“That’s nice.”
We arrive at Mama Tacos between the lunch and dinner rushes, so we’re able to get a quiet booth in the back. Once we place our order, there’s no one around to hear us talking.
“First of all, I want to apologize for how I acted the other day,” I say. “In fact, for how I’ve acted a bunch lately.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. “I’ve been a mess. I’m trying to figure things out, and you keep getting caught in the cross fire.”
“What are you trying to figure out?” I ask. “I’m not sure if I can help, but I’d like to try.”
He picks up a tortilla chip and studies it for moment as he tries to think of what to say to me.
“We were a happy family when I was growing up,” he says. “At least I thought we were. We took trips together. We had fun together. Everything seemed perfect. Well, the last few years weren’t perfect. I knew my parents were arguing, but I still thought they loved each other. But the people I saw when I went home—I can’t believe they ever loved each other. Not the way they acted.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
“You and your dad have . . . What’s the name of the place where you went surfing?”
“Sebastian Inlet.”
“Right. Sebastian Inlet. It’s your special place. I bet just seeing it on a map makes you think of him and smile, right?”
“Yeah.”
“My parents had that. There’s a place in Michigan called Mackinac Island. It’s beautiful, with old Victorian buildings. Very romantic. They went there when they were dating and liked it so much they had their wedding there. They even went back a few times for their anniversary. It was their special place.”
“It sounds really nice,” I say.
He looks up at me, and I see tears welling up in his eyes. “When we were going through everything with the judge, I found out that Dad already took his new girlfriend there. They even stayed in the same bed and breakfast where he and Mom got married. Why would he do that? I mean seriously, how messed up is that? Isn’t it enough that he broke her heart? Isn’t it enough that he has totally ruined everything? He has to go back and ruin the past, too?”
I reach across the table and take his hand, gently rubbing my thumb across his fingers.
“I wonder if she wishes that she never saw Mackinac Island in the first place,” he says. “At least then it wouldn’t hurt so much.”
The conversation stops when the waiter brings our food, and I feel terrible for Ben and how he’s feeling. Once we’re alone again, I ask him a question.
“Do you wish you hadn’t come into the shop that day to give us the poster?”
He doesn’t hesitate at all. “Of course not.”
“Neither do I,” I tell him. “Even though I know it’s going to hurt when you go home, I would not trade this summer for anything in the world.”
He looks deep into my eyes. “Really?”
“Not one second of it . . . Well, maybe the meltdown on the beach the other day . . . and the fight on the porch . . . but other than that, not one second.”
For a moment I think he’s going to cry, but he holds it off and smiles.
“Neither would I.”
“We don’t have to put a label on this. We don’t have to say that we’re girlfriend and boyfriend. But I still want to spend as much time as I can with you before you go home. I’ve been a better version of me ever since I met you.”
Now he reaches across and takes both of my hands.
“Me too.”
On Saturday I have him over to the house, and for the first time since he returned from Wisconsin, he seems like the old Ben.
“Are you ready for a surprise?” I ask as I greet him at the door.
“I guess so,” he answers cautiously.
I get behind him and cover his eyes, which is not easy considering how tall he is. I guide him down the hallway and through the kitchen, and we only run into two chairs along the way.
“Happy Birthday!” I yell as I pull back my hands and reveal my miniature surprise party. There’s a cake, a pizza, and three presents.
“This is surprising,” he says with a crooked smile. “Especially because . . . it’s not my birthday.”
“I know that,” I answer. “But tomorrow is the King of the Beach and we’re both going to be really busy, so I thought we’d celebrate a day early. Besides, Mom and Dad are out, so I get you all to myself. No charades. No parents liking you more than they like me.”
“You got me presents?” he says.
“And I baked a cake. There are a couple cracks on the top layer, but where other people might see that as a negative, I see it as a place to hide bonus frosting.”
He leans over to give me a kiss, but it’s just a peck. Our relationship is undefined, and at this point I’m determined not to push it any.
“Everything has a special meaning,” I say as we sit down. “The pizza’s a Big Lu from Luigi’s Car Wash. . . .”
“In honor of our first meal together.”
“Exactly.”
“And the presents . . . They have special meaning too?”
“Why don’t you open them and find out?”
First I hand him a flat, rectangular box. I have a slight panic attack as he starts to unwrap it, because I’ve never bought anything for a guy who isn’t named Dad. I’m not sure if I found the right mix.
“Saltwater taffy!” he announces. “That means you—”
“Yes. That means I went into the wilderness that is the boardwalk.”
“With all those tourists?” he says, as though they were dangerous animals.
“What can I say? I’m dedicated. The taffy is to remind you of the differences between the tourist beach and the locals’ beach. It was also my sweets backup in case the cake didn’t turn out.”
He unwraps a piece of candy and pops it in his mouth. “I know you say it’s a scam, but I still stay it’s delicious.”
“I’m a little nervous about this next one,” I tell him. “If you don’t like it, you can return it. I promise it won’t hurt my feelings. But if you like it, it’s the final stage in your wardrobe makeover.”
“I can hardly wait,” he says as he opens the package.
It’s a wool beanie with a Surf Sisters logo on it.
“I love it!” he says, much to my relief.
“I hear there’s snow up in Wisconsin. So I wanted to make sure you can stay warm and have a little beach with you at the same time.”
He tries it on and turns his head from side to side to model it for me. “How’s it look?”
“Very nice,” I say, in the understatement of the night. “Now, this last gift was hard to get. Consider it a birthday-slash-graduation present.”
“Graduation from what?”
“Summer school,” I say as I hand it to him. “You asked me to help you blend in, and after months of hard work, well . . . you’ll see.”
Even in the wrapping paper you can tell that it’s obviously a T-shirt, but he plays it up, holding it next to his ear and shaking it as though he were trying to figure out what it is.
“I have no idea what it is,” he says. “It could be anything, but I hope it has Surf City written on it.”
I slug him in the arm. “Another joke like that and you’re going to have that cake all over your face.”
He opens it, and when he sees what it is, he has the exact expression I was hoping for.
“I thought these were only for the locals,” he says as he holds up an Islander T-shirt from the Islander Ice Cream Shop.
“I had a long talk with the owner,” I explain. “Sophie and Nicole were there too, and we convinced him that you were a legit local. It helps that you were born here.”
“I love it so much,” he says as he holds it up to look at it closely. “I promise to wear it only on special occasions.”
He turns to look at me, and for the moment at least, most of the distance that has been between us lately is gone. And it’s not because of presents or anything superficial like that. It’s because we’ve reconnected with the special moments from the summer. It’s like the cutback; I turned and went back to the power source of our relationship.