Whatever. Al that was history when I made out with Vinny Thomas in my junior year. Vinny was unbelievably hot (Luke Perry in 90210 except with darker eyes) and he was way out of my league, but we made out at a party once. That’s when I figured out that I wasn’t frigid at al . But I’ve never real y had a serious boyfriend. Life got pretty messed up after mom died. I didn’t think about dating or anything like that for a long time. And now that I’m not in school it’s harder to meet someone. When I’m in Boston I feel like I’m the odd one out, like al Jenna’s friends are going somewhere and I’m just this loser girl she’s kind to. Mostly, these days, I don’t date at al and I’m cool with that. I mean, I’m real y lonely sometimes, but I don’t think dating’s any solution to that. With Tom, it’s been pretty clear from the beginning that he wants a friend, not a girlfriend. I get zero romantic vibes from him. He just seems to like me, like spending time with me. Honestly? I think maybe he has a girlfriend in Virginia, or something. Or maybe (shock of al shocks) I’m just not his type.
The second time we hung out we went for a swim and afterward we went for dinner in Seal Harbor. I say dinner—we bought a pizza and a couple of beers and sat by the water and talked. I asked him about Mike, where he was, what he was up to.
“Stil sailing,” Tom said. He picked chorizo off the last slice of pizza and ate it.
“Again?”
“He’s gone for a few days. Taken the boat three hours north to a place cal ed Blacks Harbour, over the border in Canada. He has some friends there.”
“You don’t mind?” I was thinking about how much the yacht was worth—probably a lot. “It’s safe for him to go by himself?”
Tom made a face and said something about the boat being state of the art, and safe to take out alone for a few hours. And then he said that it was probably a good thing for them to have a break from each other. So I asked if they weren’t getting along, but he shrugged it off.
I couldn’t tel if he real y thought everything was fine between them or if he didn’t want to talk about it with me. I kind of wanted to bring up the cocaine and the gun—I stil do—but I’m afraid he’l think I’ve been snooping. I’ve probably waited too long. Anyway, Tom changed the subject pretty quickly after that. We stayed late at Seal Harbor, drinking beer and watching the sun go down and talking. I told him a lot about myself. More than I’ve told anyone but Jenna. I don’t usual y talk about that stuff, but he was so honest with me about his own family that I felt guilty holding back. And I miss Jenna a lot. So I told him a little, then a bit more, and before I knew it I had told him almost everything. And he was great about it al .
Understanding without being too sympathetic. He’s a good listener.
He’s a good friend.
Mike was gone for almost a week and Tom and I have fal en into a routine. Every day after I finish work he picks me up, we swim or hike or just hang out. And it’s been real y nice. Mike’s back now, of course. At first he was actual y okay to be around—smiling and joking al the time—but it didn’t last. He started dropping hints about how they should head back to Virginia early, get ready for school, and when Tom didn’t jump at the idea right away, nice Mike disappeared. For the last couple of days he’s been smiling on the surface but tense and angry underneath. I’ve tried to bring it up with Tom, but he thinks I’m reading too much into things. We’ve stopped hanging out at the house as much though. We just go hiking instead.
I think we’ve done every trail in Acadia at least once. Anyway, tonight I complained about my sore legs and Tom said we should go sailing tomorrow instead. !! I’m kind of excited. I’ve swapped my shift with Liza. We’re going to pick up some food and go out on the boat for the whole day. Slightly nervous . . . am I going to get seasick?? That would be embarrassing.
Sunday, July 31, 1994
We were on the water by ten a.m. And oh my God was it beautiful.
The blue sky, the wind, the cool sparkling water. For the first time in my life I felt like I got it—the reason so many people wil do anything to be rich. It’s a completely different way of living, fil ed with experiences. Poor people don’t have experiences because we’re too busy trying to eat. I’m not proud of this, but for just a second I almost hated him . . . because he’s so free and I’m not. It was a shitty feeling but it didn’t last. Thing is, it’s impossible to resent Tom. He’s always so nice to me. He acts like I’m the most important person in every room, like I’m his best and oldest friend. It makes me happy and sad at the same time. Happy for the obvious reasons, and sad because he’s going. This is al temporary. And sad because he’s making me realize that no one has ever been that nice to me before, not even Jenna. Not even my mom, if I’m honest. How fucking pathetic.
Tom taught me a bit about sailing and I pretended to help, but real y he did almost everything. Late in the afternoon he sailed us into a little sheltered bay and dropped the anchor. Tom wanted to swim and I wasn’t so sure so he gave me this big grin, pul ed off his shirt, and dived into the water. I stripped down to my bikini and fol owed. Oh my God . . . it was so cold I swear I couldn’t breathe for a second. And it was kind of scary, swimming in such deep water. I climbed out pretty quickly and sat on the boat in the sunshine to dry off, trying to hide the fact that I’d chickened out. Tom sat beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth from his skin. He handed me a towel. When I took the towel I noticed that he had a thick, silvery scar that ran right across the palm of his left hand. I asked him about it and he held his hand out flat and we both looked at it.
“I’m not actual y sure what happened. I think I was five. My mother says I fel and put my hand through a window. My aunt thinks I cut it on a broken bottle.”
“Wouldn’t your mother know?”
“She was away at the time. Traveling. And the nanny we had then left soon afterward. The story just seems to have gotten confused over the years.”
I figured they’d probably fired the nanny, and I told him so.
He looked surprised. “You’re probably right. I never thought of that. Just that it was strange to have a mark like that and not real y know how you got it.”
I reached out and ran my finger down the scar. His skin was softer than I expected. Warm. He closed his hand around mine. He looked straight into my eyes and kissed me. I guess maybe some part of me knew it was coming but there was stil that moment when I wasn’t sure and then he did and . . .
and . . .