You Think It, I'll Say It(33)
“It must have been if you’re just getting back.”
“Wait a sec—you think you get to ditch me with those two and be pissed that I didn’t follow you?”
“I left to give you and Ashley privacy in case you wanted to take it to the next level.”
“How thoughtful.”
“I hope having Ed there didn’t cramp your style.” Neither of us spoke, and then I said, “You know that was horrible, right? For you to dance with her, that was like my high school nightmare come true.” But even as I said it, I didn’t exactly buy the claim myself—it felt symbolic more than true.
Jason, it seemed, thought the same. He said, “Then I guess it’s lucky you’re not still in high school.”
We both were quiet again, until I said, “I’m sorry about my gravy train comment.”
“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do to prove myself to you. Quit my job and try to get hired at a big firm so my salary is as high as yours?” He finally didn’t sound sarcastic, but it was worse—he sounded deeply unhappy.
I said, “I’m glad you do what you do. It’s honorable.”
He laughed.
“It is,” I said.
“I don’t want us to keep having the same argument for the next fifty years.”
“I don’t either.” I rolled across the bed and kissed him on the lips, and after a few seconds, he kissed me back. Then he said, “You taste like mint-chocolate-chip ice cream.”
“I ate the chocolate on the pillow after I brushed my teeth. I ate yours, too.”
After a silence, he said, “I’ll forgive you this time. But don’t let it happen again.”
* * *
—
In the morning, I kept waking up and shutting my eyes, and I sensed Jason doing the same. At some point, I turned and saw that he was on his back, facing the ceiling. “Does your head hurt as much as mine?” I asked.
“This is what I think we should do,” he said. “It’s almost noon, so we’ll miss the brunch here, but isn’t there an IHOP or Waffle House on the outskirts of town? Let’s drive there, get some grease and starch in us, then we come back here, play cribbage by the pool, and chill out. No cable car or white-water rafting or any of that stuff today.”
“Deal,” I said.
“One other stipulation: we don’t talk any more about those fuckwads.”
Beneath the sheets, I extended my hand, and we shook. “I accept the terms of your offer,” I said.
Jason took a shower, then I took one, and while I dressed, he went to get the car; he said he’d meet me in front of the hotel. I walked up the path to the main building and cut through the lobby, and as soon as I stepped back outside, I saw them—they were fifteen feet away, loading suitcases into the trunk of their SUV, or Ed was loading them while Ashley talked on her phone.
I took a step backward, reflexively, just as Ashley caught sight of me and waved. We both had on sunglasses, as did Ed. Ashley held up her index finger, signaling, presumably, that I should stand there and wait for her to speak to me. I scanned the cars behind them and didn’t see Jason.
“Maggie!” Ashley called, and she was pulling the phone from her ear. She wore a black cotton dress, and as she walked toward me, I thought how I’d never wear a dress on a plane—I just don’t have that internal feminine calculus that makes the cuteness of a dress and bare legs seem worth the discomfort of unpredictable plane temperatures. “I’m bummed we have to leave today,” she said.
I wondered if it was realistic to imagine that I could live the rest of my life without seeing her again. I’d gone sixteen years this time, which was a respectable start.
“That was so fun last night,” she was saying. “And oh my God, Maggie, the dance moves on your husband! He’s so adorable that if we were staying here any longer, I’d seriously have to steal him from you!”
From behind my sunglasses, I looked at her pretty thirty-three-year-old face, with its lines at the eyes and mouth. While holding my head level, maintaining her own sunglassed gaze, I bent my right leg at the knee and raised my heel behind me—I was wearing yoga pants and running shoes—and I pulled my shoelace loose. Then I swung my leg forward. “This is so weird to ask,” I said, “but I think I strained a muscle in my back when we were hiking, and it hurts when I bend. Would you mind tying my shoe?”
She didn’t hesitate. She said, “Oh, sure,” and she leaned at the waist as I brought my right foot up and set it against her thigh. The bottom of my shoe hung off her knee, most of the sole was against her skin, and the toe overlapped with the hem of her dress. If she thought this was rude or unclean on my part, she didn’t say so. As she looped the laces, she said, “What I always take for sore muscles is Advil. I don’t know about you, but after last night, I could use some Advil anyway.”
I didn’t notice that Jason had pulled up until I heard a honk and turned my head. He, too, was wearing sunglasses, and he was watching us impassively. Although I might, over breakfast, have confessed to Jason what I’d done, to be caught in the act felt shameful.
“We gotta go, Ash,” Ed called then, and I said to Ashley, “Us, too.” I set my foot down, and I was the one who moved in to hug her; I did it to compensate for having ceded the high ground.