Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
FINLEY
Thomas kissed me last night. I roll over in bed and stretch like a lazy cat in a sunbeam.
It has been two years since I’ve been kissed by a man.
Two years. And trust me when I say that was nowhere near the sheer bliss of being kissed by Thomas.
In fact, no kiss I’ve ever experienced can even touch it.
I’m not a person who believes in fate. Of course, that might be because I’ve had too much else on my plate.
Namely, autism. For example, a neurotypical might have four tabs open in their brain at one time, but an atypical, like myself, probably has closer to fifty.
And each one of those can have multiple subtabs.
As such, my head is a very busy place that doesn’t always allow pontification on peripheral topics. Like fate.
I live in a world where I’m considered an outsider because my brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s. Which makes me wonder why that same world would care about my destiny.
My reasoning may be flawed, and it may sound like victim mentality, but walk a mile in my shoes before you judge. In my opinion, if fate exists then it has been out to get me from the start. It’s only because of my strong resolve and belief that I’m a stellar person that I’ve come as far as I have.
Having said that, what if it’s finally my turn for the Universe to be on my side?
What are the chances Thomas left a fancy hospital in New York City to move to Elk Lake, Wisconsin?
What are the chances I decided to come here myself?
And while I’m at it, what are the odds he would be sent to me to have his picture taken?
Which of course, I totally bungled, but that only meant we got to see each other more.
A lot of random occurrences had to take place for us to have spent the kind of time together that would lead to us kissing. A thoroughly dreamy, toe-curling, spine-tingling smooch that I want to experience every day, a dozen times a day, until I’m a hundred.
Leaning over, I pick up the phone and call my mom. As soon as I hear her voice, I ask, “How’s Bernadette?”
“She laid an egg in the sink yesterday,” my mom tells me proudly.
“Ah, so she was eggbound.”
“Looks like it.”
I hear squawking in the background. “Are you in the henhouse?”
“No, I’m in the kitchen.”
“Do you have someone else in the sink?”
“Bernie again.” My mom explains, “She really likes it.”
“So, you’re giving her daily baths now?” As if I needed any other reason to think my mom might not be normal.
“What else do I have going on?” Before I can answer, she tells me, “Your father is building the goats a teeter totter.”
“What’s that, now?” I snuggle under my down comforter to await what I am sure will be an astounding answer.
“He saw it on the TikTok,” she tells me.
“Dad has TikTok?” What is going on with my parents?
“Jim, down at the feed store, showed it to him. The two of them spent three hours taking their pictures with those goofy filters. Dad is hooked.”
“And the teeter totter?”
“He loves watching those clips about barnyard animals.” She adds, “He’s trying to get me to agree to start breeding hedge hogs, but I told him I wanted no part of it. Who has the time?”
I don’t mention that she just professed to have all kinds of time. Instead, I say, “Bathing chickens will keep you busy.”
“Just Bernie.” Like this makes it an ordinary task.
“Mom,” I decide to tell her why I’ve called. “I got kissed last night.”
“Oh!” She sounds excited. “With the boy you’re fake dating?” She makes Thomas sound like he’s a teenager.
“Yes. He helped me move the beds from my old studio into the new space next door.”
“You didn’t happen to do anything else with those beds, did you?” She sounds particularly eager to hear the answer.
“We did not,” I tell her primly.
“Too bad,” she teases. At least I hope she’s teasing.
“After kissing me, he asked me out on a date, and I said yes.”
“I’m pleased to hear this, Finny. It’s time you get out there and paint the town red.”
“I don’t understand …”
“It’s an idiom, dear.” As a more literal person, I don’t usually track those things unless I’ve heard them several times before. This one is new.
“And it means …” I prompt.
“It means to have fun, party hard, get your groove on.”
“Okay then. I guess I’m ready to paint the town red. But if it’s okay with you, I might paint it pink instead. That’s a better color for me.”
“Paint it any color you want,” my mom tells me. “Just paint it!”
“Thanks for your support, Mom.”
“Always, Finny. I love you more than anything in the world.”
I really did luck out when it came to the parent lottery. “I better get up and get going,” I tell her. “I have a full day.”
“Okay, honey. I’m going to get Bernie out of her bath and give her a blowout.”
“You blow dry her?” I don’t know why this is more surprising than bathing her, but it is.
