Month of Sundays (14 page)

“I admit Newport Beach isn’t Long Island.” Griffin pronounced it Long
Guy
-land like most comedians and, truth be told, most Long Islanders did. The fingers of her left hand drummed the table in time with the mellow music playing in the background. “Can you do better? What’s your story?”

“My first kiss came about the way it’s supposed to: as the result of a dare.”

Griffin set her empty salad plate aside and leaned forward in her chair. “This I’ve got to hear.”

“Mine occurred at a party, too. That’s one thing you and I have in common. In my case, a friend of a friend threw a basement party. I’m sure you know what those are.”

“A group of kids gathers in someone’s basement, listens to music, eats chips and dip, and waits for someone to do something interesting. Kind of like a school dance with less attentive chaperones.”

“When the hostess suggested we play Seven Minutes in Heaven, everyone perked up. Especially when she said it was no-holds-barred.”

“What does that mean?”

“No do-overs. If you spun the bottle and it stopped in front of someone of the same sex, you wouldn’t get to spin again. Most people dropped out when they heard that particular wrinkle, but I wasn’t one of them. It’s probably the only reason I played.”

Griffin leaned back in her seat and uttered a quiet “
merci
” as Aravane placed their entrées on the table. “And who were you hoping to spend time with?” she asked, focusing on Rachel again.

“Joanna Gregson. She was the starting center and best player on the girls’ basketball team. I had a huge crush on her. Six foot two, eyes of blue, and the sweetest fallaway jumper you’ve ever seen.”

“What’s not to love?”

“Exactly. I was fifteen, so my gaydar was still being fine-tuned back then, but I always felt like she and I had more in common than school spirit. The night of the party, I discovered I was right. The first few spins went according to form. A boy spun the bottle, it stopped in front of a girl, and they spent seven minutes groping each other in the broom closet. A girl spun the bottle, it stopped in front of a boy, and yadda yadda yadda. Then it was Jo’s turn. She spun the bottle and it ended up pointing straight at me. When the bottle stopped moving, you could have heard a pin drop. Even the music stopped. Everyone waited to see what would happen. So did I.”

“What did you think would happen?”

“I expected her to find an excuse not to go through with it.”

“Why?”

“Because she was a jock, everyone assumed she was gay. She never said if she was or she wasn’t, but she spent so much time deflecting attention from her sexuality that most of us thought the only thing she could ever love was a basketball. But at the party, she didn’t hide. She stood up, held her hand out to me, and said, ‘Let’s do this.’”

“And you dropped trou right on the spot.”

“Almost.” Rachel paused to take a bite of Aravane’s incredible stewed chicken as Griffin poured two more glasses of burgundy. “The walk to the broom closet was the longest and the shortest of my life. It was all I could do not to race across the room and hold the door open for her. When we got inside, there wasn’t much clearance, so Joanna kept banging her head against the low ceiling.”

“What were you doing, trying every position in the
Kama Sutra
?”

“I wish. We started off with the usual two minutes of awkward conversation. I told her I was a big fan and I never missed a game. She said she’d spotted me sitting in the stands a time or two. Then, when I started to babble about her stats, she planted one on me. The next thing I knew, I was floating. Literally floating. She picked me up so she wouldn’t have to bend over so far and my feet were dangling in mid-air. I wrapped my legs around her waist and hung on for dear life. Those remaining five minutes ended much too soon. I realized after thirty seconds that basketball was only her second-best sport.”

“I almost hate to ask this, but what was her first?”

“Tonsil hockey.”

Griffin groaned at the bad joke as she finished the rest of the delicious main course. “Like I said, I knew I was going to regret it. So what happened when you came out of the closet? Figuratively speaking.”

“Joanna and I were together for three years, but we split up after graduation because we enrolled in different universities. She earned a scholarship to play college ball in the Midwest and I stayed at home to attend Columbia. She liked the area so much she never came back. I get a card from her every Christmas. She and her partner run a successful landscaping business. She seems happy.”

Griffin reached across the table and laced her fingers through Rachel’s. “What about you? Are you happy?”

Rachel looked down at their clasped hands. “I’m getting there.”

Aravane brought out the mousse—just one serving so Griffin and Rachel could share—and two cups of chicory-infused coffee.

Griffin didn’t want the coffee. She wanted to sweep the plates off the table, drape Rachel across it, and drink from her until she got her fill. She forced herself to be patient. When she had proposed their culinary journey, she had promised to woo Rachel with her mind, not her body.

“What about your first time?” she asked, trying not to turn herself into a liar before the end of the first leg. “Was it with Joanna, too?”

“Yes, but it didn’t go nearly as well as our first kiss. Neither of us knew what we were doing, but we were determined to see our way through. Put it this way: the end was a lot better than the beginning.”

“Does practice make perfect?”

“I wouldn’t say perfect, but I would say my technique has improved since then.”

Griffin dipped her dessert spoon into the mousse and offered it to Rachel. “You’ll have to show me what you’ve learned.”

“You first. And I’m not talking about chocolate.”

“Neither am I.” Griffin smiled as Rachel tasted the mousse. She sampled some for herself. The rich, creamy dessert slid across her tongue.

“Tell me something.”

Rachel leaned in for more. Griffin slipped the spoon between her lips.

“Anything.”

“Since you were bosom buddies with the cafeteria ladies, you must know what was in the mystery meat my school served every Wednesday.”

“I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you. And I don’t want to do that because I like having you around.”

“Good evening, Fernando.”

“Good evening, Miss Bauer. How was dinner?”

“The paella was excellent. Thank you for the recommendation.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Fernando looked up from a Spanish-language magazine and arched an expressive eyebrow when he noticed Rachel wasn’t alone. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He watched as Rachel and Griffin headed to the elevator.

