“I smell like old bong water.”
Will leaned down, bringing his face an inch from my neck, and inhaled deeply. “You smell like sunshine,” he said into my ear.
My head snapped toward his as if it had been yanked by a string, and our noses almost bashed together.
“Sorry, that got weird,” he said, pulling back with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I’m not exactly dressed for going out.” I was close to suggesting that Will come with me, but the idea of showering with him in the next room seemed like an exceptionally bad one.
“You look great,” he said. “You don’t need to change. It’s Sneaky Dee’s—no one will be dressed up.”
“You’re just worried I’m going to ditch you, and you’ll be stuck listening to some weird Nirvana cover band all by yourself.” Will had neglected to mention it was a ska cover band until about a block ago.
“Petrified,” Will said. “Don’t make me go alone.”
I could see the iconic skulls on the Sneaky Dee’s sign ahead. “Fine. But you owe me.”
Once we’d arrived, Will scored one of the wooden booths while I made a quick getaway to the basement bathroom. I ransacked my tote, hoping a tube of mascara or a comb had magically appeared inside it, but all I came up with was gum and a tin of Smith’s Rosebud Salve. I wasn’t the kind of girl to carry around a kit of makeover supplies. I hadn’t even bothered with makeup in the morning. I scrubbed at my armpits with a soapy square of wet paper towel, splashed water on my face, and smoothed a thick, shiny coat of gloss on my lips. I would have kissed the floor for a stick of deodorant.
There was a guy sitting next to Will when I got back upstairs. Even from across the room I could see he was meticulously tended. He had olive skin and a dark beard that was trimmed like a topiary, tidy and perfectly edged.
“Fern, this is Eli,” Will said.
“A pleasure to meet you.” Eli stood, taking my hand between both of his. He wore red jeans, a black skinny tie, and a white button-down I was certain had seen an iron earlier in the evening. I bet the rest of him had seen a gym before that.
“Same,” I said, taking a seat on the side of the booth opposite them. “How do you two know each other?”
“We went to grade school together, then high school,” Eli said. “But it’s been a while. Can’t believe I finally got this guy out to a show.”
I threw Will a look, which he declined to catch. I assumed he’d seen the band perform before and that we weren’t in for a night of terrible ska Nirvana covers.
“We were in the area, and Fern is a bit of a music nerd, so we thought we’d check it out,” Will said.
“That’s cool. I think we put on a pretty decent show,” said Eli. He flagged down a server so we could put in our orders, then turned to me. “Do you live in Toronto, Fern, or are you in from Vancouver, too?”
“Oh, no. I’m from here. My place is a couple streets over.”
He tipped his head at Will. “How’s the long-distance thing working out? I live in Liberty Village, if you’re finding it too much of a drag.” He winked.
“Oh, no,” I said, pointing between Will and me. “We’re not a thing. At all.”
Will laughed. “Should I be offended by how repulsed you sound right now?”
“I definitely would be,” Eli said. “She looks like she’s eaten bad shellfish.”
Our server dropped off a pitcher of beer and three glasses, and I poured, then took a big gulp of mine.
As Eli and Will chatted, it hit me that we were in uncharted territory. My day with Will had been spontaneous and unusual, but we’d unwittingly given ourselves a road map, a rule book, and an end point. Now, not only had we gone off course, but we’d opened our odd partnership up to spectators.
Someone kicked me under the table, and I looked up from my beer.
Are you okay? Will mouthed as Eli refilled our drinks.
I nodded.
Our server placed a platter on the center of the table. It was heaped with a disgusting, magnificent mound of nachos. There had to be two pounds of toppings aside from cheese and salsa—ground beef, refried beans, veggies, guacamole, sour cream. We moaned in approval.
“So what was this one like as a kid?” I asked Eli as I dislodged a chip.
“Wild Bill? He was pretty much the same,” Eli said.
Wild Bill? I mouthed to Will, and he rolled his eyes. I thought I could see his neck pinking.
“Skinny. Drawing all the time. He was a bit emo.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”
Eli glanced at Will, who gave him the tiniest shake of the head. Eli turned back to me, ignoring my question. “And he had zero athletic capabilities.”
“I did the sports,” Will said. “I always kicked a ball around during recess.”
“And that sport is called?” Eli gave me another wink.
Will scratched his forehead. “Badminton?”
“Badminton,” Eli said. “Yes. A classic schoolyard game.”
When we had almost decimated the nachos, Eli took a twenty out of his wallet. “I should probably head up soon. Our drummer gets grumpy if we’re not all present and accounted for at least fifteen minutes before our set.”
“What are you guys called?” I asked.
Will’s eyes widened across the table. Underneath, he bumped my foot.
“The Mighty Mighty Kurt Tones,” Eli said, straight-faced.
I shoved a soggy chip into my mouth. I needed a subject change or else I was going to laugh out loud. “You guys want to know how to make these nachos even better?”
“Yeah,” they replied in unison.
I explained my theory, which involved divvying up the toppings and cooking the nachos in layers so the chips stayed crisper. Will and Eli stared at me blankly.
“You disagree?” I shoved a flaccid chip into my gob. It was still excellent.
Eli spoke first. “Fern?” He put one hand to his chest. “I know we’ve just met, but I believe you’re my soulmate. Will you marry me?”
I laughed.
“A date, then.”
I shook my head.
“Hear me out. We live on the same side of the city. You’re incredibly hot, and I’m moderately gifted in bed.” He pointed at Will. “I have a good job, my own place, and I’m a sick sax player. We have one mutual friend, who will vouch for me. There’s really no reason not to.”
“It’s not you, honestly,” I said. I looked at Will for backup, but he was staring at Eli.
“What’s it going to take? I’ll make a reservation somewhere nice.”
I shook my head again. My hands had started sweating. I knew where this was going.
“Fern, you’re killing me. How about a coffee?”
I swallowed. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I have a boyfriend.”
As soon as the words had left my mouth, Will’s head twisted toward me.
“That sounds like a line,” Eli said, then turned to Will. “Is she really off the market?”
Will’s eyes locked on mine, and my stomach pinched.
“I really am,” I said, still looking at Will. “His name is Jamie, and we’ve been together for four years.”
June 14, 1990
Peter’s helping me with my gardening project. Dad said I could plant ferns and begonias along the path to the cabins if I took care of them. We took a golf cart out today so I could show Peter where I want everything to go. I told him Eric and I agreed to be exclusive, and he almost drove us into a tree. He says Eric is conceited, shallow, and has nothing interesting to say. He says he’s not good enough for me. But considering Peter has said something similar about every one of my boyfriends since I was seventeen, it’s not exactly a surprise. I used to think it was because he’s five years older and sees me as a little sister. These days, I’m not sure.
Earlier this year, when Peter stayed the weekend with me in Ottawa, there was this moment. It was the night of my twenty-second birthday, and after everyone left, he started picking up empty plastic cups and told me to go to bed while he finished cleaning. I gave him a hug, and when I pulled back, he kept his arms around me. I swear he was going to kiss me. If I’m being honest, I was disappointed he didn’t. I thought I must have been imagining things. But now I don’t know.
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