“Mrs. Barch?”
“Mhm.”
“At least it will look good on that Stanford app.” He takes his hand off the steering wheel and runs it over his forehead. Stanford is Rob’s dream too. We’ve planned on it since we were kids.
“Even if I flunk?”
Rob takes his free hand and reaches over to tap my knee. “You never flunk. You’re Rosie.”
“Guess who’s back?” I say, remembering I haven’t told Rob about the newspaper article yet.
“Eminem?”
“Funny. No. Juliet.”
Rob frowns. “Your cousin?”
“Exactly.”
“Wow. How come they’re back here?”
I shrug. “I dunno. I haven’t asked my parents yet.”
“Didn’t your parents have a falling-out with them?”
I nod. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen Juliet in a decade.”
“Me either.”
“Well, obviously.” I poke him with my elbow, and we both laugh. It makes me relax.
We drive in silence for a few minutes. I think about reaching over for his iPod, but I don’t. I don’t want this to be like any old Wednesday night. I don’t want this to just be Rob and Rose, hanging out. This is a date. It has to be different. And just like I can’t recline my legs up on the dashboard, I also can’t be in charge of the music.
“You want to go to Bernatelli’s?” he asks, breaking the silence. Bernatelli’s is this Italian place by the water that our parents are really into. I’m surprised Rob wants to go. The only thing I’ve ever heard him say about it is that Domino’s pizza is better. I don’t bring this up, because it seems like a good date spot and tonight is about things being different.
“Sure,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything, and I’m suddenly acutely aware that we are alone together. We’ve been alone hundreds of times before. Thousands, even. But this is the first time I’ve ever noticed. I cave and fiddle with his iPod and put on some music. I don’t even know what’s playing. Not like it matters. My ears are still humming their own speedy rhythm in time with my racing pulse.
I open my mouth, but I’m not sure what to say. There doesn’t seem to be anything remotely unimportant to say. It’s like the second he put his knee on mine this morning, or even maybe before that, maybe when he put his hands on my face in May, he annihilated everything trivial. All the stupid stuff that used to make up our friendship, like whether Jason was a good kisser or whether Rob really looked as ridiculous as he felt in collared shirts, seems impossible to talk about now. We’re not just two friends informing each other about our day anymore. Which is fine, and I’m happy. I want this. I just feel like I’m sitting next to a stranger.
“So Ben and Olivia,” Rob says. “When did that happen?”
“I don’t know!” I practically scream. I’m so grateful to him for talking that the words come out rushed and frantic. “This summer. The beach, maybe? I don’t know. I don’t know!”
He laughs. It makes me feel calmer. The knot in my stomach starts to loosen.
“I think she really likes him.”
“Mutual,” he says. “The guy’s had a thing for her since we were freshmen.”
“Really?” I screech. “Why did you never say anything?”
“Dude moral code.” He lifts his eyes off the road and glances at me. “Plus, he never thought he actually had a chance.”
The Ben and Olivia discussion carries us all the way to the restaurant. There is a little snag when Rob comes around to open my door and I’ve already done it myself, but things seem to be improving as we walk in.
“Remember when we used to hang out by that thing?” Rob says when we’re inside.
He’s pointing to the gigantic lobster tank by the hostess stand, where people can come and pick out which one they want for dinner. Rob and I were obsessed with it when we were younger. Rob’s dad would always send us off to “pick the biggest one.”
There is a little boy in front of it now, tapping on the glass. His mother is behind him, tugging on his T-shirt.
“Yeah,” I say. “We were so into those things.”
“I don’t even like lobster.” Rob gives me a lopsided smile. “It must have been all you.”
We sit at a table in the back left corner. I never noticed before, but it’s sort of romantic in here. There are candles, and the lighting is kind of dim.
Okay, truth? I’ve thought about what a date with Rob would be like. A lot. Probably since high school started, maybe even before then. It never really mattered because I didn’t think it would actually happen, but I have the fantasies. They even come complete with little outfits, like we’re tiny cutout paper dolls. Whenever I can’t sleep and I’m just lying in bed, I imagine Rob and me on one of our fantasy dates. Alone, together. It helps, to think about him. It always has. Something about being close to him just makes me feel calm. He’s the one thing in life I can really rely on.
So in no particular order, my three favorite dream dates with Rob:
1) Picnic at a Park
Me: white dress, yellow cardigan
Rob: jeans, white T-shirt
Dialogue:
Rob: It’s always been you.
Me: Why did it take you so long to realize?
Rob: I was scared; we were young.
(He takes my hand in his.)
Rob: I want to be with you. Forever. As long as I can breathe, it will only be you.
2) Romantic Restaurant
Me: black dress, red shawl
Rob: dark jeans, blue button-down
Dialogue:
Rob: I’m so happy we ended up here.
Me: I just don’t know. I mean, we’ve been friends for so long. . . .
Rob: You don’t have to know. I know. For now that’s enough, and I will do everything in my power to convince you that this is right.
(He takes my face in his hands. Kisses me passionately.)
Me: I think it’s working.
3) School Dance
Me: silver dress, heels
Rob: black suit
Dialogue:
Rob: I’m so crazy about you.
