She showed up a couple of minutes later, coming up from behind him and tapping him on the shoulder. He rose up quickly with a nervous “Oh, heya” that he’d be cringing about for at least several nights, if not the rest of his life. He’d wondered about adding a hug or a kiss on the cheek or a handshake, and when it came time to do it, he did one of those weird side hugs that his socially anxious uncle always gave him.
Gretchen took it in stride, smiling when they parted. She was wearing a red shirt with white polka dots and a tan sweater over it, the buttons undone. “You look nice,” he said, because once Julia had mentioned offhand that he should always say it on a date.
“Thanks,” she said. “You do, too.” She reached out and touched the hem of his shirt, a baby-blue button-down that he’d borrowed from his dad. “I like this shirt.”
Dave rubbed the back of his neck. Shit, he hadn’t thought about what to say from there. He hadn’t ever actually said something like that directly to a girl, and he certainly never heard a looks-related compliment directed his way, except from aunts and the school librarian, who said it to everyone. They both stood by the bench, sheepishly smiling.
“So, this is it, huh? Your favorite bench in the world?”
“This is it,” Dave said, looking down at it. “I come here at least twice a week.”
“What makes it your favorite?”
“It reminds me of my mom,” he said. “We used to come here when I was little, eating ice cream and people watching.” He looked around the harbor, which wasn’t as busy as it usually was on Fridays. There were a few fishermen coming back from the pier, their iceboxes dripping pink fluid. A couple of homeless guys were on the bench across the way, drinking from paper bags. One of them was reading a newspaper, the other scratched his beard in between sips. When Dave first started hanging out at the harbor on his own, in between missing his mom and falling in love with Julia, he’d get the homeless guys cups of water and sit with them, figuring they were probably just as lonely as he was. “Plus, it’s so comfortable, I’m pretty sure it’s made from angel feathers and the love of a thousand puppies.”
“Oh man, puppy love is hard to get ahold of these days,” Gretchen said, again unable to hide a smile. She handed Dave the purse she’d brought with her and then slowly sank onto the bench. It was curious how much he wanted her to find the bench comfortable, as if her not seeing the beauty of this spot might diminish the bench’s value, or hers.
But then she smiled and said, “I think I feel a golden retriever,” and stayed where she was, even lying back into the position that Dave had imagined for himself, her hands folded across her stomach, her feet out and crossed at the ankles. She looked out at the harbor slightly nodding to herself, looking perfectly content.
“What do you want from the coffee shop? I’ll go get us a drink.”
“I’ll come with,” Gretchen said, starting to rise.
“You sure? You look too comfortable,” Dave said. “You’ll save us our spot; I’ll come back in a sec.”
The sun peeked through from a break in the clouds, causing Gretchen to squint up at him, her hair turning completely golden in the light. “There aren’t a lot of people around,” she said, getting up completely and grabbing her purse from Dave. “I’ll come with. We just barely said hi; I don’t wanna say good-bye already.”
Dave laughed and they headed in the direction of the coffee shop. “It wouldn’t have been a good-bye, just a ‘be right back.’”
“Well, yeah,” Gretchen said, and already Dave could hear that little warble in her tone that meant she was about to make a joke. “But I have huge abandonment issues.”
“Have you ever in your life successfully lied?”
“God, am I really that bad?”
“There are worse things to be bad at,” Dave said.
“Like what?” Gretchen responded, faking disbelief.
“What if you were really bad at eating?” Dave opened the coffee shop door and let Gretchen pass through. “Say you had really bad aim with forks. You would be hungry all the time, plus imagine all the scarring.”