”

“I don’t know. Later this month probably. September is the best time down here, after all the summer people leave and the weather’s still warm. I’m going to hang here and wait and see what happens on the job front, you know?”

“I’m jealous.” I sighed.

“I always knew you were.”

“Let me know what happens with the job stuff, and give me a call when you get back to the city.”

“Did you just ask me on a date?” he asked.

“No,” I replied.

“Do you want to?”

“No,” I said, forcefully.

“Okay, well, that was pretty similar to the first conversation we ever had, so it appears we’ve come full circle.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” I said. I meant it.

“I won’t. Drive safely. Don’t try and pick up any dudes on the way out.”

“Right back at you.”

“Couldn’t just let me have the last word, could you?”

“Now what fun would that be?”

We waved good-bye as we exited the driveway, turned left onto Thames Street, and headed for home.



TWO DAYS LATER I WAS finishing up the last of my summer laundry, organizing my closet, and mentally preparing to return to work, when my door buzzed. I trembled for a second, afraid it was Ben pulling another surprise guest appearance. I hesitated before I hit the button on the intercom. “Hello?”

“Took you long enough. What are you doing up there?” Bobby asked.

“The better question is, what are you doing down there?”

“Buzz me up, come on.” I pressed the button and opened the door, listening to the sprightly footsteps on the stairs as he climbed the three flights.

“What are you doing here?” I asked when Bobby reached my door.

“I think you said the same thing the last time I showed up here.”

“That’s because you always appear unannounced.”

“What, we’re not friends?”

“We are. I’m just surprised to see you. I thought you were staying in Newport through September.”

“I think it might be time for me to reenter the grown-up world,” he said.

“When were you ever a member of the grown-up world?”

“Once upon a time I wore a suit to work and everything.”

“I have a hard time picturing that,” I said as he followed me into the den.

“Well, hopefully, you’ll see it for real soon enough. I have an interview on Thursday. The firm has a great reputation, so I’m hoping it goes well.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah. I need to start mentally preparing myself to go back to work, you know?”

“Believe me, I get it.” I noticed he didn’t have a gym bag with him. “What, no margaritas?”

“Margaritas are like white pants; they’re verboten after Labor Day,” he quipped.

“Wow, how very metrosexual of you.”

“Two words for you . . .”

“Fashion maven?”

“Renaissance man.”

“Good Lord.” I so should have seen that one coming.

“Can I have a beer?”

“I don’t have any. I do still have that bottle of wine from the wedding that I never opened, or I can run down to the corner and get you a six-pack if you want.”

“I have a better idea.”

“I never liked your ideas.”

“Let’s go to that jazz club in the Back Bay that I told you about.”

“Right now? I’m not really dressed to go out.”

“It’s not like it’s a date, so who cares? Do you have something better to do? You’re not knitting, are you?”

“No more knitting. From now on, I’ll buy my pot holders like every other woman my age.”

“Good. Maybe learn how to cook first. Wait, that reminds me.” He went into my kitchen and opened my freezer. “Wow,” he said as he nodded at me in approval. “You dismantled the ice cream shrine.”

“Yup. All gone. I’ve lost most of my post-Ben depression weight. I don’t want it back.”

“Good girl. You look great. I’d like to say you look like your old self, except I don’t know what the old you looked like.”

“I was starting to forget her too.”

“Since you don’t have any beer, there’s no use in hanging out here. Let’s go.”

“Wait, there’s one thing I want to do before we leave.”

“You don’t need to primp for me. I’ve seen you at your worst, believe me.”

“That’s not true,” I said, pretending to be offended.

“In one summer, I’ve seen you beat flowers to death, hit Wolf in the face with a shoe, and let’s not forget that oh so very special pink dress. The jig is up.”

He had a point. “That’s true, but still, that’s not what I meant,” I said.