Me: You are?
Rob: I can’t believe I’m here dancing with Rosaline Caplet. I’m so lucky.
Me: Are you sure this is right?
Rob: There is no one else on the planet for me. Only you.
The Rob in my fantasy dates is never nervous. He’s always self-assured. But the Rob sitting across from me looks kind of freaked out. I thought we’d worked all this out in the car earlier, but as soon as we sit down, it’s like he remembers we’re on a date and immediately freezes up. I take a gulp of water and start coughing. It startles Rob, and he looks at me with this mixture of confusion and surprise. Great. I am so not what he bargained for. I’ll bet he’s not even going to kiss me now. I’m going to graduate from high school with Jason Goddamn Grove still on my lips.
But then Rob reaches across the table and lays his fingertips right by my plate. He’s looking at me and biting his lower lip, like he’s not sure this was the right move. I sort of edge my fingers onto the table, to encourage him, and then caterpillar them closer. This is weird. This is weird, right? I mean, there are Rob’s hands, right in front of me, and I’m trying to figure out where to put mine, how to hold his, if that’s even what he wants. (Although, if it wasn’t what he wanted, why would he be reaching way the hell over to my plate? Why would he have leaned his knee against mine in assembly this morning? Why would we even be here?) This feels ridiculous, this finger dance. In my fantasies he always just takes my hand firmly. There are no sweaty palms. There’s no awkwardness. No uncertainty.
Finally he takes my thumb in his hand. Of all the fingers to grab, this would not have been the one I would have picked, but whatever. He sort of just holds it between his own thumb and index finger. Which is, truth be told, not very sexy. We should have gone about this all differently. I want to call a time-out and start over. Firs
t dates are important. I want us to get this one right.
“So, what are you going to order?” I ask. He’s still holding my thumb, and my other hand is just kind of lying there, so I use it to pick up my water glass.
“Pasta,” he says. He’s studying my thumb now. He’s staring at it. Running his index finger up the side.
“Cool.”
“You’re getting the Caprese pizza, right?”
“Dunno.” My menu is underneath the thumb debacle, and even though I usually get the Caprese pizza, I’d still like to look. Everything else is different about tonight. No reason my order shouldn’t be too.
He drops my thumb and picks up his water glass. He looks sorta proud of himself, which is disconcerting. Does he think that just went well? I bury myself in my menu and pretend to seriously consider another option besides the Caprese pizza. I find none.
“Have you two decided?” The waiter winks at me, and for a second I see Rob and me through his eyes: a young couple in love. Maybe a little bit awkward, but definitely not just friends. I’ll take it.
“What would you like?” Rob asks.
“The Caprese.”
Rob laughs and shakes his head. “Thanks for giving me a hard time, Caplet.”
“He’ll have the pasta Bolognese,” I shoot back.
Rob opens his mouth to protest, but the bow tie waiter cuts in, “Your date has great taste.”
Rob smiles and turns his hands up. “I can’t argue with that.”
When he’s gone, Rob again puts his hands across the table, but this time he takes both of mine in his in one clean, swift movement. It doesn’t feel awkward, just nice. I think maybe we’re getting better at this. The interaction with the waiter seemed to give us some confidence.
“You still haven’t told me about the summer.” I try to keep my voice steady because it’s distracting, his fingers on mine like this. But distracting in a good way. Like a really great song playing when you’re trying to study for an English exam.
“It was good.” He shrugs. “You know Kwebec, not much to report. It never changes. Larry is still there, and he’s as crazy as ever.”
Larry is the camp director. No one knows exactly how old he is. Sometimes he looks eighty, and sometimes he looks forty. It’s the weirdest thing. He isn’t married, so it’s not like you can tell by his wife or anything, and as far as I know he has no children.
“Cool.”
“It rained a lot.” Rob pauses, considering it. “Yeah, it was sorta annoying, actually. There’s only so long you can keep those kids indoors.”
The waiter comes over with our bread, but Rob doesn’t immediately drop my hands. Instead he turns them over in his and draws little circles on my palms. He traces the lines of my veins like he’s a fortune-teller.
“What do you see?” I peer at his fingers.
“You will live a long life,” he says in his best Dumbledore voice.
“That’s it?”
“What else do you want?” He looks up at me, his voice Rob again.
“It’s my destiny. Something good.”
I break our hands apart and reach for a piece of bread. Rob starts talking about Jake and whether or not their before-school surfing routine is going to work through the fall.
“I think Jake is probably headed to CC next year,” he says. CC is the community college here. It’s different than the big university in town, where my dad teaches. CC isn’t a great school, but Jake also isn’t exactly a fantastic student. I think this really upsets Charlie. She wants to go to Middlebury in Vermont next year, and sometimes, in their better moments, she wants him to come with her.
“When are our applications due?”
“I think end of September,” he says. “You’re applying early, right?”
“You have to ask?”
He smiles, reaches across, and squeezes my hand. It’s starting to feel normal now.
“You think this is going to work out, right?” I ask. “I mean, it’s so supercompetitive these days.”