“It’s cold outside,” she tells me. “I don’t want her to get sick.”
“I guess that makes sense.” It really doesn’t. Bernadette is a chicken. She’s used to the elements, but I suppose my mom needs someone to nurture now that her own nest is empty.
“Let me know how the date goes,” my mom requests before hanging up.
I roll back over, but instead of getting out of bed, I wonder what Thomas would think if he ever met my parents. I realize he had better be full-on in love with me before I let that happen or he might bolt.
I eventually get up, shower, and head out to work.
I’m supposed to start drivers’ ed over the weekend which means I’ll have to try to get to the Department of Motor Vehicles today and take the test for my permit.
I’m pretty sure I’ll pass, even though I haven’t studied for it yet.
I mean, how hard can it be? I spend a lot of time reading street signs while walking everywhere. I already know a lot.
Once I get to the shop, I turn on all the lights and hurry to the back to get ready for my first appointment.
Margaret and Bob are coming in this morning.
They’re venturing out of their bodice-ripping norm and going with a Tarzan and Jane theme.
This required ordering vines that I’ve tied to a pipe hanging from the ceiling and palm fronds because Margaret thinks they might be more fun to use than loin cloths.
When they don’t show up at ten, I check my messages.
There’s one from Margaret informing me that Bob tripped over a tree stump in the yard last night and broke his foot.
While I’m bummed to not be using my creative juices this morning, I decide to use the time wisely and walk over to the DMV ahead of schedule.
It’s cold and rainy out, but once I think about Thomas, I warm up like nobody’s business. I’m positively toasty for the twenty minutes it takes me to get to my destination.
There’s no line at the DMV, so I step forward and declare my mission. After paying the fee, I’m directed to a computer near the front desk to take my test.
I ace the first several questions because they’re all about signs. But then things go south because they ask questions I’m not prepared for. Questions like, “What do you do if you’re driving on a road behind a horse and buggy in a no-passing zone?”
I have never even seen a horse and buggy in real life, let alone on a Wisconsin highway.
I walk away from my computer and return to the person who took my money.
I’m about to ask him if I have an old test—you know, like a hundred years old—when he tells me, “If you talk to me, I’ll have to fail you. ”
Why can’t I ask him a question? It’s not like I’m asking for the answers.
I stand there and stare at him, unsure of how to proceed, until he reminds me, “Skip any questions you don’t know the answer to and come back to them if you have time.”
While that should ease my concerns, it doesn’t. I forgot I was being timed. I hurry back to the computer in a panic. Then I wind up reading and skipping every question because I can no longer focus. I want to scream, but I’m not even allowed to talk.
The computer screen in front of me eventually goes black before the words, “Out of time,” appear. Shoot. There’s no way I answered enough questions to pass. I go back to the desk and heatedly declare, “I was given an old test.”
“No, you weren’t.”
I stare at the gruff-looking man who wouldn’t let me air my complaint sooner. “I definitely was,” I assure him. “I was asked what I’d do if there were a horse and buggy in the road.”
He shrugs. “That’s a legitimate question.”
“I’ve never seen a horse and buggy on the road,” I tell him. “We drive cars now.” I say this like he’s the idiot here.
“The Amish drive horse and buggies,” he tells me. “And Wisconsin has the fourth largest community in the country.”
While I know there’s a significant Amish presence in the state, I suppose I never really thought about how they get around. I mean, I’m never out on country roads. Darn it!
The annoying DMV worker sneers at me. “May I suggest you take a booklet home and study it before you try again?”
I flash back to high school, which I might have mentioned was not the most pleasant time in my life. I have never tested well. Even if I studied my butt off and knew the material, there’s something about knowing I’m being timed that makes it nearly impossible for me to concentrate.
I take the booklet handed to me and turn around to leave. Maybe this is my sign that I should forget about learning to drive. I don’t go directly back to my shop. Instead, I walk for blocks and blocks, letting my disappointment soak in.
I must be gone longer than I thought because when I finally approach Happy Snaps, I see Thomas pull up to the curb in my dream car. He parks at a very odd angle. Honestly, he’s such a bad driver that if he can pass a driving test, surely I can, too.
Not only do I feel better about my chances of getting behind the wheel, but I now get to spend the next few hours with Thomas.
I hope he goes for my suggestion about pretending to be a new character …