For their second date, Griffin took Rachel to Spain. Before they had finalized their plans, Rachel had asked Fernando if he knew any restaurants in town that offered authentic Spanish cuisine. He had enthusiastically told her about a neighborhood eatery he and Montserrat considered “a little slice of home.” Griffin met her there and they spent a pleasant three hours stuffing themselves with gazpacho, paella, and a tart that featured the unlikely but surprisingly good combination of almonds and lemons.

Upstairs, Rachel unlocked her apartment and ushered Griffin inside. While Griffin checked out the living room, Rachel headed to the kitchen to grab some drinks.

“I like your place,” Griffin said.

From the sound of her voice, she was standing near Rachel’s collection of antique subway tokens. She had started amassing the tokens when she was five. She had never had the collection appraised, however, figuring the collection held more sentimental than monetary value. She grabbed two bottles of mineral water out of the refrigerator and joined Griffin in the living room. “Check out the view. It’s amazing.”

Griffin walked over to the oversized window. She peered out at the Empire State Building then lowered her sights to the scenic pier down the street. By day, it was an architectural marvel. At night, it was the perfect spot for a romantic stroll by the water. “I love that little park on the corner. The way the snow covers the lamp posts and the light shines softly through makes this seem more like a Currier and Ives painting than real life.”

Rachel joined Griffin by the window. “You should come by when the weather’s warmer. Bands give free concerts on the pier every weekend. We could pack a picnic lunch, sit on the grass, and listen to the music. Maybe we can convince the organizers to book a jazz band or two.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

They tapped their plastic bottles in a toast and took a sip of water to seal the deal.

“Let me show you around,” Rachel said.

Her place was relatively small—foyer, bedroom, bathroom, and a combination living room/dining room that led to the kitchen—so the grand tour took less than five minutes.

In the living room, the sofa and loveseat were angled toward the entertainment center, where a DVD player, TV, CDs, and assorted DVDs shared space. Behind the loveseat was the desk that served as her home office. She had traded her desk chair for an exercise ball, which gave her a chance to work her body and her brain at the same time. The dining table was small but seated four comfortably. At least it was supposed to. She hadn’t invited anyone over to test the salesman’s theory. Perhaps that would soon change.

The walls in her bedroom, like the ones in the rest of the apartment, were unadorned. Marble-topped nightstands flanked the queen-sized bed. The lamp on her side of the bed was a flea market find that looked antique but probably wasn’t. It looked cool and it worked. What more could she want? Oh, yeah. Someone to occupy the other side of the bed.

“What’s this?”

Griffin picked up a four foot by six foot frame leaning against the mahogany dresser. A world map, the paper dotted with tiny pin holes, was affixed to the front of the frame.

“I bought that about four years ago to chart my world travels.”

“Where did you go?”

“I never got past the planning stages. Work, either mine or Isabel’s, always seemed to get in the way.”

“We need to fix that. Do you have a hammer and nails?”

“Somewhere.”

“Could you get them for me?”

Rachel located what Griffin needed in the storage closet in the kitchen. After she returned to the bedroom, she held the frame while Griffin took off her shoes and climbed on the bed. Griffin drove the nails into the wall with an ease that made Rachel think she had spent a serious amount of time working for her brother the general contractor.

“Push pins?” Griffin asked after she mounted the frame.

“Right here.” Rachel reached into the nightstand and pulled out a box.

“We’ve been to France and Spain.” Griffin stuck red pins in Paris and Madrid. “Morocco’s next.” She pressed a green pin into Casablanca. “Where do you want to go after that?”

“How about England?” Rachel joined Griffin on the bed. “We haven’t been there yet.”

“England it is.” A green pin speared London. “After that, I’m thinking Germany.” A yellow pin went there. “And we’ll need at least two weeks for Italy—one for northern cuisine and one for southern.” Two more yellow pins pricked the map.

“Then Greece?”

“You can’t visit one ancient culture without wanting to see another.”

“That’s eight.”

“Eight down and twenty-two to go.”

“What happens when we get to the end?” Rachel asked, wondering if the end of their trip would also mark the end of Griffin’s interest in her.

“When we get to the end, we’ll start over again.”

They charted their way around the world, pinpointing regions both large and small. Rachel looked at the map. From the looks of it, she was going to be in for the culinary adventure of a lifetime. And she wouldn’t have to use up any of her Sky Miles to do it.

She opened the Day Planner Jane and Colleen bought her for Christmas. She penciled in Morocco for the following Sunday and England for the Sunday after that. Then she began to fill in the subsequent months.

“Where are we going in June?” Griffin asked.

Rachel consulted the map. “Hawaii, California, Texas, and Louisiana.”

Griffin nodded purposefully. “I’ll have to make those legs extra special.”

Rachel filled in July with Georgia, North Carolina, Illinois, Vermont, and, finally, New York. “Why those in particular?”

Griffin shrugged. “Because I want to.”

She took the Day Planner out of Rachel’s hands and placed it on the nightstand. Rachel’s heart thudded in her chest as Griffin gently lowered her onto the bed.

She had made a resolution of sorts to just be friends with Griffin. The new year had barely begun and she was already in danger of breaking that pledge.

Griffin’s past—and even her present—made her leery of planning a future with her. Right now, though, she didn’t care about the past or the future. This moment was all that mattered. This moment was everything.

Griffin swung her left leg over Rachel’s body and straddled her hips. She placed her hands on either side of Rachel’s head. Her dark purple shirt spread open and the top of her black lace bra peeked through. Rachel’s eyes were glued to the sight. Griffin languorously unbuttoned another button, affording her an even better view.