Waves, Stars, and Other Things to Catch

Part 8

The sound of a car horn jolted me back to the present.  It was three years later, we were in Malibu, and I had a boyfriend.  All good things to keep in mind.  I looked over at Ford, who was looking straight ahead at the highway, and I wondered if he had any idea where my thoughts had just gone.  In my overly romantic, newly thirteen-year-old way, I’d just assumed that kiss was the beginning of our great love that would start to play out, exchanging e-mails and letters from Connecticut to San Francisco.  But that beginning had also been the end.  We’d gone back inside, and it was like nothing had even happened.  Ford and I never talked about it again, and from time to time, it was as though I’d almost imagined the whole thing.  But then it would come back to me in a flash—the cold tile under my bare feet, the way my heart had been pounding so hard, I could feel my pulse beating in my throat.  It had happened.  But this was the first time Ford had even come close to admitting that it had. 

“The constellations?” I said, hoping my voice sounded even somewhat normal.  “You know, I never did get good at them.  Um, why?”  I held my breath as I waited for Ford’s answer, looking at his face, trying to make out his expression in the shifting moonlight as it came through the clouds.

“I was just thinking that you were right,” Ford said, his eyes fixed up at the sky.  “We’re actually in a situation now where we might need to navigate by starlight.  No phones, no maps . . .”

“Oh,” I said, and I tried not to let the disappointment sound in my voice.  After all, why should I be disappointed?  Ford had been making a logical connection, while I’d been lost in memories that I really shouldn’t be thinking about anyway.  “You’re right about that.”

We walked in silence back to the half-hidden turnoff, and I was suddenly glad it was Ford who had left the detailed messages on our respective fathers’ voicemails.  I never would have been able to describe this turnoff so that it could actually be found. 

The car was still there, which was a relief, since it was unlocked.  Although it would seem to me that you’d have to be a pretty enterprising car thief to somehow end up here, hoping that someone would have left it unlocked. 

We got into the car, and it wasn’t until I was back in the passenger seat that I noticed that it had started to get cold outside.  Even though there was obviously no heat we could turn on, just being inside was helpful.  I pulled my legs up underneath me and Ford took the fries out of the white paper bag—already spotted with grease, always a good-fry sign—and put it in the cupholder between us.  I put the remaining candy bags in the back cupholder, and across the car from me, Ford smiled.  “Salty and sweet,” he said, “my favorite.”

“I know,” I said.  “I didn’t just get here.”

He smiled at me, then reached up and pushed the sunroof back, so that the dark sky and riot of stars were back above our heads again.  He reached over and took a fry, and I did the same.  They were really good, just the right amount of salt, and not undercooked and soggy.  I took another one, immediately mourning that Maliburger was not available in Connecticut.  “Check it out,” Ford said as he tilted his seat back so that he was almost lying down, looking up through the sunroof.

I reached for the handle on the passenger side and did the same.  I could get a better view through the sunroof this way, but it was now also like Ford and I were lying down next to each other, which was a situation we’d never been in before.  But after a moment, I told myself to stop being ridiculous.  Just because I’d just had first-kiss flashbacks didn’t mean that Ford had.  And while it had been my first kiss and a big deal for me, I had a feeling it didn’t have nearly the same importance for him.  I sat forward and took a handful of fries, then relaxed back against the seat again.

“So we might be stranded here for the night,” Ford said, turning his head to look at me.  I nodded, but was really thinking how I had never before noticed how small the front seat of a car was.  Ford was so close, just an arm’s length away.  “I’m really sorry about this, Gem.”

“It’s fine,” I said immediately, meaning it.  It’s not like I would have volunteered for this.  “It was just a mistake.  It could happen to anyone.”

“Still,” Ford said.  He shook his head.  “I’ll make it up to you.  I promise.”

“Lobster roll,” I said immediately.

Ford laughed.  “You’ve got it.” 

I smiled at him across the car, and he smiled back.  Our eyes were locked, and I had the feeling that I should really look away, get more fries, something.  I didn’t even know why I suddenly felt like something was happening, but my heart was suddenly beating hard, and I didn’t think it was just the sugar rush from the Slurpee.

“Gem,” Ford said, and his voice was hesitant.  “I . . .”  he looked up through the sunroof for a moment before turning back to me.  “You and Teddy.  You’re happy, right?”

I swallowed hard.  Even a few hours ago, I would not have even hesitated to answer this question in the enthusiastic affirmative.  Teddy was amazing.  He was.  We were really happy together.  I took a breath to say this when I suddenly remembered what Ford had said to me about surfing—that one of these days, I would take my chance and realize what I’d been missing all along.  I looked at Ford, feeling my heart pound hard.  “Yes,” I said, mostly to stop myself from saying something else, something I knew that I shouldn’t.  “We are.”

Ford nodded, but he didn’t take his eyes from mine.  “Because . . .”  he stopped, then took a breath, the kind you take before you’re about to take the plunge into deep water.  “The thing is, Gem. . . .”

I waited, holding my own breath, my eyes searching his face, so close to mine.  I felt like we were on the edge of something together, and things could all start to change with one step in either direction.

“Okay,” Ford said, his eyes never leaving mine.  “So—”