Rob flips his hand to dismiss the comment. “We’re fine. Unless Lauren decides to forgo Harvard. Then we’re screwed.”
I laugh, but I can feel the bread turn over in my stomach. I hadn’t even thought about anybody else applying. What’s stopping Lauren or even Stacy Tempeski from edging in on our spots?
“Do you think they’ll take both of us?”
Something flickers across his face for half a second. I barely register that it’s doubt, before it’s gone. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
Our food arrives, and we segue out of Stanford talk. Rob wants to know about my parents and whether or not we are finally going to build that pool they’ve been talking about for years. “Honestly, I think they should invest in air-conditioning first.” He takes my olives; I take his onions. By the time dinner is over, I’m not really nervous at all. It feels like I’m just out with Rob. My best friend Rob, who knows that I hate yellow peppers and that every time I lost a tooth I used to sleep over at his house the next night because I thought that I could trick the tooth fairy into coming twice.
We split a dessert—chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream—and when the check comes, Rob brushes me off. “No way,” he says. “This is mine.”
We walk to the car, and it’s gotten a little cold out. I didn’t bring a sweater, and I hug my arms around me. Rob tosses me the Stanford sweatshirt from the backseat. I pull it on, and when I poke my head out, he’s smiling at me.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It just looks cute on you.”
The comment makes my heart start racing and my hands feel numb. “I don’t want to go home yet,” he continues. He puts his hand softly on my kneecap. It’s warm and dry, and he leaves it there. It feels very different than this morning. More definitive, because I don’t have any more questions. I know now. Rob and I are going to kiss before this night is over.
“Okay.”
“Should we go to the Cliffs?”
His hand is still on my knee, and I nod in agreement. We start driving back past Grandma’s Coffeehouse and the school and up toward the water. The Cliffs are this area of San Bellaro above the ocean. Pretty self-explanatory except for the fact that there’s a cemetery there. Which completely creeps Olivia and Charlie out. It’s always been somewhere I’ve gone with Rob. Our place. It’s quiet and peaceful, and all you can hear, besides the occasional passing car, is the sound of the waves crashing. I’ve spent my whole life living by the water, and while I don’t surf and, yeah, my skin is whiter than a sheet of paper, there is something comforting about that sound. It’s so eternal. Like Rob, one of those things I can just count on.
I keep my window down, and when I wet my lips, I can taste the salt air. Rob and I are quiet on the way over, but it’s a good quiet now, a quiet we’re used to. Watching movies, studying at my kitchen table. That kind of quiet.
It takes us about ten minutes to get there, and the entire time we’re driving with the windows down, music playing and the salt air settling onto our skin, he has his hand on my knee. It’s just resting there, like it fits. Like we’re these two puzzle pieces that have finally been put together.
We pull into the parking lot, and Rob cuts the engine. It’s quiet—so quiet I can actually hear the wind whistling through the grass outside. Rob takes his hand gently away and then gets out. This time I wait for him to come around, and when he does, he opens my door easily, on the first try.
I hug the Stanford sweatshirt closer around me.
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand.
We walk through the grass to this place at the end of the cemetery where there are two big rocks that are so close to the edge of the cliffs, it feels like you’re literally hanging over the water. I’ve always been afraid of heights. I was that kid who refused to go on the monkey bars and hated gymnastics. I still don’t even like to fly. Being high up freaks me out. All of that space. All of that possibility for complete and total
catastrophe. One wrong move, and everything changes.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Rob says. It’s the same thing he’s been saying for years. Every time I get close to the rocks, I just sort of freeze up. I can’t help it. It is a long way down into that water. If I knew anything about math or geography, I’d probably put it around way too many feet.
“I know. Just give me a minute.”
“Okay.” He stands on one of the rocks, arms spread out like he’s flying. “Check it out, Rosie. No hands.”
“Please stop.” My heart is racing and my blood is pounding so hard, I can hear it in my ears. It feels like it’s going to thump straight out of my body.
Then Rob trips and his arms flail out, and he’s literally inches from the edge, his torso so far forward I swear he’s going to topple over. In one tiny, terrified moment I start screaming.
Rob rights himself effortlessly. “Relax, Rosie. No problem.”
He tries to take my hand, but I yank it away. “It’s not funny.” I know I sound petulant, like a little kid, but I can’t help it. “I hate when you do that.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, softening. He brings one hand to my waist and puts the other underneath my chin, tilting my head up toward him. “I’m sorry,” he says, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he means it.
I grumble, “Okay,” and let him lead me over to the rock just behind the one he was standing on, where we settle down next to each other.
He points to the sky. The stars are brilliant, so specific that it feels like if I tried, I could count them. And from our spot on the rock it looks like they are all around us. Even underneath us. Like we’re in a universe composed entirely of stars.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing up at a circular constellation. Rob has moved just a tiny bit behind me so my back is resting half on his chest and half on his shoulder.
“I’m not sure. I was never too good at astronomy.”
“Me neither.”
He runs his hand down my arm and then secures it around me. My heart starts to speed up again, like a runner in the last mile of a marathon. Just when I didn’t think it could go anymore, it takes off again.
When You Were Mine Page 7
